Harry B. Sanderford
All morning long his nerves had been on edge and he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. He had a clean line of sight six miles in any direction and as far as he could see, he and his mule Katie were the only two in the territory. Dooley stoppered the bottle and slid it back in his saddlebag, admonishing himself for being so damn jumpy. He gave Katie her reins so he could roll a smoke and was licking the gummed paper when he heard a soft snap and turned whence it came. A nearly imperceptible imperfection at first, an eyelash viewed in peripheral vision, became a stitch on the horizon and then a seam unraveling an opening in the fabric of the sky. Dooley looked up to see the clear blue winking open to reveal a world size bloodshot eye. He dropped his cigarette makin’s, grabbed himself a handful of reins and slapping Katie's flanks shouted, "Well on the upside Katie, I reckon we ain’t goin' crazy!"
