Connie Vigil Platt238 Elm StreetSalem, Arkansas 72576 Tele: 870-895-2537 dice@centurytel.net  THE NIGHT RIDERDust swirls around horses and riders, blocking out the bright cobalt sky. The sun beats down relentlessly on the milling cattle.In 1890, October is the time for hardworking cowboys to ride long and hard to get the herd to market, with no time for fantasy. October is the time for ghosts and goblins to ride the night sky, if you are prone to believe in such things.  October is also the time when certain planets are aligned with the earth. The time when it is easiest for space travel. Martians are well aware of this phenomenon and use it to their advantage.  Since it was time to round up cattle, it was the best time to collect specimens for scientific study. The West is full of open spaces where there is no one to observe a spaceship landing. If you should look at the night sky you might see that some stars appear to be closer together and nearer the earth than others. At times you might even see what seems to be two moons sailing in tandem across the otherwise clear sky.Aaron Clawson had long ago stopped believing in ghost stories and things that go bump in the night: goblins were used to scare little children into being good or going to bed. After a hard day he was too tired to look at the sky.Jacob Pickens, the head foreman of the giant Diamond R cattle ranch, had sent Aaron to pick up the payroll for the ranch hands.  The herd was sold and it was time to pay off the men, the fall work was over.  Some would stay for the winter but most would head for warmer climates.The Diamond R was owned by a group of easterners who seldom visited the remote region.  When they did come they usually brought their women with them.  One of the owners had a daughter that only came when she was not in some expensive boarding school.  It might be fun to see if that little back haired filly was as serious as she acted.  That was one attractive woman.  A waist so small she could have used a hatband for a belt. Hair black as a moonless night, caressing her shoulders and reaching her tiny waist, emerald green eyes, watching him as he went about his duties. Cherry red lips that smiled at him every time he turned toward her She was a cowboy’s dream, one that he could see in the smoke of lonely campfires, a fantasy for the long winter nights in a remote line shack.Aaron had been a cowboy most of his short life.  When he was twelve or there about, he left home for greener pastures or for a better life then was to be found on his parent’s poor dirt farm.  All they had were debts and hopes for rain.  The only thing they could give him was the ability to work hard and to appreciate having a paying job. Aaron had worked himself up from horse wrangler to being straw boss or second foreman.   Aaron could fork a bronc as good as any and better than most.  His loop always hit the mark when he roped an animal.  He could take care of himself in a barroom brawl or dance a reel with the prettiest girl.  He was an all round cowboy, and handsome enough to make the ladies’ hearts flutter.  He was a bit of a gambler, but then anybody who makes his living off the land is a gambler.  It doesn’t take bright lights to make a bet.Aaron went to the bank to deposit the money for the sale of the cattle and get cash to pay off the men. While he waited for the ranch’s payroll to be prepared, he spent his time in the saloon, gambling and drinking.  By the time the bank clerk came to tell him the payroll was ready he had won a Frazier saddle and a Stetson hat from cowboys from another ranch.  He gave the loser his old saddle to go home on.  Between the drinking and winning at cards he was giddy, heady with joy.  He had a good horse, a fine saddle and a nearly new hat.  Life was good. Now it was back to the ranch, away from town, and bright lights, across some of the most desolate waste land this side of purgatory.  The local people called it the “Bad Lands”, partially because of the unusual twisted rock formations, and partly because it was considered to be a place where outlaws could hide from the law.  Some honest citizens avoided it even in the daytime, but it was the shortest route to the ranch for Aaron. The hot dry wind was moaning it’s usual dirge.  Whipping small branches and tumbleweeds before the horse and rider, as if it was trying to stay ahead, then twisting off in another direction.If Aaron had looked up he might have seen a star that was a little brighter, a littler closer and moving faster than the other stars in the sky. A star that could even be considered to be following him, it would never have occurred to him to consider a space ship. Aaron was used to being alone and rather liked it most of the time.  Today, however, he was proud of himself and would have liked to have a friend to talk to and tell about his good fortune.  The sun was a red ball sinking into the horizon as he left town.  Aaron smiled to himself, thinking about the black haired girl of his dreams. He could see her in wisps of fog or in the clouds of the setting sun. Still he wished he had more company than his horse. He needed someone to talk to, not a dream. When he was ten miles out of town he heard a soft clip clop behind him, the echo of another horse on the rocks.  A wave of terror washed over him.  He remembered he had all the money for the other cowboys.  He could not lose the payroll but he could use the company, in case somebody did want to rob him.  He slowed his horse; the moon came out from behind a cloud, now shinning almost bright as noon.  The clip clop behind him slowed also.  The moon disappeared again throwing shadows over the landscape. A twisted cedar tree became a hold-up man, a cactus turned into a growling coyote.  Every rock was a disguise for an outlaw.  Aaron was not afraid he told himself, but everyone knew when he left the saloon and that he was carrying quite a lot in his saddle bags.  There were also the two unhappy cowboys that had played cards with him.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see a shadow keeping pace with him.  He kicked Chico into a trot; the rider behind him speeded up.  Fear gripped him, he felt as if a hand closed around his throat.  It was too far to the ranch, for all he knew there were more ahead.  There was no way to out run the shadow rider.  The only thing to do was to face him right here.  If there was a show down, well so be it.  Aaron had always been able to take care of himself.  He turned his horse to confront the rider.  There was no one in sight.  He had vanished into the night.  Out of the corner of his eye Aaron saw another rider.  He was right there was more than one.  “Who’s there?”  Aaron called, “Show your face.” No reverberation disturbed the night air.Aaron had heard of men finding cattle that had been killed and mutilated and whoever did the act then left the carcass to rot.  No one had been able to find any indication who had done these terrible killings. There were never any tracks or sign of a human or known animal. Thinking about it made Aaron edgy. The wind blew cold, icy fingers lightly brushing his cheek.  A lonesome coyote howled and no other sound could be heard.  Aaron nervously sat on his horse, trying to look in all directions at once.  He dropped his hand to his hip.  His fingers caressed the butt of his Colt .44.40 single action revolver.  His horse trembled under him, side stepping and prancing, jittery, getting hard to hold still, sensing his master’s excitement.  Aaron pulled severely on the reins, trying to calm the animal. Beads of cold sweat popped out on his forehead.  He reached up to brush them out of his eyes.  Something touched his hand.  An owl screeched in warning.  He felt the faint swish of wings behind him.  His head whipped around.  He touched something lying against his cheek.  His fingers pulled the string away from the rim of his new hat, leaving him holding the edge of the brim in his hand.  He held it up before his eyes, staring at the thread still attached to the material of the brim.  As realization washed over him, he began to laugh, just a small chuckle at first.  Than a real gut-busting laugh,  “Imagine, of all people, me Aaron Dawson, spooked by a thread off his own hat.  I should have looked it over better before I agreed to the bet.”  He spoke aloud, bathing in the sound of his own voice.  Chico’s ears twitched at the noise, laughter still floating in the night air. Aaron drew his pistol and shot in the air to let off tension.  The sound echoed against the rocks bouncing back at him.“Come on Chico, let’s go.” He patted the neck of his line-back buckskin horse. He touched the horse lightly with his spurs.  Together they moved forward.He relaxed as he rode.  By the time he had traveled several more miles he could make fun of himself.  He had been little too cocky, a little too much to drink, a little too much imagination.  He sang trail songs to steady his nerves as he rode.  It always calmed the herd so it should calm him too, like a boy whistling in the graveyard.  The night became dark, quiet. No glowing eyes, no evil flutter of bat wings.About seven miles from the ranch was an old abandoned school building that nobody used any more for anything but a landmark.  When he first saw the outline of the bell tower it was apparent he had gone out of his way.  He realized where he was now, even if he couldn’t figure how he had got lost on the trail and gone the long way around.  As he got closer, it looked like someone was having a party.  There were lights dimly shimmering, faintly off white, the indistinct strains of music, shadows swaying in the windows.“Hey Chico, this is what we need, we’ll just stop a while, have a few dances with some pretty girls before we go on our way.  I wonder who is having a party though.  I would have never believed that building was in good enough condition to have a party.  Oh well, come on Chico, let’s have a good time.”As he got closer the music got louder, violins, guitars, banjos, an instrument he couldn’t recognize. The tune carried on the breeze was not one familiar to him and the beat seemed a little harsh for dancing. That didn’t bother him he would be able to pick up the rhythm. If it had hair he was sure he could ride it, if it had a beat he knew he could dance to it. Gentle laughter rippled through the air.  He could see horses and buggies tied up in front.  Although he didn’t recognize any of them he knew he would be welcome.  The code of the West was to welcome everybody, even strangers. Invited or not he would be accepted, no questions asked.  He turned in the saddle to make sure the saddlebags full of money and secure before he dismounted.  When he turned back and faced the building again, the music was gone, no lights, no laughter, the horses and buggies were gone.  All that was left was a tumbled down building with vacant windows staring like empty eye sockets.  He shook his head; the moon came back out showing only the sagging roof and gaping open doorway.Aaron turned his horse visibly shaking.  As he rode away he heard music, the hint of girlish giggles.  He looked back at the building, he saw the horses tied at the hitching rail, heard the dance music.  Now with no hesitation Aaron used his spurs until the horse was at a full gallop. Behind him little creatures with a greenish glow surrounding them stumbled out of the doorway, holding long necked bottles and chuckling foolishly at the prank they played on the cowboy.           “Come on” one called in a high pitched voice, giggling girlishly, “If we don’t leave now we’ll miss our ride. We have all the samples we need for this trip.”          “If we keep breathing this strange atmosphere we’ll be so inebriated we won’t be able to get on the ship.” One with a deeper voice said.     “I thought he was cute I want to take him with us.” Pouted the third of the Martians climbing aboard the ship.          The sky burst with a flood of light as a saucer shaped object floated across the horizon. Green glowing faces looked down watching the cowboy ride away at a gallop.Aaron didn’t turn around and never saw the space ship as it glided across the night sky.   THE END                                               

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