Whitebark Stream Boots

I’ll come visit, at the very least. Make sure ya got yerself a good gang to run with.

Reno wasn’t too sure he liked the idea of going to knock on their door for a visit, but he hadn’t met anyone from the old gang in a while. The cowboy was almost certain that they’d disbanded for good, that their days of roaming the wilds were over. The nagging feeling that someone might appear from his past was one that he didn’t feel certain he could risk. Amalia was still a kind and gentle soul. She had given him a friendship in a new land, and he wasn’t the type of man who would squander that. One little visit couldn’t hurt much, he figured.

Amalia seemed interested in the gophers. She positioned herself in a place where she could catch the little creatures poking their heads out, noses twitching. They squeaked to each other. One of them emerged boldly from the ground before scurrying back to the hideaway.

Reno chuckled softly.

It is like a game. And they’re mighty quick, the varmints. Never seen nothing like it. Taste real good, too… if’n ya can get yer teeth in ‘em.

Another gopher emerged and locked eyes with the cowboy. Reno shifted and watched the gopher scurry back to the hole with many rapid squeaks.