You're welcome!  I still think that we are in here talking to ourselves.  I wonder if anyone will come back and keep this story going?  I'm missing both this and "The Other".

I checked yesterday and it didn't look like Kermit has been on since 1/24/17. Didn't he have a prolonged absence in the other for a while too?

I haven't noticed a post from him in the other thread in quite some time. Hopefully he's okay and hopefully he'll come back and keep this story going...

Just found this story.

What an excellent writer.  The movie starts playing in my head immediately and runs very smoothly.

I do hope he returns, and soon.


Cat

Dernitalltoheck!  I saw this thread had been bumped and got all excited.  Kermit, come out, come out wherever you are!  We all need you and your story! A Promise Made is binding you know!

Is it too early to begin forming a search party?

Maybe DCB got 'im...

Damn I always find the really good dead threads

@kermit
Is this thing on?

DFARM, I think we have an echo chamber here.  Oh Kermie, Whereforart thou Kermie?

Just read this and am sad because like a lot of other great stories,to they start here byt they are almost never finished


We use to have a lot of great stores here and for the few that still post I thank you.

Wish more folks that have stories would put them up here. Great way to get feed back


Hope we see more chapters cause this one started out great

Doggonit again!  I saw the bump and got all excited to read more Promises only to find it was just one of us "mere" readers bumping around in the dark again.  Maybe if we make enough noise in here, kermit will come back to see what is going on and bring us more story??

Let's hope!

I hope  this story continues..

Any updates?

Let's get a bunch of activity in here and maybe @kermit will come back. Lol

Oooohhhh, kermit.  Come out, come out, wherever you are!!  We know you are here somewhere!  Please come Keep your Promises!

Wow! What a pleasant surprise!

Great concept; including members as characters from DCB's thread. And fun!

Not to mention, I like what you've done so far. Very nice - but, damn! I've got work to get to this morning!!!!  LOL

ETA: Good Lord! I'd forgotten you started this on the "other thread"! (embarrassed) I've not had time to spend checking/rechecking it so it's great you've started one of your own, OP. Enjoying it immensely!

Hulloo the Camp!!  Is there anybody home?  Ohhh, kermit!  Where are you hiding?  Please come back and finish this whilst we wait and pine for DCB to work his magic over there!  Have you been requested to Cease and Desist? (I hope not!) or have you just Lost Interest? (Perish the thought!).  We all are waiting patiently but we miss the characters that have been growing here.

I'm still here waiting. Lol

If Kermit would have continued this would have been finished and published before that other one starts down the track.

I came in here today with the idea that I'd @kermit to try to see what he's up to, but I forgot that I've already tried it. Lol.

He's got a recent post in another area, so maybe we can jog his memory!

If we can jog his memory, can we also make it run 'round the block several times whilst belting out more of this story that we miss so much?  Perhaps wave a sandwich in front of him as we drive?

Someone should start adding on to it.  That's how this one came about. He gave us an outline to work from. Lol

Hopeful bump. @kermit

Dang it DFARM! You got me all excited that maybe @kermit had returned to this thread and continued the story.  Oh, kermit!  Where are you? Come Out!, Come Out! Wherever you are!!

I'm still here.  Thank you for keeping the fires burning.

I've been waiting, mostly patiently, for someone else to get out of the way.  There was no 'cease and desist' (in fact it was quite the opposite), but I was causing interference and chose to wait.

The good news is that the story is mostly finished.  The bad news is that it's all in my head.

I had plenty of time to think while I was working on not being dead last year.  At one point a nurse walked in, found me crying, and I ended up explaining to a very concerned (and very self important) hospital counselor that I was composing a letter in my head from a dying man to an unborn child as part of a book.

It's good to know that people are still interested in my folly.  It will all end up here........eventually.

By the way:  I did manage to work in a wheelbarrow, a 10/22, and a .38.  

Welcome back

I can't wait Kermit.

Did you involve Spring Creek in the story very much?

Last summer most of the Rubies behind it burned up in two different fires. Lamoille Canyon got toasted.

Glad you back.

Gun kid is back.....

Hope to see you writing soon.

Hail kermit!  I, for one, am very glad to see that you are still listed in the group of "not dead yet".  Sorry to hear that you had to spend all or a majority of last year working hard at not being dead.  I suppose that is a nearly satisfactory explanation for not posting more of this companion story to "The Other".

Will the wheelbarrow be of the "tactical" variety?  Inquiring minds want to know!  Please get the whole story written down even if it is not immediately available here so that nothing gets lost in some dark back corner of your brain.

Here is to your Good Health in the coming year so that you may fulfill your Promises Made!

Damn....one midnight post and they all come out of the woodwork.    It's good to see everyone again.

Spring Creek is still part of the second story line.  The idea is that the book would flip back and forth between the two locations, so I need to put some of the Nevada stuff out here.

It's supposed to rain all weekend here.  Look for an update Sunday-ish.

Welcome back to the land of the living!

Here's to good health in the future

Damn, I'm late to the party but glad to see that you're checking back in here.  I thought that this story was dead for sure.  I think that everyone here can understand you not wanting to cause any issues for "the other story."

It sounds like you went through a rough patch there. I hope all is well with you now...

Dying is easy. It’s living that’s difficult.

All is well now.  Approaching the 1 year anniversary of the heart attack.....big milestone.

Interesting note (at least to me):  my Fitbit says that my heart rate when I’m shooting is the same as it is when I’m asleep.

Ok...trying to get back in the groove here.

A friend who isn't on this forum read chapter 1 today and peppered me with questions about the back story.  He suggested that a prologue or introduction of some sorts would be helpful to people who weren't around to see this thing play out in real time so many years ago.

He's right.  The story just kind of jumps into action and doesn't set the stage or explain anything about the world these folks live in.  It made sense at the time, but now, several years removed, it could use some help at the beginning.

The second story line hasn't been developed at all, so I'm going to get that story going and use it as the intro.  In the final form, the meeting in the driveway will take place after Kevin and Joe get on the road to Elko.

This segment isn't much........just what I pounded out after dinner.

After only a short 2 year wait, here's an update:

******************************************

The young man was quite proud of his job.  Real jobs were hard to come by in Cottonwood.  It seemed like everyone who lived there was either rich and retired, or poor and on one of the government programs that almost provided enough to live on.

Almost enough.

If a real job (with a real paycheck) actually opened up, there were hundreds of people competing for it.  People from all the neighboring towns.  Sometimes even as far away as Phoenix.

But he had a job.  A real job.  He’d had the right combination of diversity points to make the first cut, and the job bondsman had provided him enough money to make all the right bribes.  He only had 4 years and 9 months of payments left until his job loan was paid off.

He had a right to be proud, and he took his job very seriously.  Private security was the only industry that was growing these days.  The only industry where a strong young man could jump the line in front of the fudds and their fancy university degrees.  The only industry new enough and growing fast enough that hereditary jobs were only common in the cities.  Maybe, if he did well enough, his position would qualify for a family endorsement and one of his children would inherit the job.  He had only been working for a year and had already been promoted from the first-time visitor area (the “turn away” line) to the members’ entrance.  He got to work inside now, and he hadn’t had to use his taser on anyone for months.  The remote controlled drone bulldozer sitting outside the shack did his dirty work for him now.

He really enjoyed using the bulldozer.

A faded blue truck pulled up outside of his security shack.  The truck was far from new, looking to be at least 30, maybe even 40 years old.  The boxy shape, the rattling diesel engine, and a front bumper actually made out of steel gave it away as something from the previous century.  The driver stopped the truck just short of the reinforced gate leading to the shopping center parking lot.  The young man could see a faded bumper sticker on the side of the toolbox behind the cab.

The sticker read “Extremely Deplorable”.

The young man pressed the switch that activated the speaker attached to the outside of his armored guard shack while he watched the truck closely through the layers of bullet proof glass.  He had to move his head back and forth slightly to get a clear view through a spiderweb of cracks leftover from the night he had found out that the glass really was bullet proof.  Based on the age of the truck, and the sticker mentioning a word he remembered from his government history classes, the young man decided that ‘Greeting B’ was appropriate for this visitor.

He read carefully from the laminated card mounted to the inside of the window.  “This is a members only shopping center.  If you wish to apply for membership, please proceed to the new member application area on Third Street.  Your vehicle will be removed from the area in 15 seconds if you do not comply.”  To underscore the directions, the young man pressed the starter button for the bulldozer.

The front window of the truck rolled down just enough for a hand to reach out, holding a gold colored card.

With a short “Oh shit…” muttered under his breath, the young man jumped from his stool and activated the controls used to move the remote identification scanner to a place within convenient reach of the driver.

Information flashed onto a video screen in front of the young man when the driver inserted his card into the scanner.

Name:  Kevin Beare

Membership Number:  4

Founding Member

The words ‘Founding Member’ were blinking.  A picture of a grey haired man with glasses was just below the blinking words.

The man in the truck placed his thumb against the scanner.  IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED appeared in large green letters across the picture.

Pressing the speaker button again, the young man stammered “I…I…I’m sorry Mr. Beare.   Welcome back, Mr. Beare.  I apologize, Mr. Beare.”  Another button was hastily pressed, and the steel and razor wire gate began to roll back to clear the entrance.

The man in the truck spoke.  “It’s ok son.  That’s why we pay you.”  The window rolled up as the truck drove through the open gate into the parking lot.

The young man turned off the bulldozer and slumped on his stool while the gate slowly closed.

"welcome to Costco, I love you."

Thanks for the update!

And so it begins, again.

(Anticipation...)

Holy crap!  I'm glad to hear that you're on the right side of that.

Interestingly I find shooting (rifles) incredibly relaxing too, almost meditative.  I have never measured my heart-rate while doing it but your results don't surprise me at all.  (I also find that it is a great exercise in humility, I'm not that great at wind calls...)

Thanks for the update, it's great to see the old engine running again!

Greyguy wind call really arent that tough. An easy and rough estimate is to figure one MOA or 10 inches for every mph at a thousand yards.

Also watch the mirage.

The best practice I've found for wind calls is to shoot standard velocity .22 LR at 100 yards on a windy day.  Humbling, as you said.

Mirage?  We don't get mirage in AZ.  The targets just look wavy because they're melting.

Another short after dinner burst follows.......

******************************************************************************************

Kevin let the truck idle through the parking lot in second gear, enjoying the rattle-thump of the big diesel engine.  The lot had wide, long spaces, specifically designed for trucks.  There were no medians, no dividers, no planters, no trees.  Nothing to interrupt a clear line of sight.

An area about half the size of a soccer field was covered with close cropped grass exactly in the middle of the parking lot.  Three generations of a family were watching the youngest children kicking a ball back and forth.  The happy sounds of the children and the relaxed smiles of the adults formed a fascinating contrast to the razor wire walls surrounding the compound.

As he parked, Kevin mused about the new normality.  People who could afford to pay for it had security and safety.  Those who couldn’t afford to pay had neither.

The United States had flirted with the 50% welfare statistic for many years, but once the line was crossed the nation plunged headlong into bread and circuses.  The most recent statistic he had seen placed the current ratio at 80/20.  The 20% who did work were taxed unmercifully.    Not surprisingly, a strong (and highly illegal) black market shadow economy had developed.  Bartering was back in a big way.  The most entrepreneurial people were on the government dole and running an off-the-books small business in the background.

The grocery store in the private shopping center sourced almost off of its inventory from locals who grew food or made other trade goods in their homes.  Selling, purchasing, or trading for goods without paying the appropriate tax was illegal, so everything was carefully documented as gifts.  Those with an excess of something would make a gift to a merchant.  The merchant, out of the goodness of his heart, would then make a gift in return.   Kevin had 20 gallons of home brewed beer and several bushels of sweet corn in the back of his truck for exactly that purpose.  Beare’s Beer was quite popular and in high demand.

A parking lot attendant came jogging up as Kevin finished parking the truck.  The attendant knew his job well and stayed at a polite distance while Kevin opened the door and got out.  After rolling his head from side to side to get the kinks out of his neck, Kevin pointed at the ground and snapped his fingers.  A male Australian Shepard jumped out the truck and sat exactly where he had pointed.  The dogs ears stood straight up as it stared intently at the lot attendant.  Kevin locked the truck door and closed it with a thump.

The closing of the door was the signal the attendant had been waiting for.  “Good morning, Senor Beare.  And how is my buddy Elwood today?”  The attendant squatted down and opened his arms wide.  The dog jumped forward and ran in circles, jumping up and down in front of the attendant.  The attendant didn’t have to make any effort to pet the dog.  All he had to do was hold his arms out and the dog bounced between them, petting himself.

“You really know how to fuck up a good guard dog, don’t you Victor?”  The question was gruff, but Kevin smiled as he spoke.

“No Senor.  Elwood is an excellent guard dog.  He knows who he can trust and who he can’t.  Have you brought us any gifts today?”

“I have.  There are 4 jugs of beer and 3 bushels of corn in the truck.  There is also a bag of the shishito peppers that your wife likes.  Those are in the corner of the bed, by the toolbox.”

Victor disengaged himself from the dog and stood.  “Ah thank you Senor.  Will you be home tomorrow?  My brother brought a few bottles of Mescal with him from Mexico.  I can have one of the children bring one to you.”

Kevin looked thoughtful for a few seconds.  “I’m going to be busy tomorrow and Monday.  How about you bring a bottle over on Tuesday and we’ll have a drink together?  You could bring your papa and your abuelo.  There are some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

Victor’s face broadened with a smile.  “Mi papa will be in Mexico on that day, but I am certain that my grandfather would enjoy your company.  It is set then.”  Victor pulled a small radio from the pocket of his cargo pants and, after glancing briefly into the back of the truck, spoke rapidly into it in Spanish.  Four men with two wheeled carts emerged from the front of the store a few seconds later.

Kevin walked to the back of the truck and opened the tailgate.  Pointing at the top of the cab, he snapped his fingers and said “Elwood.  Top.”

The black and grey dog made a running leap into the back of the pickup, gingerly walked across the bushels of corn, stepped up onto the toolbox, and hopped up on top of the cab.  He lay down with his front paws hanging over the edge of the cab and watched the men with the carts approach.  His bushy tail made a booming thump on the top of the truck.

Thoomp, thoomp, thoomp, thoomp.

As the men were about 20 feet from the truck, the thumping stopped.  Victor and Kevin both looked at the dog.  The happy brightness in the dog’s eyes had gone away, replaced by an intent stare.  Elwood was watching one of the men in particular.  When the men were 10 feet from the truck, the dog scrabbled to his feet, head held low, tail straight out.  A growl began deep within the dogs chest.  Elwood’s shoulders began to shake.  The growl turned into a snarl, and as the men stopped the cart next to the truck the snarl turned into excited barking.  The dog had sunk into a crouch, the hair around his shoulders and neck was standing straight up.  His whole body shook with the force of his intent.  All of the fury was obviously directed at one man.

Kevin had taken two long steps away from the truck and had his right hand behind his back, holding something at waist level, out of sight.

Victor stepped forward and pointed at the man who was the subject of the dogs wrath.  “You!  Step back now!”  The man shuffled backwards a few feet and the racket from on top of the truck slowed down.

Victor glanced at Kevin and approached the man, carefully staying in an area that didn’t block the view of either Kevin or the dog.  Looking at the man’s name tag, he said “You’re new here aren’t you?”

The man puffed his chest out and stood a bit straighter.  A bluish grey tattoo peeked out from under his collar.  “Yeah.  Last week.  That fugging dawg needs to be..”

“Shut!   Up!”

The command from the normally soft spoken Victor startled everyone.  Victor pointed at the mans chest.  “You.  You are fired.  Right now.”  He turned to the other cart pushers and continued  “You three.  You will escort this one to the office to collect his pay, and then you will escort him from the property.  Use whatever methods you think are needed.  You will do this now.”

“Now wait just a goddam minute!  I know my rights!  You can’t fire me because a fuggin dog barked at me!”  The man was doing a fair imitation of the way Elwood had been quivering and hopping a few minutes earlier.

Victor smiled the confidently wicked smile of a man who knows he will be supported by the ones who truly matter.  “The dog is an excellent judge of character, but that is not why you are being fired.  You are being fired because you made one of our customers upset.  You caused Senor Kevin to draw his gun while he was on our property.  That simply will not do.”

Victor looked again to the three cart pushers.  “Why are you still here?”

The three men boxed in the fourth man and began shoving him towards the entrance.

Turning to Kevin, Victor bowed his head and said “My most sincere apologies, Senor.  That one was going to be trouble.  Elwood simply confirmed my own suspicions.  I believe the local word is ‘methbilly’.  I will unload your truck myself.”

Kevin was straightening his shirt.  “No apologies needed Victor.  I’m sure Elwood was happy to help.”

Victor moved to the cab of the truck, reached up, and began to scratch the dog behind his left ear.  Elwood’s right rear foot began to beat out a fast bumpbumpbumpbumpbump on the top of the truck.

“Yes, Elwood is a good boy.”

Update Ends*********

Note:  I don't have a pic handy of the real Elwood on top of my truck, but here he is hanging out on his coffee table:



Moar to come...

Edit: spelling

Do you want us to point out any errors.

There was one word error in the beginning.

Absolutely!

Was it "After a rolling his head...."

I just saw that one.

The beginning of the fifth paragraph.

The grocery store in the private shopping center sourced (almost off of its’ inventory)

Shouldn't this be.

(almost all of its inventory)

Got it....thank you.

Was intending to write this afternoon, but spent time assembling a rifle with my daughter instead.  I'll flesh out the shopping trip while I drive tomorrow and hopefully have something up soon.

Am liking this moar you are bringing!  Please have moar of the moar!

Moar for GreenGiant..........

**************************************

Victor and Kevin unloaded the truck onto the two flat carts, lashing the loads in place with straps from Kevin’s toolbox.  Victor insisted on placing all of the beer onto one cart for him to push, leaving Kevin with the lighter burden.  They chatted amiably about the health of Victor’s grandparents as they pushed their carts towards the store.

Elwood watched the kids playing ball from his perch on top of the truck.

The security guards on top of the building watched Elwood, joking about how their jobs were going to be outsourced to a dog.

The store manager met Victor and Kevin at the security checkpoint near the front door.  “Kevin!  So happy you could visit us today.  I’m sorry I missed you last week.  And you brought beer!  Your last batch sold out the day after you brought it.  Your empty kegs are clean and ready for you to pick up.  I’ll have them taken out to your truck….if Elwood will allow it.”

Kevin parked his cart of corn and shook hands with the manager.  “It’s good to see you again, Harmon.  You should probably let me take the kegs today.  How is your wife?”

“Understood.  The kegs will be on a cart here at the door.  Thank you for asking of my wife.  She grows more lovely every day.  In two weeks we will have been married for 53 years.  Oh, you brought corn.  Good, good.  We have a special surprise for you today:  Avocados.  And, Eric from the winery brought us 6 cases of the Mules Mistake.  I set aside two bottles for you.  They’re in the office next to mine.”

Victor was watching another truck pull into the parking lot.  Harmon nodded at him and waved Kevin through the security checkpoint.  Kevin reached out to shake Victors’ hand, slipping him a tip as they shook.  “Remember Tuesday night…and bring your grandpa.”

“I will, Senor.  We will see you after dinner.”  Victor trotted away as Harmon and Kevin entered the store.

Harmon opened his arms wide, encompassing his domain.  “What can we help you with today?”

Kevin looked thoughtful for a moment, then said “I need to see the pharmacist, and I need enough food to keep two old men and a dog going during a 2 week fishing trip.  Assume that we won’t catch a damn thing except hangovers.  I trust your judgment.”  The last sentence was accompanied by a small bow.

Harmon’s eyes lit up and his seamed face opened into a smile that threatened to split his head in half.  “HA!  I remember fishing with you!  Half of a small horse for Elwood, 20 pounds of bacon for the men, one loaf of bread, and a case of antacid!  I am on the job.  Go see the candy man and we will have your order at the front desk in about 30 minutes.”

He shook hands with Kevin again, this time grabbing Kevin’s right bicep with his left hand and leaning close.  “It’s good to see you again.  There aren’t many of us left anymore that remember how to be a man.  You know, I tried to teach one of my grandsons how to cast a fly down at the river a few weeks ago.  He made two casts and threw the pole back at me.  He said the fishing pole on his console works better!  Sometimes I worry….But that’s not your problem.  Go get your pills.”

On impulse, Kevin pulled the other old man into a hug.  “It’s good to see you too buddy.  I worry too.  We should talk, but not here.”

Harmon took a step back, but he held on to Kevin’s hand and stared intently at him.  “Is this the fishing trip then?”

“It is.”

“Then we don’t have to talk.  We’ve both read the tea leaves the same way.”  He looked around briefly.  “Things don’t look good.  If the ‘net is still down on Friday, the family is packing up and all going to Window Rock.  That place was a hundred years behind when things were good.  Nobody will notice that things are bad.  Are your children alright?”

Kevin let go of the handshake and put his hands in his pockets.  “I hope so.  Gene and Stimpson will check in on them if things keep up the way they are.  There’s a lot of cartel trouble down there.  They’re strong.  They should be fine.  Joe and I are going ‘fishing’ in Nevada.  It sucks how he and I are closer to Gene’s kids, and Gene and Stimpson are closer to mine, but that’s how it happened.”

Harmon nodded.  “Everyone must find their own place in the world.”  He pointed at Kevin’s chest.  “30 minutes.”

Kevin nodded back and turned away, towards the pharmacy.

The lady behind the plexiglass window of the pharmacy was surprised to see Kevin.  “Are you ok, Mr. Beare?  You were just here last week.  Is something wrong?”

“Hello Mrs. Hatcher.  I’m fine, but my last batch of pills were stolen.  I was stupid and left the window rolled down at a stoplight.  Some guy reached in and grabbed them so fast that Elwood didn’t even have time to bark.  I’m sorry, but I need to do the whole thing again.”

Mrs. Hatcher tapped a pen on the counter while she thought.  “That might be a problem.  I’m supposed to confirm with your doctor if you come in too often, but I can’t do that until the magic boxes can talk to each other again.  I was pushing it last time with the backup pills.  Did the thief get those too?”

“Yes he did.  Both the primary and the backup.  I’m supposed to leave town on Wednesday.”  Kevin smiled and winked.  “Do you think your magic box will work by then?”

She looked at him over her glasses and shook the pen at him.  “You are a dirty old man, Mr. Beare.  Tell you what…did you get a police report after you were robbed?”

Kevin rolled his eyes and pulled a piece of yellow paper out of his shirt pocket.  “Well, I couldn’t call them, but I did go to the station.  They gave me a number for a Victimless Crime Report and told me to call my insurance.  Is that what you need?”  He put the piece of paper into the sliding drawer so that she could pull it into the plexiglass box.

She pulled the drawer through to her side and looked at the paper.  “Victimless Crime my saggy ass.  That ‘No Blood, No Foul’ law is bullshit if you ask me.  I can use this.  You’ll have to pay again though.”

“I understand.  Pay for my free prescription.  If you want to talk bullshit, how about taxing something that’s free?  How does that work?”

Mrs. Hatcher shook her head.  “Beats me, honey.  Beats me.”  Her eyes brightened.  “Hey, there is one good thing.  You’re the only person I know who has to take meds to raise his blood pressure.  Hopefully the trash that stole your stuff OD’d on it and stroked out in an alley somewhere.”  She pushed her stool back and stood up.  “Give me a couple of minutes.  Did they take your dogs medicine too?”

“They sure did.  It was all in the same bag.”

“Nice.  That would be fun to see.  Some junkie trying to get high on deworming pills and BP meds.  Stroked out and covered in shit.  Poetic justice.  I’ll be right back.”

Kevin killed time wandering around the store until he saw the green light above the pharmacy flashing.  Mrs. Hatcher put 3 bags into the push through drawer and shoved it to his side of the wall.

Looking at the receipt, she said “There you go.  90 days of BP meds, with another 90 day supply to keep in your trailer while you’re fishing.  And the dewormer for Elwood.  Just like last time.  That’ll be $873.48.”

Kevin left the bags in the drawer for the moment.  “How should I pay if the ‘net is down?  Doesn’t that break your card scanner?”

She motioned him closer to the speaker and turned the volume down.  “For right now I’m doing it like we do every other time the ‘net goes down.  I just save the error printout and key it in later.  I won’t be able to do that much longer though.  But that’s not your problem.  Give me your card and I’ll take care of it.”

Kevin picked up the bags and put his card into the drawer.  Mrs. Hatcher drew it through to her side, swiped it, waiting for the machine to beep and vomit out several feet of paper filled with error messages, then slid the card back through to his side.

“You take are now, Mr. Beare.  And roll up your damn windows.”

Kevin blew her a kiss through the plexiglass.  “Thank you sweetheart.  Enjoy your day.”

Harmon was waiting for him at the front desk.  An electric pallet jack stacked with boxes and beer kegs sat just inside the security checkpoint.  The kegs each wore a tag that read ‘empty’.  His tie down straps were rolled neatly on top.  Kevin pointed at the stack as he walked up.

“That mine?”

Harmon nodded.  “Yes.  Victor will help you load and bring the scooter back.  Would you like to check the order?”

Kevin smiled and brought out his wallet.  “No, I really do trust you.  How much do I owe you?”

Harmon looked sad.  “You owe me nothing.  We have exchanged gifts and we part with no debts.”  He held out his hand once again.  “Walk in beauty, my friend.”

*********************

Note:    Hozho naasha is the first person version of what Harmon is saying...."I will walk in beauty."  I don't know enough Navajo to conjugate the verb and turn that into the second person phrase "You will walk...".  I'll work on that.

kermit, you are really making up for lost time with high quality prose!  Don't sweat it, I don't even know any Navaho, so conjugation errors there will be overlooked by me!

My issue is more about accurately guessing the strength and sometimes even the direction (sounds stupid when I type it out) of the wind at any given moment.

That's a great idea.  I do love shooting .22LR.

And thanks for another update!

Greyguy there is a new app called high power wind lab that might be right up your alley.
The guy that invented it is a Palma shooter out of Reno