June 8--Horses

"Reckon what's causing this Chet?" Clay asks his companion.

"Don't know but it's for sure strange."

The men look at the rattlesnake that Clay is holding by the tail. It's body stands out straight as if a strong prairie wind was keeping it stiff. Clay lays the body on top of the pile of similiar critters. Rattlers, tarantulas, prairie dogs and scorpions among other small local wildlife complete the small mound. While riding the pasture looking for mama cows who have hidden their calves, the men, along with Chet's son, Zeke, have discovered three such piles.

"It just don't make no sense, Chet. I ain't never seen anything like it."

"Me neither. Something's gotta be doing it but what?"

Behind the men, sitting behind the saddle on his daddy's horse, Zeke watches with glee as a pack of little men are building yet another mound of dead creatures. They are maybe ten inches tall, all brown and green and cracked like they had sprung from the dry sod themselves. Each little man was carrying a body, frozen stiff, to a tiny clearing. They waited until they apparently all were gathered and offered the small bodies to the pile. Some kind of offering maybe, Zeke thinks.

The men work with quick movements, waiting their turn then returning to their place in the circle while the rest of their fellows add their offering. One or two seem to be acting as lookouts while a third closely watches Clay and Chet for any signs of discovery. He shakes his tiny fist at them for disturbing their previous work.

Suddenly, one of the lookouts spots Zeke watching them and shouts a warning that sounds like no more than a squeak of oak branches rubbing together in the wind. Hundreds more of the little men pour from the earth. Zeke is so shocked by this sight that he can't find his voice to warn his dad and uncle that the tiny figures are closing in on them.

"What the hell?" Chet utters before he is taken down.