The Navajo boy loved roaming the desert collecting the occasional luminous rocks. Sometimes he would find a piece of metal from armies of days gone by, or he imagined great warriors of his past fighting over gold or defending a castle he had made of stones gathered together.
“Alex, my boy, how would you like to go into town with me tomorrow? Should be a light day so I can show you around the store.”
“Sure, Poppa, that would be great!” Alex responded with glee as his smile stretched from ear to ear.
“OK, now that is settled, let’s both of us get back to work before Mim comes out here and sees us loafing about.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex answered running back to the wood pile.
Alex’s short arms couldn't fit around much of the wood. After his third trip into the house, he placed the final armload near the fireplace. The baking roast aroma waft throughout the little home as it gave off a warm and inviting atmosphere.
Gerald’s friend, George Wolf, stopped by with his boy Frank to pass the time of day. Mim, checking on the roast temperature, noticed the old clunker, what George called a truck out the front window.
“Hmmph! That no good lie tellin’ mooch, he’s always fillin’ Gerald’s head with nonsense.”
“What Grams?” Alex said hearing her with his last load of chopped firewood.
“Never you mind Alex, and don’t you listen to that man,” she instructed the boy. “Now go play with your friend.”
“Yes um,” Alex replied running out to Frank.
“Race ya’ around the barn,” Frank challenged Alex.
“You’re on,” Alex said starting before Frank blinked.
The boys ran around the barn twice until they stopped at the large door. George was talking the loudest.