Uncle Calder was everything stereotypically western. Big hat, cowboy boots, belt buckle, leathery skin, yep, he had it all.
“You must be Simon.” Even the grizzled voice.
“I am.”
Well, get your stuff.” Calder had the pick up waiting. Simon loaded his stuff and climbed in. Calder shifted and took off. Simon had never been off the east coast, the scenery was foreign to his eyes. Beautiful, but strange.
“How’s my niece?”
“Probably better now that I’m gone.”
“Have you called her?”
“Yeah, when I touched down.”
“The kids?”
“Getting big.” Simon knew this man was his companion for however long he chose to stay, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be civil.
“See the river there? I was pulled from it when I was a boy, scared my mother half to death. She never let me forget it, took the fun right out of a near death experience.” Simon raised an eyebrow. “Something like that gives you perspective on your life, even when you’re only 9. I was the coolest kid in town.”