Me and Shay

We were both called Shorty, me and this new cowpoke Shay. He had a disappointed attitude that could be seen a mile away. I did not like him instantly, he annoyed my organized mind. He was not to my liking or taste, we were not two of a kind. Shay was a loud mouth, thought his jokes were a hoot. He was a weird co-worker, an ornery, persnickety coot. I could not stand him until I got in trouble one day. Who came to my aid? That ornery guy name of Shay. We became friends after that; I taught him to shoot He taught me to keep folding money in my right boot. That Needham rifle was his, but he gave it to me. When he was sick with the cancer in 1873.