The Lost Wagon Train

THE LOST WAGON TRAIN Last fall, hurriedly clearing the attic, We were packing lots of books and crocks For the church rummage sale frantic. My son grabbed a book from one box, And threw it on the heap marked “low priced stocks” Cowboy book, hardback with title unheard. It was a small novel, really cheap you’d say, With some handwritten word On the home-made dust cover gray: THE LOST WAGON TRAIN by Zane Grey. I said no, son, gimme that please - that stays with me. But dad, it’s only a Zane Grey book. Son, its gran’s handwriting don’t you see? The dust cover was made by my mother - look. . . . . . And when she went, it’s just about all I took. He gently blew the dust off, and gave me it clean. I had mislaid it and never would have guessed. Time stood still : it seemed only yesterday I had seen Her write it - she loved Zane Grey stories about the West. And I realized how much I loved cowboy movies best. C’mon dad, he whispered, I ought To get this stuff packed quick and on the road myself, Seeing me daydreaming in deep thought. I went and put it where it belonged itself, On our living room ‘s central bookshelf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Written for Paula Swanson’s Contest “Yard Sale”