him of you as I sense his questioning of why I walk alone. Where it was that we once shared our pity with him because of his small size, his inability to run as quickly as the other coyotes, I feel his pity for me now that I travel with no pack. I suppose that is why I am allowed to track and hunt with him.
I have also seen the old witch running along the canyon floor and the wisp of smoke that you always called “Kit Carson’s ghost” that seems to waft along the north end of the ranch at the Old Sheep Trail. I still find the mounds of rocks that you made as a boy to mark paths for you and Angel to find your way home when you wandered for so many miles. I see all the places we shared, all the trails we walked, the clearings where we rested for the night; and when I lie beneath the stars, so many of them, you know, I call up your name to our ancestors, to the spirits to guide you and protect you and bring you out of harm’s way and back home. I cannot say if I think there is one God watching the world as the white man seems so resolved to make everyone acknowledge and believe in; but I confess to you, I have even prayed to Him.
You are my family, Raymond. You are my son. And I yearn to have you home.
Ah-hah-lah’nih! I will greet you with love and great favor when we meet again.
Your father, Frank Twinhorse
Dear Raymond,
I have no idea if this box of letters and stuff makes it to you. The address the hospital nurse repeated for me has so many numbers and letters and has that German name for a town, I don’t know if I got everything right on the label or not. Christine helped me. She read what I had written over and over to me while I wrote the address on the right forms and then checked the label side by side with my notes from the phone call and she promises me I got it right, so I hope that is true.
In case you’re wondering, I did write the label and got the box before I wrote my own letter. I sometimes have a hard time writing down a lot in one sitting but I guess you’ve figured that out since I tend to do most of my catching you up on the town and my life when we talk on the computer. I know that you said the last time we had a conversation that I should write longer letters but it’s just hard for me to get it all down in words. And plus, you know how challenging spelling can be for me! Malene let me have the old computer that Alex had and she showed me the tool bar where you can check your spelling, but as you can see, I’ll still not likely get all the words written correct. Maybe you’re banged up enough not to notice. Not that I hope that, of course. See, I’m such an idiot. Who would say something as stupid as that? At least, when I’m talking I can take it back. When I’m writing, it’s too hard to erase a whole sentence. Anyway, maybe I should learn to use the computer better if I have to write you a lot of letters. Christine told me you can take away entire lines and paragraphs if you read it later and want to change things. She forgot to show me that tool bar, however, before she left for her shift at the nursing home. So, just forgive my dumb mistakes. I’m real good at running that numbers program for the garage but when it comes to typing up a letter using that long typing software, that’s another whole story.
Oris said he was writing a letter. Francine is doing one and Father George, Roger and Malene and Frank are contributing. I have no idea what kinds of stuff they’ll be telling you about me and Alexandria. And I may read Oris’ before I mail it. He sometimes says more than he ought to say. I know that some of them are sending you a few things too since I told them that I was mailing everything in a box and they can include gifts if they wanted. Francine wants to send a pie and I’ll do my best to get it wrapped good, but if it’s gotten turned over or squashed in between all the other stuff, just get one of the nurses to throw it away and tell Francine you can’t
I have also seen the old witch running along the canyon floor and the wisp of smoke that you always called “Kit Carson’s ghost” that seems to waft along the north end of the ranch at the Old Sheep Trail. I still find the mounds of rocks that you made as a boy to mark paths for you and Angel to find your way home when you wandered for so many miles. I see all the places we shared, all the trails we walked, the clearings where we rested for the night; and when I lie beneath the stars, so many of them, you know, I call up your name to our ancestors, to the spirits to guide you and protect you and bring you out of harm’s way and back home. I cannot say if I think there is one God watching the world as the white man seems so resolved to make everyone acknowledge and believe in; but I confess to you, I have even prayed to Him.
You are my family, Raymond. You are my son. And I yearn to have you home.
Ah-hah-lah’nih! I will greet you with love and great favor when we meet again.
Your father, Frank Twinhorse
Dear Raymond,
I have no idea if this box of letters and stuff makes it to you. The address the hospital nurse repeated for me has so many numbers and letters and has that German name for a town, I don’t know if I got everything right on the label or not. Christine helped me. She read what I had written over and over to me while I wrote the address on the right forms and then checked the label side by side with my notes from the phone call and she promises me I got it right, so I hope that is true.
In case you’re wondering, I did write the label and got the box before I wrote my own letter. I sometimes have a hard time writing down a lot in one sitting but I guess you’ve figured that out since I tend to do most of my catching you up on the town and my life when we talk on the computer. I know that you said the last time we had a conversation that I should write longer letters but it’s just hard for me to get it all down in words. And plus, you know how challenging spelling can be for me! Malene let me have the old computer that Alex had and she showed me the tool bar where you can check your spelling, but as you can see, I’ll still not likely get all the words written correct. Maybe you’re banged up enough not to notice. Not that I hope that, of course. See, I’m such an idiot. Who would say something as stupid as that? At least, when I’m talking I can take it back. When I’m writing, it’s too hard to erase a whole sentence. Anyway, maybe I should learn to use the computer better if I have to write you a lot of letters. Christine told me you can take away entire lines and paragraphs if you read it later and want to change things. She forgot to show me that tool bar, however, before she left for her shift at the nursing home. So, just forgive my dumb mistakes. I’m real good at running that numbers program for the garage but when it comes to typing up a letter using that long typing software, that’s another whole story.
Oris said he was writing a letter. Francine is doing one and Father George, Roger and Malene and Frank are contributing. I have no idea what kinds of stuff they’ll be telling you about me and Alexandria. And I may read Oris’ before I mail it. He sometimes says more than he ought to say. I know that some of them are sending you a few things too since I told them that I was mailing everything in a box and they can include gifts if they wanted. Francine wants to send a pie and I’ll do my best to get it wrapped good, but if it’s gotten turned over or squashed in between all the other stuff, just get one of the nurses to throw it away and tell Francine you can’t
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