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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue of cc&d (v230) (the March 2012 Issue You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue as an ISSN# paperback book:

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The Last Stetson

Virginia Fultz

The young man lost his Stetson
in a horizontal snow-blasting blizzard
between Amarillo and Canyon, Texas.
Visibility zero, he got out of the car to
clear the windshield of crusted ice.

He fell in behind an approaching snow
plough, following it to safety and warmth
and the waiting embrace of his young wife.
She went for his mug, filled it with coffee
and sat close beside him. She had waited
by the radio for any news—they had no
phone—frantic what with the blizzard and
their old car. Joyous in his homecoming,
she placed her open palms
on his wind-burned cheeks.

“ They shut the road behind the snow
plough and me. No one’s goin’ anywhere
tomorrow. Ranchers can’t get to their
stock. There’ll be losses.𔄙
He sipped the steaming brew.
“ The wind took my hat when I got
out to scrape the windshield.𔄙

“ But you’re here. You’re safe. You can
always get another hat.𔄙 The two sat
close, separate in their thoughts.
The wailing wind whipped the thin-paned
windows. The biting wind. The storm’s
fury shook the humble place.

The hat he lost that night was the last
Stetson the young man would ever own.
He and his wife soon left behind this
place where he’d grown up.

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