Debi Orton's Pick:
Riding Fences
by W. R. Shaw
"This kept me guessing up until the last line, which pulled everything together."
He reined in at the top of the hill to look back at the warm pool of light that was the town. His breath fogged the clear, cold air and he felt a moment's regret for the warmth he was leaving behind. But it wasn't for him, that warmth. It was a fool's game to pretend it was. Like pretending winter wouldn't follow autumn. All it did was leave a man unprepared for the cold. Spend too much time staring at the light, you couldn't see clearly in the dark. There'd be other towns. There always were. Everyone loves a stray cat when there are rats in the corn. They just don't have much use for it, once the rats are gone. Way of the world. He nudged his horse and they started down the far side of the hill. Neither of them looked back.
Dawn was breaking when he throttled down and stopped the bike at the edge of town. The black helmet made him almost claustrophobic in the heat. He tugged it off, and shook his hair back to let the light breeze dry it. Didn't look like a bad town. He didn't know what they wanted from him yet. Didn't much matter, though. He'd handle it. Fix it. Save the world. What the hell ever. Funny how people were always quoting that old cliché, "times change." He figured it was because they only ever saw their own time, and never really took a good look at themselves. Nothing changed. Not really. Only, he was tired. And sometimes he missed the horse.
W. R. Shaw is a freelance writer and writing consultant, currently living in the Pacific Northwest.