It was a dark and stormy night …

Stormy? Well, not so much. Dark? Pitch dark.

<<<<< When, what should my wondering ears hear? Ü >>>>> 

Hooves on gravel. (Rooftop, no.)

In farm-speak, hooves-on-gravel means trouble is afoot. Four of them. Four feet or pairs of four-footed critters on the LOOSE. Running. On the gravel roads that surround our farm. In other words, not pasture-fed, but free range, soon to be out-of-range cows (maybe horses) if something isn’t done quickly. Done and gone. Gone before dawn.

I threw on a robe, pulled on some boots, grabbed my derringer, scrounged a headlamp. Down several flights of stairs and into the dark, my searchlight searching for eyes. Whose?

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