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A girl would wrap little notes in the tumbleweeds that came leaping and bouncing into her farm and then let them go on their way to the very edge of nowhere, to reach the loneliest of cowboys "out there,"
in the endlessly rolling prairies,
in the sun-baked, bone-whitened deserts,
in the one-street, one-saloon, rinky-dinky towns...

As a result of the unique way in which she "mailed" her notes, "chasin' tumbleweeds" soon became a challenge that had to be met. Wherever they might be, whatever they were doing, the men would scramble to give chase to the first rolling tumbleweed that came with the whistling wind, the swirling dust, the dying day...

There was a note from her -- maybe, hopefully, wonderfully -- to be found in the balled tangle of weeds racing away.

The girl soon became famous and her notes "trophies" to be kept in shirt pockets closest to the heart.

She was your sweetheart, the girl that kept you from doing shameful things, the one to inspire you for good. She was all that to those who could read, or had her notes read to them. And around the campfire at night, she was often the provocation for talk: rumored about her, speculated over, wondered at... But strangely enough, none considered finding her to win her...

All except a drover, a lean, quiet loner.

He made the long, impossible journey to her, unerringly, following the map that was etched in his heart,
across oceans of wind-whipping grass that cut like sharpened knives;
scorched stretches of land that offered no water but foamy puss from thorny cacti;
winding, rushing rivers, roaring in unforgiving anger; and,
mountain passes, short cuts, that were carved from ice as pale as a Wyoming sky after rain.

But he found her -- in a patch of a farm some miles away from a played-out mine, some miles away from a town falling apart, some miles east of nowhere -- and knew, instantly, that he was in that exact, magical spot where the desert dawn would ever break beautifully...

She was, truly, breathtakingly lovely.

And when she stood there, looking up at him on his horse, her eyes saying, "You're finally here!" tears came unbidden to his eyes, he was that happy. But all he did, in response, was to tip his hat and say, "Ma'am" -- which made her laugh, because he had absolutely no idea how absurd his greeting was, as a beginning to the life they would make, together...

Oh, about the notes she sent? What were in them, you ask?

Words, of course, in runaway sentences, little drawings, poems -- but more often than not so faded from the wind and sun and the miles through grit and storm that very little was readable enough to make sense to those who got them. But it was the note from her,reaching them, wherever they were, to say, clearly, "Hey, Cowboy, I know you're there. I've reached you, haven't I? So you take care, you hear?" that made all the difference...

Author's Note: The story you've just read isn't original; it's more a "spin-off" from one of Louis L'Amour's Westerns in which a girl did exactly that -- wrap notes in the tumbleweeds that came through her farm before letting them go on their way. I just thought it would be fun to let my imagination "roll" along, to see where it would go...! And so to L'Amour for his idea, thanks!/NL

Norbert Luciano © 2009

Norbert Luciano has served as a news correspondent, teacher and pastor. Now retired and residing in Odessa, Delaware, he has returned to his first love-writing. Norbert currently occupies himself word-crafting poems, essays, short stories and novels. He holds a Bachelor's degree in English and a Master's in Education and has taken courses in creative writing at the University of Chicago. As a young man he was a news reporter for publications in the Philippines and Hong Kong; and also, a feature correspondent for an American news service based in Macau. While in Hong Kong, he wrote a novel, a satire, on the Chinese commune system the Communists were then so boastful about, and for which he drew good reviews. He also taught English there and, later, in the public school system in New York City. As a minister, he has served as pastor in churches in New York and New Jersey.

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