Bitin' off more than you can chew...

Logan crept silently along the rocky crag. One slip, one falling stone, would give away his position. Twitter was tied up back at camp, waiting for Logan to return. How did this get so bad, Logan thought. Just this morning he was sitting at the bar at B&B Drug, enjoying a cherry phosphate. That was before. Before the ride down the lonely trail. Before he realized he was being followed by Harold Chew. Before the story somehow switched to third person. Seemed like a lifetime ago, Logan thought. He hadn't had anything to eat since that last cherry phosphate; seemed like his stomach was thinking his throat had been cut. Kind of like what old Davis had done to Grandpappy Sackett. But that was a long time ago too. A thought began to roll over in Logan's mind, one that wouldn't go away. Somehow, Logan began to feel like this trouble with Harold Chew might have something to do with Grandpappy Sackett's dealings with old man Davis. If that's the case, Logan thought, this is gonna end bad. Logan looked out over the dark prairie. Somewhere out there was his brothers. He couldn't help but wish they were here...