Missionaries

Pale and well-meaning, the missionaries settled into the sky and stone canyons.  The natives, who worshipped owls and lived in mud homes anchored to the sunset cliffs, saw the missionaries for who they were—soft killers who used kindness as a weapon.  But they nevertheless allowed the missionaries a flimsy wooden structure in the raw wash where the sun pushed shadows across the sands all day.

Thirty years later, a freight train derailed near a brackish river in the canyons, spilling nearly a ton of gold ingots across the sand and creosote bush.  The natives understood that the gold was worth a great deal but not as valuable as the sunset cliffs.  They left the gold to turn cold as the cliffs sliced the sun into darkness.

Ten years after that, the sons of missionaries took the pink cliffs.

--Mitchell Hegman