Volume XXIII, Number 16 Issue 1125 | April 21, 2025
The Line Shack
The silhouette of the line shack came into view as the two riders, weary from a long day’s work, crested the hill. They had spent hours checking and mending fences while also searching for strays. The sight of the line shack was welcome news as it meant shelter from the impending storm. The shack had seen better days but both men knew it offered more protection from the approaching rain and cold than would have been afforded them were they to try sleeping in the open. The lean-to structure attached to the south side of the shack also meant their horses would have shelter from the weather. So, after pumping water from the well, they unsaddled their rides and stored their gear. Next, they set about gathering the few sticks available in the area. Fortunately, an old dead tree nearby was not done shedding its now rotting limbs so there was sufficient fuel for at least one good fire. That fire would serve them a hot meal as well as a warm night’s sleep.
Though the men had spent the day in easy earshot or one another, there had been little conversation apart from that needed to accomplish the tasks at hand. But now, with food in their bellies, warmed by the fire, sheltered from the chilly rain, and with little else to entertain them, they started to open up about their lives, past and present. The two men, separated by more than a generation, had not known each all that long so the stories of their respective youths were new to one another. And, because they lacked elements of a shared past, it was hard to tell how much might have been fact and how much was exaggeration. Jorge, the younger of the two, was slower to open up. But like so many in settings where stories of the past are shared, there was an element of one-upmanship involved.
After two hours or so the fire began to die so they fed it one more time, checked on their horses, and called it a night. The gusts of wind, patter of rain, and occasional roll of distant thunder, coming as it did at the end of a hard day’s work, made for a good night’s sleep for both men, if only a little less so for Carl, since like others his age, the call of nature meant one quick trip outdoors in the middle of the night. Still, the day’s work made him sufficiently tired so that he quickly fell back asleep. But not before he reflected on how different his and Jorge’s journeys had been.
Both, it seems, had encountered challenges along the way. Jorge had grown up in the desert southwest, the youngest of four in a tight knit, if impoverished home. Carl on the other hand, while not destitute as a youth, was a product of divorce. Raised mostly by his mother, Carl set out on his own at seventeen to learn the ways of a cowhand. Thus, neither man had an easy life. Moreover, due to a bad choice or two, Carl had spent a couple of years in the army – an option given him by a what he now knew to be a kindly old judge as a means of allowing him to avoid a criminal record and jail time.
Soon enough, the sun’s early rays began to fill the room from the shack’s lone window. That meant it was time to rise and prepare for a new day – one freshened with the lingering scent of the prior night’s rain. Breakfast for our riders consisted of dried biscuits and a couple pieces of jerky. Once their meal was over it was time to saddle up so they could resume their trek along the ranch’s westernmost fence line. There would be little small talk between them again today. But this day would be different if for no other reason than they had shared in the prior day’s work, a couple of meals, and tales of their younger years.
In fact, as they rode along both men thought about the differences in their lives as well as the newfound connection they had having spent time in that old line shack.
Do you recall a time when you were able to establish a meaningful bond with someone by virtue of time spent sharing in a meal or two along with elements of your respective backstories? If so, perhaps the superficial differences attributed to one’s upbringing, race, and faith managed to fall away. You see, all that is usually needed to break down our artificial barriers is the opportunity to see behind the stereotypes and the masks we all wear. In a world where it is far too easy and too common to prejudge someone based solely on appearances such as the color of one’s skin, accent, vocabulary, clothes, or vocation, isn’t it time we invested a few hours
learning and hopefully celebrating what makes others tick? Regardless of our apparent differences, we all stand under the same sun, feel the same wind and rain, and sleep beneath the same stars.
Soli Deo Gloria
“See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him.” 1 John 3:1
J. Keith Hughey
Mobile: (210)260-0955
E-mail: keith@jkeithhughey.com
Website: www.jkeithhughey.com
Transforming Potential into Unmatched Performance
Copyright 2025 by J. Keith Hughey. All rights reserved. Permission is hereby granted for reproduction and redistribution of this essay as provided under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Recent issues of Musings may be found at www.jkeithhughey.com. Your comments are always welcome.