Up in the Rocky Mountains, there is an old man who lives there.  Nobody knows what his name is though.  He’s was an old outlaw but was just forgotten about.  He had none of his teeth left, except some of the ones in the back of his mouth so he never spoke, but even those looked like some old cement tombstones.  They were heavily stained black with cracks and chips in every one of them.  He made himself a racoon hat for the winter, although it was dusty and holey, it was all he had.  He wore a simple dark green button up, jacket that is now a tannish brown.  He had a bigger belly on him as well, so it didn’t fit him very nicely, but again, it was all he had.  He was also a shorter man, so pants were never a problem.  He had only a couple pairs and all of them were filled with holes.  Luckily, he was an amazing sewer, so he was able to line them up with some fur in the winter for warmth in the brutal winters.  Lastly, he had this one pair of boots he’s had since he was on the run, which was around 40 years or so.  They were not in very good shape anymore, but he managed to keep them going without any problems.

  It was November 28, 1893.  It was a long and awfully harsh day up in the Rockies.  The old man just got back from the crook right down the hill from his little cabin carrying a bag of trout.  It was a blizzard  the night before.  The wind was still blowing heavily.  Left his cabin with three feet of that glistening-white, fresh, and fluffy snow laying around.  It was a nice cabin I would say.  He built in all himself.  It was a two-story shack, with a kitchen with a simple four-sided table hand mad out of quaking aspen trees that were mixed into the variety of trees by the old man’s cabin.  The living area had with it  an old, weathered chair, with a fireplace to the right that the old man used to tell stories to his family.  It also had  a simple rug he made from the skin of a deer he shot a few years ago with his hand made bow that looked like the ones the natives of the land used.  That is where he got the idea from as well.  Then it had the bedroom in the attic.  It was just an ordinary, plane bedroom with a bed that was made of just two pieces of hide from a deer, stuffed with the dry weeds that he would pick before the first snowfall.  He made his blanket out of the same thing.  He also had a dresser to keep the few clothes that the old man had.  There was a crook that washed down the mountain, that wasn’t very far from the man’s house.  It was truly a beautiful little crook.  Always glistening in the sunlight, no matter the weather.  With the clearest water a man has ever seen.  It was always filled with trout making their way up stream.  If you listen carefully, you can hear the splashes made from them flying out of it.  It was his main source of freshwater and food, since he couldn’t grow food very successfully with the cold weather, and hardly any fertilized dirt, except for down by the crook, where there were a lot of wild berries which would ripen up right before the snow would fall.  Luckily, he was able to pick all the berries around before the first fall of snow, which came about three weeks early this year.  The old man came back to his cabin, while he was down by the crook, he managed to catch a couple trout with a pole he made from the handle of the old, dusty broom he had tucked away in the closet by my bedroom door with the dust pan, and a metal bucket for a garbage, he also made a hook out of the zipper of my old, wore-and-torn jeans.  While he was walking back, he was able to find some more wild berries he thought Constantine would like, that’s the old man’s horse.  She can be a little stubborn at times, she doesn’t always like to eat what is given to her and she’ll eat as soon as he leaves.  It’s alright thought, he doesn’t mind.  She keeps him company.  It gets kind of lonely up there all by yourself.  The man used to have a wife, and kid back before they he was an outlaw.  They both died from gunshots all because he robbed the wrong person.  He told them to run and stay far away from him.  They never left of course thought.  Ended up being shot right in front of him.  Ever since, he’s just been up in the mountains with only his horse.  Being lonely like this really hurts an old man.  He feels more tired than He’s ever felt before.  He catches himself not doing all the things he used to.  He doesn’t whistle.  He doesn’t read.  He just, sits there.  Thankfully he has Constantine though.  Without her, he wouldn’t be here anymore.  Unfortunately, her time is limited, just like mine.  She’s almost as old as he is.  He can’t even leave this place because she doesn’t have it in her to go on long journeys.  She can’t carry him anymore.  She can barely hold herself up.  She’s turned into the old man.  Just sits there and doesn’t move.  She’s just got to hang in there

  When he got back to his cabin from the crook, he went over to Constantine and she willingly took the berries right out of his hand.  She doesn’t do this often, so he just went into his cabin.  Went inside and kicked all the snow off his old leather boots with rabbit fur stuffed on the inside with some bark of a limber pine tree.  He started a fire in the fireplace next to the old rocking chair.  Placed one of the trout on the fire on a pan, he scavenged on the way up this mountain, and feasted.  He went outside that evening after eating the fish and went to see how Constantine was doing.  She seemed to be doing all right, so he gave her some more berries, which she willingly took again, and laid there on the pines of a blue spruce with her.  After that, he went back inside, and fell asleep on that old stiffened mattress.

            It was now the next morning.  he woke up and ate some of those berries and started off on the day.  He walked down to the crook and caught some more trout and made his way back to the cabin.  But before that, he checked on Constantine.  To his surprise, he thought that she was still sleeping.  He walked over to her and she didn’t move.  He put his hand on her chest and he soon realized that… she was dead.  You could see the terror, the hate, the grief flood over him like a thick blanket of snow from a blizzard.  First, this man lost his family, then the only thing that he had left to keep him company and from losing his mind up here had just passed away for reasons nobody knows.  This was a horrible day for the old man.  He was now alone on a mountain with no one left.  The worst part is, he can’t even bury her because the shovel he used to bury his family broke after he was done using it.  He did his very best to move the old horse, but that old raggedy body, just couldn’t get it to budge. 

He tried to do the normal day things he always does, but he couldn’t leave Constantine’s side.  By this time, she’s already stiff in every joint possible.  he managed to painfully carve a cross and put it with the other ones he made for his family. 

            It was dark out and he was still laying there as lifeless as the horse next to him was.  He figured it was time to go inside since he couldn’t feel anything in his body form the snow.  He heard some wolves out howling at the bright full moon and he figured maybe they would hopefully take care of the Constantine problem that the old man couldn’t manage to do.  He just couldn’t help the fact that he’ll wake up in the morning and see her laying there and not being able to feed her any more berries.  Not being able to pet her.  Not being able to just talk to something.  He just laid there in his thin as is paper, stiff mattress thinking, and thinking, and thinking.  Until, he finally woke up in the morning.  He opened his old crusted eyes and just stared at the window.  No blinking, nothing.  Just, staring.  Finally, He manage to get up to his old tired feet.  He was still staring out that window.  As soon as he stood up, you could tell that this man’s heart exploded as if it were a stick of dynamite.  For what he saw was his whole family, including Constantine, standing in from of the pile of blue spruce pines looking back at him.  There was a loud thump on the creaky floor board from the man collapsing.  This was the end to this outlaw’s adventure.