From the Bookshelf of Weird Westerns…

She wrapped herself up in a quilt that night and sat in the rocking chair on the back porch. "We'll see what kind of rat bastard steals an old lady's tomatoes," she grumbled.

(Grandma Harken thought of herself as an old lady, because she was one. That she was tougher than tree roots and barbed wire did not matter. You did not steal an old lady's tomatoes. It was rude, and also, she would destroy you.)

She leaned her shotgun up against the porch

She wrapped herself up in a quilt that night and sat in the rocking chair on the back porch. "We'll see what kind of rat bastard steals an old lady's tomatoes," she grumbled.

(Grandma Harken thought of herself as an old lady, because she was one. That she was tougher than tree roots and barbed wire did not matter. You did not steal an old lady's tomatoes. It was rude, and also, she would destroy you.)

She leaned her shotgun up against the porch railing in easy reach. Probably she wouldn't need it, but there was no telling how low a body would sink once they'd started down the road of tomato theft. Murder was not out of the question.

"You could at least get a dog."

"Can't get a dog. It'll offend Spook-cat."

(Spook-cat was a tiny ginger tomcat who lived in perpetual terror of loud noises, sudden movements, and unexpected shadows. He lived under Grandma Harken's bed and would occasionally consent to sleep on her pillow, despite her snoring. He was deeply intimidated by the jackrabbits that lived in the desert, so trips outside to do his business lasted less than two minutes, followed by immediate retreat back under the bed.

He had seen a mouse once and it had frightened him so badly that he had not come out from behind the stove for a week.)

***

The coyote had stopped grinning and was watching her intently.

"Don't suppose you can tell me anything," said Grandma Harken.

"What'll you give me?" replied the coyote.

"I've got sage and cigarettes."

The coyote scratched pensively at one ear. "Let's see the cigarettes."

Grandma Harken took one out and laid it on a stone, then stepped back.

The coyote sniffed at it, unimpressed. "Poor stuff."

"You eat sheep afterbirths," said Grandma.

"Yes, but only the quality ones," said the coyote, and grinned again.

"I should know better than to try and deal with coyotes," muttered Grandma Harken.

"You should." The coyote licked up the cigarette and held it dangling in its mouth. "Look! I'm a human. Do this. Do that. Stand here. Don't eat that." It cackled at its own cleverness.