Mourning Sunshine
Visits from karma
Author’s Note: Socrates Ninekiller is a character in my fictional world. He makes minor and prominent appearances in three of my novels in and around the little Oklahoma town of Tsalagee (Cha-la-gey). A Cherokee elder who fought in the Pacific during World War II, he’s a local legend. Wiser than most, he keeps his own counsel unless called upon. Even then he uses an economy of words. This vignette takes place on a spring morning in one of the town’s parks.
Soc and Little Wolf
Eighty-six-year-old Socrates Ninekiller never kept the leash on Little Wolf when they came to Veterans’ Park, even though Officer DuFranc told him he should.
DuFranc’s first warning had come a week past. Soc nodded and complied. But that was last week.
“I told you last week I could write you a ticket for that,” Officer DuFranc said in his deep cop voice. Charlie DuFranc was an imposing figure, standing six foot five in his leather cop jacket bristling with cop tools and burnished badge. And, of course, there was the daunting Glock holstered at his side. The stern visage on his broad black face helped, too.
