The Green Dawn

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The sky wasn’t supposed to be green.

Jubal Slate may have been a small town guy but he wasn’t a dumb hick. He was educated, for God’s sake-two years at New Mexico State University up in Las Cruces. Of course, his?eld of study was law enforcement, not science, but he had watched enough New Mexico sunrises in his twenty-two years to know that their breathtaking displays of colors never included green before, unless maybe a bad storm was imminent.

He stood next to his cruiser at the edge of Serenity by the empty boot plant and stared at the sky with growing apprehension.

The sunrise wasn’t completely green. The color didn’t even dominate. Jubal saw the familiar red and orange, even purple, the way the sun had risen-and set-his entire life. But there was a plentiful helping of green there, too, and that’s what was worrying him.

That, along with whatever had happened two weeks ago in Las Vegas.

The worry had wormed its way into his dreams and forced him out of bed far earlier than he would have liked. Images of a tall?gure, dressed in crimson, haunted him upon waking, but now the dream’s events had faded from his memory like the morning fog seared away by the sun. With the sheriff down, Jubal had more than enough on his plate. Sleepless nights wouldn’t help him deal with the work. But Jubal had never been one to wallow in self-pity. Once he was sure sleep had eluded him for the night, he had showered, dressed and gone to work.

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