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George stopped abruptly on the path, causing Slim to nearly trip over his own feet. His neck was craned upward, mesmerized by the night sky, vast and glittering away from the neon lights of the bars and the town.
“What’s goin’ on?” Slim said, looking over at the smaller man clinging to his arm. For a moment his train of thought paused, watching the silhouette of curls next to him surrounding deep brown eyes, dimly illuminated by thousands of stars. Then, he spoke.
“I wanna go up there, Slim,” George said softly, his voice temporarily losing the drunken, slurred tone he’d had since the bar. (Slim didn’t let go of his arm just in case, though.) “So bad it hurts, sometimes.”
Slim paused for a moment. “They’re workin’ on that George, ain’t they?” he said, thoughtfully. “You were too young to remember those Wright brothers, weren’t ya. I hardly do myself. Was just a boy. An’ then- Lindbergh, in, what was it, ‘27? Them airplanes are gettin’ better an’ better each day.”
George gave a short hum before replying. “Yeah. But I want- I wanna go further.”
“Further?”
“Those stars, Slim,” he said, and for a moment Slim saw the glistening speckles reflected in the man’s eyes. “Way up there. All those planets. Mars, Venus. Pluto,” he said, the corners of his lips beginning to curl up. “I’d go ta’ Pluto.”
“Long way away,” said Slim. “I’d miss ya.”
“Mmm,” George said. “Then not that far. Mars, though. You can see it now, just there. It ain’t that far away.” He lifted a shaky hand up to the sky, pointing out a little speck of light, shining just a bit brighter than the ones around it. Slim could even make out a slight pink tint, unless it was just a trick of the light. “Imagine that,” he said. “George Milt’n, first man on Mars.” The thought seemed to amuse him, letting out a giggle.
Slim wrapped his arm tighter around the small man’s waist, whose knees were beginning to buckle, hooking a finger in one of his belt loops just in case. There wouldn’t be time to wash up his clothes by the time they arrived back at the ranch, if he fell, and George wouldn’t appreciate dirtied work clothes the next day. For now, though, he was too engrossed in his fantasies to care. For now, he could forget his life, if only for a moment. Forget the ranch, the river, the single glaring emptiness in the bunkhouse and in his chest. Slim knew it wouldn’t last long.
“C’mon, George,” Slim said softly, coaxing the man back down to Earth. “We’re fallin’ behind a bit.” The other men were only small vague shapes ahead of them on the trail, and though Slim knew his way back well, it wouldn’t do them good to lose the rest of the group in the dark. George began to stumble forward once more.
“You’ll get there someday, George,” Slim said, after a few minutes of walking (or stumbling) silently along the dirt path. “You’ll get to Mars. You can get anywhere. I know you can.” He wrapped his arm tighter, the two men holding each other close as they trudged back towards the dusty ranch.