Coybow And ...........

[john b good]

Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge

in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting their flights.

One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer. Another is a

Cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show and the third passenger is a

fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at Montana State University

from the Middle East.

Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures.

Soon, the two Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslin

and the conversation falls into an uneasy lull.

The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine table and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face.

The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is

flapping; but still no plane comes.

Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks,

"At one time here, my people were many, but sadly, now we are few." The

Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward, "Once my people were few," he sneers, "and now we are many. Why do you

suppose that is?"

The Montana cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and

from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl,

"That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do believe

it's a-comin'."