Kuria slapped the fat rump of a cow who was ambling far behind the herd, spurring her on. He didn’t need to hit her so hard, but he enjoyed torturing the animals every now and again. Keeps them on their toes, he thought, as the cow let out a panicked low and trotted ungracefully to where her companions were alternating between lethargically chewing cud and pulling tufts of grass out of the hardened, dusty ground.

Kuria sighed and spat out a gob of saliva as dust from the retreating cow filled the air. Being a cowhand was no job for him he thought, self-pity filling him with ill feelings and bitter memories. Why, he should be sitting in one of those shiny town offices with his own desk, and one of those machines he always saw the woman in their little township’s post office playing with; the ones with many buttons and a flat screen.

Instead he was here, on a never ending plain that stretched in all directions until it touched the far horizons, with a herd of cows that didn’t even belong to him. As if conjured, his boss appeared in the distance, hobbling towards him.

“Ahh,” Kuria sighed under his breath. “What does he want now?” he muttered as he raised his arm in greeting and slowly made his way to where the old man was inspecting the cattle.

“Kuria,” the man began before Kuria had even reached him, “What are you doing all the way over there when the herd is here?” He didn’t give him a chance to answer, “They could be attacked by some wild animal and…”

Kuria fixed the old man with an insolent stare. If the herd was attacked, Kuria’s plan had always been to run as fast as he could. Fight off wild animals? He hadn’t heard that part of his job description when he’d signed up.

“Are you listening?” the old man rounded on Kuria who had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I was asking if you’ve checked that cow’s hoof again,” he pointed to the fat cow Kuria had hit, “I told you it looked infected. Did you check?”

Kuria debated how to answer as he flicked off imaginary specks of dust from the front of his dirty t-shirt. If he said no, the old man would have a fit, and Kuria wasn’t in the mood for one of his lengthy lectures peppered with threats. If he said yes, then he’d actually have to do the work.

“Uhh,” he spoke softly, a skilled liar, “I started to, but I wasn’t sure how to proceed.” He paused for effect. “I didn’t want to hurt the cow further…” he cut off wringing his hands in mock worry.

“Okay, okay,” the old man was already walking to where the cow in question was stubbornly tugging at a tough tuft of thorny grass, “I’ll do it and show you how.”

The old man was irritated but didn’t want to show it. Lately, he felt like he had been doing most of the work he’d hired this cowhand to do. But he was tired and his own leg hurt.

All he wanted was to go back to his tiny cottage, prop it up on a stool, fill his pipe with fragrant bitter tobacco and relax.

Kuria, two steps behind him, followed the limping figure with a cruel smile plastered on his chubby face.

The sun was getting low in the sky. Sitting by the stump of an acacia tree, Kuria hadn’t moved for hours since the old man had left. It was almost time to clock off and head home.

He stretched his sore back, spat again, and remembered there was no one there waiting for him.

His mouth twisted, a mean look coming over his face as the memory of his wife leaving him burst into his mind, flooding every empty space, of which there was plenty, consuming him. She was so ungrateful, he thought. Why he’d only beaten her when she’d deserved it!

Like the time she’d forgotten to draw water for his bath, or when she’d made his goat stew too spicy when she knew he had a sensitive stomach. She was just as bad as this old man, riling him up, nagging him to work… the nerve of them.

Kuria plucked a particularly long dry blade of coarse grass from the ground and got to his feet.

He was better off without her whining, he decided for the umpteenth time, pushing thoughts of loneliness away.

“Hiya!” he yelled as he walked up to the satiated, drowsy herd, “Go you fools!” he yelled again and begun whipping the animals with the blade of grass still clutched in his hand.

The cows knew him and had tested his disposition before. They didn’t like it. And so, without much preamble, they made their way to their roughly hewn wooden enclosure, a home they knew with utmost familiarity, they could’ve found it in the dark.

And it was getting dark, fast. The sun slipped below the horizon as if dropped, and dusk fell without warning.

An infinite number of tomorrows exactly like today stretched out in front of him and Kuria, resigned, wallowing deeply in his victim mentality, spat out the dust kicked up from the ambling herd and followed slowly behind