Cowboy Brunch

Deacon decided to make soup for a crowd on a morning when I happened to be too busy to participate. Since I couldn't eat, I was called on to at least supply a name for an indian guest Deacon had invited for soup. Distracted, I came up with Red Feather; which met with approval.
Walking through the kitchen a bit later, I heard some instructions also being given to Green Bluff. Breaking with tradition, [see photo] Deacon had decided to dine while astride his horse, Philip [thank you Narnia], while next to Red Feather--also dining on a steed.
Deacon can make believe for a long time, so it was many more bits later that I was tracked down to supply another name for another indian guest. Still distracted, I once again hastily suppled the first name I thought of, Soaring Eagle. "Alright!" Deacon replied, quite all business, then charged back to the kitchen to recommence hosting duties.
Delightful conversation ensued--such as you would find at any dinner party wherein the host was making every effort to provide his guests with a pleasant dining experience. Of course, this has to be tyring when circumstances have raised the bar: consider as host Deacon had to attend to two horses, as well as his three fellow men. He maintained a genial tone for a lengthy bit of time, but as we all know some guests do test ones patience and sense of decorum (not to mention politicial correctness).

So finally as the luncheon waxed long (in terms of imaginery teas), I breezed down the hallway only to realize that things were running amok.
No doubt provoked, Deacon bellowed, "I tell you now eat your soup, or you can't come back here again Red Indian!"