volume one IN THE D U D L E Y C L A R K - Ohio Vine Tours

Shades of night are falling
As the wind begins to sigh
And the world’ s silhouetted against the sky—
A guitar is strummed, and the haunting whistling resumes.
Roy’s face is fixed with fierce concentration. Never in his
entire life, in his whole miserable existence, has he ever heard
anything so beautiful, so compelling.
So satisfying.
Then, after another pause, he finally hears it—the same
sound he heard the night he stood out in the hall, helix of his ear
touching the door of 28/RR—the sweet sounds of mens’ voices
singing in harmony:
Bluuuuue shadows on the Trail
Blue moon shinin’ through the trees.
And a plaintiff wail from the distance
Comes a driftin’ on the evenin’ breeze—
For the first time, Roy experiences something music has never
given him before.
Chills.
The dilapidated building he sits within on a stained and
smelly mattress begins to lose its substance and anchor in reality;
haunting childhood memories fog; Rick’s sick words lose their
sting; from somewhere a warm wind laves his face, smoothes his
rumpled brow and tugs the corners of his mouth into a smile.
Move along, Blue Shadows, move along
Soon the dawn will come and you’ll be on your way
But until the darkness sheds its veil
There’ll be Blue Shadows on the Trail—
Outside, the rain has lost its punch. With an almost audible
sigh it wanders off to bully and bruise other neighborhoods.
A long-muffled sun stiffens its resolve and glares down upon
Seattle with unconvincing determination.
120 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY