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

The Old Cowboy wrapped
the reins onto the hitching post.
“Be right back, girl. Then it’s your turn.”
He stroked the length of her face before stepping up onto the boardwalk.
In reply, she snorted and frisked.
He removed his hat and slapped it against a leg, knocking off travel dust.
He was a rough-hewn, handsome, clean-shaved man with a lined face that
belied his age, and a steady gaze that hid his nature. In stark contrast to his
swarthy skin, his forehead—where the brim of his hat settled—appeared
bleached white.
A lady strolled by, her eyes reading the ground, her scent like a cloud of
crickets.
The Old Cowboy tipped his hat and bowed. She pretended she didn’t
see him.
He resettled his hat onto silver streaked hair, and pushed past cafe doors
into the saloon.
It was mid-day. Most of the men were on the range or behind a plow.
Only one or two decorated the bar, desultorily swatted flies and occasionally
tasted drinks. At a large, round baize-topped table near the back sat several
men, playing at a game of cards. Resting on their table, along with cards
and piles of chips, were guns and empty bottles.
He stepped up to the bar and rested a boot upon the brass rail that ran its
length.
Behind the bar hung a painting of a beautiful woman. No man in this
wild country need be told her name. She was the most famous ingénue in
the West, if not in the world.
And undeniably the most handsome.
The bartender, bald and round-faced, with a thick, waxed handlebar
mustache, approached.
The Old Cowboy creased his face into a faint smile.
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 1 1