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

“When was last you seen him?”
Drinking on an empty stomach, Eustace’s mind began to fuzz.
“Comes in time to time. Think a hand out at Double Bar D, maybe.
Thanks again mightily.”
He took another drink.
“Where’s that?”
A different voice answered, deeper and gruffer and nearer his ear.
“Ten miles east’ve town, if it’s any of your concern.”
The Old Cowboy smiled at the buried threat.
He watched the man’s reflection in the mirror.
He was no different looking from any of the other men in the bar—a gray
Texican hat, patched blue shirt, soiled red kerchief, a six-shooter worn low
and careless on his hip.
“Obliged. Buy you a drink?”
“Not if you’re drinkin’ with Useless.”
He glowered at Eustace.
The Old Cowboy shrugged.
“Asked you to drink with me.”
The Old Cowboy’s interest in the man faded.
But the man remained standing where he was.
“Man drinks with a skunk must be one.”
The Old Cowboy’s eyes refocused on the man in the mirror.
How he wore his rig told all. Maybe he was a bullyrag fired up with
drink—but he was no shootist.
The Old Cowboy poured two more.
The man leaned forward.
“My pappy taught me the way to a long life was to saddle your own
horse an’ mind your own business.”
“Wise words,” agreed the Old Cowboy. He swallowed his drink. “So
who saddles your horse for you?”
The long-eared men at the bar chuckled.
“Stand out, mister.”
The Old Cowboy didn’t wear his gun slung low like a cowhand. His
was level with his flat belly. A hand shooter wasn’t his preferred armament,
he liked his rifle better. Anyone can pull a gun and squeeze a trigger. To be
fast just takes practice. But to be fast and kill a man...that takes something
more.
The Old Cowboy has had a lot of practice.
And he has that something more.
He finished his drink.
1 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY