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

“I dint come in here for no trouble.”
The man behind him stepped back and grinned, revealing a gold tooth.
“Too late. ’Cause that’s what you—”
No-one saw what happened next.
One second the Old Cowboy was holding an empty glass in his hand.
The next, he had spun around and his drawn gun was in the man’s startled
face.
After he had spun around and drawn his gun—the glass hit the bar.
The men in the room gasped.
You hear yarns about shooters like this—men fast as lightening—but
you never see it. Never.
“Touch your gun and sleep forever.”
The man, mouth wide, revealing more gold teeth, raised his arms in
helplessness.
The Old Cowboy motioned towards the man’s gun.
“Use your left hand, slide it out, put it on the bar.”
Relieved not to be dead, the man did as told.
“Now—get out.”
“Obliged,” the man muttered, ears red, as he hurried out of the saloon.
The Old Cowboy uncocked his shooter, then spun its cylinder so the
hammer rested again on an empty chamber.
He holstered it and turned back to the bar.
The saloon let out its collective breath. With whispered comments and
veiled looks, the cardplayers resumed their game.
The few hands who had been leaning against the bar found reasons to
swat flies elsewhere.
They had a tale to spin for some time to come.
Eustace ran one of his dirty hands across the expanse of his hairless pate.
“Lordy.”
The Old Cowboy topped off their glasses.
He corked and handed Eustace the bottle.
“See you handle ’er gentle, hand, she don’t like strangers. Oh, an’ double
up ’er oats. I’ll be at th’ hotel you’re done.”
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 1