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

The gun seems to be getting heavy. Its owner lowers it a bit.
His expression shifts a little away from Mean.
There is awe in his voice when he asks,
“You never heard of Trigger, th’ Wonder Horse?”
“Nosir—zit a group?”
Old Guy frowns.
“A group’ve what?”
Roy wants so badly to wipe his brow, take a piss, and live in
Alaska.
“Like on the tape.”
“The tape?”
The gun, previously drooping, refocuses onto Roy’s face.
“You tellin’ me you ain’t never heard’ve th’ Sons?”
Roy shakes his head.
“No, sir.”
Old Guy looks amazed.
“You ain’t never heard of th’ Sons of th’ Pioneers?”
“I ain’t never heard of the sons of anything, sir.”
The barrel of the gun, as if an accusatory finger, continues to
point.
Roy may be able to blink, but he is having trouble breathing.
“Idon’tknowwhatwe’retalkingaboutanymore. Sir.”
The accusatory finger waggles.
“You promise no one sent you?”
“I promise. No one sent me. Sir.”
Old Guy munches on this tidbit.
“The name Jack Working mean anything to you?”
Roy hates to disappoint people, especially old guys with guns,
especially when their guns are pointed at him.
“No, sir. I swear. I never heard’ve ’im. Sir.”
“How ’bout a guy named Gabe?”
Guy named Gabe, horse named Trigger—Alaska is sure a
pretty place this time of year.
“Never heard, sorry sir.”
His hands are starting to go to sleep.
“Can I put my hands down, please?”
To his immense relief, perhaps greater than anything he could
ever achieve by merely peeing, Old Guy removes the gun barrel
from his direction.
1 2 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY