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

Mel sashays to where Rick is crumpled and rescues the
painting.
He holds it so Roy can see.
“Don’t you just love Frederick Remington?”
Roy steps over for a look.
“Yes, ma’am. Shore is a purdy pitcher.”
Mel glances down at Rick.
“And so is that. You are my hero, Ranger Roy.”
Roy’s horse whinnies and nods.
“Yes, ma’am. I am, for most white people.”
Mel finishes his drink, and takes a big bite of his olive.
“Ank yew, Wanger Woy.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
Roy stoops and lifts his brother’s limp body. With a grunt, he
drops him face down across the silver-encrusted saddle.
He picks up Rick’s head by his greasy hair and bends down to
speak.
“In case I forgot to tell ya, li’l bro—yore under arrest.” He
releases his handful of hair and allows Rick’s unconscious head
to fall, his nose smashing against a silver medallion of Cochise.
Roy wipes his greasy hand on Rick’s pants. To no-one in
particular, he says, “His days of rustlin’ and menacin’ these parts
here ’bouts’re over. I ’spect ’fore long he’ll be dancin’ at the
end’ve a rope.”
He drops his white hat back onto his curly hair.
He nods to Mel.
“Ma’am.”
Then he leads his horse and prisoner back to the bus stop.
Mel fans herself to keep from fainting.
202 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY