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

Newmany vanilla ice cream into two tall cups and added
something but never said what.
Whatever it was, it was yummy.
Yum.
“Draw!”
Roy draws.
The gun barrel clears its holster and points at the poster of
John Wayne as Ethan Edwards in The Searchers.
The barrel weaves about in space, tracing patterns in the air.
The damned thing is heavy.
Roy hates guns.
“That there’s a Colt Peacemaker,” instructs Pete. “It’s th’ sixshooter
that tamed the West.”
Peacemaker. What a funny name for a gun.
Roy wishes they had more sprinkly vanilla ice cream to melt.
Yum.
“Gimme that.”
Pete takes the gun out of Roy’s paw.
“Take off th’ belt.”
Roy is only too glad to oblige.
He uncinches the bullet-heavy belt and hands it over to the
old, long-haired guy in a bathrobe.
Pete’s gray hair, pulled back and braided into a ponytail,
leaves his battered, lumpy face exposed to prolonged review.
Roy likes Pete’s face.
But he isn’t gay.
He just likes Pete’s face, is all.
It’s grizzled and crinkled and worn and wise.
Like he’s a philosopher or a fisherman or something.
Roy watches Pete wrap the belt around his shrunken waist.
Next to the hulking Roy, Pete appears a tiny man, about
the size of Rick, but there’s an air to him—the way he carries
himself—that makes him seem bigger than Rick will ever be.
Pete positions the belt high on his middle, reeves the end
through its buckle and draws it tight.
He waves Roy aside and stands before Ethan.
“Say when.”
Roy nods.
2 2 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY