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

He tries to focus on Pete’s gun hand.
His shootin’ iron.
Pete’s face relaxes. His breathing slows. His eyes narrow, and
the furrows on his brow—like tire ruts in dried mud—smooth
out a bit.
Roy clears his throat.
Ice cream phlegm.
“Draw.”
Almost before the word leaves his lips, the gun’s out of its
holster.
Its unwavering barrel is leveled dead at Ethan’s searching face.
“Whoa.”
Pete straightens and tosses back his shoulders. He slides the
Colt into its holster.
“Wish I coulda met Glenn Ford. They say he was th’ fastest
draw in Hollywood.”
Pete walks over to his big, comfortable wingback and
plops into it, cranking his cowboy-boot-slippered feet onto the
matching hassock.
Roy assumes his place in the only other chair in the room.
“He a cowboy?”
Pete shrugs.
“In some’ve his pitchers. He was in over a hundret.”
“OK.”
Before Roy met Pete, that would have seemed like a lot of
pitchers to be in. But Pete has told him that John Wayne made
over a hundret and forty; that Walter Brennan made over two
hundret; and that the great Harry Carey made almost three
hundret.
And then there was Mel Blanc, who was in over seven hundret
pitchers!
Pete knows a lot about movies.
And he knows a lot about guns, too.
In fact, Roy would guess Pete knows a lot about everything.
His place is packed with books and videotapes. It seems
like all he ever does is read, or watch old black and white
movies. Roy never had the money to go to movies, and never
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 2