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

He wishes it was a double-tall Americano.
Roy and his wishes.
“Roy loved horses, like General Grant.”
“OK.”
Roy hates the little plastic creamers restaurants set out in
bowls these days.
“Ulysses S. Grant was considered th’ greatest horseman in th’
whole Union Army.”
By now Roy knows Pete knows a lot of stuff Roy doesn’t know.
“Anyhow, Roy was like that.” Pete is getting excited. Maybe
it’s because he’s only on his third cup of coffee. “He could sit a
horse like he was part of it.”
Before leaving their building, Pete had dressed up a bit. He
braided his hair, traded out his hand-painted boots for black
lizard-skin ones, donned a pair of rolled-up blue jeans, royal blue
bibfront shirt, cream colored neckerchief, fringed suede jacket,
big white Stetson Tom Mix hat and a belt with a silver buckle the
size of a slice of Wonder Bread.
And on the buckle—in bold, gold letters—are the letters J and
W.
“He was a real cowboy, grew up on a real farm in a real place
called Ohio. Then bad times came, and he and his pa went to
work in a shoe factory.”
Lucy glides back into their lives.
She swirls a Pyrex globe of coffee.
“I sure am hongry,” reports a wistful Roy.
Lucy dimples. A wisp of brown hair escapes its netting to
tickle her forehead. She shoves this aside with the back of her
free hand.
“Any minute now, Sugar.”
Pete holds out his empty coffee cup and reads her black,
rectangular nametag.
“What d’you know about Roy Rogers, Lucy?”
Lucy frowns. Lucy pours. Lucy smiles. Lucy pours.
“You mean the King of the Cowboys? The guy who sang
Happy Trails with his wife, Dale? You boys know he usta come
in here?”
2 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY