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

A BUG-EYED
black boy opens the picket gate for the two gents. Without
dismounting from their horses, they enter Mel’s palatial grounds,
with its topiary garden and chittering waterfalls. Their horses
clomp up onto the wrap-around porch as the little pickaninny
runs to the screen door and calls—
“Massuh! Massuh! De’gentlemens hair!”
Almost immediately the door swings open and Mel greets
them with a huge smile. An immense magnolia blossom lolls
above his left ear. He wears an iridescent, purple-striped taffeta
bustle dress with fringe trim at the neck. The bustle back is
decorated with tiny little baby blue bows, and the waist belt is
cinched tightly to display his hourglass figure.
His hair has been augmented with a cascade of finger curls.
At his throat is a diamond cameo brooch.
“Why—Roy, darlin’! You scamp! And here we thought you’d
be at Manassas or some nasty place like that! How clever of you
to come!”
Roy, resplendent in a Confederate uniform, shoulders adorned
with the gold braid of Lt. General, dismounts and doffs his
plumed hat. He takes Mel’s fingers and kisses their tips lightly,
properly maintaining eye contact.
“Not at all. It’s an honor. May I introduce Mister Peter
Bowie, from Texas.”
Mel’s plucked eyebrows soar. He draws back slightly.
Roy chuckles at his consternation.
“Never fear, my dear. He’s on our side.”
Pete, wearing a brace of pearl-handled Remingtons, fleece
chapaderos, a white Tom Mix hat and Hereford cowhide vest,
swings a long leg over his horse. Black lizard-skin boots with
silver spurs thud onto the wooden porch.
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 2