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

In the foreground, a cowboy gallops at full tilt, hat flattened
by the wind, while behind him fingers of lightening reach down
from a black sky and strike into a herd of stampeding cattle.
“It’s not real, of course.”
Mel appears, this time apronless, carrying one of the largest
turkeys Pete’s ever seen.
Resting on an enormous silver platter, it is surrounded by
stuffed, baked apples and sprigs of Italian parsley.
“’Course not.” Pete moves towards the table. “Can I hep?”
Roy starts to stand.
“Thanks, no—I’ve got it.” Mel sets the roasted behemoth on
the table’s open range. “There.”
He steps back and admires the view.
Pete gazes upon the perfectly-browned bird.
“It’s real purdy.”
Mel asks,
“The Remington, or the turkey?”
Pete grins.
“Both.”
Mel rubs his hands together.
“Sit, sir. Let the revels begin.”
Jason carries in a large pot of mashed potatoes and a boat of
gravy. Rick follows behind, barely managing a big plate piled
with steaming garnet yams in one hand, and a tureen swimming
with lima beans in the other.
It takes the trio three trips for all the food to appear.
Pete’s eyes search each delivered item for signs of something
cranberry.
Finally, Jason sets down the last two dishes—a Waldorf salad,
and a bowl of Chianti-colored berries floating in a crimson pool.
“The cranberry sauce is great-gran’s recipe. She was the first
white woman born in Waco. Her specialty was chasing down a
chicken, wringing its neck, plucking it and frying it to perfection
in under twenty minutes.”
A smile plays with Pete’s mouth.
“A saint.”
Mel studies the table briefly, frowns, then shoots a malefic
look at Rick.
0 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY