|Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon|
1950s COWBOYS JAW ABOUT THEIR WORLD
Quotes from Cowboy For A Rainy Afternoon, Chapter 17. . .
“How’s Miss Diane?” Coosie asked.
Quirt unfastened his charcoal gray vest. “She’s takin’ it hard. She’s a sweet gal who lost her husband in Korea three years ago. Hasn’t dated since, ‘cept she thought Leon was the one.”
“Nice of you to look after the young widow,” Bronc commented.
Quirt’s hand dropped to his gun. “What do you mean by that?”
Bronc stiffened up. “I mean you’re sniffin’ around like a geldin’ that was cut late in life.”
These blunt old men touch on another sore subject. They called the war the Korean Conflict, the ‘forgotten war.’ However, it was never forgotten by those who served there or their loved ones. Or those of us too young to go, yet old enough to listen to the stories. This sobering conflict reminded folks that WWII did not insure peace on earth. Only the Son of God can do that.
“Ain’t much to get riled over anymore, besides politics and the New York Yankees.”
“Now, don’t you go mentionin’ them d. . .” Shorty glanced down at me. “Eh, them dadgum Yankees. The Cardinals is twice the team they are and you know it.”
“I thought we agreed not to talk about politics and baseball, at least when Shorty is around,” Thad said.
“Let’s mount us some fine ponies, ride right into the dance floor of the Day-Lyte Club, shoot it up, rope him and drag him all the way to Santa Fe,” Bronc suggested.
I grabbed my hat off the table and shoved it on my head. “Can I come with you?”
“Little Brother,” Granddaddy said, “you’re the only one in the room who could throw his leg over a saddle. The boys are joshin’.”
“We can give him a what for, if he comes back here,” Shorty proposed.
“We could load up in Pop’s ’49 Plymouth and go to the club,” Bronc suggested.
“Can I go, Granddaddy?” I pleaded.
“Your grandma would die if she knew I hauled you into a joint like that. We aren’t going nowhere.”
Quint sighed. “Ain’t that the truth.”
There is a quiet buzz from old ceiling fans, like six thousand crickets out of tune. People don’t often notice it, until there is silence.
The truth of Granddaddy’s statement hits the old men for awhile. Living in the past can get real lonely.
Right about then, I heard the fan.
We all flinched when the front door banged open. A man with dark brown butch haircut, wearing khaki work pants and a long-sleeved khaki shirt strolled in. He headed straight towards us. Following Quirt’s lead, my hand slipped to the plastic grips of my cap pistol.
“Oh, good,” he said. “I see the Spring Renaissance #10 arrived as scheduled.”
“Are you talkin’ about them flowers?” Shorty asked.
“Yes. We had some mix up with substitute deliverymen this morning. I was checking if everything went okay. Our regular man called in sick with a horrible sore throat. I could barely hear him. He sent his brother-in-law to fill in. I wasn’t too sure of his ability.”
Quirt eased his hand off the old Colt.
“That’s all I need to know. Much relieved.” He spun on his heels and marched out the door.
The man wore khaki pants and shirt. . .that’s a tip of my hat to my farmer dad. He wore that same attire every workday of his life. The butch haircut was mine, however. Dad was bald before I was born.
What do you remember most about the 1950s, either lived or told to you?
|Stuart Brannon: The Final Shot|
COMING MARCH 2012: Hardback & ebook
Stuart Brannon: The Final Shot
by Stephen Bly (1944-2011)
Two orphans flee Oregon's Tillamook Head. One of them is branded a hero. Do they tell what really happened & risk a dangerous man's wrath? Meanwhile, Brannon searches for his missing U.S. Marshal friend & grapples with the game of golf on behalf of a charity celebrity tournament.
Paperback edition available August 2012.
NOTE: Finishing Dad’s novel was a family affair.
E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org to get a choice of blog articles for your use that feature various aspects of the process of writing this novel.