unusually marked as far as the local critters went, with
big splotches of black and white all over him. Pal was long gone
now, though.
“ Why sure!” It came out a
little too fast.
She smiled and it was a beautiful thing
to see, if only it didn’t take a man’s breath away and leave him
giddy. “I’ve always wanted to see your place.”
She had never been there, and had heard
so much about it. Hank was one of the richest men around these here
parts, and with no wife and no kids, it was said he was a lonely
man. But everyone saw him as a very nice man, and it just seemed so
sad.
Anything she could do to help him would
be a good thing.
Ducking his head, wringing his hat-brim
and stammering in amiable confusion, Hank agreed to come around in
about an hour and take his midday meal with them.
“… and if mother is still
feeling poorly, it will do her no end of good for a talk and a
visit with you.”
Hank couldn’t argue with that as it
wouldn’t be polite and it fit in well enough with his own puerile
fantasy.
There were some kind of what
do you call them, butterflies, walking around on his balls, but he had resolved
that he had nothing to lose except a little face if things went
wrong. It would have to suffice. He would ask someone about it
later, if it felt right and everything.
A man never knew until he
asked.
Third World had its own savage
beauties, but the thought of butterflies and the home world he
would never see again also had some romantic associations. They had
been introduced, but the place was just too damp and the winters
too long, and so they had never acclimated to the
environment.
Butterflies, and moths. He missed them
when he thought about it, which wasn’t often.
With a curtsy and a nod, she turned to
go, just as tongue-tied as Hank all of a sudden, and there was much
food for thought there. A girl her age must have been putting some
thought into marriage. It only stood to reason, bearing in mind the
mystery that was woman, at least in Hank’s limited experience, not
much of it of the worldly kind.
The racing of his heart and the cold
shot of gut-juice in his midriff did nothing to bring peace to his
mind or placidity to his soul.
Further thoughts in his primitive
fore-brain could be safely ruled out for the time being as this was
neither the time nor the place for lechery or lewdness. Mental
pictures could drive a man mad and that served nothing and no one
well.
That’s not to say he didn’t have them,
only that they were unwelcome.
She went down the road with another
young woman about the same age, one who gave an impression of
softness of countenance and big, doe-like eyes when she took a
quick and startled glance back over her shoulder. He wondered what
they were saying about him and all of this.
It wasn’t a pleasant
thought.
The other one’s name was Mattie, and if
worst came to worst there were one or two others who might do in a
pinch.
***
Hank had just disentangled himself from
Marty and another old termagant whose name he would sure like to
remember but couldn’t for the life of him.
He set off up the church’s un-named
side street and was just turning left onto Main Drag when he
spotted Red coming up from the opposite direction. Hank was leading
the old critter on the halter as he felt like a short walk and he
had some time to kill. The day was hot so he hitched her to the
rail where she could have a long drink. He and Red could have a
gossip as the other man’s eyes lit up and he raised a hand in
cheerful greeting.
By some passing coincidence, there was
the saloon right there, and as a courtesy to non-churchgoers, it
was open at noon on a Sunday although it closed at
six-thirty.
Red dismounted and they got out of the
heat and humidity and into the cool dank of the
interior.
His friend grabbed a table in a corner
by the window where he could watch the street and Hank went and got
him a short glass of draft and a cup of free coffee for
himself.
“
big splotches of black and white all over him. Pal was long gone
now, though.
“ Why sure!” It came out a
little too fast.
She smiled and it was a beautiful thing
to see, if only it didn’t take a man’s breath away and leave him
giddy. “I’ve always wanted to see your place.”
She had never been there, and had heard
so much about it. Hank was one of the richest men around these here
parts, and with no wife and no kids, it was said he was a lonely
man. But everyone saw him as a very nice man, and it just seemed so
sad.
Anything she could do to help him would
be a good thing.
Ducking his head, wringing his hat-brim
and stammering in amiable confusion, Hank agreed to come around in
about an hour and take his midday meal with them.
“… and if mother is still
feeling poorly, it will do her no end of good for a talk and a
visit with you.”
Hank couldn’t argue with that as it
wouldn’t be polite and it fit in well enough with his own puerile
fantasy.
There were some kind of what
do you call them, butterflies, walking around on his balls, but he had resolved
that he had nothing to lose except a little face if things went
wrong. It would have to suffice. He would ask someone about it
later, if it felt right and everything.
A man never knew until he
asked.
Third World had its own savage
beauties, but the thought of butterflies and the home world he
would never see again also had some romantic associations. They had
been introduced, but the place was just too damp and the winters
too long, and so they had never acclimated to the
environment.
Butterflies, and moths. He missed them
when he thought about it, which wasn’t often.
With a curtsy and a nod, she turned to
go, just as tongue-tied as Hank all of a sudden, and there was much
food for thought there. A girl her age must have been putting some
thought into marriage. It only stood to reason, bearing in mind the
mystery that was woman, at least in Hank’s limited experience, not
much of it of the worldly kind.
The racing of his heart and the cold
shot of gut-juice in his midriff did nothing to bring peace to his
mind or placidity to his soul.
Further thoughts in his primitive
fore-brain could be safely ruled out for the time being as this was
neither the time nor the place for lechery or lewdness. Mental
pictures could drive a man mad and that served nothing and no one
well.
That’s not to say he didn’t have them,
only that they were unwelcome.
She went down the road with another
young woman about the same age, one who gave an impression of
softness of countenance and big, doe-like eyes when she took a
quick and startled glance back over her shoulder. He wondered what
they were saying about him and all of this.
It wasn’t a pleasant
thought.
The other one’s name was Mattie, and if
worst came to worst there were one or two others who might do in a
pinch.
***
Hank had just disentangled himself from
Marty and another old termagant whose name he would sure like to
remember but couldn’t for the life of him.
He set off up the church’s un-named
side street and was just turning left onto Main Drag when he
spotted Red coming up from the opposite direction. Hank was leading
the old critter on the halter as he felt like a short walk and he
had some time to kill. The day was hot so he hitched her to the
rail where she could have a long drink. He and Red could have a
gossip as the other man’s eyes lit up and he raised a hand in
cheerful greeting.
By some passing coincidence, there was
the saloon right there, and as a courtesy to non-churchgoers, it
was open at noon on a Sunday although it closed at
six-thirty.
Red dismounted and they got out of the
heat and humidity and into the cool dank of the
interior.
His friend grabbed a table in a corner
by the window where he could watch the street and Hank went and got
him a short glass of draft and a cup of free coffee for
himself.
“
Similar Books
