A COWBOY'S AFTERNOON Now ol' San Antone can be dry as a bone in the heat of a high sittin' sun. So long about noon in the Sagebrush Saloon came a cowboy just lookin' for fun. Appearance allows he had been punchin' cows on the range just south-east of town. His face had been fried into leathery hide and he flaunted a permanent frown. I tended the bar and the beauty Belle Starr was dancin' about purty frisky. His spurs gave a jingle that made my skin tingle as he walked up to me and said, "Whiskey." "Here's the best that I got," and I poured him a shot which he slammed down his throat with great force. "I'll have the jug mister," he leaned in and whispered, "and a bucket of beer for my horse." "He thirsty?" I laughed as I drew out the draught and gave him the bucket of brew. "It's a hot, dusty trail so I owed 'im a pail," then he added a brief, "this'll do." With a bow-legged stride he headed outside and they drank till the sun had gone down. Then he and his horse took an amblin' course to the herd just south-east of town. 24 Lines Written for: PDG Alumni Challenge |