Bohanin's Last Days Read Online Free PDF Page B

Anderson closing his shop for the evening. He watched as Anderson crossed the street. Bohanin reached the front door at the same time as Anderson and offered to buy the barber a drink. Anderson said that he would accept but only if Bohanin would allow him to buy the cigars. Bohanin good-naturedly accepted.
    A long bar with brass foot rails graced one side of the narrow frame building. A few card tables were positioned along the opposite wall. Toward the back of the room was a worn billiard table. The three Bochart cowboys were playing a quiet game. Behind the bar, was a mirror and bottle shelf with a mounted elk’s head providing the center of attention. A painting of a reclining nude woman with flaxen hair graced the area below the mount.
    The bartender offered a cigar selection to the barber.
    â€œI’m fond of the weed but my wife can’t abide them in the house. Since I don’t particularly like smoking them alone in the yard, I usually treat myself to one before going home to supper,” Anderson said.
    The barber picked two and handed Bohanin one. Bohanin in turn asked the bartender, a fellow named Spike, if he had any good medicinal sipping whiskey. Spike smiled and produced a dark bottle of oh-be-joyful from underneath the bar labeled “The General’s Select” and sporting an image of Ulysses Grant.
    Bohanin examined the bottle, “If it’s good enough for U.S. Grant, I’m sure we can manage to choke it down.”
    Spike laughed. “That’s not saying much. From what I hear, the President isn’t above drinking much of anything.”
    â€œBut this is the General’s Select. Probably for special occasions, like breakfast, lunch and dinner,” Bohanin said.
    The men laughed. Bohanin offered to buy a round for the house, figuring that the cowboys would happily accept his gesture of goodwill as well. Their reaction was odd and sullen.
    Only the Mexican was positive, reaching for his own glass and showing that it was full. The other two men looked at each other and made snide comments concerning Bohanin’s appearance. Bohanin didn’t like the manner of the men or the comments but he chose to ignore both.
    As Bohanin and Anderson enjoyed the sips of whiskey and the cigars, one of the cowboys placed his cue stick against the wall and walked toward the bar.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, old timer? Figure we can’t afford a drink of our own?” the cowboy asked.
    Bohanin turned toward the man. He was of average build with shoulder length hair. Two Colt revolvers were suspended from his hips in well-worn holsters. He had a large broad brimmed hat and a fancy watch chain was suspended from one of the buttons of his dark green bib-front shirt. The cowboy wore chaps and had a pair of leather cuffs on his forearms to protect his wrists from rope burn. Large working spurs jangled from the heels of his boots. The man was smiling but wore an oddly evil expression.
    â€œI made the offer purely in the spirit of goodwill, sir. I certainly didn’t mean to offend,” Bohanin said.
    â€œWell, I was offended. Next time keep your offers to yourself.” The cowboy waited a few seconds for Bohanin’s reaction. When there was no immediate reply, he turned and started back to his companions.
    Bohanin waited for the cowboy to take a few steps. “If you think that I’m going to consider offending some ass before I offer to buy drinks for the house in the future, you’re an even bigger ass than you appear at the moment.”
    â€œCareful, Captain,” Anderson said. “He’s just looking for a fight.”
    The cowboy turned. “You better be careful how you talk, Grandpa. I’ll whittle me down some grease for my coffee fire.”
    The man outweighed Bohanin by forty pounds and he was at least fifteen years younger.
    â€œThis really isn’t something to go to your grave over, gent. But if you insist, I’ll gladly