Sunday's Colt & Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

Stetson as well. He gulped hard when the clerk asked for $30.00 payment. “A month’s wages,” he mumbled.
    Sam chose another red shirt, this time with dark blue piping along the collar, bib, and cuffs. He went to a dark outfit, choosing black pants, black boots, and a new black Stetson of the same low-crowned, broad-brimmed style as the others. When the clerk offered him a selection of scarves, Sam smiled and pointed to the dog-eared gold bandanna around his neck. “No, thanks, I’m partial.”
    They carried their new clothes to the barbershop and lined up for their baths. An hour later the three of them walked confidently from the shop looking like clean-shaven, freshly washed, first-class Texas wranglers.
    Red River was surprised at just how slim Ty Lee was when he wore clothes that fit. “Damn, Ty Lee. We better feed you something before you disappear,” he said. “What about you, Billy? Or are you wanting to belly up with the others?”
    â€œIf it’s just the same to you fellows, I just as soon have me a big steak, too. We just don’t want to forget to get Candle a bottle for camp. He wants a drink and these here Abilene fellows said they didn’t want no nigger stinking up the street.”
    Ty Lee nodded. “We’ll get a couple of bottles and do our drinking with Candle back at camp. Hell, there ain’t a Yankee storekeeper in this town that’s a patch on Candle’s ass.”
    Billy nodded and grinned. “That’s for sure.”
    â€œAin’t it funny?” Red River observed with a taciturn smile. “Them Yankees was perfectly willing to die for a nigger’s freedom but now that he’s got it, they got their carpetbagger noses higher in the air than ever. Don’t make sense, does it?”
    â€œThere’s a lot about that war that never made sense,” Ty Lee answered. “I’ll bet ya one thing. Most of them up-turned noses belong to gents who didn’t have the gumption to pack a rifle-musket for blue or gray. If they had, they’d be talking different about the likes of Candle Corn.”
    Red River and Billy looked at him oddly. It was the first time they’d ever heard old Ty Lee say something profound or for that matter, very intelligent.
    â€œYou suppose it’s the change of clothes?” Red River asked Billy.
    Billy just shook his head in mystification.
    They strode over to an eating house called Trail’s End Café and settled down at a table next to the window so they could watch the street doings as they ate their dinner. All three ordered a tall beer, a thick steak, fried potatoes, and watermelon preserve pie. As they were settling into their grub, a thin-framed little gal in a purple velvet dress walked through the door and sat alone at a table next to the wall. Ty Lee, who seldom bothered much with the female persuasion, took an immediate shine to her. He placed his fork on the table and silently stared at her as she gave her order to the waiter.
    After a while Billy noticed Ty Lee’s preoccupation and nudged Red River under the table with his toe. He motioned Red River’s attention to Ty Lee with a crafty glance. Red River turned in his chair to see what Ty Lee was studying.
    That little gal was all of five feet tall and couldn’t have weighed more than eighty-five pounds. She possessed a sad countenance and looked ahead through dark expressionless eyes. She had a narrow nose with a gentle bump on the bridge like those classic beauties in the mail order catalog and sat in an erect almost rigid position, her backbone never touching the back of the chair. Her dark brunette hair was lifted gently from the base of her delicate neck into a precisely crafted bun. Her complexion was light but her skin glowed healthy. She had a fragile, willowy air about her—feminine, soft, porcelain. She weren’t no raving beauty at first glance but drew an increasing appreciation