Chapter 7

“Let’s see their young fella. I got your harness right here, fit as a cow in pasture. Seventy five cents, takes her home.”

“That looks fine,” exclaimed Colt. “A lot is happening in town today,” looking at the street bustling with people, buckboards and horses.

“Yep, money flows when the wranglers come to town. They work for $35.00 a month in wages and drop it in the saloons on whisky and gambling.”

“It sounds like a waste to me,” said Colt.

“Nah, they look forward to whoopin it up, to clear the monotony from bouncing around on a saddle every day. Of course a whore is extrey, for those who want to do it”

It is the cash, the crazy spending, that wives get furious over the most. Just a boot lickin tragedy that women can’t control their husband after a trail drive. The women wanted the saloons closed, but got booted out of here. There’s nothing worse than a bunch of riled up women.”

The dance hall girls handle the drunks, bums, and saddle tramps any of which having $2.00 and can wait their turn. 

It is a doozy for the bar owners. It keeps the cowhands waiting and drinking. Yess-sir - a guarantee, return visit every time, it’s money in the bank.

“That’s what I’m hear-in,” said Colt, but I’m engaged and whores ain’t for me.” Colt was storyin (lying) to fit in with everybody.

“Good luck there, young feller. When yuh gettin hitched? ”

“Any day now – any day now.”

“Hee hee-hee,” mumbled livery stable Earl, walking away. “Any day now! That’s a good one, slurring the words.

Bart could pay a whore all he wanted, but Colt fancied no part of that. He had something the saloon women would never have. He had Abe, a cowboy, who filled his lonely time, coming together with realism.

******

Time was moving on, so Colt began looking for his brother, hoping he wasn’t drunk in a ditch somewhere. 

Bart was slick as a mountain lion, and tough as nails. It would take a big critter to get the best of him.

Still he was concerned. Whisky was a different hammer, and Bart was ripe for anything after a few drinks. It was a silly notion, but he didn’t want to go back to the farm not knowing where he was in town.

Colt went to the corrals to wait for Bart. He hopped up on a rail fence waiting and looking around. He always felt comfortable around cattle and they seemed like friends to him. He started counting for something to do.

Colt hadn’t experienced a great deal of living but didn’t need to know what he didn’t know. After today, being with Abe, he felt much smarter by far.

His pa spoke about learning only certain things, to both his sons. Their ma was different. She claimed there is enough of everything, so learn whatever you can, about everything.

Colt loved his pa, but cherished his ma. She was the glue holding the family together with nothing but common sense and home cooked meals.

He hopped off the rail fence and decided to go looking for Bart.

He didn’t fear the worse because Bart was not stupid and could handle himself with intelligence or muscle, if he had to.

He chuckled thinking, suppose Bart went home with a black eye or bruises on his face. Whoo, that make pa go on the warpath. That thought quickly disappear however.

Smack in the middle of town set the “Ranch Saloon” It had the typical swinging doors, a bartender with a shotgun, gamblers, beer, whisky (no champagne) and sarsaparilla, tasting like licorice/wintergreen.

There was no music except for an upright, out of tune piano, with whoever could play upbeat, tinny sounding music.

Best of all, the Ranch Saloon, had girls, girls, girls… They sat with the men getting free drinks. Going from cowboy to cowboy, they snuggled, and collected a few buck for time upstairs poked by a foul smelling cowpuncher with cash in hand. Fights didn’t happen, only seldom.

Colt looked through the swinging doors, hesitating to enter. He looked around but didn’t spot his brother Bart.

He did however see, the woman called Iris. She was slurping beer, snuggled next to a grubby prospector who must have made a gold strike. 

“Watch that elbow, fella. What are you a wise little shit? Either go in or get your ass out of here.”

“Gosh, sorry, I didn’t see you behind me,” said Colt, trying to be polite.

“Awe, he said, “gosh, did your mama teach you that farm boy? I think you need a lesson in manners.” He bellowed ready to hit Cole in the face.

“I think you better get movin out of here before you get a broken arm, said Abe, who saw Colt only moments before.

“You know this weasel? I ain’t about to mess with you.” he said to Abe.

“Beat it, while you can still walk. You’re pissin me off and you won’t like it when I get pissed off,” spouted Abe, tough and determined.

He walked away and that ended as quickly as it started.

“Where did you come from? You were at the livery stable,” said Colt.

“I’ve been walking around. I saw you waiting by the stockyard and then here in front of the saloon. Did you find Bart?”  Abe asked.

“Not yet.” Wait, I could have handled that slug ready to punch me.

“Probably, but not when I’m around; If you get punched, I feel it, and I wasn’t about to spend the rest of the day hurting. It’s not complicated stuff.”

Colt had no reply, words were not necessary. Colt smiled and Abe smiled back – they knew.   

******

To be continued……