Incident at the Daisy Belle Saloon

 Way, way back in 1970, I wrote a short cowboy tale for English III, 10th grade, chock full of tired motifs or recurring themes from Westerns I'd likely watched. I was influenced by Roy Rogers and Bonanza!  It doesn't make a whole lot of sense (give me a break, I was just 16) but here you go for your Old West Days enjoyment. 

    It was a long dusty ride. So I wandered into the Daisy Belle Saloon and ordered myself a tall, cold beer. That first gulp tasted mighty fine. I noticed the muddy smudge I left on the glass. Then I looked up at the frightful reflection I made in the mirror behind the bar. Five days growth of beard and dirt grinned back at me.

    Then it occurred to me to check my pistol since strangers in town could be mistaken for anybody who ever had their picture on a wanted poster. The gun was clean as a whistle but I was running low on ammo. I took another gulp out of the glass, then realized something odd was going on. The bartender had stopped drying the glass he was holding and was looking rather intently toward the door. I looked up to the mirror because I was too darn tired to turn around. A man stood silhouetted in the doorway. His manner was not too friendly. In fact, he was ready to draw! A hush settled over the barroom. I began to wonder if that dude might have seen me bump off that old man in Stevetown and had come after me. My fears were soon alleviated when the mysterious man drew and shot the bartender full of lead.

    As I learned later, the Daisy Belle was a union men only saloon. It seems this Virginny boy didn't really appreciate that because the Daisy Belle was the only bar in town. So I retrieved my nickel for the beer and left the dizzy Daisy Belle for safer country.