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Friday night was a big night for the Cantina El Toro, as the place was crammed with people. Surprisingly, a good number of those people were women from the other saloons, as they took their breaks at the Toro listening to the Happy Hombres. I had given the Hombres some new material, including ‘La Bamba’ and ‘Cucurrucucu Paloma’. I have to tell you that when Miguel Calderon, the Hombres’ young tenor, polished off “Cucurrucucu Paloma” by stretching out the girl’s name on the last note, the women went nuts. Even I was dragged into the show as I had to sing ‘Ring of Fire’, and my cobbled together version of ‘I Walk the Line’.
What I refused to do was sing ‘El Paso’ without Feleena in the audience.
The upshot of our night was the Hombres wanting me to come up with some new material and for us to practice the songs Saturday afternoon and perform them Saturday night. Success was going to the Hombres’ heads. I said I had a few ideas and sent them home happy. That night I sat down and wrote out a few of my favorites from Conway Twitty, including ‘Hello, Darlin’ and ‘Almost Persuaded’. I had been a huge Conway fan in my other life, and had a bunch of his songs memorized. I figured I wasn’t going to bother old Conway belting out some of his love songs a hundred years early. Yeah, you bet your ass I was going to sing those two songs. The Hombres could have everything else.
Saturday the Hombres showed up at noon and I went over what I had with them. They loved Conway’s ‘Last Date’ and the Freddy Fender songs I gave them. I figured that since Freddy was a fellow Tejano, (Spanish for Texan) he’d appreciate them singing his ‘Vaya Con Dios My Darling’ and ‘Before the Next Tear Drop Falls’.
So anyway, after I tried out my two songs with them, they shuffled me off to the side and excitedly went through their new material. I was feeling sort of left out, until Anna Lopez dropped by for a surprise visit. I think I earned more respect from the Hombres when Anna came to see me than I’d have gotten if I gave them two hundred songs. The Hombres all knew her and her family, and were shocked that I was so close to them. When Anna asked if she could steal her ‘son’ for a few minutes, they all nodded dumbly.
Anna took me to the bootmaker because my gunbelt and holsters were finished. When we were in his shop, Anna took Joaquin’s hand, her eyes shining with pride.
“Show him the beautiful things you made for him, Mi Vida.”
Joaquin smiled fondly at her praise and pulled the gunbelt out from under his counter. When he dragged it out into the light, my eyes bulged out. It was the finest looking rig I’d ever seen. The outside of the holsters had a couple of the same conchos as my hatband, in addition to some seriously nice hand tooling. The gun belt had one of the conchos between each group of five cartridge loops. There were twenty cartridge loops in two groups of five on each side.
When Joaquin handed me the rig, I noticed immediately how stiff the holsters were. When I asked, he said that he used thick bull hide for the insides of the holsters. He shaped the holster by soaking the hide in water and forming it to his own Peacemaker. When I slipped my Colt into the holster, it went in and came out smooth as silk. I paid Joaquin and thanked him profusely, then kissed Anna on the cheek and flew out of the bootmaker’s shop, headed for the gunsmiths. I had about the finest two gun rig around; the problem was I only had one pistol.
The gunsmith recognized me and was surprised I was still in town. The last time he’d seen me, I was fresh off the cattle trail. I told him I was living in town now, showed him my new belt and asked what he had to fill the empty holster.
Before we get into what he sold me, I guess I need to explain about the pistol I inherited from Uncle Ty and about the Single Action Army revolver in general. The original Army model introduced in 1873 was strictly for the military. It was commonly called the cavalry model. It came with a seven and a half inch barrel. In the next year or so, the Army bought a model with a shorter, five and a half inch barrel, and called it the artillery model. Both pistols were chambered in .45 caliber. Colt also made civilian versions of the SAA chamber in various calibers besides .45.
The pistol Uncle Ty took off the man from Boston was a civilian model .45 with a five and a half inch barrel. It was almost identical to the replicas I used in the Sagebrush Wild West Show. The shorter barreled pistol was easier for me to draw and had a better balance for firing consecutive rounds at the same target. The gunsmith had a used pistol the same size and caliber as mine and in about the same very good used condition. The only difference between the two was the hand grips, a problem he solved by selling me two new sets of black walnut custom jobs.
Once again we went out back and test fired my new pistol. I had on my new gunbelt by then and practiced drawing and firing with each hand. I was faster right-handed and a better shot, but I was better than most people even left handed. I know I impressed the gunsmith as I smoothly drew and put a round in the center of the target in less than a tenth of a second with each hand. I had practiced that move thousands of times in the ten years I worked for the Sagebrush show. I was fast and accurate as hell against a paper target, but I didn’t know if I’d be as good when the target could shoot back.
Once back inside the shop, I wiped down the pistols, ran a cloth through the barrels and loaded five rounds into each of them. With a single action you always left an empty cylinder under the hammer to prevent accidental discharges.
I figured the new holsters and belt might cause me some unwanted attention at the Toro if some drunken cowboy wanted to duel, so I bought a small .32 caliber Smith & Wesson top-break revolver that came complete with a shoulder holster. I put the shoulder rig on under my vest and strapped on my new gunbelt. I picked up a box of ammo for each pistol and gave the gunsmith his thirty-five dollars. It might have been a serious case of overkill, but I felt ready for anything.
That night at the Toro was even bigger than Friday night, as we had our biggest crowd ever. The Hombres seemed to get better as their audience grew larger. I was hustling around like a maniac, trying to keep the bars afloat and four poker tables running smoothly.
About ten thirty, Feleena and her ever present three girlfriends from Rosa’s showed up. I surreptitiously watched them take a table near the band. Feleena looked as coolly beautiful as always, as she disdainfully surveyed the crowd. I turned my head and spoke with the barman when I saw her start to look my way. I was involved in a delicate balancing act in how I treated Feleena. I had to keep letting her know I was interested in her, yet not willing to be her lap dog.
I guess the fellows didn’t think I’d seen Feleena arrive, because after they finished the song they were playing, the guitar player started picking out the opening notes of El Paso. I walked over, picked up my guitar and sang the song for the first time for the Toro customers. The crowd seemed to like the song, but since I didn’t do anything to point Feleena out, most of them didn’t know who it was about. I rectified that problem with my next number, as I walked us over to within a few steps of her table. With my rendition of that quaver Conway put in his voice, I started off, “Hello Darlin’ ... nice to see you ... it’s been a long time...”
Well, I gotta tell you that song went over big with the women in the room. Hell, even Feleena smiled a little when I finished. I gave everyone a little wave and had the Hombres take a bow, and then I went back to work. When Feleena and her group left about fifteen minutes later, she detoured over to where I was standing and wished me a good evening. I considered that real progress, because they were the first words she had spoken to me since last Sunday at Mass.
I sang again at about eleven-thirty, by then most everyone working at the Toro was tired and the partiers were winding down. I hammed it up some during my few songs. Heck, overacting was something I was good at because of my time with the Sagebrush Show. I did my Johnny Cash numbers, then whipped out one of the new songs. For this one I led the fellows out into the tables again. When I came up to the table where a few of our dancers were sitting, I reached down and pulled Conchita to her feet. I sang ‘Almost Persuaded’ as I held her hand and she blushed crimson. I was dumbfounded when I finished the song and she pulled my head down for a steamy kiss. It was my turn to blush amid the hoots and catcalls from the dancers and patrons.
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