The French Cowboy
The wind was whipping the dust into tiny twirling columns that appeared and disappeared seemingly at will. It was brutally hot in the late August afternoon even though the sky was darkening and storm clouds were threatening. On the hour the Lutheran church was tolling its bell, its open door beckoning to wavering souls. John walked with the gait of a young leopard, his eyes watching every corner, every window. He was headed to the “Last Chance Saloon” across the street. Except for the new...
Love Stories