Hollister Bootstone and The Tale Of Zeke’s Disappointing Day
Cats vs. Dogs • Rumours Falling On Tin Ears
Three Line Conversations
Cats vs. Dogs
“My cat watches TV.”
“My dog sniffs poop.”
“See, they’re not so different.”
50-Word Story
Rumours Falling On Tin Ears
Yes, I used the British spelling of Rumors on purpose (and, no, I was never in Fleetwood Mac)
“You really must stop listening to those tiny people, My Dear. Those are not tea stains in the sky. Just unusually brown clouds. I admit the perspective in this town is off. And everything is out of proportion. But trust me, we are not characters painted on a tea tray.”
As I was searching the Birmingham Museums Trust for an image to spark this story, I came across an interesting painting. When I read the description, I discovered that it was actually a painting on a “Jappaned tray.”
Not knowing what “Jappaned” meant (guessing it had something to do with Japan), I did a Web search and discovered that “Japanning” was a European form of lacquer.
Japanning is an imitation of East Asian lacquer, which uses the sap of the Chinese Lacquer Tree. Sap that was not available in Europe in the early 19th century.
You can learn a lot by writing microfiction.
Somewhere In The Old West
Hollister Bootstone and The Tale Of Zeke’s Disappointing Day
Hollister had been out on the trail for four days. No particular reason. He just wanted to be alone. Well, just him and Cinnabun, his horse.
You can’t rightly put into words the relationship a man has with a good horse. They become extensions of each other. Neither is complete without the other. That is how it was with Hollister and Cinnabun.
Hollister Bootstone got off his horse and walked into the saloon. Same as he did every time he came into town. The saloon was more than a place to get some grub and a drink or gamble. It was the closest thing he had to a family. Clem and Rosie knew Hollister as well as anyone. Not that anyone ever really knew a traveler like Hollister. Most men underestimated him due to his tidy appearance. But not for long. The smart ones feared him.
Hollister kept to himself for the most part. But there was something about the town of Dust Free that kept him coming back. Perhaps it was the relatively dust-free weather. Perhaps it was the exceptional corn on the cob. Perhaps it was Rosie’s singing voice. Whatever it was, the town kept pulling Hollister back.
Hollister sat down at the bar, and Clem slid him a whiskey. There was no need for askin.’
“Good to see you, Hollister.”
“You too, Clem. Rosie around?”
“Nah. She went to check on the widow Parker. I suspect she’ll be gone the rest of the day. Elizabeth Newintown’s been asking’ ‘bout ya.”
“Figured.”
“You two gettin’ on alright?” Clem asked.
“She’s got a good heart. And you can’t argue with her cookin’. I never ate a better apple pie. And she ain’t hard on the eyes. That’s a fact. But I swear she could talk from sunup to sundown and not take a break to eat. I don’t know how she does it. I figured she would run out of words eventually. But it ain’t happened yet. To tell you the truth, she’s the reason I rode out. I needed to rest my ears for a spell. Clear my head so I could think.”
“She is a fascination, that’s for sure.”
The saloon doors swung open, and in walked Zeke Luckless. He sat next to Hollister at the bar.
“Howdy, Zeke,” Hollister said.
“Howdy, Hollister.”
“Get you something’?” Clem asked.
“Something strong. It’s been a disappointing day.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Clem said.
“It’s that Betsy Fickleheart. You know I been courtin’ her for a while. Figured it would lead to marriage. I thought she had taken a real shine to me. She sure acted that way. But then she up and rode out of town with Jesse Newman. I guess it was bound to happen. A small-time rancher like me can’t hardly compete with a handsome young gambler whose words drip with honey. I tell ya, Clem, I’m gonna swear off women.”
“Now, don’t be too hasty,” Hollister said. “You never know who’s gonna get off the train looking for a new life.”
“Easy for you to say. You got you a girl.”
“Don’t be jumping’ the fence before you get to it, Zeke. I ain’t the settlin’ down type. Fact is, I had a lot of time to ponder it these past four days. And I intend to let Elizabeth know she best not get her hopes up.”
“Truthfully?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”
“Sorry, Hollister. I didn’t mean to question your word.”
“Don’t fret it.”
“So you wouldn’t mind if I took an interest in her?”
“No reason I should. Have you spoke to her at all?”
Zeke laughed. “Yeah. I know she don’t grow tired of her own voice too easy. But I don’t mind. Fact is, I kind of enjoy it. My Lucille was much the same. God rest her soul. After the sickness took her, the ranch seemed so quiet.”
“I didn’t know you was married,” Hollister said.
“Weren’t even a year before she passed.”
“That’s a cruel twist of fate. My condolences.”
“Well, it just about killed me. I can promise you that. But it’s been almost ten years. And I got to say, Elizabeth seems like quite a woman.”
“That she is. She saved my life. She’s surprisingly strong for her size.”
“Maybe I’ll pay her a visit this week,” Zeke said.
“Sounds like a fine idea. Who knows? Maybe it was meant to be this way. A padre once told me sometimes the Good Lord needs time to line things up.”
Zeke took a moment to ponder the thought.
Clem interrupted his thinkin’ and asked, “How’s that new hand of yours working out? What’s his name? Bailey?”
“Don’t ask. After I showed him the ropes of being a ranch hand, he up and left me for Seven Sisters Ranch.”
“Shoowee, you are having a disappointin’ day,” Clem replied.
Hollister nodded at Clem, and Clem slid another whiskey down the bar. Hollister handed it to Zeke and said, “On me.”
“Much obliged, Hollister.”
“Listen, Zeke, ain’t no one’s perfect. Sometimes, folks are gonna let you down. Why, just last month, I saw Johnny Appleseed eatin’ an orange. It was distressin’, I admit it. But I ain’t givin’ up apples because of it.”
“How d’you get so smart, Hollister?”
“Apples.”
Such was life, somewhere in the Old West.
I checked and discovered that I hadn’t posted A Hollister Bootstone story for almost a year! I have included links to the previous stories below if you want to refresh or catch up.
Here they are in the order I wrote them:
Happy Monday. Thanks for reading and responding. You make it fun.
Mark
At least yours aren't as strange as the mystifying ones Charles Dickens gave his!
Sometimes I wish Substack had highlighting like Medium. You have some gems in here. Such as, “You can learn a lot by writing microfiction.” But see, it loses the impact when removed from its original spot! 😥