The Quiet Town

It was quiet as we drove into town.

Too quiet.

As we looked around, all we saw was a pig wandering the street by the post office.

Too quiet.

We checked on one of the homes on the edge of town. The door was open, but no one was present.

We thought the barber shop would have some signs of life.

No luck.

We checked some of the stores. The blacksmith shop, the general store, the boot shop--all were empty.

It was a small town—but not that small.

Then we found this fellow. With a longhorn steer . . . with a saddle.

Something definitely was unusual.

When things are "unusual," my impulse is to check the bank.

Standing outside the bank only confirmed the feeling that something "unusual" meant "Get the sheriff."

Checking the jail revealed that no one was there either.

But one of the cell doors was open. Had someone escaped?

Or had someone helped another person break out?

One last place to check. Fast. The office of the Texas Rangers. Empty.

So it was back to the bank.

Then I heard a shot fired.

Racing behind the bank, I looked around the corner just in time to see a man dressed in black fire a shot that ended the robbery.

I had never met the man in black, but he said his name was Ron. He shook my hand and was gone.

*****************
I had been thinking about Texas and the "Wild West," reading about Tom Mix, and hearing stories about two men living in the area who had been doubles for John Wayne in his movies, so I began to wonder whether this whole incident that happened near Boerne, TX, had really happened or whether it had been a dream.

A dream?

How do you explain this?