Kate and I moved to Dodge City, Kansas along with Wyatt who had been a marshal the past three years. His girl, Mattie, came along. It only took a day across The Great Western Trail, and Wyatt was a charmer and kept Kate in high spirits. She and Mattie became fast friends.
Front Street, Dodge City was the end of the line for Texas cattle drivers. From late spring until early summer it was crowded with cowboys with money in their pockets and cavities in their mouths. Kate and I moved into The Dodge House Hotel, room number, twenty-four, where I advertised and practiced dentistry. I was successful, and had loads of extra money for card games.
Wyatt and I were playing a game of faro with three cowboys who were strangers to us before then: Jim, Joe, and Martinez. Wyatt had cleaned them out, and they weren’t pleased. I saw Jim go for his gun, but having been through this kind of thing before, I was faster, and we ended up hauling them out the door and tossing them into the tumbleweeds.
“Thanks, Doc, I owe you one.”
“You owe me two dollars.” We had a laugh.
I stumbled into our room coughing up a considerable amount of blood. “Oh, my god, Doc!” Kate cried. It was decided that we had better move some place drier. I had been reading how sulphur in the fountains of Bath, England, had cured a prince of leprosy. I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.
Wyatt kept Hoag for me. The coach took several weeks camping out beneath the moon and stopping along The Santa Fe Trail before we reached our destination, Las Vegas, New Mexico. The sky was big: purple, orange, and hot pink as a drink. It was a sleepy Spanish town. We checked into the plaza at the Hot Springs Hotel. It was an enormous red brick with spacious rooms and lots of windows.
“God, it’s hot, Doc.” Kate pulled her hair back, her neck, drenched in sweat.
“It’s nice, though.” She couldn’t argue that. The staff was hospitable and kind. The lady at the front desk, Mrs. Lee, helped me back to bed more than once when she caught me pale and having a dizzy spell. I had lost a considerable amount of weight due to my illness and travels. My clothes were starting to sag.
“Let’s try to get some meat on your bones, Dr. Holliday.” She made me heavy breakfasts with buckwheat cakes and sausage. I did my best to put them away.
One night, Kate woke me. “Doc, get up!”
“What’s the matter?”
“This place is haunted. The ram head, it spoke to me!” She was really scared. There was a taxidermied head of a big horned sheep mounted on the wall across from our bed. I must admit, he was intimidating, and I remembered the night in the desert with Pony Boy’s funny cactus.
“What did he say?” I whispered.
“He told me to be nice to you.”
This gave me a chuckle. “Well, I can’t argue him that.”
She pushed me and nestled in beneath my arm like a bird. We went back to sleep.
The following morning we took a couple of mules to Gallinas Canyon. It was hidden like a hot secret within the Black Range Mountains. The pine forest smelled of sap and entire rocky hills were covered with yellow wildflowers. Yucca and purple flowering cacti pointed the way. It took all day. Montezuma Hot Springs looked like a steamy, bubbling, witch’s cauldron, a hot toddy. The water was hot, fishy. Kate and I skinnydipped beneath the stars and pitched a tent there for as long as we could stay. I filled our canteens full of the magical waters and we made our way back to the hotel.
The railroad was coming to Las Vegas which was shaking the quiet town to wake. It was getting rough. Cowboys, known as The Dodge City Gang, had taken over the place. That could only mean card games and dentistry for me. Kate and I did more than survive, we thrived. So much for my death sentence seven years ago. The Greeks believed that our systems do a turn-about every seven years, and I was in defiance of my stars.
The hotel had a hopping bar open to gaming on the ground floor. One evening a tall slender young man shook my hand, “I’m Billy Leonard,” he said, before reaching into his pocket and coughing into his hanky. He had consumption like me. I liked him straight off, and we had many drinks and card games together.
“That’s shady Billy Leonard,” the bar wench whispered.
“I’m dark Doc Holliday, and I don’t oblige rumors.” She shrugged and walked away.
It was early April, and the birds were tweeting from their warm nests. The little elf owls peeped out from their cacti in the early evening like wise little Indians. One afternoon as I was coming from a house call Mrs. Lee handed me a telegram.
05APR1879
DR. HOLLIDAY-(STOP)-
THE DODGE CITY & THE ATCHINSON, TOPEKA & SANTA FE RAILROAD HAS HIRED ME TO ASSEMBLE A PRIVATE ARMY OF THE BEST GUNS TO DEFEND HER-(STOP)- I RECEIVED YOUR NAME FROM A MUTUAL FRIEND - WYATT EARP-(STOP)- YOU WILL BE PAID $1.25 A DAY-(STOP)- RETURN TO DODGE CITY-(STOP)-
BAT MASTERSON- SHERIFF OF FORD COUNTY KANSAS
So again we packed our bags and headed back to Dodge. Kate finally got her wish of riding the posh train. We found tickets were waiting for us at the new station, and all of our meals and whiskey were on the house. We were both more than tipsy as we departed the swanky new steam engine and checked back into the Dodge House Hotel.
Afterwards I went to the boarding house where Wyatt was staying and collected Hoag who was well cared for and happy to see me. Wyatt accompanied me to the sheriff’s office where I met Bat. He was an impressive fellow with a bowler hat and gold pocketwatch. His suit must’ve cost a fortune. I wanted to play a game of poker with him. He rose from his desk and offered me his hand. He did not have the hands of a cowboy. His nails were meticulously manicured, shiny as his badge.
“Dr. Holliday, I’ve heard so much about you. I am pleased that you’ve returned to Dodge. Sit down. Have a cigar.” He opened the box on his desk and offered me one.
“No, thank you.”
“Well, as I’ve mentioned the Dodge City and the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad has me assembling a private army of the best guns to protect their cargo: large sums of cash, over half a million, household goods, building materials, and more. Bandits are on the rise. Wyatt, here, says there is nobody better for the job than you. You will have a private sleeping car on the Santa Fe along with meals and drink, all the best. Here is an advance on your salary to get you started. I hope you are on board.” He handed me a yellow envelope.
“Yes, sir, and I thank you.”
Then he opened a drawer in his desk, took out a case, and slid it towards me. I looked at it like a fat kid at cake. I might’ve salivated. His eyes sparkled, he smiled, and nodded. I opened the case. “The Colt Lightning/Thunder, brandy new, top of the line. She’s all your’s.”
I stood up and shook his hand again. “Thank you, again, sir.”
“Alright, Dr. Holliday,” he patted me on the back.
“Call me Doc, my friends do.” He nodded.
Wyatt and I stopped off for a drink. “I don’t mind keeping Hoag for you, he’s a heck of a horse.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Will Kate be going along with you?”
“Don’t think so.”
“She’s not going to like that.”
“I know.”
He handed me a card. “She likes Mattie. She can share a room with her at my sister-in-law, Bessie’s place.”
“Thank you. She’ll like that.”
Kate was not grateful, however, and did not understand why she could not join me. “It’s work, good work, and I need it.” She slapped me hard and walked away. She didn’t cry.
Upon boarding the new train I understood why Kate was so salty with me. She did love posh trains, and the Santa Fe was a lady who made the others look cheap. The windows featured Tiffany stained glass desert scenes of sunsets and cacti. The cars were carpeted with Persian rugs and hung with velvet valances. The chairs were carved with griffins, and the tables were topped with marble. I met with the conductor, Mr. Dvorsky, early. He shook my hand. “Dr. Holliday, I presume?”
“Yes, sir, call me Doc.”
“Well, Doc, let me show you around the Santa Fe. The finest artists and craftsmen worked on her, no skimping. Here is your room. The bed becomes a seat, and there is a pull-out table.” He demonstrated. The window had a velvet valance, and the bedding was luxurious. “Here is a cupboard. Your door locks.” We sat down at the table. “I don’t know how much has been explained to you, but you’ve been hired to defend our right of way through The Royal Gorge. We’ve been running into trouble there from bandits and Indians since silver and lead were discovered there a couple of years ago. Worse, there is a competing train that runs across the canyon, but only room for one set of tracks. You may face armed guards from them as well.”
“Sounds exciting, nothing I can’t handle.”
“I am glad to hear you say so. Happy to meet you, Doc. If you need anything, ask me.”
Did I say I was in Heaven at Babb’s? I take it back. The meals alone were to die for, all fresh: chicken, roast beef, fish, eggs, and fruit. I also switched to red wine during the day, whiskey at night. There was always a game to be had and elegant ladies with little friendly lap dogs. There was music, and the scenery was breathtaking.
April 19, 1879
Dear Mattie,
I hope all is well. I know it’s been too long since you’ve heard from me. Let me apologize and explain. I have been moving around so much, I have not had a permanent address where you could reach me. I know that is no excuse. Let me catch you up to date. First, I have a fleabitten gray horse, Hoag, who I adore. My friend, Wyatt, is keeping him for me. I met Wyatt at Fort Griffin, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Last you heard from me, I had moved to Dallas. Unfortunately, Dallas has been nothing but troubles, so I was forced to move on. First, I landed in the resort town of Breckenridge, Colorado. It’s nice there, pretty. I hope you did not read the newspapers and think that I’m a ghost, as it was reported that I had been shot dead, when, really, my hat got the worst of it. So I moved back to Dallas, had more trouble, and went back to Fort Griffin where as fate would have it, I met Wyatt. I vacationed in Laredo and Eagle Pass. I stayed in a nice lady’s house, you would’ve liked it. I also became the official dentist of the Comanche, that’s right, that’s me. My, once I got back to Fort Griffin, I moved to Dodge City, Kansas along with Wyatt who is a U.S. marshal. I was forced to vacation again due to my health and went to Las Vegas, New Mexico. The hot springs are magical. I am much better now. Thanks to Wyatt I was called back to Dodge where I was hired to defend the railroad from bandits and Indians. I now reside on the Santa Fe. The food is good, I’ve gained some weight. You can respond here:
John Holliday
P.O. Box 545
416 E. 5th St
Topeka, Kansas
Love,
John Henry
May 21, 1879
Dear John,
I am happy that you are well. Do not go so far between letters, please. Life is good for me too, with the sisters. My best friend is Sister Charlotte, she’s a bit older but so much fun, so creative. She writes music and paints. Yes, I still have music, harpsichord. I do miss the dancing, won’t lie. We sell jelly and jams that we preserve, plus we keep bee hives. That’s the buzz, we collect honey. We have wine, it’s good. I’d like to send you some and honey too. I hear it is very beneficial for your condition. Did you know that honey is anti viral, anti bacterial, and anti fungal? Amazing! It is the only food that never spoils. The honey found in the tombs of Egypt is still edible. We keep herb gardens. I still embroider and sew. Let me know when you receive this letter so that I can send a care package along from the sisters.
Love,
Mattie
July 5, 1879
Dear Mattie,
I was thrilled to receive your letter. Yes, I want that care package. So much has happened. Let me start with a funny thing that occurred on the train. A lady was screaming from her dining car. Somehow a young prairie dog had gotten in and was begging from beneath her table like an old dog. My life has been such an adventure. I was hired to defend the train’s right of way through The Royal Gorge of the Colorado. It’s a jaw dropping place, especially by train. It is a ten mile long, 1,200 foot deep gash carved by the Arkansas River through the granite mountains of southern Colorado. The Ute Indians used to winter there. Silver and lead were discovered in nearby Leadville which meant that they could not run train tracks there fast enough. The canyon is no wider than a snake with room for only one set of tracks. Now, I not only had to watch out for bandits and Indians; the other railroad had armed guards too, like me. I fired at all three, killing none, you will be pleased to know. The Royal Gorge War as it was known, was over before it started when the courts stepped in. Bat Masterson, the fellow who had hired me, announced the end of the conflict. But, I must tell you all about the real magic of the area, the round house at Pueblo. The cliffs, the steep bluffs, have an ethereal quality. I felt dizzy, off balance, as if I could pick up, take off, and fly. What a wonder! Since the conflict was over I moved back to Las Vegas. There was a grand ball held at the Hot Springs Hotel in honor of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe victory: the completion of the rail line from Colorado down into New Mexico heading toward Santa Fe. You miss dancing? You would be pea green with envy, sister! None of the fine ladies could hold a candle to you. The railroad woke sleeping Las Vegas with a start and a boom. I bought some property near the railroad depot. It’s still just a tent, but I’ve hired a carpenter, Ronaldo, to build my saloon. What should I call it? You can send that care package here:
John Holliday
5 Centre St
Las Vegas, New Mexico
Love,
John Henry
Ronaldo completed my little wooden saloon, Doc’s, in no time. Of course it was mostly known for card games, and I ended up on the wrong side of the law again and again. I paid my fines and continued playing.
I was still eating and sleeping at the gracious Hot Springs Hotel when who should pop in but Wyatt. He brought Hoag. I missed them both. “You’re looking well, my friend.”
“So are you both, handsome devils. Yes, the climate and the hot springs do me well. Have you tried them?”
“No.”
“Well, I will take you and Hoag. The Indians call them the elixir of life.”
“The fountain of youth?”
“Yes.” So we rode out and camped beneath the stars.
“This wine is good, Doc. I thought you were more the whiskey type.”
I blew my nose and nodded. “I am. This is holy wine, believe it or not.”
“How so?”
“It comes from a convent.”
He whistled. “Holy cow! How did you get it?”
“My cousin is a nun. The whole basket is from them. Check it out.” There was wildflower honey, peach preserves, plum jelly, and more red wine. I gave Hoag a carrot.
“How does a dentist get a nun for a cousin? You always surprise me.”
“Her name is Mattie, too.”
He laughed. “She’s nothing like my Mattie though.”
“No,” I shook my head.
One hot summer night I was tending my little bar when Mike Gordon was getting really loud. I didn’t like him. He was a mean ass drunk and a sore loser to boot. “Keep it down, Mike.” That only made him louder. He had a big fat mouth and was rude. This was not the first time that he got on my last nerve, but it would be the last. He stumbled towards me, pulled his gun, and fired. He missed. I didn’t. I shot him through the heart, and he dropped dead.
The sheriff, Pop, they called him, cuffed me and hauled me off to jail. I wasn’t charged with murder, just gambling as usual plus carrying a deadly weapon. Owners were expected to police their saloons, and there were enough witnesses to attest to the fact that Mike fired first and was a known troublemaker. I knew Judge Hoodoo Brown, he was alright. He knew Mike Gordon too. The case was dismissed, but I had to surrender Doc’s to my liquor wholesaler, Hoodoo’s brother, Pat, to settle my debts.
“Tough break, Doc.” Wyatt patted me on the back.
“I’m a dentist, not a bartender, I guess.”
“That’s right, too good for this place. Plus a damn’ good gambler, shot, and friend. My brother, Virgil, is also a marshal. He runs a sawmill in Prescott, Arizona. I’m on my way there. It’s the new capital. Should be hopping. Come along?”
“Why not?” So I did. I rode Hoag. Wyatt’s horse was named Buck, he was chestnut. The trip should’ve only taken a couple of days stopping off in Albuquerque and Flagstaff, but the pine forest was Apache territory, and we came across a couple of braves.
Wyatt went for his gun. I shook my head and whispered, “no, wait”.
“Do you speak English?”
They were striking young men with black braided hair and beaded headbands and necklaces. They were bare chested. “I do,” the one said. “Who are you?”
“I’m John Holliday, I’m a dentist. Do you know of anybody who needs one?” I smiled and touched my mouth.
“I know what a dentist is,” he turned to his friend and laughed.
Laughter was good. Mike Gordon never laughed. I relaxed, so did Hoag. “This is my friend, Wyatt. We’re on our way to Prescott to see his brother. This is Hoag, and he is Buck.”
He liked that. I thought he would. “I am Spirit Song, and he is Brother Elk. This is Silver Moon and Star.” Hoag liked Silver Moon, she was gray and white. Star had a star between her eyes. “My aunt has a bad tooth. Will you trade for your services?”
“Sure.”
He motioned us to follow them, and we did. Wyatt looked at me and shook his head. Dentistry had always come through for me. I did not expect him to understand. Maybe he’d see. Hopefully it would not take a tooth pulling for him to see the light. We entered an alcove of pines that had a cathedral like feel. It was cooler, like a cave, and the sunlight that crept through the branches had a misty quality. The ground was softer, and last season’s pine needles had a cookie crunch. The people did not live in teepees rather hutches made of branches, brambles, and animal hides. I knew them to be Apache, but like the Iroquois, and other Indian nations, that was like a family name, and there were different branches, species. A beautiful squaw with two small children greeted us. Spirit Song introduced her as “Catori. Your horses can water here.” There was a clear spring, and we filled our canteens. We followed them into a dwelling. “Wikiups,” he called it. From the outside it looked as if an animal like a beaver might live inside, but inside it was cool and comfortable, lined with soft leather and colorful blankets. An old woman with long white hair and fair skin greeted the braves with kisses. “My aunt, Halona.” Wyatt sat down while I got out my instruments. There was much fuss over my bag that Red Wing had traded me. “Tonkawa?” They passed it around. Wyatt seemed amazed.
“Yes. They call me Dr. Sage.”
Spirit Song nodded, he seemed impressed and sat down next to Wyatt crossing his legs. He took off his beaded necklace strung with lapis and handed it to me.
“Thank you.” I hung it around my neck. It was a beautiful thing. My turn, I got out Mattie’s care package. That was it. Those sisters sure know how to kick off a party. Couldn’t wait to tell Mattie. They got loaded off of a thimbleful of the wine, and the party moved outside around a crackling fire. “What do you call yourselves?”
“The White Mountain.” It seemed that Spirit Song was the only one who spoke English.
“Do you know Cochise and Geronimo?” Wyatt asked. What was wrong with him? I think my look went past him.
“Geronimo, yes, he’s a medicine man. You don’t want to run into him.”
I think he was actually dumb enough to ask another. This time I squeezed his hand. He got it.
We spent the night with them and headed off in the early morning cool. I left them a jar of jelly. I don’t know Geronimo, but the others are alright by me.
Massive Thumb Butte dominated the skyline over Prescott, Arizona. The pine covered Bradshaw Mountains could not contain it. Is this what they meant by a sore thumb?
Virgil Earp was older and bigger than his brother. A veteran of The War Between the States, I might’ve been impressed, but he was a Yankee. Still, he was Wyatt’s brother, so I wouldn’t hold that against him. His sawmill lay in the shadow of the butte along with the rest of Prescott.
Whiskey Row was where it was happening. It was a dusty street lined with saloons, and now that Prescott was the capital of the Arizona Territory, it was filled with fat politicians trying to make a name for themselves. Not sure if drinking and gambling was the right way to go about it, but it worked for me.
Wyatt, Virgil, and I were having a game and a drink at The Palace, a new gaming hall that was part of a line of new red bricks. It had a classical design, more pink than red, and a top floor balcony where the politicians would gather at night to have a cigar, cut cards, and deals, usually ripping a lot of folks off in the process. But they were getting richer and fatter. Some things never change. I courted fate rather than politics, more of an anarchist. Rutherford was better than Grant, no doubt; but they all were coins in a puddle of muck.
Speaking of fate, who should rush upon me showering me with kisses rather than curses? “I’ve missed you, so!” Kate looked good in her new red gown, it suited her. We took a room in The Hotel St Michael, a massive redbrick that had the feel of a cotton warehouse in Savannah. Nobody asked me. Kate seemed happy. She loved hearing my stories about the trains and the Indians. She loved my whiskey more. It almost seemed too good to be true, my lady and my friends all settled in the same place. It was.
We were all gathered at The Palace bar. Among bars, it was top notch, I admit. They served good hot food too. I was tearing into a soft sandwich, and Kate was nibbling at my fries when Wyatt had a proposal. The man was full of those. “Virg and I are moving on to Tombstone, Doc. Come along with us?”
“Why?” I fingered the poppyseeds left on my plate.
“Bat invited us,” Virgil said.
Wyatt explained. He could sell a pin to a peddler. “Thanks to the Gadsden Purchase, it’s a no man’s land. There are rumors of silver.” He ordered us all another drink.
“That’s still Apache territory.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin.
“Technically not,” Virgil said.
“Well, I’m not good with technicalities, fellas, I prefer a fair shot.”
Wyatt laughed. “We’ll miss you, Doc.”
I missed them too. No sooner had they left, but Kate was back to her old ways, meaner than ever. She was particularly drunk one afternoon. She had been acting ugly for days. She kept going on about me being a “fucking chiseler”, and was getting louder and louder. I left.
I met with my new friend, John Gosper. We were having a drink and a game at The Palace. He was an older fellow and the governor of the Arizona Territory. Still, I liked him, he was a southerner. “Where is your lady, Doc?”
“She’s indisposed.”
He laughed. “They often are.” Gosper was an old bachelor, but he wasn’t so set in his ways.
“You know, I was an outlaw too.”
“Imagine that. From outlaw to politician.” I laughed and took his money.
Returning to my room, Kate was enraged. She was bouncing around on the bed in her drawers. Her hair was dishelved. Her smeared lipstick gave her a ghoulish appearance in the lamplight. “I’m John Sullivan,” she wailed like the Banshee, swinging at nothing. I backed away from her.
“Keep it down,” I growled. I didn’t want to get booted from the place. My reputation in Prescott was on the ups, and I intended to keep it that way. Kate wasn’t helping.
“I’ll take you and those fucking Earp pimps on all at once. Mattie will help. They pimp her, you know?”
“Shh…” She was screaming.
“You are just as bad. Fucking CHISELER! You left me with them!” She pounced to the floor with the agility of a cat. I tried to step aside, but she was too quick for me. She hit me. She hit me again. She punched me in the eye. It hurt. She punched me in the face again and again. Kate was out for blood. I fled.
Gosper and I rented a room from a reputable widow. I heard that Kate had moved to the mining town of Globe. Good, they could keep her. Bill Buffum, a wealthy merchant and a leader in the territorial legislature, rented the room next door. These two made Wyatt and Virgil look like field mice. In spite of my troubles I was on the up and up.
If I’ve said it once, allow me to reiterate. I’m a gentleman, not respectable. Prescott had grown a little too respectable for me. I’m not proud. Respect is a bit too much philosophy for me. I prefer the straight shot of my guns, and the subtle truth of my games. Life is a game. I played to win. Hanging around respectable people made me feel like a loser. Kate thought I was a loser. Kate was a wet cat. Plus I felt like as long as I kept on moving I might outrun death. Won’t lie, I missed my friends, the mice.
“My, Alice Jane, that dashing gallant looks as if he’d eat you up,” Aunt Wanetta whispered, squeezed my mother’s arm, and laughed.
Daddy was shy, but said that Mama looked like a satin doll and that he was smitten at first sight. He knew she was out of reach, but he was ambitious. He built a fine two storey stucco covered brick house and courted Mama for a year. Grandpap Bill was impressed, and they were married in Griffin's First Presbyterian Church in June of 1848. Aunt Fawnie said that she had never seen so many flowers, all white: roses, lilies, and baby’s breath.
Mama settled into married life. It was not what she was used to. She could not even bring Mammy along and mourned her loss. My sister, their first born, Martha Eleanora, came and left them a year later. Measles took her in the crib. Mama was inconsolable, and Daddy thought the only remedy could be me. I was born August 14th, 1851, under the sign of the lion and christened in March, 1852. Do you suppose that makes a difference? Will it help me to Heaven?
Two
Uncle John Stiles Holliday lived in Fayetteville along with the rest of Daddy’s family.
The second dream took place at a big funeral. We had taken a bus to get there. My childhood friend, Kelly, was with me as well as a blonde dream girl. The blonde was a bit drunk, I think. Somebody was peeved with her as she had taken some jewelry from the dead woman that others thought she shouldn't have. I was on the blonde's side, but I don't think Kelly was.
In the last dream I was back in college. It began in a diner. My friends introduced me to a new exchange student who was a Sioux Indian. He was older, looked to be in his forties or fifties. I was sitting at a corner table with them in the front left chair, wearing a short cotton red and white skirt. The Indian tried to kiss me, I wouldn't let him, so he went under my skirt, and the dream got pretty dirty. I fled the diner with images of the Indian's conquests in mind. Now I had two costume tops, Cookie Monster, and Oscar the Grouch. I chose Oscar and put him on over my skirt. I passed a courtyard where three power girls were sitting at an outdoor table. They were wearing matching suits and hats: pink, blue, and yellow. Of course they were laughing at my get-up. Then, I was back in the diner again with the Indian, only this time he had a metal sitar. I asked him if they thought he was a fucking Pakistani, and we all laughed. His uncle owned a bar in town. At this point I became intriqued with the Indian and began going lucid when I woke up.
The second dream took place in the forties it seems by the clothing and surroundings. I was working in a grocery store with a younger man in his twenties, the owner's son. We had left the one store and gone to another, his, I think. I remember leaving the store and seeing stuffed animals, an elephant, and a giraffe, maybe, outside the entrance: the last two free gifts for donating to some cause, remaining on a small table covered in a white cloth. The elephant was a wooly charcoal color, and I wanted him. We went into yet another store and there were tables of books at the front like you'd see at a book fair or library sale. The one slim paperback had a black and white picture of a Confederate on the front. I picked it up and told the boy he'd like it. Then, he made a pass at me. I told him I loved him, and he might love me like a mother because I was much too old for him. He was angry, machismo came to mind. Told him it wasn't new: was asked to the prom twice, student teaching, and propositioned many a times while teaching: only one, who had written a note, was still salty with me when I told him I was never desperate enough to go for students. Two, stalked me for twenty years when I finally had to get nasty with them. I was getting bored with him and woke.
Next, I was in a crowded old-fashioned diner; one of my old students was there. At least, I think he was an old student, know I know him from somewhere: big dark haired boy. Maybe he was just a boy at school I didn't have in class. He was plotting something, all that I know.
"usury and all commercial ventures were suspect because they assumed control over the future, a mortgage of time which was reserved...
