The Broken Rifle - Cover

The Broken Rifle

Copyright© 2024 by Old Man with a Pen

Chapter 10

Beck asked the question.

“What do you do?”

“Head librarian at the Bearden Library.”

Beck immediately burst into tears ... great wracking heartfelt sobs ... accompanied with hiccups...

Marion enveloped my daughter, “What on earth...?”

“M ... mm ... oo ... m was(hic) he ... ad Li ... brar... (hic) ian in(hic) Weare.”

“Weare?”

“Nudeha(hic)msta.”

“Weare? Weare? Weare! Jo ... umh? ... Huntly. Your mom is famous. She told the best stories. I have one of her CDs.”

“Well ... I think you’ll do. What are your intentions towards my father?”

“A trifle sudden, don’t you think?”

Beck took what I call an adversarial stance. She crossed her arms under her breasts, leaned forward ... just a bit ... and clouded up her face. Tux looks like that when someone done her wrong.

Cats can be good role models.

She didn’t say a word ... just looked. Made Marion nervous.

Marion stuttered a bit... “He’s awfully old.”

Beck said, “You’re no spring chicken.”

“Twenty years difference.”

Beck just looked.

“I will say this ... we like the same music.”

“Has he played for you?”

“No.”

“Daddy!”

“What?” He was ‘resting.’

“Get your guitar outta the closet.”

The way she said it ... Daddy said, “Yes ma’am.”

Three songs in, the neighborhood was sitting in a semi circle around him. People were going home and calling the phone tree. Nobody didn’t come back.

People who were getting there late were complaining they couldn’t hear.

“Hold on,” Beck said. “Billy? Set up the sound system.”

Well ... shit. I don’t do concerts ... haven’t in 20 years.

Billy made Beck get her 12 string and we were off ... She harmonizes well and she’s heard my stuff all the time she was growing up ... right through college.

By the time we quit ... at midnight ... there were probably a thousand people listening, dancing and drinking local ‘shine.

“I know that song.”

“Me too.”

“I wrote it oh ... thirty years ago.”

“No.”

“Yes, Beck ... get the albums.”

Beck brought out the gold and platinum.

“No!”

“They died ... plane crash.”

“Nope ... we quit. The producers made up the story.”

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