Archie was asleep. His chair tilted back against the
window sill of the Longhorn Saloon, his chin on his chest, his boots resting on the hitching rail.
“Psst, Archie” Wilber said, peering around the corner of the saloon. Wilber nervously glanced around, then stepped up on the boardwalk and touched Archie on the shoulder.
“Archie, wake up!” Wilber said.
“Huh, wha?” then his eyes focused on the long thin face of Wilber.
“Archie, you gotta see this. There’s a feller upstairs with Wilma. They’re gonna do the dirty and the window’s open.”
Not to miss some excitement in this sleepy town, Archie followed Wilber up the creeky wooden steps to a landing, where they peered into the window. The sun hadn’t reached overhead yet, but it appeared the drover was drunk all ready.
The drover was naked from the waist down, but had his shirt and hat on. He was holding his pecker in one hand and his pistol in the other, and was chasing Wilma around the bed.
“Whooee,” Wilber shouted.”That looks like fun.”