Third World by Louis Shalako Read Free Book Online Page B

if so he’d never
heard of the fellow.
    It didn’t look good. Perhaps some other
time. She hadn’t even looked at him. Polly had gotten there and
took her customary pew long ahead of Hank, whose mount was
cantankerous, unusually so for the critter was usually gentle as
pie when ridden.
    Admittedly, the critter hadn’t been
ridden in some time and that may have accounted for its
skittishness and reluctance to go where pointed. It was the best
looking one of the bunch and he rode them all in a kind of
rotation, otherwise they got spoiled for lack of work.
    Critters was a lot different from
horses, that was for sure.
    He was just turning to go around and
find the animal, most likely it would be scrounging in the field
out back, when Polly cleared her throat and diffidently addressed
him.
    “ Hello, Mister
Beveridge.”
    “ Oh. Hello, Polly.” Swiftly
taking off his hat, he bowed to her, a little stiffly to be sure.
“And how is your mother. I hope she isn’t ailing?”
    “ She was a mite poorly this
morning, but I hope she will be well by now.” She had an empty
basket in her hands, by which he surmised it must have been her
flowers on the side-alter behind the votive candles.
    As he recalled, people took turns at
it.
    The local faith was a curious mix of
previously-irreconcilable denominations, Protestant, Catholic, with
an admixture of Jewish, Zen and Moslem tenets and sayings thrown in
for good measure. Marty was all-inclusive.
    “ And yourself?” Hank thought
he was doing well so far.
    “ I’m fine, and looking
forward to the summer.” Her gaze traveled over the clusters of
parishioners, with Marty moving among them and seemingly reluctant
to acknowledge old Hank this time. “It has to get here sooner or
later.”
    “ I agree with that.” He
wondered if Marty would latch onto him again, but no, he was moving
through another bunch.
    Marty had enough sensitivity to
understand that Hank might easily be scared off and stay away for
good, and a good man was nothing without religion. A good man was
nothing without a wife either. Marty knew a lot, in Hank’s
opinion.
    Hank had been meaning to
speak to the Morgensens, and Polly, and here she was coming to him.
In the immediate vicinity of the pair of them, he was aware of no
young men, no wannabes hanging in the wings so to speak, and it occurred to Hank that
he might have a chance if only he had the courage to
act.
    Young males were notoriously difficult
to entice into the place, under almost any circumstances. Hank had
been tempted to suggest liquor instead of wine, especially at
nuptials and christenings, funerals and the like, but was sure glad
now that he hadn’t. They had a suggestion box, perpetually empty,
just inside the door.
    But they were missing a pretty good
bet, as most of the fairer maidens of the village were in
attendance by his reckoning.
    She was at least worthy of the possible
embarrassment, while some of the older biddies did indeed represent
a fate worse than death. What people thought was the right age for
him was of little interest to Hank and often outlandish in its
vision.
    “ I was wondering if you
might like to come around for brunch.” Her eyes were on him, warm
and mysterious.
    “ Oh, aye, argh…” Hank choked
up, perhaps a bit of saliva had gone down the lung-hole, and it
took a minute to get it out. “Of course, Miss Polly, I would be
delighted.”
    He gulped and sucked in air.
    “ It’s nothing fancy, but
there’s always plenty and it’ll save washing up.”
    “ Perhaps you and I might go
riding one of these days.” When she was knee-high to a grasshopper,
he had promised her that once.
    They sat on her mother’s porch one day
as Missus Morgensen fed them cookies and milk. What a strange and
horrible thought.
    He supposed he’d always been kind of in
love with her, but Fate was always an uncertain thing. He’d read
that somewhere.
    “ Will you come
over?”
    She’d always loved old Pal, short for
Palomino,