The Bent Nail Saloon.

Yeah. That's what I should do.

The bat wing doors of the Bent Nail Saloon swung back and forth in a lazy afternoon breeze. The cowboy, leaning on the bar, listened to them creek as he sipped on a glass of beer.

"Nice, peaceable afternoon," he thought. "Nothing could ruin it."

Louis L'Amour's The Rider of the Ruby Hills--is an example.

But I've heard bat-wing doors before, cause they're like...well...Bat wings.

I've never heard them called that in movies either. But I do recall hearing them called bat wing doors when I was a kid.

The cowboy strode wearily into the saloon. He had the appearance of a man you'd come a lone way, afoot. Under his arm was his rig. He dropped it on the floor near the bar and order a bottle of whiskey.

The cowboy glanced over his shoulder and noticed right off the stranger's double gun holster. Immediately he took the stranger as gunfighter.

"He got took."

The cowboy woke, blinking.The sunlight tearing through the thin lace drapes over the bedroom window (cracked open for air) made his red sore eyes burn and head throb. He raised a hand to his for head to shield them.

A cool breeze wafted through the room. It felt good. The cowboy pulled back the sheets he lay under and sat up on the edge of the bed. This made him noxious and caused his head to pound even more.

He gazed around the room and saw a wash basin next to the window. Slowly he staggered over to it and poured out some water into the wash bowl. After washing his face, the cowboy dressed and headed down to the saloon without his boots.

Barefooted he took a seat at one of the many empty tables. A lady dressed in a scarlet red dress, her dark black hair tied up high, came out from behind the bar. She stood over the cowboy with her lace gloved hands on her hips.

"What it'll be this morning? Same as last night, a bottle of whiskey?"

Looking up from beneath the brim of his hat, the cowboy replied, "How bout just a cup of coffee and perhaps"--propping his bare feet on the table--"the local of my boots if you please".

The cowboy looked over at a small dog sitting on the end of the bar. His eyes glowed fiery red and they was a little tin star on his chest.

"uhhhhhh.... Did that dog just speak to me or am I hearin' things?"

regdog said:

"Cowboy, how many places could you have left your boots, if you can't remember where they are?" she asked

Click to expand...

"Well, the thing is, I knows where I put them last night. But I sware I had the oddest dream that some gal sneaked into the room last night and carried them off."

"That is the Marshall? Hahahaha! what's he going to do chew my leg off or something. Hahahaha!"

*lifts feet off floor on to table*

Now if I can only find my boots.