I was about to say something to Barry but he hadn’t returned. Was chatting up some cute 30’ish woman. Cute, no, damn gorgeous. Long, curly-blonde ...air, bitchin’ figure, and legs. Damn! Those lean legs, boldly in view from the slit in her black silk dress: tanned, smooth and long as marathon mile. I could also clearly see she wasn’t happy, mascara streaked from tears, mouth downturned. Damned if I wasn’t getting hard looking at her.Barry returned after I signaled him. A little annoyed I spewed. I worked for three weeks and let the stock rest and recover from a pretty hard trip from Lowndesboro to Selma. I bought some supplies and some grain for the mules and horse and left Selma ten dollars ahead.I left and made good time through the flatland between Selma and Uniontown. Just past Uniontown I saw a man dragging a woman up the road by the hair. He was drunk, and yelling at her.I got closer and could see that she was a young Indian woman. He had beaten her and her face was swollen.. More

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