I spent a lot of evenings and weekends alone.So here I was in the big city. Tonight, instead of heading home I thought I'd drop in at the local bar, "...he Dugout" and see what was going on. I didn't want to be alone tonight, since it was Friday night. I found out about this place from some of the girls at the office, they'd come here for lunch sometimes and I had gone with them on occasions. I noticed a familiar face at the dartboard and struggled to remember where I had seen her before. She. ‘I’m no cowhand. What’s your ma’s name, girl?’ ‘Ivy Masterson. Now, I mean. It didn’t use to be.’ His eyes prowled around inside me again. ‘You know my ma?’ ‘I did.’ ‘When?’ He shook his head… so slightly. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ I was 12 and smart enough to know a dead end when I heard one. ‘If you’re no cowhand, what are you?’ ‘Just a man.’ Not a poor man. His gear was nice. Broken in but not worn. A little prettied up, but not gaudy. I knew because that was the kind of thing I liked to see. I. More

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