100 Words

49. A Hitchhiking Story
A stringbean of a cowboy picked us up in a red El Camino, a crumpled straw hat roosting on his head. He gave Annette a slow sideways perusal, then turned his eyes back to the road. I asked him about the saddle and guitar in the back, and he offered to play a song. We stood in the dust at the side of the road as he sang a lonesome tune. He was a terrible guitarist and a worse singer. Before he drove off, he shook my hand.
“I’m Shorty Tallman,” he drawled.
Of course you are, I thought.

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