Star Dust

The train wasn’t rolling in on its regular schedule, and the stage coach hadn’t shown up for at least a month.

At the same time us town folk were becoming mighty skeptical of old-Fred Phillips-our town mayor-who had been voted in only because no one else wanted the position.

Old Fred was nothing but a drunk, a womanizer, and a wannabe poker player. A sixty-year-old-man who looked not a day shy of eighty.

There was maybe fifty men-folk at most in our town of Black. Majority were married or shacked-up with dirty little munchkins running around everywhere.

A few of the guys headed right from working the coal mine all day-straight to the saloon. Black from head-to-toe in charcoal dust. But they didn’t care and neither did we for that matter.

They were hot, tired, and thirsty, and needed refreshments that the only saloon in the town of Black could provide! Hence the name.

My husband Jake and I ran the saloon-we called Star-Dust. One evening after the men-folk had already headed home for their suppers — Some strangers rode in on their heavily sweated horses. They tied the poor things up front at the trough, swung the saloon doors open and demanded two bottles of whiskey to start with, and five whores for each of them.

Our handyman and piano player— one-eye-Joe, felt he had no choice but to comply with the demands in playing every song 🎶 known to these men. Which was more that a few!

Poor Joe-he was exhausted and I’m sure his fingers were sore to the bone. We were all intimidated by this clan who carried guns in their holsters, and used their knives to throw at the wall-where our best pictures from England-hung!

I can assure you, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when we landed here in Southern Texes!

Gold is what was our motivation. However, being murdered over a nugget just didn’t seem worth it to us.

That’s why we took over the saloon here in Black, after Patty and Dominic fell sick, and died. Some say it was the water-others say it was from the rat infestation in their home.

People used to laugh and tell people — “Dominic and Patty have a dozen kids that sleep with them every night—these kids are short to the ground—greyish in colour, and have thin hair”!

The folks were to scared to touch them-in case they were deseased. So, they didn’t receive a proper burial. Instead they were cremated along with the shack they had lived in for years and maybe a rat or two.

The more of the pictures from England were destroyed — the more furious I became!

The demanding captain of the pack was the rudest and ugliest pig-I’d ever laid eyes on.

Jake was always a little softer-easier-going than myself. He hated confrontation and usually avoided it at all costs. He was calm, cool, and collected.

But I was born with fire-red hair for a reason! The next bottle of whiskey the pig demanded — I grabbed the bottle from behind the bar.

I’m sure my green eyes had turned devil-red, matching my hair and probably the colour of my face, with so much anger-I was ready to explode! I’ve never been a big gal-but my adrenaline was running deeper than the water-well.

“Oh, hey their sweet darlin-are you the pretty little thing that the timid fella has sent over to show me a good time”?

I smiled, walked a little closer to him-and as he put his hand on the small of my back, I smashed that whiskey bottle over his head with all my might! Then I yelled at them all to “get the hell out my saloon”.

To my surprise — the pig stood up-smiled, and instead of passing out and falling to the floor-hard, he picked me up-over his shoulders I went as he walked us outside the saloon, with his buddies following.

I punched and kicked until he finally dropped me in the trough!

Jake came out with his shot-gun and literally blasted the pig across the dusty pathway, smashing clear through Willies barber shop window.

I was amazed of Jakes speed, his immediate protection of me, and he still stood tall-firm, and collected.

That is until one the pigs side-kicks-swiftly drew a knife and threw it directly at Jake — stabbing him straight in the heart.

As the clan rode off-they swore they’d be back to take whatever, and whoever they wanted.

Since that day I’ve been running the Star-Dust saloon. Though one-eye-Joe helps me an awful lot.

I miss my Jake all day-everyday. I visit his gravesite on the hillside as often as I can.

Now with the coal mine running full steam ahead-we have a lot more men-folk living in and around Black. Having that extra man-power if needed-definitely puts our minds at little at ease.

One day a young cowboy comes barreling up to the new church, where we were all anticipating it’s first sermon.

The cowboy was just a yelling “That clan robbed the stagecoach, and probably the train too”. That explained the train and stagecoach delays.

We all ran out of the church and already had plans in motion-just in case they were to make good on their threat, and did return.

The women knew to grab the kids up and go hide in the bushes, while the men were in their desired perches.

It didn’t take long for the pigs clan to make themselves present. As soon as the one who shot my Jake jumped off his horse — the bullets flew!

Not one in the pack survived!

Black became known as the deadliest town in all of Texes.

Old-Fred-Phillips was found under his bed-dead of fright.

I ran the Star-Dust Saloon well into my seventies-until I was laid to rest beside my Jake on the hillside.

By Brenda Lee Lord-Hinger

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