In The Arena Of The White Bull

By Terrell Brown

Short stories that play out in the Old and the New American West by Terrell Brown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terrell Brown
• Release date: Mar 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310976537

Terrell Brown

Biographical Note: Terrell Brown has been published on-line, in newspapers and in Range and True West magazines. He was born and raised in the American Southwest and lives in the West, which he considers home. He has two sons and three daughters. Contact the author at [e-mail].

Book preview

In The Arena of the White Bull

Short Stories

by Terrell Brown

Copyright 2015 Terrell Brown

Smashwords Edition

This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

Cover Image Copyright 2015 Hannah Brown

Table of Contents

A Lovers’ Quarrel

A Violinist In Winter

The Mannequin Room

A Western Story

The Pueblo

Up On The Big Wood River

A Lovers’ Quarrel

Billy Combs counted the sidewalk squares as he walked home from school and with the fingers of his right hand toyed with the two small good luck steelies that he made sure were in his pocket the first thing every morning. But the two cold charms hadn’t helped him today. Jimmy Bailey, whose folks were rich and who was crazy and always had a goofy look on his face had reached back with his math book while Warren Kohler was mumbling the Prayer and, with his head half bowed and snot running out of his nose, bammed Billy flat on top of the head. He couldn’t do anything because Mrs. Anderson lifted her eyes a little at the sound of it and looked back in their corner. Everybody in the back of the room had seen it happen and several of the girls and J.D. Mundt, who was like a girl, giggled and Tommy Munoz grinned like a monkey. But the worst part was just before the amen he sneaked a look at Joy Eliot in the seat behind him, and she smiled in a way he could tell she felt sorry for him. When he turned back towards the front Mrs. Anderson was watching him and frowning, and she said "Billy, how about you lead us in the Pledge of Allegiance this morning." The whole day was ruined.

Now, walking along Texas Street in the middle of the afternoon, he felt relief that this was Friday and he wouldn’t have to face the class until Monday. At least there was one good thing about today, and that was that his best friend, Jerry Wilson, was absent because he didn’t have his lessons and so hadn’t seen Bailey hit him. He and Jerry were the only guys in the sixth grade, or probably even the whole school, who had girlfriends. And once in a while on Saturday afternoons, he and Joy and Jerry and Colette would go together to the matinees. Usually a gang of guys from the other sixth grade classes in school would be there and sit towards the back of the theatre and whisper and say silly things, and they’d throw popcorn at Billy and Jerry so that they couldn’t even watch the movies. But what those guys did didn’t bother him much, because he knew they were jealous and he didn’t care if they liked him because he and Jerry were best friends and did everything together. But Colette had seen Bailey hit him, so it wouldn’t be long before Jerry heard about it. Maybe tomorrow after he’d raked the leaves up in the Major’s yard he’d go looking for that creep Bailey, and while he was at it he’d go by Jerry’s house and tell him what really happened!

With the thought of Jimmy Bailey he got mad and was ashamed, and he turned around halfway while he was walking and glared at Joy where she was walking along about a block and a half behind him. He hadn’t talked to her since what Bailey did to him. In class when she poked him in the back for him to look around he hadn’t done it, and at recess after lunch he’d hung around the edge of the playground pretending to be interested in the leaves he was picking up, while she stayed around the main door and tried to get his attention by watching him until he looked at her. Once Colette came over to get her for a game, but she didn’t go play and just kept watching where he was. Now, by not walking with her after school as he usually did he’d really show her how mad he could get!

Just at the moment that he would have walked right past it, Billy noticed the small Texas Street Grocery in its place on the corner of Texas and Third where, for thirty cents every day after school, he swept and mopped the floors and sometimes squegeed the two high plate glass windows. Close, he thought, as he crossed the street. That would have been just one more dumb thing that he’d done in front of Joy that he’d have to live down. As he pulled the heavy metal screen door towards him and its bells at the top corner jingled, he looked down the sunny street where Joy was walking. She looked up from the sidewalk under the trees along the irrigation ditch and watched him, and she looked sad even though she was smiling. He saw also before he was inside that her skirt was baggy looking.

Mrs. Nealy chinged the register and the drawer sprang out and she gave a shriveled, hobbling old lady with a stack of white hair on top of her head some coins and said very loudly Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy! She smiled at Mrs. Kennedy and then she smiled at Billy and said Billy, will you hold the door open for Mrs. Kennedy, and so he held the door wide open for the old lady, and the bells on the corner of the door kept jingling.

Ooh, Mrs. Nealy said, a birdie sound that Billy