My stomach growled like an overprotective dog at the aroma from the kitchen as it drifted past and tempted me to abandon my mission. I felt terrible and smelled even worse.Ī grub worm screamed out something about fried chicken and baked beans, which told me the time was high noon.
My head ached while beads of sweat rolled down my face like a leaky pipe. I stood on the boardwalk of Aztec Street, the main road into Montezuma, waiting for a job I had picked up. I preferred to keep these thoughts to myself and deal with others asking me what I was smiling about as opposed to explaining my sense of humor. An explanation would require divulging too much information for anyone else to understand, and I wasn’t much of a sagebrush philosopher. This was the type of amusing brainchild only I could enjoy. I found this to be a rather fun fact at the moment and smiled at myself for such an apt association. This reminded me of a rare and somewhat poetic book regarding the terms of venery, The Book of Saint Albans, in which they formally referred to a group of crows as a murder. Which is one reason why I seldom bought into any of these tales of erroneous drivel: old wives’ tales, tall tales, and fairy tales. This meant death was coming.īy what methods the actual amount of luck was deduced and recorded, I’m uncertain. A gathering of a half-dozen crows was the most ominous sign of all-even non-believers found themselves cringing at such a sight.
Spotting six of these creatures, however, was likened to seeing the devil himself. I’ve never heard tell of what the popular stance was on finding three, four, or even five of these luck-bringing black birds, but my theory was logical enough: it’s a game of chance determined on-the-fly by the highest authority present at the time of observation. Yet, they believed two crows bestowed good fortune upon their onlookers. These same folks also steered clear of black cats, avoided walking under ladders, and were extra careful when handling mirrors. Those with a superstitious disposition claimed if you saw this bird all by its lonesome, you would suffer a terrible curse of bad luck. Wyatt EarpĪcross the street, I counted six crows perched on the rooftop of the funeral home, which was as ironic as it was prophetic. When Cash learns some of his father’s possessions are at a pawn shop in Tombstone, he will have to decide whether the secrets of a man he never knew are more important than their safety.įast is fine, but accuracy is everything. Summary: Cash Holliday and Marshall Earp are the illegitimate sons of two of the most famous men in the West. The Bastard Boys of Montezuma / by Jaromy Henry Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without the express consent of the author.
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