Off To See The Wild West Show Part 2 Chapter 2 (4/5) By Frank Beill

(1/5), (2/5), (3/5), (4/5), (5/5). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4.

'No. Gone for good!' The old man laughed and his free hand tipped back the cap before scratching a baldhead. 'Went to join the army. Not seen 'im since. Fightin' the Boers, last I 'eard. Why d'you want 'im? You don't look like somebody from round 'ere.' My heart sank. What had happened to my friend? Was he still alive? People get killed in wars. I took a deep breath and commenced my story. The smith listened attentively, leaning on the end of his hammer's long shaft. ''E was a good lad, was George. 'Ard worker - but 'e'd rather ride an 'orse than shoe it.'

His sweaty head got another scratch. 'Maybe you should go an' ask 'is sister. Bonnie lass. Ginger like 'im. She might know what's 'appened to 'im. Lives further up Hessle Road somewhere.' 'D'you know where?' Maybe I wasn't completely out of luck. Sal wasn't far away, if what he said was right. 'Somewhere near the fish dock, I think.' Now he scratched a chin hidden somewhere beneath the foliage. 'The missus'll know.' The hammer shaft flopped onto the ground with a clunk and the smith waddled rather than walked across the yard to a house door covered in flaking red paint. He pushed it open with the flat of his hand and shouted inside.

A few moments later a woman - as lean as her husband was broad - emerged from inside the house, drying her hands on a stained calico apron. As with everyone else my appearance produced a look of surprise on her wrinkled face. Her husband recounted what I'd told him. 'You're Sammy! The one what ran away with Buffalo Bill and them Red Indians.' I gave a sigh of relief at her words. Someone else knew of me. My best friend hadn't forgotten me. 'George said you was nowt but a little lad!' 'Well, I grew!' I extended both arms to indicate my expansion.

'Lad wants to know where 'e is. I said 'is sister might know,' the husband interrupted. 'Aye. Good little lass that Sal. She'll know - if anybody does.' The old woman echoed her husband's opinion. 'D'you know where she lives?' I prayed she could give me a more precise address. 'Down West Dock Avenue, last I 'eard. Married to a fisherman. 'Ouse opposite the school. Don't know what number though.' Her gnarled hand scratched her scalp through thinning crinkly grey hair. 'Thanks. When Number One - I mean our Advance Booking Office comes into to town in a couple of days, go and tell 'em I sent you. They'll give you a couple of complimentary tickets for the show. Just say Sammy Smyle sent you.' * * *

Continued... Next Page (5/5)

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