Evis and the Blues Cowboys

A traveler weary, a long day's journey through the gnarly woods of County Athens in the eastern lands of Ohio hears a loud and joyful noise, bluesy, but with heart, gutsy and ruthless. He follows the sound, over the streams, the fallen trees, through the dales and past the ravines, until he hears the whinny and hoofclop of horses.

Encountering a wooden fence, he stops, this traveler of meager means, defiant heart, selfless quest. A horse appears in the quarter-moon darkness, then another and another.

"What's this?" the traveler says. "What kind of welcoming committee?"

"What is your name, vagabond?" one of the horses asks, a palomino with glowing gold mane and tail.

"Surprised and taken aback, you can call me, for surely I have not been asked a question by one of your breed in all my days."

The horse tilted her head and stared, waiting.

"I am called Evis. What is your name?"

"Moonlight. You need a place to spend the night, Evis?"

"I do."

"Follow the sound of the music, beyond the glen and through the Gateway to the Blues. The people there will care for you."

Evis looks in the direction of the music, stands himself straighter in his worn, cowhide boots. "Thank you for your..." he starts to say, but the horse Moonlight and her companions are gone. Had they even been there? Maybe he only lost consciousness for a moment from the need for food. He brought hard beef and wafers with him, but those had long ago met their fate in his innards.

Dream or not, the directions he's been given are true. A vast glen leads to another fenced field with a large gateway that opens into another large area, this one covered but open on two sides. A large fire burns in one corner, a few people sitting quietly by the leaping flames, only nodding at his passing, as if they know him, know his quest, his needs, his destination.

By now, the music insists on being heard. Pipes, fiddles, lyres, lutes, bangles, and many drums follow the beat of the blood through his body. With each step to the doorway, his tiredness lessens, his mood increases, his cares lighten.

WELCOME TO THE LADY BUCK SALOON a sign reads. Below it, THE BLUES COWBOYS FROM 8 TILL ??.

Evis opens the door and walks in. The music envelops him as he takes in the crowd, young and old, couples and groups, barstools, chairs, tables, and dance floor. In front of many of the revelers sit trays of food bearing aromas of grilled delights, tankards of ales to wash it down. A large dog sniffs at a smaller one, which even though it could fit in the larger one's mouth, shows no fear and runs around the room snatching crumbs and gaining pets and oohs and aahs.

The band ended its song and after a few moments of chatter began a new one, his favorite. He orders a brisket, a beer, and found a spot at the bar. This is going to be a great night, he knows.