By Charles King
A vintage western.
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Additional info for An Apache Princess: A Tale of the Western Frontier (Classic Westerns Series)
She had wrapped herself up in an old quilt instead of a winter coat. Her head cocked to one side, her eyes fixed on Mr. Robert Smith, she sang in a powerful contralto: O Sugarman done fly away Sugarman done gone Sugarman cut across the sky Sugarman gone home…. A few of the half a hundred or so people gathered there nudged each other and sniggered. Others listened as though it were the helpful and defining piano music in a silent movie. They stood this way for some time, none of them crying out to Mr.
So they called it Macon Dead’s hearse. First Corinthians pulled her fingers through her hair.
Smith. He couldn’t carry it. It’s too heavy. Jesus, you know. You know all about it. Ain’t it heavy? Jesus? Ain’t love heavy? Don’t you see, Lord? You own son couldn’t carry it. If it killed Him, what You think it’s gonna do to me? Huh? ” He was getting angry again. ” Macon’s voice was still loud, but it was getting weary. “And you, you baby-dicked baboon”—he tried to point at Macon–“you the worst. You need killin, you really need killin. You know why? Well, I’m gonna tell you why. I know why. Everybody…” Porter slumped down in the window, muttering, “Everybody know why,” and fell fast asleep.
An Apache Princess: A Tale of the Western Frontier (Classic Westerns Series) by Charles King