Don't Poke the Bear!

Chapter 5

NORMALLY WHEN THE front door of the Spur opens, the customers'll glance at who might be comin' in. This time they scream and scatter.

"What in the name of Holy Hell?" someone says.

"He's bringin' a bear into the house?" someone else says.

I use a loud voice to announce to the entire room, "I'm gonna tie this bear up in the far corner till I decide what to do with him. In the meantime, don't poke him."

The bear shies away from the folks in the saloon, who, seein' the timid nature of the beast, get up their courage to gather round and watch me tie him up.

"Leave him be," I say. "It's clear he's feelin' poorly, and I reckon he'll leave you alone if you grant him the same courtesy."

The second floor hallway overlooks half the main room. I look up and see three of our five whores starin' slack-jawed at the bear.

"Constance!" I holler. "Find a piece of wood and tie a string around it to fit the bear's neck."

"Why?"

"I'm gonna make a sign."

"You need some ink?"

"I do."

I see Gentry has joined the whores on the hallway. She's starin' at the bear, like everyone else in the place, not knowin' quite what to say. She gives me a quiet look that I can't cipher. But in my experience, when a man can't cipher a woman's look, it usually ain't a good thing. By the time Constance shows up with the things I need, Gentry's gone back in one of the rooms to tend to the old man.

"You want me to do the lettering?" Constance asks.

"You do write straighter than me," I say.

"What should I write?"

"Don't Poke the Bear."

She looks at me. "Who the fuck would be dumb enough to poke a bear?"

I shrug. "Rules are easier to enforce when there's a sign posted."

She shakes her head as if she thinks I'm crazy, but letters the sign anyway, and hands it to me. I approach the bear and carefully slip the sign over his head, hopin' not to get bit in the process.