Little Phil And Us
“So when was this?” Colonel Bob said. “When your ancestors came out here?”
We were at the Dry Gulch, me, Bernie, Colonel Bob. Steak tips polished off, I was lying at the edge of the patio bar in the last rays of the sun.
“Right after the Civil War,” Bernie said. “My great great and maybe another great or two grandfather fought for the South. He was in the Shenandoah Valley with Jubal Early late in the war when Sheridan rolled them up. After that – from this diary he left behind – it’s kind of clear that he more or less deserted and made his way out here.”
“He left a diary?” said Colonel Bob.
“That’s how I know I’ve got some Indian blood in my veins.”
“Navajo, to be exact.”
“Tell me about it,” said Colonel Bob.
Deena, behind the bar, poured more bourbon. My eyes closed.
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