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After Tom left, Bill slugged down his coffee, donned his Stetson and slipped out the side 
entrance. Tom saw him for a split second and quickly looked up at the ceiling as if he didn’t.  Bill grinned. On the whole, his relationship with the guys in his precinct was a good 
one.
     He jaywalked across the busy street to the police impound lot where he had parked his 
black forty nine Buick. He bought it in Texas after deciding he’d had enough of the Texas 
Rangers for a while. He had put in for a leave after steady busting his butt for fifteen years 
mounted and un mounted all over that Lone Star state. He remembered retiring his last horse there. “Harry Hoss the Boss” was what he called him. After old Harry retired, Bill decided to do the same for a while. He enjoyed the Ranger gig but got burnt out.Time for a change. 
     Driving up to Nova Scotia to see old friends, he thought he’d stop in the Big Apple to see how folks lived there. After getting four different sets of directions from strange talking people and getting lost just as many times, he stopped at a bar named Paddy’s. Disgusted with his ordeal in the Big City he dropped in to relax for a bit before getting the hell out of that crazy town…if he could only find the way.
     The atmosphere of the joint was vaguely familiar. Folks of all ages enjoying each other's company. Bill bellied up to the bar and ordered a double shot of Jim Beam. He looked into the mirror through the row of liquor bottles behind the bar to see a few guys on his right engaged in lively jibberish about the Yankees. Seated on his left was a rugged looking gentleman in a brown Fedora hat looking right back at him.  He was knuckling onto a three finger glass with about four fingers of  Scotch in it judging by the bottle planted near him. He grinned at Bill and said, “You lost cowboy ?”
     “Reckon I am at that. Good talkin’ to a stranger I can understand though. The name’s Bill “he said putting out his hand.
     “They call me Brick“, he quipped exchanging a short strong handshake. 
Bill  pointed to Brick’s drink and said “How can you drink that horse piss?”  Here it was three 
years later and he still remembered Brick’s answer.
     “It’s easy Bill… bottle, glass, mouth, stomach.” They both laughed and they had been 
buddies ever since. Bill smiled in recollection . Somehow after that fated meeting, Bill never 
did make it to Nova Scotia.... 
     Bill came back to the present and climbed into his Buick. ...(cont.)
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