The Long Trail Home by Stephen A. Bly

works on the south side of the railroad at the Dodge City Corrals. Papa said I can’t marry anyone unless he’s saved up a thousand dollars.”
    â€œYou have a very wise daddy. Thanks for talkin’ to me, darlin’.”
    â€œYou look very lonely. Where is your little sister?”
    â€œUp in Dakota. In Deadwood, last I heard.”
    â€œI think you ought to go visit her.”
    â€œYou’re right, darlin’—I ought to do that. And I think you ought to hold onto that Richard. He’s hardworking, thrifty, and smart. I know he’s smart, because he picked you out. If I was sixteen or seventeen, I’d be saving my money too.”
    â€œYou would?”
    He nodded and gulped down a lukewarm swallow of coffee. “Now, where’s the best place in town to get a haircut and shave? I’ve been on the trail too long.”
    â€œRight next door at the Centennial Barber Shop. Ask for Mr. Dieter. You can get your hair cut in the latest fashion.”
    â€œWhat is the latest fashion?”
    â€œWell, for men your age, I suppose the fashions don’t change much.”
    â€œYou’re right about that darlin’.”
    He watched her as she toted his dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Kids are honest. I’m a worn-out man with mostly gray hair. I don’t look thirty-four. I probably don’t even look forty-four.
    The immaculate man behind the barber chair almost stood at attention when he walked through the door.
    â€œAre you Dieter?” Sam asked.
    â€œYes sir. Would you like a haircut today?”
    â€œA sixteen-year-old waitress next door said you were the best barber in Kansas.”
    The barber used a whisk brush to wipe down the leather chair. “That’s my Greta!”
    â€œYour daughter?”
    â€œMy youngest daughter. I have six.” He motioned for Sam to sit down in the chair.
    â€œShe’s a jewel. You and your wife did a very good job of raisin’ her.”
    The barber wrapped a linen cloth around Fortune’s neck. “I appreciate that, mister. Her mama died when she was born. I raised those six girls by myself.”
    â€œThat’s a tough bronc to ride.”
    â€œThe other girls are like Greta, except they are all happy and married. I am a lucky man. I figure the Lord brings sorrow to all of us, but the blessings more than make up for it. You have kids, mister?”
    Fortune stared at the mirror behind the barber’s chair. “Eh? No. No kids.”
    â€œSorry, mister. I didn’t mean to pry. That ain’t right. Now, what can I do?”
    â€œShampoo; haircut; shave. Leave my mustache.”
    â€œI’ve got some hot towels and liniment that will lift some of the dirt out of that elbow of yours, if you’d like.”
    â€œWhat’s this deluxe job goin’ to cost me?”
    â€œThe whole works? That will be a dollar, which includes your choice of tonic water splashed on your face.”
    â€œThat’s what I want,” Sam replied. “Now, tell me how in the world you raised six girls on your own.”
    Sam’s hat slipped down almost to his ears when he finally walked out of the Centennial Barber Shop. The first clerk who approached him at Wright, Beverley & Company ushered him to a row of Stetsons.
    â€œYou think I need a new hat?” Sam grinned.
    The young man with slicked back, brown hair looked apologetic. “Most of the drovers who come up the trail want to buy a new hat.”
    â€œI need more than a hat.”
    â€œWe have a trail special,” the clerk reported.
    â€œAnd what is that?”
    â€œA three-piece suit, white shirt, tie, and new Stetson for eleven dollars.”
    â€œIs the suit nobby?”
    â€œNo, it’s modest. But the hat is top of the line.”
    â€œCan you toss out the tie and throw in some undergarments?”
    â€œYep. Same price.”
    â€œWhat would it be if I picked up a second shirt and a new