Twelvw o'clock

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  • Publicado : 5 de marzo de 2011
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David Ceciliano

Where were you at twelve o’clock, noon, on the 9th of June, 1875?

This was the only thing that could be heard in the old Nantucket´s store. The store was not like any store, especially today. The racks and shelves were aside the walls, leaving at the view the huge room that the store was. From the door there were sits andbenches along the wooden hall. At the end of the two rows the benches made, like a church, there was a kind of stand at the front, made just by some shelves and high chairs. At the middle of the “stand” was Nantucket sat. Between the stand and the crowd filling the benches there was an old wood chair. Lonely as it can be. There was a man sitting here, Ben Roddle, with self-confidence. He stood up, andanswered with graphical gestures

Excuse me, when them, fellers in leather pants an’ six shooters ride in, I go home and set in the’ cellar. That’s what I do. When you see me pirooting through the streets at th’ same time an’ occasion as them, punchers, you kin put me down fer bein’ crazy. Excuse me.

He sat down again, trying to calm himself down.

Why Ben, youain’t never really seen 'em turned loose. Why, I kin remember-th’ old days-when—
Ben stood up quickly, with anger interrupting Nantucket. He saw him with scorn and contempt

Ben Roddle
Oh, damn yer old years!! I suppose you’ll be sayin’ in a minute that in th’ old days you used to kill Injuns, wont you?
Everybody laughed in the room. Ben Roddle knew he was free now to expand his ideas. He turned tothe audience to give his speech.
Ben Roddle
Mason rickets, he had ten big pumpkins a-sittin’ in front of his store, an’ them fellers from the Upside-down-F ranch sot’em up-shot’em all up- an’ rickets lyin’ on his belly in th’ store a-callin’ fer ’em to quit it. An’ ehat di they do! Why, they laughed at ‘I'm!- just laughed at ‘I'm! That don’t do a town no goodnow, how would an eastern capertaliswould like that? Why, you couldn’t see ‘I’m fer th’ dust on his trail. The he’d tell all his friends that ‘their town may be all right, but here’s too much loose-handed shootin’ fer my money. An’ he’d be right, too. Them, rich fellers, they don’t make no bad breaks with their money. They watch it all th’ time b’cause they know blame well there ain’t hardly room for their feet fer th’ pikers an’tin-horns an’ thimble-riggers what are lying fer ‘em. I tell you, one puncher racin’ his cow-pony hell-bent-fer-electronic down Main Street an’ yellin’ an’ shootin’ an’ nothin’ at all done about it, would scare away a whole herd of capitalists. An’ it ain’t right. It oughter to be stopped.
He was a quite excited, the people was convinced. Immediately he finished, a pessimistic voice askedPESSIMISTIC VOICE
How are you going to stop it, Ben?
Then Ben Roddle, didn’t turned his eyes to the one with the pessimistic voice, he turned to Nantucket, knowing his past.
Ben Roddle
Organize!!! : that’s the only way to make these fellers lay down. I--
His glorious second speech beginning was interrupted by a sound coming from the street. They heard scudding of pony hoofs and a party ofchattering cowboys. One of them swept past the door. He seemed to draw rein and dismount. While he was entering his boots ere clanking
Mornin’ gentleman
All he crowd turned their heads to the cowboy, answering in subdued voices.
The counter with the cash machine was still where it was supposed to be. The cowboy recahed it making effort to walk due to the stretchedhis leather pants.
Give me a paper of fine cut please.
The guy behind the counter was terrified. He struggled to find a box of tobacco. When he finally did, the cowboy just smoked it without paying a dime. Everybody was staring at him. He didn’t look threatening.
Ben Roddle
Well, there you are! Looks like a calm man now, but less’n half an hour he’ll be as drunk as three bucks...