Fort Stockton, Texas

Bob Powers continued whetting the straight edge razor he held against the wide canvas strop. He liked the feel of the bone handle. A thick nail pounded into the wall where the dark wooden paneling met the grey and white stripped wall paper behind the barber chair secured the strop itself. Pale dawn-tinted roses dotted the wall covering. A single mirror was set in the center of the back wall. Fellers liked to take a peek and see how they looked when Bob was finished with their shave or hair cut.

Out on the boulevard a flurry of vehicles and people together with assorted animals passed the tonsorial parlor in a steady stream. Far in the distance the faint whistle of a train engine signaled the nine o’clock out of California was coming in right on time. The Amarillo run had pulled in not fifteen minutes ago as well. Fort Stockton was really beginning to take on the appearance of a real growing community.

With a steady motion Bob Powers continued honing the edge. The grizzled beard Powers’ customer wore was going to take a real good edge. Powers got all kinds. Everything from cowboys just in off the range and sporting a beard that hadn’t seen a razor in days or weeks, oil workers fresh from the oil fields and storekeepers right next door all made their way to his Powers’ Tonsorial Parlor on a regular basis. Powers didn’t mind. All in a days’ work he figured. As long as the feller in the chair had the six bits for the shave that was all that Bob Powers cared about.

Day was going to get hot. Whooee, the thin barber wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Powers had already opened the big windows on the front of the building. And he had the back door leading out into the alley standing wide open. His big old rangy hound lay on the floor in the little bit of cool in front of the screen door leading out onto the boardwalk. Fool dog was going to have to move when folks started coming in. Powers couldn’t blame him though.

The smooth Mexican tile was about the nicest place to lay when the air was real hot. Powers wasn’t sure just how it happened but even on the hottest day the tile did feel a tad bit cooler than the rest of the floor. West Texas during spring got good and hot and summers was even hotter.

If pressed Powers would always admit that he kinda liked it. He always said he liked it a whole lot better than the cold and snow in Minnesota where he grew up.

From his perch in the new hair-cutting chair Powers had received by rail not a month ago Bill Davis grinned at the tonsorial artist.

“Gonna make me look real purty are ya, Barber?” Davis opened one eye to ask as a low husky chuckle rang.

“Going to give it my best effort Sir.”

The slight bespectacled man with a faint smile settling on his face replied while smoothing lather across the cowboy’s face.

The cowboy and the barber were about the same height. Davis outweighed Powers by a good eighty pounds. Might be Powers considered, why Davis works out in the open and why I cut hair and give shaves.

Powers’ Maw always said there was a place for everything and everyone. It was just a matter of finding that place. Powers figured she was probably right. Applying the honed blade to the man’s beard he cut a nice swath through the stubble. Right here in this tonsorial parlor was the right spot for Bob Powers the thin man thought. A slight smile lit up his expression. Yep, right here, right now this was the best spot for Bob Powers.

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 PART 2    

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