He tipped his hat. I looked away but, subconsciously, worked my way to him. He stood when I approached and took off the hat, showing longish black hai... streaked with gray. Of course, he was wearing boots and jeans. The jeans were skin tight and his legs were thick, heavily muscled, like the rest of him."Hi, Cowboy," I said gaily."Good evening, ma'am," he replied in a drawl. He offered me the stool and I sat, allowing him to buy me another drink."Well, cowboy, what brings you to this watering. More worrisome was the physical danger he'd subject himself to. One of his "customers" might, at any time, assault him or worse. And, what could he do to prevent it? He'd have to learn to judge a person's character before becoming involved in a transaction with him. And he might have to, as a last resort, keep a concealed weapon handy.A gun? Too dangerous, too difficult to use in the close quarters of an assignation, too damn messy, and too damned illegal. A knife? Even more chancy. What then?. More

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