Author: Slim Randles

“Doctor’s office.” “That you, Doc?” “Sure is. How you doing, Windy?” “Finer’n frog hair, Doc. Say, did you hear about ol’ Bob over at the junction?” “Sure was a shame, Windy. . . Read More

“Ahhh! Coffee!” said our resident cowboy, Steve, raising his cup at the philosophy counter. “Let’s raise our cups to whichever Brazilian came up with this stuff.” Very slowly, Herb Collins stood with his cup of coffee there in the midst of . . . Read More

Doc was just getting up to leave the philosophy counter as Herb walked in. Herb was grinning and flexing muscles and had the look of eagles in his eyes. We stared. . . Read More

Down at the sale barn Saturday, the think tank had coagulated there with coffees to go to celebrate spring. Doc and Dud had their dogs with them, while Bert and Dewey and Steve went stag. . . Read More

The first few days of summer vacation were hard on Billy. He was there, at his appointed post – that being the school crossing – at the right time of morning, but look as he may, he couldn’t find any kids. . . Read More

Dewey picked up Emily’s yellow dress at the cleaners and drove it back to her here in the valley. They had managed to get most of the wine stains out. But what Dewey hadn’t managed to get out that fateful evening at the Italian restaurant was his . . . Read More

Old Jasper Blankenship bought a deer license again this year, just as he’s done every year since Eisenhower was President. He sticks nickels and dimes in a jar all year long and smiles each time he contributes. . . Read More

To look at Herb Collins, you wouldn’t think he was like that. A nicer, kinder guy you never met. But for one evening each year … one little slice of time … he’s downright diabolical. . . Read More

When Florencio Ortiz sent off for that new slicker, everyone in town and out at the ranch knew about it. He described in detail how waterproof it was and how a cowboy just couldn’t possibly get wet with this slicker on. . . Read More

This is going to be good, Dud thought, bringing his new tarp out to the car. There it was on that computer site. How to camp out with just a single tarp. . . Read More

Billy had to get his chores done early. It was the heat, of course. Now that it’s summer, he no longer has to escort the kids across the street while Martin holds the sign. . . Read More

Bert and Maizie were down at the swimming hole on Lewis Creek the other day. Saturday it was. The sun was bright hot and these two lovers had found a nice patch of shade near the tire swing tree where they could sip iced tea and watch the youngsters. . . Read More

It happened in the checkout lane down at the Soup ‘R’ Market last week. We discussed it thoroughly, of course, and no one knows yet what to make of it. As sometimes happens, when we are glancing at the tabloids to see who fathered Bigfoot’s new . . . Read More

Steve waited until all the horses went through the sale Saturday morning (I mean, you never can tell when the world’s perfect horse will be sold for a buck and a half, which was about what he was carrying). . . Read More

Windy Wilson looked through the notions aisle at the store and finally picked out the package of needles he wanted. Big ones. The big ones are easier to thread and it’s harder to drop them and stick yourself. . . Read More

Irma has it figured out. She’s a bona fide, egg-laying member of the “Production Red” hen sorority and she knows her rights. This is really remarkable when you consider the braincase of your average barnyard chicken is wedged between some feathers . . . Read More

Marvin Pincus is not the kind of guy to let spring slip through his fingers. Oh, when he was a young man, sure. But now, with the coming of spring to the world and autumn to his life, he’ll take every chance that comes along to grab life by both . . . Read More

When Harley Jacobsen came into Doc’s office the other day for his physical it was a treat for Doc. Harley is one of Doc’s favorite people. Harley is a farmer. A 24/7 farmer. . . Read More

If there’s one thing you can honestly say about Delbert McLain, he’s as persistent as a winter cough. As our chamber of commerce here — he’s it, you see — his fertile brain never ceases its search to turn a sleepy little valley into . . . Read More

The problem was Mrs. Doc, you see. Oh, don’t misunderstand. She’s a perfectly wonderful lady and we all think the world of her, and as far as we know she has yet to burn down a house or start a war or anything. . . Read More

When old Jasper Blankenship came to town from the diggings recently, we asked him over for a few days. He saw us working the home computer and asked about it, but he really seemed to be immune to its wonders. . . Read More

Saturday, March 4 was special to me, because for one day each year, I get to let the years fly behind me and become someone else. Back on this special Saturday in 1973, you see, I was Number 37. . . Read More

I don’t mind Boots. He just curls up quietly against my belly and stays put. But sleeping with Desdemona can be a bit unnerving. She snores. Sometimes she gets little bad dreams and scratches me, too. . . Read More

When Windy walked into the Mule Barn during that cold snap last week, we knew he was getting frantic for an audience. He has a hard time getting us to listen to his version of history, his notions of what was going on now, and his prognostications . . . Read More