In the course of human events some queer things happen. And the queerest thing I can think of is the fact that Jasmine Greenbaum came to teach school at Piperock. Jasmine ain’t the kind you’d imagine would take a job like that.
She’s plumb decorative, if yuh know what I mean. I ain’t goin’ to describe her, ’cause I ain’t got words enough. Her eyes would make a man lift his head when somebody is shootin’ at him. She lives with Wick Smith’s family while she’s teachin’ the young of Piperock to not shoot at each other.
Me and Dirty runs into her that evenin’ after we’ve been stationary at Buck’s bar for an hour or more. Dirty’s active eye jiggles convulsive-like for a while, and he seems to be wearin’ about six too many hands.
“I’m sure you remember me,” says she, smilin’ at us.
“If I lives to be a million, I won’t forget,” pants Dirty.
“I am Mister Harper,” says I. “And the Harper fambly has the longest memories of any fambly on earth.”
“Outside of the Jones’s,” says Dirty. “My old pa could remember before they started puttin’ aces in the decks of cards.”
“Memories don’t figure,” says I. “We’re glad to meetcha, Miss Greenbaum. What can I do for yuh, ma’am?”
“Same here,” says Dirty, kinda elbowin’ me aside.
“I told them that you were always willing to do anything for the public good,” says she, smilin’ sweet-like.