Analysis Of ' The 's Front Street ' By Jake Lowered The Field Glasses '
His brother, Harrison, leaned against the livery hitch post with his arms crossed over his chest, covering the marshal’s star he always wore. He’d combed his hair behind his ears and dawned his best shirt, no doubt on his way to spread the news. “I’ll be thirty-six in November. I’m ten years older than you. It’s time.”
Jake lowered the field glasses. “Are you sure she’s not after your money? What’s her name anyway?” Marriage changed a fellow. Besides Gramps, after their folks passed, they’d depended on each other.
His brother unfolded his arms and eased away from the hitching post. He ran his hand around the brim of his Stetson, slow and steady. “Uh, you met her last week. Her name’s Angela,” Harrison growled.
At over six feet tall, Jake still had to look up to meet his brother’s annoyed gaze. He held the glasses out to him.
Harrison shook his head. “You keep em’. I’m hanging up my guns.”
“Not a person in town believes you’re a tough U.S. Marshall, anyway,” Jake said, stressing his best cynical tone.
Sparks hinted in his brother’s eyes and his hands curled into fists.
Jake knew he’d hit a cord. He’d miss this—miss the chance to tease and rally together. “You should see your face. It’s sort of blue and puffy.”
For Harrison, laughter was slow to build, rumbling at first, and then bursting from his gut. He…