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Handweaving, Langerhans
Mower & Saw, Engel's Deli, Freda's Gifts, and Opa's Haus. In their places
were fancy boutiques called Haberdashery, Lauren Bade, Root, In-Step, and Slick
Rock and shops called Cowboy Eclectic, Divinely Designed, Bath Junkie, Rather
Sweet, and Phil Jackson's Amazing World of Things.
    Doc Keidel's two-story limestone home still stood on Main Street, but Keidel's Drug Store was now a "vintage western boutique" called
Rawhide and the Keidel Memorial Hospital was a kitchen emporium called Der
Küchen Laden. In the basement was a restaurant called Rathskeller. The White
Elephant Saloon was now the Lucky Star Boutique, and the Domino Parlor where
the old-timers had gathered to play dominoes and drink beer all day was now a
store called Grandma Daisy's. Lee-Ed's FolkArt & Decoys was a wine cellar.
And the Western Auto was a store just for dogs called Dogologie.
    The Stout Shop still served the sturdier women of Gillespie County, but the newspaper had been replaced by Spunky Monkey Toys and a store
called Zertz that sold $250 hand-painted jeans for girls. Hill Country
Outfitters sold kayaks. And the Pioneer National Bank had been replaced by a
Chase branch.
    Ausländer Biergarten, the old Herbert Schmidt Electric shop,
Dooley's 5-10-25¢ store, and Dietz Bakery still occupied their same spots on
Main Street, but the Jenschke Furniture Store was now a live music theater
called the Rockbox, and the Nut Haus and the Wilke Barbershop where Beck had
gotten his hair cut had been combined for a store called Grasshopper & Wild
Honey. And the old Palace Theater where Beck had watched John Wayne in Rooster
Cogburn was now a store called Parts Unknown, A Fashion Adventure. They sold
expensive English loafers and Tommy Bahama shirts.
    Beck shook his head. Who would have the balls to wear a Tommy Bahama shirt in Fredericksburg, Texas?
    Beck turned and came face to face with a white-haired man
wearing a bright maroon shirt printed with multicolored parrots perched on floral
patterns of yellow and white flowers sprouting amid long green leaves—a Tommy Bahama shirt.
    "Nice shirt," Beck said.
    "It's called 'Parrots of the Caribbean,' " the old
man said.
    "You look like the bird exhibit at the zoo."
    "I was in a rut."
    "Well, you're out of it now."
    The two men sized each other up like gunfighters looking to
draw. The old man's thick white hair was cut short and contrasted sharply
against his weathered face. He was wearing the parrot shirt over Wrangler jeans
and brown work boots. His bare arms were tanned and sinewy, and his hands were
gnarly. His blue eyes were as clear as the sky and were looking Beck over,
from his Nike sneakers to his shorts and knit golf shirt to the gray streaks in
his hair. The old man finally nodded as if in approval.
    "Beck."
    "J.B."
    "Just get in?"
    Beck nodded. "Saw the peach stands out 290 are closed."
    "Nothing to sell. We're in drought, going on seven
years."
    "It is hot."
    "It's Texas."
    "Who are all these people?"
    "Tourists. They say we're the next Santa Fe."
    "Shopping on the Fourth of July?"
    "Every day but Christmas."
    The two men fell silent on Main Street. After a long
moment, Beck said, "You get married again?"
    The old man snorted. "That'll be the day."
    After another moment of silence, Meggie's voice rose from
below: "Who are you, mister?"
    The old man looked down at her, then back up at Beck as if
waiting for him to respond. Finally, the old man patted her head and said,
"Why, little gal, I'm your grandpa."
    John Beck Hardin, Sr., known to all, even his son, as J.B.,
was sixty-six years old. He stood six feet tall, he weighed one hundred ninety
pounds, and he had a handshake that could still bring tears to a grown man's
eyes. He was born here and he would die here, as his parents and wife had. He
had married Peggy Dechert when he was twenty-four and buried her when he was thirty-seven,
left to raise a thirteen-year-old boy alone.
    When Beck's mother died, the world had lost