Steve pulled his pickup to the curb in front of Windy Wilson’s small house and started to become erect. This has become more of a project than it used to because there’s still a lot of Steve to uncramp, and he’s not as young as when it was easy.

“Come on in, Steve,” Windy yelled. “Coffee’s on.”

Steve petted the dog, Ramses, and then went to the kitchen table. “Kinda wondering why you asked me to come over, Windy. I mean, heck, we talk to each other every morning over coffee at the Mule Barn.”

“This here’s gotta be a private conversation, Steve,” Windy said, pushing his hat back some as he sat. “Need your advice.”

“You sick? You should go see Doc if you need some help.”

“Naw, I’m fitter’n a fried egg, Pard. But I wanted to see about getting’ me one a-them honorary degrees … you know, like ol’ Doc did.”

Doc was recently honored by Jerry Hat Trick Junior College with an honorary Associate in Arts degree in Humanities. And they don’t even teach humanities there, but Doc had contributed to their new gym.

“How far’d you go in actual school, Windy?”

“Oh, I got pretty high up into high school there,” he said, “but my grades wasn’t too pretty good, so I quit and become a cowboy on ‘em.”

Steve stirred more sugar into his cup. “Don’t know what to tell you. An honorary degree isn’t something you work for, you know. The school usually looks around for someone who has gone ‘way beyond the … well, what’s expected of them. Not sure how you’d do it. But this is America, Windy. Americans don’t quit. Americans figure out new ways of doing things. Americans usually need a coffee refill.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Windy said, “and I’ll work on that ‘way beyond American stuff later, if it don’t get too cold.”