Excerpt from El Paso by Winston Groom, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Sitting impatiently in a chair and eyeing the presents under the tree was a girl, Alexa, the Shaughnessys' ten-going-on-fifteen-year-old daughter who, per her mother's instructions, was restrained from starting Christmas as she always did by rushing to the tree and tearing into the loot. She looked distinctly unhappy about having to wait, but also about Arthur's intrusion into her life; still, she smiled as she'd been ordered to do when he was introduced.

Soon enough Colonel Shaughnessy entered the room and word was given to open the gifts. Beatie had gone to the Jordan Marsh department store and bought for Arthur several lovely suits of clothes: a tweed jacket, a soft cashmere scarf, a black velvet cap, polished leather shoes, wool knickers, a belt with a silver buckle, cotton shirts. More than he had ever had in his life, or had hoped to get. there was also a bone-handled African throwing knife that Shaughnessy had picked out from his own collection.

But this was not the present that Arthur had asked for. On Christmas Eve night, when the Colonel had asked him again what he wanted the next morning, Arthur had stammered before finally asking, "Could Mick come for Christmas?"

"Who is Mick?" Shaughnessy asked.

"My friend."

"From the orphanage?" Beatie prompted.

"Yes, ma'am."

Her husband shot her a disapproving glance.

"Well," Beatie said, "won't he have a Christmas of his own there, then?"

"Yes, ma'am,"

"So wouldn't it be best if he enjoyed it there," Beatie said, "with his friends?"

"Yes, ma'am," Arthur replied, "I guess so."

"then why do you want him here?" asked Shaughnessy. "Instead of with his friends?"

"I . . . I . . . guess I just wanted him to see it," Arthur said hesitantly; he felt the beginnings of a stammer. Another glance was exchanged between Beatie and her husband, but this of a different sort.

"Well, I think that would be all right," Shaughnessy had said expansively. "I'll send the car around to have him picked up tomorrow."


IF POSSIBLE, MICK MARTIN WAS EVEN MORE flabbergasted than Arthur with the Shaughnessy opulence. His mouth actually gaped as he walked inside. He forgot to remove his cap as he immediately gravitated toward Mr. Shaughnessy's grand study, with its trophy heads and spears and sporting prints and the big tiger-skin rug. Arthur stopped him before Beatie could.

"No, no, it's all right," Mr. Shaughnessy said, suddenly appearing around a corner and ushering the boys inside. "It's Christmas." the tall man led them through the room, explaining in detail how the tiger was shot, and what the trophy head with the twisted antlers was, and where and when he had bagged it. they were most impressed with a big stuffed piranha fish Shaughnessy had caught in the Amazon. He showed them a deep, ugly scar on his wrist where the thing had bitten him as he tried to take it off the hook.

"Well, Mick," asked Shaughnessy, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" the Colonel had seated himself behind his desk with his feet up on it and lit a cigar.

Mick looked at Arthur, who had gone to a cushy leather chair and sat down, already beginning to feel a little comfortable after only a day in this mansion. Arthur had no advice in his eyes.

"A policeman? A fireman?" pressed Shaughnessy.

Mick remained mute. No one had ever asked this sort of question before. It had always been as if life was lived a day at a time. At the orphanage, there had always been the dream that someone like the Colonel—some wealthy person— would swoop in and whisk him away, though Mick had long since given up hope of it. And yet now, with Arthur . . .

"Well, come, boy, have you got fur on your tongue?"

"No, sir," Mick said.

"Perhaps you'd like to own a railroad, like I do?" Shaughnessy said.

Excerpted from El Paso by Winston Groom. Copyright © 2016 by Winston Groom. With permission of the publisher, Liveright Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved.