read that book over
to find out why the man had to climb the tree. He'd forgot how the
story went.
Seth Jones, a frontier man in
buckskins, was the cover of another one of the books. Bat always
liked reading the wildly fantasized stories about the west. Even
though he knew he'd read the whole stack, a bit of time had passed.
Rereading the books would be like reading them for the first
time.
Bat started with The Seminole
Chief and read until his eyes grew heavy. He realized he was going
to have to give up reading for the night. He turned the corner of
the page down to bookmark his place, figuring on starting where he
left off the next night.
The next evening, Bat had just
barely sat down in his rocker and opened the book when there was a
knock on the door.
He found Hunker standing on the
porch.
“Come on in, Hunker. What can I do
fer ya?” Bat asked.
Hunker shoved his hands into his
jeans pockets. “Ya got anythin' important you're doin' tonight,
Boss?”
“Nope, I'm just readin' one of the
Penny Dreadfuls I started a few years back is all. Why ya
ask?”
“The boys and me were wonderin' if
ya would like to come over to the bunkhouse and play a game of
cards or checkers with us?”
“Much obliged for askin'. I
believe I'd enjoy bein' with ya boys a lot better than sittin' here
by myself. Let me get my hat.”
The two men walked into the
bunkhouse. An average sized, young man with rusty red hair, Jughead
Smith pointed to an empty chair next to him. “Want in on a poker
game, Boss?”
“Depends on how high the stakes
are?”
“If ya can afford to lose some
match sticks not high at all,” Hunker joked.
“I didn't bring a box of matches
with me,” Bat said.
“No problem, Boss,” Windy Grant, a
stout, muscle bound man, said. “We'll all spare ya a few of
ours.”
A couple hours went by. First one
then the other of the cowhands yawned. Bat said, “Believe I better
hit the hay before I go to sleep on this table. What ya boys got
planned for tomorrow, Hunker?”
Mick and Baldy are going to cut
fire wood. The rest will be in the north range, finishin' up the
branding. A couple more days should about do it.”
“I reckon I can help with the
brandin'. I'll be ready to leave with ya boys in the mornin',” Bat
said.
The next morning, Bat helped the
men round up the cow and calf pairs they needed to pen up in the
log corral. The men sorted the cows out of the corral and drove
them over the hill to graze. The protesting cows would get in the
way when the calves bawled if they weren't driven out of
sight.
Jughead had a fire going and the
branding irons heated up by the time Hunker had a calf roped by the
hind legs. Hunker dragged the calf out of the corral. A cowhand
shut the gate and waited.
Bat offered to hold the calf down
while Jughead branded its rump. He hunkered down over the calf with
a knee in its shoulder. Jughead touched the rump with the red hot
iron. The calf struggled, bucked and threw Bat off. He landed hard
on his back. Jughead put the iron back into the fire and helped Bat
up.
“Are ya all right,
Boss?”
“Sure, Jughead. I'll be more
prepared for the next one,” Bat said sheepishly.
Jughead shrugged with a look that
said he questioned the wisdom of having an old man like Bat help
them.
Bat figured he better do a heck of
a lot better if he wanted to keep his men's respect. For the
duration of the morning, he used all the brawn and determination he
could muster to hold down the struggling calves.
After the noon meal, Hunker told
Bat it was customary to change off with the hard jobs. Jake could
hold the calves and Bat could open and shut the corral
gate.
When the day's work was over
because the corral was empty, the cowhands quit for the day. Bat
rode close to his porch steps and dismounted.
Windy said, “I'll put yer horse
up, Boss. I'm goin' that way any how.”
“Much obliged,” Bat said.
Stiffness settled into his aching muscles. He stepped down from his
horse, tired enough
to find out why the man had to climb the tree. He'd forgot how the
story went.
Seth Jones, a frontier man in
buckskins, was the cover of another one of the books. Bat always
liked reading the wildly fantasized stories about the west. Even
though he knew he'd read the whole stack, a bit of time had passed.
Rereading the books would be like reading them for the first
time.
Bat started with The Seminole
Chief and read until his eyes grew heavy. He realized he was going
to have to give up reading for the night. He turned the corner of
the page down to bookmark his place, figuring on starting where he
left off the next night.
The next evening, Bat had just
barely sat down in his rocker and opened the book when there was a
knock on the door.
He found Hunker standing on the
porch.
“Come on in, Hunker. What can I do
fer ya?” Bat asked.
Hunker shoved his hands into his
jeans pockets. “Ya got anythin' important you're doin' tonight,
Boss?”
“Nope, I'm just readin' one of the
Penny Dreadfuls I started a few years back is all. Why ya
ask?”
“The boys and me were wonderin' if
ya would like to come over to the bunkhouse and play a game of
cards or checkers with us?”
“Much obliged for askin'. I
believe I'd enjoy bein' with ya boys a lot better than sittin' here
by myself. Let me get my hat.”
The two men walked into the
bunkhouse. An average sized, young man with rusty red hair, Jughead
Smith pointed to an empty chair next to him. “Want in on a poker
game, Boss?”
“Depends on how high the stakes
are?”
“If ya can afford to lose some
match sticks not high at all,” Hunker joked.
“I didn't bring a box of matches
with me,” Bat said.
“No problem, Boss,” Windy Grant, a
stout, muscle bound man, said. “We'll all spare ya a few of
ours.”
A couple hours went by. First one
then the other of the cowhands yawned. Bat said, “Believe I better
hit the hay before I go to sleep on this table. What ya boys got
planned for tomorrow, Hunker?”
Mick and Baldy are going to cut
fire wood. The rest will be in the north range, finishin' up the
branding. A couple more days should about do it.”
“I reckon I can help with the
brandin'. I'll be ready to leave with ya boys in the mornin',” Bat
said.
The next morning, Bat helped the
men round up the cow and calf pairs they needed to pen up in the
log corral. The men sorted the cows out of the corral and drove
them over the hill to graze. The protesting cows would get in the
way when the calves bawled if they weren't driven out of
sight.
Jughead had a fire going and the
branding irons heated up by the time Hunker had a calf roped by the
hind legs. Hunker dragged the calf out of the corral. A cowhand
shut the gate and waited.
Bat offered to hold the calf down
while Jughead branded its rump. He hunkered down over the calf with
a knee in its shoulder. Jughead touched the rump with the red hot
iron. The calf struggled, bucked and threw Bat off. He landed hard
on his back. Jughead put the iron back into the fire and helped Bat
up.
“Are ya all right,
Boss?”
“Sure, Jughead. I'll be more
prepared for the next one,” Bat said sheepishly.
Jughead shrugged with a look that
said he questioned the wisdom of having an old man like Bat help
them.
Bat figured he better do a heck of
a lot better if he wanted to keep his men's respect. For the
duration of the morning, he used all the brawn and determination he
could muster to hold down the struggling calves.
After the noon meal, Hunker told
Bat it was customary to change off with the hard jobs. Jake could
hold the calves and Bat could open and shut the corral
gate.
When the day's work was over
because the corral was empty, the cowhands quit for the day. Bat
rode close to his porch steps and dismounted.
Windy said, “I'll put yer horse
up, Boss. I'm goin' that way any how.”
“Much obliged,” Bat said.
Stiffness settled into his aching muscles. He stepped down from his
horse, tired enough
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