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Show n n, a lot more than the movie cowboys. "John Mathews that's . that little dairy place out east of town," he said. 'Rosalie Mathews' dad?" asked Henry. 'Believe so. Ain't that die girl that's so big in front?" Henry grinned for answer and I grinned too. I knew Dad talked Henry that way sometimes but I'd never before been included I I stretched up a little, shifting my weight from one heel to : odier. 'Yeah, that's the Mathews," Dad went on. "That girl was a cow, m'd be rich. Well, he was a real good friend of mine once. We yed football together and he was a good fullback till our last ir me boys on die Delta team got to ganging up on him and )ke his collar bone. I guess it was the summer after that when ir grandad hired him to go up on the ranch in the hills with : and build fence. John wasn't no cowboy but he could build ice all right, so us two went up with a little old cow-puncher we led Blacky. He had white hair by then, Blacky did, and he was shriveled up and dried out but just as tough as his saddle. So made camp where we had water and plenty of grass for the rses, and we'd get up at sunrise, cold and stiff, and cook up break-t and then go get them horses. We'd saddle up and climb on i ever' morning they'd go to bucking like it was rodeo time. >ok John a while to get used to that." "He was just a farmer," I said. "Yep, he'd just been riding plow horses and that bronc of his illy fanned his ass. I'd picked him one that would. Even old icky, he didn't like it one bit. Said he was getting too old to le a damn-fool bronco, and he'd clamp his jaw down and swing and cuss that horse ever' jump. He sure could cuss, that Blacky. "Well, you know, them horses was just feeling good, getting the iks out, and we'd ride over to where we'd left off building fence. sms to me that hill was just about all rock, and us swinging those >wbars to get a hole punched down through it and then tamping the post and stretching the barbed wire with a big pair of pliers 1 day long, just stopping to eat something cold for a lunch, and en at night we'd ride back to camp in the pines. Tired, I'll tell u we were tired, and John he had to go and use his saddle for a How. I got pretty tickled at him. I think he'd been reading them me westerns. 233 |
