by RJ Krause
Chapter 19
Tangaroa Kahotu
Pete’s new blood-brother returned with us to the Double ‘P’ Ranch. His name was Tangaroa Kahotu and he was from New Zealand. Tanga (as we soon came to call him) was a tribal war chief on the South Island of New Zealand, and his sister had recently married Pete’s Uncle Nickel. That made him family to Paniolo Pete, which in turn made him an immediate member of the Kahiona household.
Tanga had traveled from Christchurch by ship, bringing news of the marriage between Nickel and his sister. It seems that Nickel had fallen deeply in love with her. After the traditional waiting period, he was given permission to marry the Māori princess. The couple was now expecting their first child, and as head of the family, Tanga felt it was his duty to deliver the announcement of the marriage and upcoming birth. Pete was somewhat shocked by this news at first, but once it sunk in, he was truly happy for his uncle. Until this very day, picturing Nickel as a family man still brings a smile to me. The wild man of the sea finally found his one true love.
It was late afternoon when we all reached the Double ‘P’ and to everyone’s amusement, the one-eyed dog, Kolohe, was the first to officially welcome the Māori warrior to the ranch. The minute Tanga stepped down from his horse, the feisty little dog circled around the warrior barking the whole time. What followed can only be described as a rough and tumble wrestling match between a man and his dog. It stunned everyone because ever since Paniolo Pete had his “little talk” with Kolohe, the dog had been a companion only to Pete. That’s not to say that Kolohe didn’t occasionally play with the kids on the ranch. He did, but his loyalty was only to Pete. Even Paniolo Pete was surprised to see the dog’s show of affection toward the Māori man. But as if reading Pete’s thoughts, Kolohe scrambled back to his feet and ran over to greet Pete. I swear that dog looked downright embarrassed over it, but like most things in Pete’s life, he merely excepted the unexplained and let it go without another thought.
Now Tanga and Keala Kahiona made a strange pair indeed but were close friends right from the start. Keala was easily 300 lbs. with massive arms, a huge belly, and tree trunk legs. Tanga, who was a few inches taller, didn’t have an ounce of fat on his frame and had muscles that rippled every time he moved. Keala always seemed to be smiling and laughing, while Tanga rarely showed any emotion. But for all their differences in appearance and attitude, they held the common bond of both being Polynesian warriors from a long ancestry of warriors.
It became evident in a matter of days that Tanga had no equal on the back of a horse. Even Paniolo Pete had a hard time matching some of the moves the Māori warrior displayed on horseback. He could lean out of his saddle and literally reach to the ground to pick up a fallen rope. That trick is tough enough to do on a horse that’s standing still, but Tanga did it at full gallop. I saw it happen time and again with my own two eyes, or my name ain’t Bronco Bill.
The first time I witnessed this feat I was so shocked I nearly walked my horse into a tree. Pete, Tanga, Keala, myself, and two of Keala’s sons were pink-eyeing the new calves up on the eastern slopes of Mauna Loa. Pekelo poked his shot at a calf and missed. He was riding at full gallop, lost his grip on his rope, and dropped it. At a full gallop over rough country it’s something that all of us cowboys have done. Before the boy could even stop his horse, Tanga had ridden by and passed him a rope. Pekelo continued after the calf and only when he’d roped it and finished pink-eyeing, did he realize it was his own rope.
“Bill,” Pekelo asked me as I released the calf, “did you see Tanga stop and get my rope? I thought this was his rope, but it’s the one I dropped.”
“He didn’t stop for your rope. He just reached down and grabbed it. I’ve never seen anything like it!”
I had seen it sure enough. When Pekelo dropped his rope, Tanga was a few yards behind him. He leaned way out of his saddle, picked the rope up off the ground, and passed it to Pekelo. It was all done in one smooth motion at a full gallop.
Before I continue, I’d like to share with you a statement Paniolo Pete once told me. He said, “A man can only be judged by the friends he keeps and the loyalty they show.”
That being the case, I reckon old Pete could be judged mighty highly. Why he took a liking to me I’ll never know. I’m just an old grouchy cowpoke who was never good at much except bustin’ horses. As far as the Kahionas, or Tanga, or even Johnny from Texas, Pete couldn’t have asked for a better or more loyal group of friends.
Okay, where was I now? Oh yeah, I was telling you about the Māori warrior and his talents on horseback. I reckon there’s not much more I can say except I’ve never seen an equal to Tanga on a horse. Panilo Pete was a close second, but that’s to be expected. I never found anything Pete couldn’t do or learn to do. If he tried something for the first time and didn’t get it right, he just practiced until he did. It might take a few tries, or even a few days, but he wouldn’t quit until he mastered it. Whether it was sewing leather for a saddle, roping wild pigs, mugging a steer, or even surfing, he just kept at it until he got it right.
That’s exactly what happened the first time he tried to make macadamia nut coffee. Pete loved his coffee, and also enjoyed Hawaiian macadamia nuts. I reckon it was only a matter of time before he started experimenting. That’s one experiment I ain’t likely to forget!
“Bill,” he said to me one morning, “I have a new batch of coffee I’d like you to try. You’re too old and ornery to be anything but honest, so I figure you’re my best bet to get a candid opinion.”
I’d just been riding round-up most of the night and I have to admit, a hot cup of Paniolo Pete’s coffee was something I’d been thinking about for the past few hours. As I sat there on my horse, he passed me a cup of his newest flavor coffee. I suppose the expression on my face with that first sip told Pete all he needed to know.
“That bad, huh Bill? I suppose it needs more work. I tried putting the nuts in with the beans before I ground it, but I guess it didn’t come out too well.”
“No Pete, it didn’t come out too good at all.”
I didn’t elaborate, but it was terrible. I love Paniolo Pete’s coffee more than most things in life, but I had trouble figuring out why he would want to ruin a perfect cup of coffee by putting nuts in it. Now, I like macadamia nuts myself, but it just seemed unnatural to me to mix them with coffee. But what do I know? Pete was the coffee genius, and if he said he could make it work, I was sure he would.
Well I’m here to tell you he eventually did make it work. Paniolo Pete’s Macadamia Nut Coffee is sold all over the world so I reckon there’s the proof. I’m still partial to his original Kona Coffee, but that’s because I’m just an old cowboy who ain’t used to fancy stuff. But I must admit, old Pete sure figured out a way to blend those two together. I don’t rightly know how he finally ended up with the right combination, but whatever he did, it was a success.
The main reason I’m telling you folks so much about Paniolo Pete and his story is because I want you to see for yourselves that he was as real as you and me. Many times I’ve overheard people talking about Pete’s coffee and claiming it’s an advertising gimmick. Well, I’m telling you straight, it’s no gimmick. Paniolo Pete was a very real man who made one heck of a tasty cup of coffee.
The reason he sold so much of it was because of the marketing smarts of Noelani Kahiona. I reckon Pete could care less about selling any of it. He would rather just share it with people and give it away. But Noelani was a businesswoman. She knew it cost money to run the ranch and provide food and clothing for her family. It was she who oversaw Pete’s coffee business. She showed the same love and dedication that she would have for any one of her own children.
I don’t reckon it would be a good idea to ever describe Paniolo Pete as an advertising gimmick. Now I apologize for preachin’, but it riles me a might when people talk about my friend and never met him. I reckon our society is plum full of stories about made up people. But real live heroes do exist, and as far as I’m concerned, P
ete was sure enough a very real hero. When my story ends you can make your own decision. Paniolo Pete was a hero to a lot of folks here in the islands and I’m proud to have known him as a friend. Okay, I’ll get down off my soapbox now and continue our story.