Tales of a Texas Boy

by Marva Dasef

  I almost yelled at Pa, “You wouldn’t shoot ‘em!”

  Pa put his hand on my shoulder to calm me down. “Of course not. But you need to know that some other farmer ‘round here might kill them. The coyotes go after the lambs in the spring, and that costs the farmers their livelihood.”

  “Like the jackrabbits and rattlesnakes?”

  “Exactly like that. We don’t like to kill the critters, but sometimes it’s necessary.”

  “Yessir, Pa.” I moved to leave, but Pa caught my arm.

  “We’ll go tomorrow first thing. If the mother hunts in the morning, you got a better chance of observin’ the cubs without her being a danger to you.”

  I skipped out of the barn, and went off to feed the chickens, which was my chore and I hadn’t done it yet. Ma would give me a lickin’ if I didn’t get it done soon.

  Next morning, Pa loaded his rifle and we walked to the canyon entrance. I continued on down the the slope while he walked along the top. When we got near the end, I couldn’t see the cubs. I looked up at Pa. “Do you see the coyotes up there?” He shook his head, and I trusted his word since he was lookin’ all directions.

  I admit I was disappointed. I’d probably chased off the ma coyote ‘cause I got too close to her cubs. She most likely packed up and moved away. I huffed out a big breath. I jus’ wanted to watch the cubs for awhile. I waved at Pa. He waved back and hollered, “I’ll see you at home.” Then he disappeared away from the cliff top.

  I was just about to turn around, when I saw a glint of something a few feet ahead. I looked closer. A pair of red eyes starin’ out at me from a hole in the rocks. Mama Coyote had a den! I sat down behind the big boulder to watch a piece. ‘For long, one of the cubs come venturin’ out of the little cave, and the other two soon followed along. My lips like to split my grin was so big. The coyotes hadn’t moved on after all!

  I came back every couple of days. Sometimes the cubs were out playin’, sometimes Ma Yote, which is what I called her, warned me off. I took to bringin’ some jerky with me. I tossed a piece a few feet in front of my rock. She slunk up a bit, her nose workin’ the air. I could tell she knew I’d put out somethin’ good.

  When I come back the next day, the jerky was gone, but I couldn’t tell if Ma Yote got it or some varmint. ‘Course, I didn’t think of the coyotes as varmints, even if all the farmers did. Once I got to know ‘em, they was my friends. At least I hoped that was the case.

  I threw out some more jerky. Mama Yote came no more’n ten feet from me and picked up that piece quick like and run it back to her cubs. My chest swelled up like to burst, and I grinned ear to ear. Each time I tossed a chunk, she’d come and fetch it.

  I figured at this rate, I’d have her eatin’ right out of my hand. Or maybe the cubs would come close to get their own share. I still had a plan, just in case mind you, that I’d make one of them cubs mine. I’d warrant that Pa wouldn’t like it, but I think he’d come ‘round ‘ventually.

  Then one day I went up to check the little guys and found two of the cubs dead. Ma Yote and the other cub were nowhere around. Each of the cubs had a clean bullet hole in their sides right over their hearts. Blood matted the soft fuzz of their baby coats. Some farmer had come in and killed ‘em.

  My face went all red and hot. Why did they need to go an’ kill little babies? It weren’t fair. The coyotes were just bein’ coyotes. Besides, Pa had said that they didn’t eat livestock as a rule, but went after mice and rabbits. I couldn’t see any cause for them to be killed.

  I wiped my eyes on my shirt sleeve, then carried the cubs to their cave. Their bodies were limp and heavy. They smelled just like regular puppies, ‘cept for the blood. I piled rocks in front to keep out the varmints. That’s all I could do for them.

  After I sat a spell, I went home and tol’ Pa. He said, “You knew it might happen, Eddie. Farmers have to protect their livestock.”

  That didn’t ease my mind at all. To this day, it makes me mad and sad that those little cubs got kilt for no reason. I think of how Ma Yote felt when she come home and found ‘em dead. I made up my mind I wouldn’t hunt animals no more. It just didn’t feel right to kill off anyone’s children.

  Frank Norfleet – Detective

  Oil became big business in Texas. Confidence men came with the wildcatters and sometimes regular folk fell for some scheme or other. When it happened, it was nice to have a real detective as a friend.

  Pa tol’ me to get to sleep early so we could leave before dawn. I was excited, so didn’t know how I’d get to sleep, but I didn’t argue with him none. Pa was takin’ me along with him to visit with a friend of his, name of Mr. Norfleet. He owned a big ranch down southeast of us in Hale County.

  Mr. Norfleet was an important man in many ways; he was the first foreman of the Spade Ranch, started up his own ranch, raised racehorses, and was a darn good detective. The FBI even gave him a special award for bringin’ in all sorts of lawbreakers. His specialty was confidence men, because that’s what got him started as a detective.

  In 1919, Mr. Norfleet was back east and got taken in by a gang claiming to be mule brokers. He was told he could make good money in the cotton business, but he had to put up a lot of money, near forty-five thousand dollars. Well, he was a successful rancher, so he had that kind of money to invest. The con man and his partners ran off with the money and left Mr. Norfleet high and dry.

  He did not take well to bein’ gypped, so he went after the men. He followed them all over the country, even into Canada and Mexico. He wore disguises to help him meet up with other bad men to get information. Eventually, he found all of the men; three in California, one in Salt Lake City, and the last two in Georgia. Catchin’ those crooks made him famous and a lot of folks started comin’ to him for help. He had a reputation of always gettin’ his man, just like the Texas Rangers. He even wrote a book about it, Pa said. Pa tol’ me the story, but he says never to bring it up to Mr. Norfleet, as it was a raw spot for him.

  Pa knew him because Pa was a good horse doctor. He’d gone down to the Norfleet Ranch and helped out when a sickness was takin’ the horses. Pa managed to save a few of Mr. Norfleet’s racehorses and that not only made Pa some money, but also made the two of them good friends.

  Now, Pa needed a favor back. He’d wrote a letter to Mr. Norfleet and was invited to come down to the ranch to lay out the whole story. So, that’s how come we were driving over a hundred miles: to get help from one of the best detectives at findin’ grifters, swindlers, and all-round no-goods.

  When we got to the ranch, we drove right up to the front of a big two-story house. A wide porch with columns stuck out the front. I ain’t seen a house like it except in picture books of what they called plantations. I’ll tell you, it was the fanciest house I ever saw, and probably the biggest, too.

  A man came right out as soon as we pulled up. First off, I thought it must be one of the Norfleet children, but it turns out it was the man hisself. He was hardly taller than me, but when he got close, his face showed some lines and his head some gray hair.

  Pa and he shook hands and patted each other on the back. Both were smilin’ pretty big, so it was plain they were glad to see each other.

  “Welcome, Louis. I’m surely sorry it took misfortune to get you down this way again.”

  “Well, Frank, I’m also sorry about not visiting sooner, but a farm keeps a man busy.”

  “It does that, Louis. Why, I hardly have time to go chasin’ after criminals anymore, what with the cattle and the horses.” Mr. Norfleet laughed like it was a good joke, and Pa laughed with him.

  Pa turned to me and said, “Eddie, say hello to Mr. Norfleet. Frank, this is my boy Edward.”

  I shook his hand, which gripped mine like he was glad to meet me. He smiled at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. He was that kind of man, one who makes everyone welcome, except maybe crooks, that is.

  “Edward, if you’d like we’ll go out to the barn and you can look over the foals. Then, you can
tell me which you think are the winners.”

  That perked my interest as I did like horses. Pa tol’ me Mr. Norfleet started up a whole line of racehorses called the Five Dollar Strain. He named them after a stallion he bought for five dollars and it turned out to not only be a good racehorse, but also his colts bred true to their sire. No small part of Mr. Norfleet’s money came from racing horses.

  Pa wanted another look at the horses, so we all three headed for the barn. It was just about as fancy as the house, being all whitewashed, but it was even bigger. When we went in, I could see it must have twenty stalls, most of ‘em with a horse pokin’ his head out over the stall door. In the walkway between the stalls, a groom was brushin’ down one of the horses, a sorry lookin’ horse if I ever saw one.

  “C’mon over, boy, he’s gentle enough,” the groom said. I walked on up and the horse, which didn’t look like much, snuffled at me.

  “This is Five Dollar himself,” the groom said and handed me a sugar cube. I offered it to the stallion with my palm held flat. He lipped it right off without hardly touchin’ my hand at all. Despite him being an ugly horse, I heard he was plenty fast. Mr. Norfleet’s five-dollar horse was a real bargain, it turns out.

  I looked over the colts and couldn’t find anything wrong with ‘em. I was hopin’ Mr. Norfleet wasn’t actually expectin’ me to give him advice on his horses. I know cow ponies and mules, but I’d never done much with racin’ stock.

  While I was lookin’ at the horses, Pa and Mr. Norfleet sat down in a couple of chairs by the tack room. I trained one ear their way, but tried not to look like I was eavesdroppin’. They talked about when Pa helped out with the horses, and what they were both up to since then. The groom looked their way, too, then decided it was time to put the stallion back in his stall and go find somethin’ else to do.

  “I feel sort of stupid, Frank. The man seemed to know what he was talkin’ about and I fell for his pitch like some rube.”

  “No reason to be kickin’ yourself, Louis.” He chuckled. “After all, I got took for forty-five thousand and you only got took for two hundred. If you say you’re a fool, then I’ve got to be a bigger one.”

  “You know I don’t think that’s true. You had a whole squad of con men workin’ on you. Besides, you got ‘em all in the end.”

  “That I did, and I’ll do my best to catch your con man, too. So, what exactly did this man tell you? First off, did he give you a name and where he was from.”

  Pa gave him the details, of which I was aware. Pa wasn’t the only one to be taken in by the grifter. He was just one of a group putting their money together to buy shares in an oil well. Everybody knew since Spindletop oil was goin’ to be big business and it was smart to get in early. My uncle Alex was already pumpin’ his own wells over near Tyler. Uncle Alex asked Pa to come over and help, but Pa wanted to stay on the farm, so he thought to invest in oil along with the other farmers.

  Well, they soon found out there weren’t no oil well and the man took off with all their money. The farmers had no way to know where the man had gone. They’d tol’ the Sheriff, of course, but he just shrugged and said if they brought the man in, then he’d arrest him.

  Pa figured Mr. Norfleet might be able to find the man as he had what Pa called “connections.” I wasn’t certain of what that meant, except Mr. Norfleet had ways to catch up to these con men that Pa didn’t.

  After the situation was laid out, Pa and Mr. Norfleet went on up to the house. They didn’t invite me along, so I just stayed out in the barn with the horses. The groom, named Tommy, came out again with another horse and I helped him.

  Soon, Pa and Mr. Norfleet came out’n the house and they shook hands and patted backs again. Pa waved me over, we got in the truck, and said our goodbyes.

  “What did he say, Pa?” I asked bein’ curious if we would get some help.

  “Frank – Mr. Norfleet – said not to worry. He made some telephone calls and he thinks he’ll have somethin’ to tell us in a few days. He’s got an old friend, Burke Mathes, checking the state records. Burke’s the state representative from Hale County and knows a lot of folks at the Capitol. If anybody can find the cheat, it’d be Burke.”

  We went on home and nothin’ happened for a few days. We just went about our business as usual, not knowin’ what to expect.

  A couple of weeks later, the Sheriff pulled up to our yard and called Pa out of the barn. I was in the barn, too, so I went along with him.

  “Well, Louis, you’ve had some good luck,” the Sheriff said.

  “How’s that Elmer?”

  “I got a call from Burke Mathes last week. You know Burke, right? Anyways, he tol’ me to take a drive up to Vega. He says the Sheriff in Oldham County had a little surprise for me.”

  “That’s interestin’, Elmer, but what’s it got to do with me?” Pa asked.

  “He was holdin’ the confidence man who took your money. “

  ”That is good news.”

  “Seems like he’d tried the same thing up there, but Burke Mathes already clued them to be on the lookout. Burke, he’d called every Sheriff in the whole panhandle to tell ‘em the same thing.”

  “Did the man have our money?”

  “Sorry to say, he didn’t have all the money, but still had some left. He confessed once the Sheriff took him in. Gave his name as Samuel Clemens.”

  “Samuel Clemens, you say? He tol’ me his name was John Donne.” Pa looked a little puzzled, then said, “You all might want to check a little more on the name.”

  “Why? He gave himself up easy enough and told his name right off.”

  “Well,” Pa said , “Samuel Clemens is the real name of Mark Twain, the writer.”

  “Oh. Why I knew that. I just assumed it was a coincidence.”

  I thought the Sheriff was gettin’ a little red around his collar. I had to put my hand over my face so’s he wouldn’t see my smile. I’d been readin’ ol’ Mark Twain’s books for years now, so I knew his real name. I didn’t think the Sheriff did, though.

  Still, he did bring good news. The Circuit Judge was callin’ a meetin’ of the people who’d lost money, so he could make sure everybody got what portion they were due. Pa wouldn’t get back all his money, but as he said later, he’d paid his ticket for bein’ taken in.

  I asked Pa why he hadn’t just called the counties round about and accomplish the same thing Mr. Norfleet and Mr. Mathes had done.

  Pa said, “Edward, I tend horses and grow crops. I’m real good at it, but I don’t have what those two men have--the experience in dealin’ with lawbreakers. Now, Frank got into detective work because somebody did him wrong. It worked fine for him, but I couldn’t have done what he did. The folks voted for Burke so’s he’d take care of things for them.”

  “I think I might be interested in bein’ a detective someday, or maybe I could join the Texas Rangers.”

  Pa laughed, but not like he was makin’ fun of me. He never did make fun of me.

  “I always say, Edward, do what you do best and hire out the rest.”

  I thought it was good advice from Pa, but he always was comin’ up with good advice for me. Now, if I could just remember it all, I’d be in fine shape.

  The Cattle Drive

  You can’t talk about Texas without mentioning cattle. Just about every little boy wanted to grow up to be a cowboy, although it was an occupation few would ever take up. For one brief and shining moment, Eddie realized his dream of being a real cowboy.

  I seen the dust cloud down the road, so naturally I jumped up to the top rail of the fence to get a better look. It took about ten minutes before I could make out a couple of drovers was pushin’ a small herd up the road. By then, Pa come over to find out why I wasn’t doin’ my chores. The two of us were standin’ on the fence rail, peerin’ down the road. Ma came out of the house, but she stayed up on the porch with her hand shadin’ her eyes.

  When we saw it was a herd, Pa shook his head and grinned.

  “I ain�
��t seen that for some years,” he said.

  Well, what could we do but wait for the drovers to come on up to the gate? After all, we was the only place close by and knew these fellas would need some water, at the least, and maybe a meal to go with it.

  Ma went back in the house and when I saw the little puff of smoke from the chimney, I knew she was already firin’ up the stove. The angle of the sun over the barn told me it was ‘bout four. It was close enough to suppertime I hoped the herd would have to stop for the night.

  With us bein’ fifteen miles from town and six miles by road to the nearest neighbor, I’d be pretty excited we were gettin’ any kind of visitors, but a cattle herd, that was almost too much to ask for.

  I jumped off the fence like a lightnin’ bolt and headed for the corral. Old Sam was closest so I grabbed a rope and threw it round his neck for reins. Sam’s really easy, so I didn’t bother with a bridle and ridin’ bareback is second nature to me. It took a little shufflin’ to convince Sam to sidle over by the fence so I could get on. After all, he’s near sixteen hands and I’m not very tall. Pa saw what I was doin’ and nodded to me. I was gonna ask before I lit out, but he beat me to it.

  Sam and me trotted down the road. I was bouncin’ and grinnin’ so hard my teeth kept clackin’ together. We met the front of the herd a quarter mile later and my jaw just near dropped off my face. I couldn’t believe what I was seein’ so I shut my mouth again and looked really hard.

  Yep, I’m here to tell ya and ya know I don’t lie. Every last animal in the herd was a bull. This puzzled me no end, as much as it puzzles you to hear it. Course, the herd was no more ‘n twenty Hereford bulls, but . . .well, I can’t think of what that would be. Mostly herds are made up of steers and cows. Bulls ain’t usually included as they cause troubles wantin’ at the cows and all.