Tales of a Texas Boy

by Marva Dasef

  My, but those two went all over the place by themselves. They rode their horses to school everyday. One time Sister nearly got killed when they crossed a rain-swelled creek on the way to school. I was none to happy with Edward about that. That was one time he didn’t show good sense. He’ll tell you all about it, so I don’t need to go into details here.

  When Edward grew up and left home, we sure did miss him. He was in the army and met a nice girl named Iva he wanted to marry, and he did just that. He wrote us letters tellin’ about the Pacific Northwest, sayin’ it was a beautiful place and he’d taken an interest loggin'.

  By this time, Louis was wearin’ down some, so we thought it a good time to quit the oil business and move to Oregon. We ended up livin’ there for many years.

  I took to the nursing profession and got my degree. I worked at a clinic for many years. When I retired, I moved around from child to child, but spent most of my time with Dorothy as she needed me the most. I lived in Texas again for awhile after Louis died. My sister Alma and her children lived in Dallas and were very good to me when I stayed down there. Her family got rich off the oil wells. Alma’s husband, John, got hurt bad workin’ the oil rigs and he lived out most his life in the hospital. He’d got himself hit in the head with a pipe and he wasn’t ever right after that. Alma’s boys took over the business and made good. The family ended up millionaires. Course, they didn’t speak to the rest of the family after they got rich. I don’t blame them too much, but I’m certain my children wouldn’t have bothered them for their money. I just shrugged it off, though, as Alma and her boys were real good to me.

  At the end, though, I moved down to Florida to stay with Dorothy and her husband, Tex. Once in awhile I went back up to Oregon to visit the family who stayed there. That was just about everyone else as Edward, John, and Jim all stayed put once they got up that way. But, Dorothy was my only daughter. Maybe it would have been different if Mary Ada had lived.

  That’s the whole story of my life.

  * * *

  Ma’s a modest woman and doesn’t say all the things she done. Raisin’ four kids out in West Texas on a farm was hard work, especially for a woman, and more especially when the Great Depression made life so hard. I’ll always think of her as a brave woman and I’ll always love her for bein’ my Ma.

  Cage McNatt’s Prize Sow

  Even small towns can come up with odd characters. Cage McNatt had to be one of the oddest.

  I've heard of men gettin’ all fired up about their horses. I’d even heard of a man who had a steer he took with him duck huntin’. But, I still can’t understand how Cage McNatt was so taken with a pig. After all, a pig generally ends up bein’ ham and pork chops, but Cage McNatt was mighty fond of his sow. He even named her, which is unusual right there. He called her Petunia, which I thought was a darned silly name for anything, even a pig.

  I suppose the is some sense as to why he was so taken with her. He did win every year at the county fair. She was a beauty, no doubt about that. I just thought Mr. McNatt went a little far, especially the time Fred Luck entered his sow, too.

  As was usual durin’ the Deaf Smith County Fair, my Pa’s friend Dad Boles showed up to sell bobcat skins and to pit his tame bear Sophie against the local dogs. This is also when the carnival comes to town, so it was just about the high point of my year.

  Now, when I said Dad Boles bear was put up against the dogs, it weren’t done mean-like. It weren’t no bear baitin’. He’d just tie up Sophie to a post and the dogs were let loose to come at her. She’d usually just give ‘em a good slap on the muzzle and they’d give up real quick.

  But, this story is about Cage McNatt’s pig. Both the McNatt and the Luck pigs were entered in the fair and it was pretty clear to everybody these were the only contenders for the blue ribbon. The rest of the sows were fine, but didn’t come up to these two. They weighed close to the same. I heard three hundred fifty pounds or thereabouts. Petunia was all black and the Luck sow, which was named Whitey, was white. I thought Petunia looked smaller, but I suppose that might’ve been her color.

  Pa let me camp with Dad Boles for a day or two as it was fifteen miles from our farm to Hereford and I liked to go to the fair on more than one day. Dad Boles didn’t seem to mind my company. He told me a few stories about his trapping business and about his time in France with Pa during the World War.

  Each evening, when the fair was over, Dad would untie Sophie from her post and let her sit closer to the fire. One night, after things calmed down, Dad Boles and I were sittin’ by the fire with Sophie right next to us. Dad Boles was in the middle of a story about trappin’ when we heard something crashin’ around inside the fairgrounds. Dad decided to go check what was goin’ on, and I followed along since he didn’t say to stay put. We went into the fairgrounds to see what was up. The moon was full so we could see well enough.

  A man was goin’ toward the fairgrounds’ front gate and it looked like he was pullin’ a big dog along behind him. When I heard the squeal, though, I realized it wasn’t a dog, but a pig. I could also see the pig was white, so I knew right off it was the Luck’s sow. The trouble was that the man was Cage McNatt and not one of the Luck brothers.

  Well, you might already have guessed what was goin’ on. Cage McNatt was stealin’ Whitey, or at least he was tryin’ to. The problem was Whitey was bigger than Mr. McNatt and she wasn’t of a mind to go along quiet. She was doin’ her best to pull away from the rope. She was shakin’ her head back and forth and kept up squealin’ the whole time. That was about the unhappiest pig I ever saw.

  Then, she spotted the open gate. She quit squealin’, snorted a couple of times, and all of a sudden she was doin’ the pullin’ and Cage McNatt was runnin’ behind her tryin’ to keep up. She was makin’ a beeline for the gate where we just happened to be standin’. I figured we’d better just step out of the way. Bein’ run down by three hundred fifty pounds of hog flesh was not an idea I cottoned to.

  What I didn’t realize, and Whitey didn’t either, was Sophie followed us through the gate. She, meanin’ Whitey, got about twenty feet from us when she looked up and saw a bear standin’ in the way of her freedom. She stopped short and Cage McNatt ran right by her as he had such a head of steam goin’. When he reached the end of the rope, it came right out of his hand. I could see her sittin’ down on her haunches and starin’ at Sophie like she was wonderin’ exactly what it was she was seein’. All she knew is it was a big, hairy critter and probably smelled pretty bad, too.

  The sow made up her mind. She whipped around like she was a cuttin’ horse and headed in the opposite direction. I think Sophie was gettin’ curious about this activity, so she went along after the pig. We took out runnin’ as well. Dad Boles didn’t want to risk Sophie harmin’ any livestock, so he was in a big hurry to catch up with her.

  I was runnin’ right behind Dad Boles and I heard Cage McNatt’s footsteps right behind me.

  The sow headed straight for the Ferris Wheel. I could see one of the cars was at the bottom and it was open. I think you’ve guessed what came next. The pig jumped up into the car and it shuddered like it was hit by a tornado. The gate on the car slammed shut and the pig was jumpin’ around and the car was rockin’ somethin’ furious.

  Sophie followed on up the ramp to get to the pig. I don’t think she meant any harm, but was just curious. Sophie went to one side of the ramp then to the other lookin’ for an opening to the car. As she stepped to the right, she pushed up against the lever that ran the wheel. The Ferris Wheel started up and the pig was bein’ hoisted up along with it. That seemed to baffle Sophie, so she just stepped off the ramp and walked calm as you please back to Dad Boles.

  All three of us stood and watched the car go up with the pig in it squealin’ like she was bein’ introduced to the slaughterhouse.

  Dad came to his senses first and ran up the ramp. He hit the lever and the wheel stopped with the pig’s car about halfway up. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do as it seemed the only
way to get the pig back down would be to start the wheel back up. I think he felt sorry for the pig as it was cryin’ like a baby and was clearly real scared to be up so high.

  By this time, the carnival folks had come out of their trailers to see what was goin’ on. The head man ran over to the wheel and started it back up again. He’d already seen the only way to get the pig down was to run her clear round the circle ‘til the car come to earth again. Unlike Dad Boles, he didn’t mind givin’ the pig the rest of the ride.

  The sow made the trip safe enough. When the car reached the bottom, the carnival man opened the gate and she took off like a streak of lightnin’. Dad Boles started laughin’ so hard he could hardly stand up. In between his guffawin’, Dad Boles couldn’t help but say, “Well, I never figured I’d ever really see a pig fly.”

  Well, the end of the story was the judges made Cage McNatt take Petunia out of the competition. The Luck brother’s sow, Whitey, won the blue ribbon and a few lesser sows took the other ribbons. It did make for one of the most interestin’ fairs and every year after somebody always told the story of the time Cage McNatt made a pig fly.

  Crossin’ the Creek

  Kids went to school, but they didn’t exactly catch the school bus outside the house. Getting to school could be an adventure.

  It'd been raining forty days and forty nights is what Ma said, but I only counted up eleven days myself. She did tend to put things in Bible verses, so I won’t say she was lyin’, just exaggeratin’ for effect.

  Still, me and my sister, Dorothy, who we called Sister, had to go to school, whether the creek was high or dry. We’d spent Saturday and Sunday hopin’ the rain would at least slow down some, but it didn’t look like it was going to. On Monday, we put on our rain slickers and ran to the barn quick as we could to saddle the horses. Pa cut out oiled canvas to cover the saddles and most of the horse as well.

  Brownie and Peaches saw us comin’ and they crowded back in the barn behind the cows tryin’ to pretend they wasn’t there. We dragged ‘em out by the halter since they were none too fond of goin’ out in the rain. Couldn’t say I blamed ‘em, as I wasn’t too fond of it myself.

  Our school was more’n six miles away, so we got an early start every mornin’, along about five, so we could get there by seven. Usually, Sister and me would just let loose on the reins and let the horses go at their own pace. Brownie and Peaches knew the way, as they went to school just as often as we did. But, on days with the rain sheetin’ down, none of us was in a hurry to leave the barn. It took some effort, particularly with Peaches as she tended to hate gettin’ wet more than Brownie.

  Off we went down the road, usually dusty, was now fetlock deep in mud. We’d have to go slow or the horses would slipslide off the road and into the ditch.

  We had to cross a creek along the way. This creek was only a few inches deep most of the time and only five feet across, but after this rain, the water reached near to Peaches’ belly. She was one unhappy pony, I can tell you that.

  We got to the creek and saw the brown water rushin’ along. It was up on the banks and a good fifteen feet across. I’d never seen it this high and I was gettin’ worried some.

  We was already soakin’ wet, but it didn’t matter to Peaches. She took one look and you could almost hear her say, “I’m not goin’ across that!” She set her feet and didn’t take another step.

  The plan was to tie a rope onto her bridle with the other end round my saddlehorn, so I could lead her across. But, she was havin’ none of it. She set back on her haunches just like a dog sittin’ down. It was actually pretty funny-lookin’, but I didn’t say so as Sister was gettin’ a mite agitated.

  “We can just leave Peaches over at the Tate’s and we can double up on Brownie,” I suggested.

  “No, I want her to do what she’s supposed to do,” Sister grumbled. Even with her squeaky little girl’s voice, she made it clear she wouldn’t brook no nonsense from Peaches.

  “It’s up to you, Sister. I’ll pull her ahead, but you gotta show her who’s boss.”

  “Don’t you worry, Eddie. I don’t like to do it, but I’ll give her a whup to let her know I mean business.” Sister seemed determined to not let Peaches get away with anything, so I just shrugged and started on across the creek.

  Brownie stopped when he felt the tug of the rope with Peaches at the other end, not movin’. Sister took up the long end of the reins and gave Peaches a swat on the haunch. That startled her enough to get her up on all fours, then I nudged Brownie with my heels and he started to draggin’ Peaches behind him. He just wanted to get across the creek, so was not of a mind to let Peaches slow him down.

  Peaches sat back down again and no amount of swattin’ got her up. I brought Brownie back to her side of the creek. I sussed what was goin’ on and thought puttin’ the rope around her neck would encourage her to move. Looking back, I don’t figure it was such a good idea.

  I got the rope tied around her neck and made sure it wasn’t a slipknot, then wound it tight around the saddlehorn. After all, I didn’t want to strangle her, just get her movin’.

  “Do you want to get on Brownie with me while we cross?” I was a little concerned about what Peaches would do, but I knew Brownie was steady.

  “Nope. If I do that, then Peaches won’t move for nothin’. I’ve got stay on to make her go,” Sister said. She was gettin’ as stubborn as Peaches by now. I shrugged and started Brownie up again. He was still willin’, but anxious to get across as quick as he could.

  About half-way across, I could see the water was higher than I thought as it was brushin’ up on Brownie’s belly. This was worrisome, as Peaches was smaller than Brownie and she’d be in water up to her shoulder.

  Finally, though, she started across. If a horse can have an expression on its face, I’d say Peaches looked about as mad as could be. Her ears were laid back and she was shakin’ her head back and forth tryin’ to lose the rope. It did her no good and we just kept on goin’.

  When the water reached Peaches’ belly, the oil cloth started to billow out on the water like a big, shiny square dance skirt. I could tell she was gettin’ scared. Her eyes were rollin’ in her head and her nostrils were puffin’ in and out. She kept shakin’ her head like she was sayin’ no.

  “Now, Peaches, just a few more feet and we’ll be up the other side. The worst’s over. C’mon, girl, you can do it,” Sister leaned forward and encouraged Peaches as best she could. I could tell Sister was a little worried about how deep the water was, too.

  Now, the water was comin’ up over Peaches’ shoulder and it was clear she was one scared pony. Sister kept pattin’ and whisperin’ to her, but Peaches couldn’t take no more.

  She reared back and hit the top of her head right in Sister’s face. Then, quick as can be, Peaches lunged forward and jumped right by me and Brownie. She was movin’ so fast, she almost pulled the saddle right off Brownie. All I could think of was if Brownie fell, he would drag Peaches and Sister right after him. All at the same time, I was tryin’ to help Brownie keep his feet under him, keep’ an eye on Sister, and workin’ on gettin’ the darned rope off the saddlehorn.

  I could see Sister was swayin’ on the saddle and it scared me awful. She almost fell, then grabbed to the saddlehorn and pulled herself back on. Brownie got his feet under him and followed Peaches up on the bank.

  We got to the other side and Peaches stopped. She stood with her head down and her legs shakin’. I looked at Sister’s face and saw blood, but it looked like it was just a bloody nose.

  We all stood still for awhile. I got down and took the rope off Peaches. I was wonderin’ whether we could get her movin’ again. Soon as I was up in the saddle, though, Peaches picked her head back up and started off toward school. Sister managed to haul out her handkerchief from under her slicker and was holdin’ it against her nose. I figured we could fix her up when we got to school.

  “Sister, you all right?” I was worried whether she’d been knocked silly, but she
nodded her head.

  “I’m fine,” she said loud enough as she looked right at the pony’s ears. I knew she was tryin’ to convince Peaches everything was all right. Peaches’ ears twitched back, so I guessed she was listenin’. When we got to school, the rain eased up and some sun started shinin’ through the clouds.

  Our teacher took Sister in-hand and cleaned her up whilst I put Brownie and Peaches in the barn. It burned my hide there was only five of us what showed up. Nobody else had the bad sense to go out on a day like this.

  I hoped the creek would go down before we headed back for home. I wouldn’t care to repeat the experience.

  The Thief

  The Great Depression was beginning to seep into the lives of the people in West Texas. Insulated to some extent, they began to see the repercussions of the droughts by the people who came south from Oklahoma for relief from the dust storms.

  It always means a good time when Pa lets me go with him in the truck. I liked the truck a lot and sometimes he’d let me drive a ways, too. This time, Pa planned on goin’ further than Hereford. We were goin’ to go to Amarillo, the trip some fifty miles. It would take us most of one day to get there and do what we needed to do, so we’d have to camp overnight somewhere along the way.

  Amarillo was pretty big as cities go up here in the panhandle. The only other big town was Lubbock, which was south of us and about a hundred miles away.

  We was to find out the droughts were just beginning in 1932 in Oklahoma, but the people was already sufferin’ for it. For one thing, a lot of folks from Oklahoma began to move down here to Texas ‘cause it wasn’t as bad. It was so dry up north all the good soil just started blowin’ away ever’ time the wind came up.