by Derek Murphy
Sensin’ there was some money to be made from the deal; bein’ tight as a gnat’s ass stretched over a fifty-gallon drum, Ol’ Man James said, "Maybe I want in on whutever you got planned for her. If they’s some cash to be had from it; I know I do!"
Grinnin’ kinda nasty like, Wes says, "Well, mebbe you could make somethin’ from chargin’ admission, but I don’t like havin’ a audience. Just tell me you’ll take the deal and shake my hand on it or you can find yourself another cowboy to git rid of her for you."
Cussin’ like a preacher what’s stepped in shit runnin’ away from a congregation on account of too many pregnant choir girls, Ol’ Man James slams his hand on the counter, spits in his palm and shakes Wes’ hand like he thought Wes was gonna give him the keys to the saloon. Wes turns around and grabs me by the shoulder and hustles me out into the street like he needed to get away before the old man changed his mind.
Oncet outside, he says, "What’s your name, Cowboy?"
"Neidyck de Bougfoucher. Folks aroun’ here just calls me…Ned."
Lemme tell ya’ I had to do some quick thinkin’ to keep from tellin’ him what people really called me, but he took it in stride and clapped me on the back again, a’sayin’ that we was gonna be best-buds from then on. I let him lead me acrosst the street to the saloon an’ as we bellied up to the bar, the boys what was so handy at gittin’ out o’ sight when he asked for a real man to he’p him showed up like chiggers at a boot-knockin’ in the pasture.
Wes th’owed a wad o’ bills onto the bartop and hollered, "I’m a buyin’! Give these boys all the beer they can drink till that’s gone! Then they can tell me whereat folks has seed the Banshee Chicken."
The boys shoulda knowed they was a price to be paid, but they was too busy thinkin’ o’ the beer they was gonna pour down they gullets an’ not thinkin’ about what they was gonna have to tell Wes about the Banshee Chicken. ‘Long about a hour later when everybody had got three or four beers in ‘em, Wes takes off his hat an’ drops it on the table an’ I ain’t never seen a head o’ hair like that. Coal black it was an’ long an’ wavy at the ends and some o’ the women in town what had come to see the stranger perked up right quick. I know Miss Percy Buttram come over right away, with her blouse pokin’ out in front like someone had a couple o’ thumbs a pointin’ the way. She gits excited real easy like, y’see. I sparked her a couple times and when I got a hand inside her blouse, I thought I got a’holt o’ someone’s thumb, but it was all her.
While she was a’leanin’ over Wes’ shoulder, he leaned back in his chair, tiltin’ it back and when he did, his crotch came into sight from under the table and I thought Percy was gonna swallow her eyeteeth when she seed that thang a movin’ in his pants. It scared her so much she jumped back and upset the table next to us, makin’ the boys a settin’ there grab for their beers.
Wes ignored the commotion and said, "Now, you boys just need to tell me about the Banshee Chicken. Where she’s been seen and what she’s a’doin’ when she’s been seen."
Ol’ Pinky Perkins wiped the suds from his upper lip and says, "Well, I was ridin’ Rancher Maxwell’s range one night, drivin’ in a coupla heifers what had got away from the herd an’ I seen her with Maxwell’s prize bull. She was under him and he had both front legs clapped around her to hold her in place. When he was finished, he acted like he didn’t want no more, but she dived back under him an’ I ain’t never seed no vacuum suck like she did! By the time she was finished with that bull, he was ruint! Ol’ Maxwell ain’t been able to get him interested in a heifer since then!"
Wes’ lips quirked a little an’ he looks around and says, "Anything else? Anybody else seen anything like that?"
A squint-eyed little runt name o’ Rob Hobson says, "It ain’t just bulls she’s got a interest in! I seen her over to that goat-herder’s one night and she was givin’ his he-goats all they could handle. I swear they was all a’layin’ on their backs with their legs up in the air when she left."
Dog-Dick Swan slapped his thigh and says, "Hell! Goats ain’t nothin’! She was out to the Nature Preserve with the Bufflers! The ‘Ministrator says the herd’s a dyin’ off from all the activity they been gittin’!"
Well, Wes’ eyes squinted up a little an’ he stands up, picks up his hat and drops it on his head. Turnin’, he puts a arm around Percy an’ they sauntered out the door. A little later, I left and passed by the camper on my way to my pickup and seed the gypsy woman a’settin’ outside the camper, rockin’ in a rockin’ chair, cacklin’ over a deck o’ cards she was shuffling and layin’ out on a board on her lap. The pickup was rockin’ back and forth faster than the ol’ gypsy woman in her chair and the camper was movin’ so much it looked like it was gonna pop right out o’ the bed. I could hear Percy a whoopin’ an’ hollerin’ inside like she was fightin’ a horny wildcat and losin’ and before I knew it, the door smacks me upside the head where I was listenin’ and Percy jumps out in the altogether an’ I ain’t seen no tits an’ ass jiggle so much since I went to the stripper bar up ta Tulsa! She had her clothes in one hand an’ her coin-slot in t’other and I couldn’ta caught her if I’d had a quarter-horse, she was movin’ so fast!
Holdin’ the side o’ my head, I got a look at what scared Percy so much before Wes tucked it back in his jeans an’ it was a pretty close thing whether or not I was gonna join Percy in the Marathon she was runnin’! I know I didn’t scream near as loud or high-pitched as she did! The boys say I did, but they’s a bunch o’ damn liars!
Troubled in my mind, I got in my pickup and opened the emergency bottle o’ hooch I keeps there an’ most of it was gone afore I got home at the other end of the street.
* * *
I come to with the cat alternatin’ lickin’ his privates an’ my face an’ when I looked around, I saw that I didn’t make it to the bed but had fallen asleep right in front of his damn ol’ litterbox. At first, I thought the knockin’ sound I heard was my head poundin’, but there wasn’t no echo, so I got up and half-fell to the door. As it swung open with me a hangin’ on for dear life, I saw Wes standin’ there with one thumb hooked in a pocket, which made them jeans just that much tighter an’ I could see the shape of the thang in his drawers. That started me shudderin’, which made my head hurt that much more and on my way to the edge of the porch to puke, I missed part o’ what Wes was sayin’.
"…you a explanation about whut you saw last night."
After I come un-fed a while, I wiped the sweat outa my eyes and locked one peeper on him; the other one wasn’t in no shape to work much on account o’ it likes to look off to one side when I’m tired or drunk. Which, I was both and it wasn’t doin’ nothin’ at all but takin’ in the spectacle of Percy a-scrubbin’ at her split with lye soap. She keeps the shades up on her bedroom window on account o’ the breeze, it bein’ hot around here. I got to admit, Percy was the cleanest hide in town but I’d never seen her scrub so hard at her cooze, not even after she went sausage-stuffin’ with Drippy Winslow. I don’t think that boy ever took a bath. Even the heifers he usually went with shied away from him.
I turned back to Wes then and caught him sayin’, "It’s part o’ why I want to catch the Banshee Chicken instead o’ kill her. I’ll tell you about it when we’re out on the range."
Wes was as good as his word, but his word was a mighty long thing, like that thang in his pants appeared to be. We spent a week ridin’ the range around all the ranches and goat-roper’s places without’n seein’ hide nor hair of the Banshee Chicken. We seed plenty o’ tracks, but aside from some mighty disgustin’ droppin’s, that all we seed of her. I never got so tired o’ forkin’ a cayuse in my life! The horse Wes had for me was a pretty, little thing; clean, well-made lines on her and the daintiest, little feet you ever saw. I swear that filly could’a walked through a herd o’ steers without steppin’ in a paddy oncet!
But Wes’ horse was the biggest damn stud I’d ever seen! Every muscle on him stood out like he’d been haulin’ loads all his life
, an’ he was a saddle horse! Wes said he was a Belgian Warm-Blood, but I think he was more draught horse than anything. He stood a good twenty-five hands at the withers and was pushin’ four-thousand pounds. Why, the sack a-hangin’ twixt his legs alone would’a filled a gallon bucket! I got to admit he was a prime go-er, though! It was all the little filly I was ridin’ could do to keep up with him as Wes loped him off across the range.
On the third day, Wes was ridin’ real slow with his eyes on some suspicious tracks an’ I ast him, "That there’s a damn good horse you got, Wes, but why did you settle on him for this job? I’ve seen faster horses, though I ain’t never seed a stronger."
He shifted the ever-present hand-rolled butt twixt his lips an’ spit out a fleck of baccy as he thought of his answer. Then he said, "Ol’ Five-legs here is bait, Ned. I don’t think The Chicken will be able to resist takin’ a slant on him when she sees him. That’s when I gives it to her with both barrels."
Bum-fuzzled at this, I suspected it had somethin’ to do with the meat he was packin’ in his jeans an’ said so; not bein’ able to keep my thoughts from gettin’ from out my gums. An’ he said, "Well, that’s the story I promised to tell ya t’other day. Y’see, I was makin’ the rounds purty hot’n’heavy over to El Paso a few years back an’ got cross-ways of a little gypsy girl. I thought she was a chica on account o’ she looked like one, but by the time I found out she was a gypsy, a crowd of ‘em was ‘bout to turn my camper over an’ there wasn’t nothin’ I could do but let her flop out the back door whilst I scooted through the winder into the cab and took off. I hear’d later that none o’ the gypsy men would go with her on account o’ she was ruint for regular men an’ none of’em could satisfy her."
He looked at me then with a pore me expression an’ I reflected that some folks ain’t never happy with what they got. For oncet, I caught the words afore they got past my teeth and he went on.
"That’s when my prod started to grow, an’ I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout no extry few inches or nothin’ like that. It tripled in size an’ grew a little brother ‘bout half its size an’ they both started into wigglin’ like a couple o’ black snakes. Some o’ the women I went with thought it was a novelty for a while, but most just squealed like that filly t’other night an’ took off runnin’! Afore I knew it, they was all callin’ me Wild Weasel Wilson! An’ laughin’ at me! Me, what use-ter take on all the hoors in Nogales an’ leave ‘em hollerin’ ‘uncle’!
"Well, I hunted up them gypsies in San Antone an’ took the girl’s ol’ Granny hostage! I didn’ have to do nothin’; she tole me what I had to do to take the curse off. She said I had to find the horniest, ugliest, most insatiable critter in the world and take the ride of my life! She said the critter was called The Banshee Chicken an’ that I might not come out of it alive, but that if I loped her into submission, the curse would be lifted an’ I’d find the woman of my dreams!"
I just stared at him, not knowin’ whut to say, an’ he went on.
"Since this happened to me, I been thinkin’ an’ I believe that it’s a sign that I need to give up the loose, rodeo life. It’s time for me to find the perfect woman and settle down. Raise a few little studs and fillies. So, I’m ready to find this perfect woman the ol’ gypsy woman tole me about. That’s why I brought the ol’ woman with me. She can tell me if I got the right one."
All this kinda shut me up an’ for oncet, I was speechless. Which, if you knowed me, you’d know that I ain’t hardly ever gone a hour in my life withouten talkin’ to someone. This time, there wasn’t nothin’ I could do but keep on a’ridin’ and hope my brain didn’t spring a leak for want of a outlet.
That evenin’, I hobbled the horses an’ let ‘em graze whilst Wes burned a couple o’ Porterhouse steaks over the fire an’ the ol’ gypsy woman moved out to the back o’ the camper and set in her rocker, sayin’ her spells to herself or some such. Ever’ now an’ then, I’d hear her cackle a little and then belch. That woman could belch louder’n ol’ Bean-belly Parvis. At least I think she was belchin’. I was mighty careful not to walk downwind of her, anyway.
Well, we was squattin’ by the fire, drinkin’ coffee what I managed not to boil too much, an’ Ol’ Five-Legs rared up on his back three and pawed the air, neighin’ like a whole herd o’ fillies was runnin’ past an’ he couldn’t get to ‘em! I dived under the pickup whilst Wes jumps up and runs out to the edge o’ the firelight an’ I’ll be damned if he warn’t a’unhitchin’ his belt an’ jeans! Them thangs come a bustin’ out like bulls at a gate an’ I heard the gol-durndest cacklin’ an’ wheezin’ an’ gobblin’ sound, an’ while I ain’t the bravest man in the bunch, I didn’t crap my pants like the boys say I did. How would they know? They wasn’t even there! Besides, I always smell like that after a week on the range.
Peekin’ around the offside, front tire, I seed this Godawful thing lurch into the light an’ I warn’t sure why folks was callin’ it a chicken; it had hair on its head, if you could call it hair, an’ it had dugs the size o’ gallon buckets. Its hair was spiked up on one side and curled around a danglin’ ear on t’other, an’ when it turned as it stalked Wes an’ ol’ Five-Legs, I seed the hair was parted in the back like someone what has slept on they head durin’ a seven-day-bender. I know, I done a few o’ them in my time. It had a pair o’ goggly-lookin’ eyes an’ a beak of a nose that kinda ‘minded me of a chicken an’ I guess that’s where folks got the name; that an’ the way it cackled an’ squawked. Ol’ Five-Legs got a good look at her in the light an’ he lit out for the high prairie soon as he could kick off them hobbles. I ain’t sure how he managed not to slip an’ fall, as he was a’spewin’ piss an’ road-apples like he done et a bushel basket o’ green apples an’ drunk five gallons o’ beer!
Wes wiggled them thangs at her an’ she come a stompin’ and pawin’ the air at him an’ I thought he was a goner for sure, but as she charged at him, he stepped aside an’ one o’ them thangs shoots out and wraps itself around one of her legs and Wes latches onto her near jug an’ grabs at her offside hip. I guess you could say she had hips; they was scrawny things an’ ‘cept for usin’ ‘em to move her legs, they didn’t much look like nothin’ but hide bags with bones in ‘em.
With one jug an’ a hip in hand, Wes set-to with her and got his thangs lodged where they was supposed to go…I guess; they was both out o’ sight. Leastways, she started into caterwaulin’ worse’n before an’ I’m purty sure she disjint’d a hip tryin’ to get turned around into ‘at ‘ere Preacher position I heard about. Ol’ Wes warn’t havin’ any o’ that! He raised a knee an’ blocked her leg an’ she set to squawkin’ louder’n before!
I cain’t tell ya ever’thing I seed on account o’ I fell asleep after a few hours of it an’ I wisht I had some coffee to keep me awake. I’m purty shore there was some of the wing-dangdest, wildest couplin’ anybody ever seed that night! I woulda liked to had a few pointers for the next time I sparked Percy; she’s the kinda girl that likes variety an’ new things. ‘Course, I ain’t equipped like Wes was, but after seein’ how Percy git her split outta his camper durin’ their one set-to, I wouldn’ wanta be. I’ll just get by with what the Good Lord done giv me.
Anyway, I woke up on my back under the pickup with that smelly ol’ gypsy woman a’whinin’ in my ear an’ pawin’ at my jeans an’ I skinned out from under that truck quick as I could. I ain’t partial to gypsies when they’s purty an’ I ain’t gonna have no truck with ‘em when they’s as old as that one!
When I had myself tucked back in my jeans, I took a squint around the camp and saw the shambles them two made of it and wondered which one of ‘em I was gonna have to shovel under, when I seed a pile o’ arms an’ legs a’gettin’ untangled ‘bout fifty feet away. I pulled my hogleg an’ walked over that way, stoppin’ whenever one of ‘em looked like they was gettin’ ready to rare up. When I got clos’t enough, I seed Wes was hunky-dunky an’ gettin’ up onto his hind legs. There warn’t nothin’ left of his jeans but the waist
band an’ it was hanging by a thread; even fell off when he took a deep breath an’ then I seed the Banshee Chicken warn’t no chicken, or any kind o’ critter at all!
It war’ Miss Lydia Hinderleig, the schoolmarm what disappeared the year before! She was always the purtiest thing for miles around an’ wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with any o’ us cowboys, so she didn’ git much in the way o’ action the three years she was there. It had been a nine-day wonder where she got off to, but there she was, still as purty as ever and with a look on her face that just said she had been plowed hard’n’heavy an’ liked the work! She warn’t wearin’ a stitch o’ clothes, but she was a’hangin’ onto Wes like she’d found somethin’ precious. An’ he was a lookin’ down at her like he’d walk barefoot all winter just to step in her droppin’s in the spring! Then I got a good look at his courtin’ gear an’ saw that where there had been two ropy-lookin’, snake-like thangs afore, there was just a normal man’s prod a’hangin’ there now. Not that it was that normal y’unnerstan’, it was still nearly as big as ol’ Five-Legs’ pintle.
Miss Lydia, as it turns out, was gittin’ purty all-fired horny a while back an’ went to see a conjure-woman in the Black Oak country an’ ‘stead o’ givin’ her what she wanted, the conjure-woman turned her into the Banshee Chicken an’ Miss Lydia set ta takin’ what she needed ‘stead o’ givin’ any o’ us cowboys a tumble. I’ll leave the rest for you to figger out. To make it a short story, Wes an’ Miss Hinderleig got hitched and commenced to turnin’ out the biggest, best lookin’ batch o’ kids you ever seed, an’ well, I kinda got to feelin’ soft about Percy an’ married her. She swore off her loose ways an’ even turns pale at the sight of a rattler these days.
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Like Leaves of Gold
Tired of being teased by the other kids, and tired of his brothers not taking his part enough to stop the teasing, Bram scuffed his feet through the tall grass as he walked aimlessly away from home. The sun beat down on his bare head like a hammer on an anvil and he wished he had a hat. Not a hat like the ball-cap he usually wore, but a proper hat with a brim and a crown that stood a few inches above his head, to insulate him from the heat. It would be even better if it was a straw hat; something that would let the slight breeze blow through it and cool him. Idly, he wondered why people quit wearing things like that. He didn’t know anyone who had one. In all the kids of the neighborhood, he would have thought that at least one of them would have had one. But they didn’t. Not a one.