Tale Spun
Part Two
"Boys,put some more coal on that fire! He commanded with authority such as he had. "When you gets old your bones can't take the darned old cold." The fire swelled and we was sweatin now, damned old fool would bake us sure enough. The whiskey warmed our bellies and the fire warmed our bones, but that old man he warmed our souls. He damned well couldn't find anything else to bitch about so we proceeded to play our checkers and listen to the fire spark and moan and an old man that could spin tall tales. Now this was living or mighty fine whiskey, of which I weren't sure.�?BR> "Boys, I recollect that when me and ole Jeb had walked forty miles we were getting mighty close to up and quiting our cow poke job. Hell, we'd had it with that damned forman, Big Joe they called him and he was big, dumb and stupid as they come. My thinkin was why take orders from a big ole dumb shit when you could put down stakes and run your own. Well, so much for good thinkin, cause me and ole Jeb lost it all and then he up and died. Couldn't take the misery, I reckon!" Now me, Hell I could take anything thrown my way, so I just buried him and got me a cow poke job down Santa Fe way.'
�?The old man wiped his eyes with his kerchief and looked away
and for a minute he looked like death.
�?Course I'm forgettin that Jeb took a wife and she died giving birth to a still born child. Hell, it was rough, reckon that's the reason he'd had enough. I buried him and her together with their yougun.on a perty ole grassy slope close to a church they congregated.
Sometimes this old life is tough."
�?He lit his pipe and sipped a little more of that sour mash, wiped his eyes of moisture risen from tales spinning, warmed his feet up on the ole pot bellied stove. You could smell his dirty socks start to burn. The fire was dying down again, and I figured the sun would soon be rising, but we wouldn't see it not with the blizzard that was blowin, down the pike. We had coal and some hickory for fire and plenty of whiskey, cards and checkers, plus we had that ole man to keep us company with tall tales of his infamous past.
�?He spun tales by the fire glow of the pot bellied stove. I got beat at checkers and
lost interest in taking a beatin. I leaned back and rolled me a smoke, poured another whiskey and grinned at that ole man. He was a character and make no doubt about it tough as leather. We dozed and dreamed of an old man, checkers and a pot bellied stove
and tall tales spun.
�?2/11/01
Copyright © 2000-2001 CJ Clark
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