Tall Tales & Steep Trails...I Want My Rope Back!

[rayb]

There are lots of stories buried in Brewster, Terrell and the rest of those West Texas counties.

My mother taught school in Sanderson. She had some stories.

Her sister taught in the one room school at Allamore, a little ways down the road.

That generation of schoolteachers had plenty of stories too.

Please continue with yours.

rayb

 

[jimmyj]

Hi, Dave:
My Father and Uncles were "Federal" Range Riders during the "Tick Era".
A lot of the cattle owners were against having their cattle "Dipped".
If I recall correctly their issue sidearm was the Colt Model 1911 .45acp or Model 1917?
Jimmy

 

[keith44spl]

"Dipped"

Hi, Dave:
My Father and Uncles were "Federal" Range Riders during the "Tick Era".
A lot of the cattle owners were against having their cattle "Dipped".
If I recall correctly their issue sidearm was the Colt Model 1911 .45acp or Model 1917? Jimmy

Jimmy,
I remember something about a ol' rancher that wasn't gonna gather his cattle for to be run thur the Dip...
The State hired some cowboys to gather his cattle for him.

Well, to make a long story short. The day of the dippin' the Rangers came in and the old man tried
to shoot it out with 'em.
If I remember right, he opened fire on the lawmen hitting one of them in the leg with a shotgun.

The rancher succombed to his 'rifle shot' wounds right shortly there after.

Them were some kinda wild and wooly times, I'd say.

Su Amigo,
Dave

 

[ladder13]

I love this place

 

[truckemup97]

There are lots of stories buried in Brewster, Terrell and the rest of those West Texas counties.

My great, great grandfather was Postmaster and had a general store at Peaster, TX, a few miles north of Weatherford. This would have been around the turn of the 20th century. Apparently he was quite the character. I can't remember if it was him or a great uncle (who held the same role in Smithville, OK in the '20s and 30's) who would drink like a fish for ten months, then "get the cure" for two, then start again. I'd like to have been a little fella sitting around listening to those two swap yarns. Sadly, I'm not old enough to have known either of them.

 

[keith44spl]

The other side of the family

Rememberin' things from our childhood ought to be fond memories...

On the other side of the fence, my mother's uncle Will was a dairy farmer
and a right smart amateur distiller of un-aged white whiskey, or so they said.

Back at that time, most families would get together on Sundays to churn ice cream
and cut a cake of some sorts. Just visit like everyone used to do, the men
catching up on the current news or the women folk on the latest gossip.

Well now, ol' uncle Will also fancied himself as a barber. Anyone that remotely needin' a trim
was set upon with scissor and shear. If'n you were one of the first, you got a right fair lookin' hair cut.

The catch was...The men would follow uncle Will's lead to the corn crib between heads…I'm here to tell ya,
after half dozen trips to that crib and some of them boys got gapped up pretty good there on the end.

I don't remember us being all that particular with the looks of our hair cuts back then.



Somehow that reminded me of the time my older brother shot the hinges off'n the outhouse…
Stay tuned till next time,

Su Amigo,
Dave

 

[nicky4968]

Everybody is the child of two families. I'm the child of four. When I was young my parents (both top-flight lawyers) divorced and married two other top-flight lawyers. Through them I met people very much like the ones described above. It was often a shock to read things in the history books, and then realize they were talking about someone you ran errands for, or borrowed books from.
BTW, my father was in WWII but hardly talks about any of it, unless it's a story about trading razor blades for wine. It was bad wine, but they had re-wrapped used razor blades in wax paper and replaced them in the Gillette box.
But when I was older and my father's friends told me they things he had been involved in, I could hardly believe it.
Maybe this is why I became a court reporter. I remember sitting at the kitchen table while my father, Nathan Witt, and Telford Taylor worked out the arguments to be made before the U.S. Supreme Court. Never were there three so dissimilar people at one table, and I didn't write it all down.

 

[66TAS]

Keith, your seriously not gonna leave us hanging on the brother shooting the hinges off the outhouse door are ya.....seriously.....I gotta hear this one! LOL

 

[keith44spl]

Keith, your seriously not gonna leave us hanging on the brother shooting the hinges off the outhouse door are ya.....seriously.....I gotta hear this one! LOL

Naw!

I was about 12 or thirteen the summer that the rural electric company ran the power line near the old place and Dad paid them extra to get a line run to the main house. Someone in the family help put in the service and a 60 amp fuse box. We had electric lights and pretty soon someone gave us a big old multi-channel radio. It was in a cabinet about five feet high with about a dozen knobs on it and one big dial that turned a needle under a bezel for a bunch of different bands. We could pick up ship to shore radio traffic, aircraft transmissions in flight somewhere. But, the best was on the A.M. clear channel 650 WSM or maybe WLS in Chicago.

With all these modern conveniences, the folks thought it was time for us to join the 20th century…So, we got indoor plumbing! Yes sirree no more drawing water from the well, no more ice in the water bucket on cold winter mornings. With the wonder of the jet pump and electricity, water will run right out of a spicket. I mean right there in the kitchen.

Progressive folks ain't never satisfied. Next came the bathroom, an outhouse in the house…No more wasper stings nor black widows to squish. No more barefooted mid-nite strolls on muddy or frozen path. We were in tall cotton as they say.

So, one Saturday morning after breakfast, my older brother and I were fixin' to go to town to the feed store. As we were mountin' up the pickup truck I saw Billy Lee had aquired a pretty good lookin' rifle, it was laying on the truck seat with the muzzle in the floorboard.

I says,"Whatcha got there?"
Billy Lee, "Ought Six."
Me, "What kind is it?"
BL, "Winchester 95."
Me, "Betcha a dollar you can't even hit that outhouse with it!"
BL, "Kid, get your dollar out!"

Well he loads 'er up and is fixin' to cut loose, "A dollar and a half says you can't hit the hinges!" I gig him.

Five shots later, the top hinge is cut loose and the bottom one is about to let go…

Just about that time our Dad came charging out of the back door of the house, "Boys, what in the cat hair y'all shooting at?"

I said, "Nothing much, just that old outhouse. Besides it was Bill doing the shooting."

Well the old man takes one look at the thing with the door just a barely a hanging, his face is getting' redder by the second.

I don't think he was all that mad, just really aggregated. He says," Boys, y'all done shot her to rag dolls, somebody might have wanted to use that just for old time sake!"

Billy Lee tried to state his defense,"Dave bet me a buck and a half I couldn't hit it!"

Dad just gave us one of those looks and said,"Well, I'd say you sure nuff got that done there Son." Now turning his attention to yours truly, "David, give your brother his dollar and a half, so he can pay for some new hinges at the hardware in town. Your gonna stay here and get that door ready to go back up."

That kinda put a stop to us shootin' at any of the **** around the house…

Su Amigo,
Dave

 

[keith44spl]

I love this place

Yeah Mike,

Ain't it grand to have a little fun now and again!

I posted this in another thread sometime back...
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This little deal took place sometime back, a couple of decades ago.

My wife's Dad came blowing into headquarters one afternoon layin' on the pickup horn, "That old Belgan stud horse is about to run one of your mares to death over in that south pasture!"

We had this city dude neighbor who let this stud stayed out 9/10s of the time and would tear down fences trying to breed all the mares in the entire country.

I happen to have a good stout horse that I was 'schooling' tied to a post there just kinda handy. So, I mount him and head over that way.
Well, that stud had run that little mare down pretty good, she was lather up from her ears to her hocks.

I build me a loop and hulahanded that ol' gentleman, jerk the slack up to his jaw and take me a dally or two. I's got him trottin' along toward the gate everythings goin' fine, till this outlaw takes a notion to mount my saddle horse...

Out of the corner of my eye I see that big long headed parrot mouthed rescal showin' me how old his is, thinking he's goinin' to take a plug out of my shoulder. I draw my revolver and snap a shot in his general direction, well that's when things got sideways quick.

Somehow I dropped my coils and loose a wrap on the horn, that twine is smokin' the mulehide all the way to the knot...Ol' devil runs off, jumps fence and up the road he goes with a darn good 60' rope. Ride back to headquarters, get pickup truck and rifle. Find stud standing at neighbor's gate, neighbor want to know what I want.
"I want my rope back!"

Su Amigo,
Dave

 

[66TAS]

ROFL!!!!
Somehow I just knew you were messed up in the shenanigans with the outhouse! Great story!!