Old Habits Die Hard

The old wrangler gathered up his gear; slowly packing each item carefully in his saddlebags. He poured the last of his coffe over the ashes of the fire pit, making sure there were no live coals to jump to life in a breeze. He bent to pick up his bedding, rolling it slowly and checking it for scorpions, spiders and snakes before he tied it securely to the back of his saddle.

With his boot heel, he spread the ashes around a bit for one last check before he covered everything with the dirt he'd dug out the night before.

"Can't be causin' any fires now, can we, Tully?"

The large brown gelding perked his ears up as he heard his name before softly snorting out the dust in his nostrils.

With one final check of the camp, the wrangler, satisfied with the pristine appearance of the mesquite and cactus grove which had provided shelter from the elements, mounted his horse.

He gave a soft click of his tongue and the horse headed out in a brisk walk. As the horse moved westward, the wrangler spoke to his mount about the old days. Tully, ever the devoted listener, settled into a good pace as he continued on.

"Yessir, Tully, I remember the days when a feller could hardly catch forty winks from all the cattle drives what used to come through here. Ever coupla weeks, a new herd headin inta the valley fer butcher, an them were some goodun's."

"Why, it were nuthin to wrangle seven thousand head over the pass and down the valley floor. Nope, nuthin a'tall." The old man loosened up his faded blue kerchief, dabbed some water from his canteen onto it, then wiped the dust from his tanned face.

"Heck-fire. I remember one year, round seventy-five or eighty I'm thinkin, there was that new feller from up Oregon way, tried runnin some of them old Mexican bulls up the coast to bring in some new blood fer his herd. Yep, he learnt quick-like that you cain't run twenty thousand head without stirrin up a ruckus!"

Tully's ears swivelled back as the wrangler grabbed his hat from his head and slapped it across his knee. He heard his rider chuckling softly then resumed his steady forward pace.

"Yeah howdy. Them bulls were so mad to fight each other and everthin in their paths, I don't rightly figure none of em made it to Oregon breathin!" The wrangler slapped his hat one more time for good measure, then plopped it back on his head.

"I tell you, we had some of the best vittles a chuck wagon could muster, that was fer sure. Steak all the way from Mexico ever night. Whooo, that was a good un' to wrangle on. Don't know ifn that outfit still runs outa Oregon or not, Tully. We'll hafta head over that way come Spring and check it out."

The horse and rider moved continually westward for three more days before they met up with another rider, a young man, on the trail.

"Afternoon, stranger."

The young man appeared to be in his early twenties, had on a new pair of jeans, a fancy red-checked flannel shirt, and boots that gleamed in the overhead sun. His hat, a bright white felt with a matching red-checked band around it, had no smudges on it either.

The wrangler, knowing a city boy when he saw one, patiently waited for the fellow to answer back. He held Tully's reigns in his left hand which rested on the saddle horn, while he un-slung his canteen from the pommel with his right.

After a carefull perusal of the old wrangler, the man responded.

"Hello. Name's Drake. Merril Drake. How d'you do?" Drake held out his gloved hand then leaned forward to meet the wrangler in a firm shake.

"Howdy, Drake. Thirsty?" With a flick of the reigns, Tully moved half the distance to the city boy's horse and the wrangler held out the canteen.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I was a bit parched. Thank you kindly mister..."

"No mister here, jes call me Happy. M'Christian name is Seth, but ever one here bouts calls me Happy. This here's Tully, best cow pony anywhere!"

Happy slapped Tully's neck affectionately then reslung the canteen over his pommel once again. "Where you headin to Drake?"

"Well, I was hoping to make it to a little place called Banjo Canyon."

"Banjo Canyon?" Happy scratched his head, then winked at Drake. "Never heard a sucha place, an I been pert near everwhere round heres abouts."

Drake looked perplexed. "Well, the Ranger at the Park Entrance said Banjo Canyon was about five miles south on this trail. Supposed to have some kind of old hanging tree and a plaque, as well as an old mine shaft and some picnic tables, and a good watering hole for the horse."

It was Happy's turn to look confused. He knew the canyon the greenhorn spoke of, but it wasn't called Banjo Canyon, and he sure didn't know about any plaques and picnic tables. He figured he'd better get this city boy back to a city before his brain fried completely out here in the sun.

Happy convinced Drake to turn around and accompany him to the trail head, about a thirty-minute ride away, and he'd give the boy some clear instructions on how to get to the next town.

"Well, son. Get outa this heat quick-like, and don't stray from the trail. Yer horse'll smell the waterin' hole long afore you do an he'll get you home safe." Happy shook Drake's hand, then turned Tully and trotted away.

As Drake rode, one of the Park Rangers pulled up next to him in a Jeep and asked how his ride was going.

"Well, I tried finding Banjo Canyon, but a nice old cowboy said I was heading in the wrong direction and brought me back this way. Shared some water with me then headed on down the trail. Seemed a nice enough guy. He a ranger here, too?"

The Ranger's eyes widened a bit, then a smile inched across his face. "Nope. Happy and Tully are sort of residents here, you might say. They died about a hundred years ago, in a flash flood that caught them unawares only about a mile from where you're at right now. Enjoy the rest of your ride." The Ranger pulled away slowly, waving farewell.

Happy looked at the dust trail in the distance and wondered how many head of cattle was pushing through the valley. "Come on, Tully, we got some miles to cross before the sun sets."

Horse and rider slowly disappeared into the sagebrush and cactus, as if they'd never been there at all save for the set of hoofprints which came to an abrupt end in the middle of the trail.

~end~

Alternate ending: .....Happy trails to you, Tul-ly meet again.....

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