Chapter 13

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“Abe and I are both men. A-ha think about that!” babbled Bart.

“Sure, let’s do that. Let’s think about it!” Colt replied, wondering where this conversation was going.

Their ma had picked an assortment of wild berries. She knew what berries to avoid and left them for the birds to eat.  She baked a “Very Berry pie,” and it was cooling on the sideboard in the room they called the kitchen.

It wasn’t Sunday, but Hatti prepared chicken with buttered roasted potatoes and celery/onions.  It was extraordinary how good a cook she was. Supper was usually a plain stew but tonight was, “Sunday go to meetin,” different.

“Boys, I have some news for y’all,” said their pa.

“Is it good stuff or one of those nothing worth remembering things?”

“That sounds sorta ‘smart-ackey’ to me,” replied pa. “What’s whirling around in your head?”

“Nothin pa I’m okay,” Colt assured him. “I didn’t mean to mouth off!”

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“Yep, I’m sure – what is the news that you want Bart and me to know?”

A bull is coming by train tomorrow from Omaha. I picked up the telegram in town this morning, and that’s what she said, ‘TOMORROW’ - He is a young bull, and we will raise him here on the farm,” said pa.

“What time does the train get in,” asked Bart.

“That’s the part - I don’t know! There is a morning train and a late afternoon train. The telegram said, ‘just arriving,’ but no mention of which train. I think that is kinda dumb, if you ask me.”

“So that means,” - began Bart.

“It is dumb, but that means you have to stay in town tonight, to meet the early train. Earl said you could bed down at the livery stable. It’s not bad sleeping and plenty of clean straw to sleep on.” 

“Colt and I will do it, Pa. No need for you to go, unless you want too!”

“That’s what your ma said.” She said, “Chester, no need for you to be doin what our two grown boys can handle.”

“She’s right, we can do it. The stall is ready for the bull and all we need now is Ralph.”

“Who’s Ralph?”

“Paaa,” grinned Colt, cocking his head and raising one eyebrow.

“Dang, you’ve given him a name already!  You’ve given several animals around here a name.”

“That’s what I do, they gotta have a name!”

“I think he’s a little – touched.” Said Bart, “But I named a couple myself, so maybe we are all ‘shallow-touched’ in the head.”

“Nobody is “shallow” Choose another word Bart,” directed his ma.

“I’m, just funning.”

“Okay then,” replied his ma giving a scolding look, saying nothing more.

There is a world of difference between realism and pretend. Hatti always seemed to know the difference. Call it instinct or call it, common sense. Just the same, they are two different things.

Even when painful we have to do, what we should do was Chester’s view of realism, when it came to the farm. He was a man born to the soil and working was the right thing, at any age. He wanted his boys, to meet the morning train. Always something needed doing.

Colt was excited to go to town, but careful not to show it. He knew questions with no answers, ma would ask. He hoped for a letter from Abe, although receiving a letter was most unlikely.

Bart longed to spend some time with a saloon whore. Until that fantasy was unchained from his ‘wanting,’ screwing was his constant goal. Hatti and Chester knew nothing about Bart’s infatuation with anyone for random sex.

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The talking finally came to a quiet end. “We better get our bedrolls together and get started for town.”

“It’s early, but a good idea, to get started,” agreed Chester.

“Stay away from the ‘Ranch Saloon.’ That place is drunks, gamblers, and wild women. If you want a beer, go to the ‘Kat Saloon’ down Frontier Street, a fair piece. It’s not jumping with hussies,” advised their ma.

“Take a gun but don’t wear it in town. Leave it in your saddlebag. The six shooter is for protection along the trail,” said Chester.

“Protection, from what?” Colt questioned!

“Not injuns, you ninny, pa is talking about rattlers spookin the horses along the trail. Got to shoot the snake or possibly get bit.”

Moments later the two naughty brothers on horseback took the trail to ‘hopes and dreams’ longing to find it in town. They disappeared in the late afternoon sunset.

In town, Bart and colt headed straight to the Ranch saloon. They tied their horses to the hitching rail and pushed through the swinging doors.

The bar was crowded with cowboys hollering and finding fault with something or other. A few men had girls hanging around their necks being taken by hustlers with stupid giggles and fake smiles.

“Ma wouldn’t like this, but I do.” Bart mentioned, rushing to get inside. “I’m tired of hearing that saloon cowpokes, are not like other people. “They want whisky and girlie action what’s bad about that?”

“I’ll be glad to explain it! Colt replied.

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To be continued…