A Roustabout In Montana

Anyways looking back I think about the mare before anything else.

Don’t get me wrong. I think about the Grinder and his sumbitch missus and the Crawfords, especially Miss Jenny, as well. But the mare was something special. When a busted hip ended my rodeo days it took a while to get back on anything but the mare saw me through it.

She was listed as Fair Wind and old Crawford said if you went back far enough she was related to one of the greatest cutting horses ever, Marion’s Girl. Fair Wind, or Breezy as she was known, could work a herd like an old schoolmarm, cutting one out or bringing one back, sometimes jiggling sideways to limit the cow’s moves. All I ever wanted in life was to be around horses and when I sat on Breezy I was in paradise. Soft hands is all you need Miss Jenny said. I said mine were as soft as a rhinos horn and she laughed. A light touch is what I meant she said.

Her younger brother Joey, a bit lippy, had a horse as well, a colt called Gospel. He looked like he might boil over sometimes but just wanted to run and was pretty quick.

After the fall I worked a lot of fairs and rodeos, even a circus, but there aint much money in being an odd job man or roustabout. I drifted up through Milwaukee and then Montana where someone in Billings mentioned a rundown farm that might be worth a looksee.

No one knew much about the Grinder, only that he’d been in Nam and then come back to the steelworks in Houston. He’d have stayed there I reckon but then all a sudden his brother ups and dies, just like that, leaving him this patch of land.

I was tired, you know? Real dog tired and I wanted something for a while not just a few weeks. The Grinder, not very tall and a bit hunched over like an old boxer looked me in the eye and said he didn’t need no more time wasters. Yeah, well, he suddenly got lucky.

Like his brother he was no farmer and knew very little about the stock. My guess was that the sumbitch handled the wages which was funny because it was only me for a while. She took care of the milking at the same time every day soon after sunup. But she never spoke to me, that’s all I can say.

Once the Grinder trusted me I got some steel posts and replaced the rotting wooden ones. There aint a cow in the world that wont turn a small opening into a big one to find out whats on the other side if she can, so I rewired with much stronger wire good and tight with the bottom line close to the ground so she couldnt dig. The grass, beaten down where she’d been, picked up. The steel posts sparkled under the Montana sun and I turned to let the rays hit my back and hip. The Grinder very nearly smiled.

Of course old Crawford hadnt minded the cows straying onto his land because he thought he’d have our bit one day anyway and had made two offers. But it meant I saw more of Breezy and she soon sorted out the visitors. I suppose grim and hard-bitten as some of the parties were we all got on pretty well. Until market day when I nearly loused things up.

It wernt a big rodeo day in Billings which was fine by me cos I felt a bit jealous and the prize-money was quite something. Anyways I travelled up with the Crawfords and we sold well, easily reaching and passing our reserve. Theyd have headed home then but Joey had Gospel in a rough and tumble race open to all sorts. The field was limited to twenty and you never seen such a crew. Big willing horses that were working fit if you know what I mean but not racing fit. I loved all the different breeds nudging and bumping each other, chesnuts, roans, piebalds and greys. A half decent quarter horse would have won by a furlong but there wernt nuthin like that lining up.

Collins was there in his long white tailcoat and thin black tie. Fancied hisself as a southern gent but fell a bit short. And he didnt trade as a bookie though he’d accept a bet, always cash and as straight as they come.

I aint no gambler but I spun him a line saying Mister Crawford wanted to support the boy and a hundred bucks would be no great loss to him. First six would be quite something. Collins aint no soft touch but the hard business man in him gained the day. He’d get it back anyway when the cowboys who lost their hard earnt cash to the poker sharks in the Lazy Steer later on came to him the next morning. He lent money at a decent rate and kept records. Sure, two or three cowboys would welsh and disappear but he still did well enough and worked plenty of other markets as well as Billings.

A hundred dollars first three he said. Settle up later but show me the hundred which I did. We nodded and parted. Theres no real warmth to Collins but I like him.

Joey did well and no burly cowpoke tried to force him out. Gospel led and it was only late on the second circuit that he came off a true line. I roared at Joey to put his arms down but it was deafening by then and he was caught yards from the finishing pole. He was third all right.

Walls have ears so just keep quiet Collins said later. You played a good hand there, look after yourself and I’m sorry you don’t sit them killer bulls no more, I guess you miss it.

Sometimes you just want a mood to keep on, you know? I’m no gambler and no drinker neither but I wandered into the Lazy Steer and had a couple of Jim Beams with a beer alongside. And like drinkers say I had no idea of time passing. There was country music like there always is and some girls singing along. Theyd be followed later on by a coupla whores on the lookout for easy money.

I dont know much about the rest but I told a guy to stop touching one of the girls and he didnt bother to reply but just swung a punch which missed by miles as I raised an arm. The sheriff had a couple of deputies in there, one of them too keen and too young with pimples on his chin. You can figure out the rest. The drunk fell asleep and snored like a pig with a hangover as soon as the jail door clanged shut behind us.

The sheriff himself was there at 5am. We havent had you down to the jail before son he said. You mustve had something on your mind. Don’t let it grow.

The next move was easy enough. I still held plenty of money and had to get back to the farm, walking for two hours in the sun which burnt like blazes. There was no sign of anyone and I stood down by the new fence looking at grass which was good and green on both sides of the wire. Standin on tiptoe I could see Breezy takin a pick and yesterdays hero rolling around. The Grinder approached silently and just stood there looking in the same direction. I feared the worst.

I hear you tied a few on last night he said. I nodded and muttered sorry. Here it comes but I’m wrong. Yeah well, you been working every hour and theres still plenty on. I sure as hell caint do it all and every Sitting Bull needs a Crazy Horse. Holy morony I’d never have thought of something like that in a hundred years. Anyway find a clean shirt and git yourself up the house for some breakfast he goes on and I just said thank you and turned to go.

I’d only gone a few yards when he says Casey! And I think oh no, no, please dont change your mind now. Tell the missus I’m on my way. I know what you and the boys call her but I dont pay it no mind. Her name’s Helga by the way. She’s German and very shy. Had a hard life.

I nodded and cleaned myself up, standing under the crappy shower in the bunkhouse and thinking German? I got no schoolin but I remembered from somewhere that you had to shift your butt pretty damn quick if your face dint fit there. Maybe the old gal ended up here and then met someone whod taken on the Viet Cong and come home nearly mute?

We never really know people I guess but I never referred to her as the sumbitch again. I stayed another two years but up in Alaska I never get much news though I did hear that Miss Jenny was at college in Europe and Joey had put the farm on the market when old Crawford had a stroke. I imagine the Grinder and Helga stayed put.

I’ve got a small stash put by and they let me have the flat above the store next to the gas station where I work. And all the stars that never were are parking cars and pumping gas, remember that one? Well, I was never a star I was just a guy who could sit on a brahma bull for the eight seconds it took to make you a man and then I became a roustabout. It aint much but I got a regular gal now and I can still put up a tent or paper a room quicker’n you can lace your boots. And that aint bad is it?

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