Chapter XI. A Turkey Bake

by Andy Adams

　　Deweese and I came back from Mexico during Christmas week. On reachingLas Palomas, we found Frank Nancrede and Add Tully, the latter beingalso a trail foreman, at the ranch. They were wintering in San Antonio,and were spending a few weeks at our ranch, incidentally on the lookoutfor several hundred saddle horses for trail purposes the coming spring.We had no horses for sale, but nevertheless Uncle Lance had prevailed onthem to make Las Palomas headquarters during their stay in the country.The first night at the ranch, Miss Jean and I talked until nearlymidnight. There had been so many happenings during my absence that itrequired a whole evening to tell them all. From the naming of Anita'sbaby to the rivalry between John and Theodore for the favor of FrancesVaux, all the latest social news of the countryside was discussed. MissJean had attended the dance at Shepherd's during the fall, and had heardit whispered that Oxenford and Esther were anything but happy. Thelatest word from the Vaux ranch said that the couple had separated; atleast there was some trouble, for when Oxenford had attempted to forceher to return to Oakville, and had made some disparaging remarks, TonyHunter had crimped a six-shooter over his head. I pretended not to beinterested in this, but secretly had I learned that Hunter had killedOxenford, I should have had no very serious regrets.Uncle Lance had promised Tully and Nancrede a turkey hunt during theholidays, so on our unexpected return it was decided to have it at once.There had been a heavy mast that year, and in the encinal ridges to theeast wild turkeys were reported plentiful. Accordingly we set out thenext afternoon for a camp hunt in some oak cross timbers which grewon the eastern border of our ranch lands. Taking two pack mules andTiburcio as cook, a party of eight of us rode away, expecting to remainovernight. Uncle Lance knew of a fine camping spot about ten miles fromthe ranch. When within a few miles of the place, Tiburcio was sent onahead with the pack mules to make camp. "Boys, we'll divide up here,"said Uncle Lance, "and take a little scout through these cross timbersand try and locate some roosts. The camp will be in those narrows aheadyonder where that burnt timber is to your right. Keep an eye open forjavalina signs; they used to be plentiful through here when therewas good mast. Now, scatter out in pairs, and if you can knock down agobbler or two we'll have a turkey bake to-night."Dan Happersett knew the camping spot, so I went with him, and togetherwe took a big circle through the encinal, keeping alert for game signs.Before we had gone far, evidence became plentiful, not only of turkeys,but of peccary and deer. Where the turkeys had recently been scratching,many times we dismounted and led our horses--but either the turkeys weretoo wary for us, or else we had been deceived as to the freshness of thesign. Several successive shots on our right caused us to hurry out ofthe timber in the direction of the reports. Halting in the edge of thetimber, we watched the strip of prairie between us and the next cover tothe south. Soon a flock of fully a hundred wild turkeys came running outof the encinal on the opposite side and started across to our ridge.Keeping under cover, we rode to intercept them, never losing sight ofthe covey. They were running fast; but when they were nearly halfwayacross the opening, there was another shot and they took flight, sailinginto cover ahead of us, well out of range. But one gobbler was so fatthat he was unable to fly over a hundred yards and was still in theopen. We rode to cut him off. On sighting us, he attempted to rise; buthis pounds were against him, and when we crossed his course he was sowinded that our horses ran all around him. After we had both shot a fewtimes, missing him, he squatted in some tall grass and stuck his headunder a tuft. Dismounting, Dan sprang on to him like a fox, and he wasours. We wrung his neck, and agreed to report that we had shot himthrough the head, thus concealing, in the absence of bullet wounds, ourpoor marksmanship.When we reached the camp shortly before dark, we found the others hadalready arrived, ours making the sixth turkey in the evening's bag. Wehad drawn ours on killing it, as had the others, and after supper UncleLance superintended the stuffing of the two largest birds. While thiswas in progress, others made a stiff mortar, and we coated each turkeywith about three inches of the waxy play, feathers and all. Opening ourcamp-fire, we placed the turkeys together, covered them with ashes andbuilt a heaping fire over and around them. A number of haunts had beenlocated by the others, but as we expected to make an early hunt in themorning, we decided not to visit any of the roosts that night. AfterUncle Lance had regaled us with hunting stories of an early day, thediscussion innocently turned to my recent elopement. By this time thescars had healed fairly well, and I took the chaffing in all good humor.Tully told a personal experience, which, if it was the truth, arguedthat in time I might become as indifferent to my recent mishap as anyone could wish."My prospects of marrying a few years ago," said Tully, lying fullstretch before the fire, "were a whole lot better than yours, Quirk. Butmy ambition those days was to boss a herd up the trail and get top-notchwages. She was a Texas girl, just like yours, bred up in Van ZandtCounty. She could ride a horse like an Indian. Bad horses seemed afraidof her. Why, I saw her once when she was about sixteen, take a blackstallion out of his stable,--lead him out with but a rope about hisneck,--throw a half hitch about his nose, and mount him as though hewas her pet. Bareback and without a bridle she rode him ten miles for adoctor. There wasn't a mile of the distance either but he felt the quirtburning in his flank and knew he was being ridden by a master. Herfather scolded her at the time, and boasted about it later."She had dozens of admirers, and the first impression I ever made on herwas when she was about twenty. There was a big tournament being given,and all the young bloods in many counties came in to contest for theprizes. I was a double winner in the games and contests--won a ropingprize and was the only lad that came inside the time limit as a lancer,though several beat me on rings. Of course the tournament ended with aball. Having won the lance prize, it was my privilege of crowning the'queen' of the ball. Of course I wasn't going to throw away such achance, for there was no end of rivalry amongst the girls over it. Thecrown was made of flowers, or if there were none in season, of live-oakleaves. Well, at the ball after the tournament I crowned Miss Kate witha crown of oak leaves. After that I felt bold enough to crowd matters,and things came my way. We were to be married during Easter week,but her mother up and died, so we put it off awhile for the sake ofappearances."The next spring I got a chance to boss a herd up the trail for JesseEllison. It was the chance of my life and I couldn't think of refusing.The girl put up quite a mouth about it, and I explained to her that ahundred a month wasn't offered to every man. She finally gave in, butstill you could see she wasn't pleased. Girls that way don't sabe cattlematters a little bit. She promised to write me at several points whichI told her the herd would pass. When I bade her good-by, tears stood inher eyes, though she tried to hide them. I'd have gambled my life on herthat morning."Well, we had a nice trip, good outfit and strong cattle. Uncle Jessmounted us ten horses to the man, every one fourteen hands or better,for we were contracted for delivery in Nebraska. It was a five months'drive with scarcely an incident on the way. Just a run or two and a drydrive or so. I had lots of time to think about Kate. When we reachedthe Chisholm crossing on Red River, I felt certain that I would finda letter, but I didn't. I wrote her from there, but when we reachedCaldwell, nary a letter either. The same luck at Abilene. Try as Imight, I couldn't make it out. Something was wrong, but what it was, wasanybody's guess."At this last place we got our orders to deliver the cattle at thejunction of the middle and lower Loup. It was a terror of a long drive,but that wasn't a circumstance compared to not hearing from Kate. I keptall this to myself, mind you. When our herd reached its destination,which it did on time, as hard luck would have it there was a hitch inthe payment. The herd was turned loose and all the outfit but myselfsent home. I stayed there two months longer at a little place calledBroken Bow. I held the bill of sale for the herd, and would turn itover, transferring the cattle from one owner to another, on the wordfrom my employer. At last I received a letter from Uncle Jesse sayingthat the payment in full had been made, so I surrendered the finaldocument and came home. Those trains seemed to run awful slow. But I gothome all too soon, for she had then been married three months."You see an agent for eight-day clocks came along, and being a strangertook her eye. He was one of those nice, dapper fellows, wore a rednecktie, and could talk all day to a woman. He worked by the rule ofthree,--tickle, talk, and flatter, with a few cutes thrown in for apelon; that gets nearly any of them. They live in town now. He's awindmill agent. I never went near them."Meanwhile the fire kept pace with the talk, thanks to Uncle Lance'swatchful eye. "That's right, Tiburcio, carry up plenty of good lena,"he kept saying. "Bring in all the black-jack oak that you can find; itmakes fine coals. These are both big gobblers, and to bake them untilthey fall to pieces like a watermelon will require a steady fire tillmorning. Pile up a lot of wood, and if I wake up during the night, trustto me to look after the fire. I've baked so many turkeys this way thatI'm an expert at the business.""A girl's argument," remarked Dan Happersett in a lull of talk,"don't have to be very weighty to fit any case. Anything she does isjustifiable. That's one reason why I always kept shy of women. I admitthat I've toyed around with some of them; have tossed my tug on one ortwo just to see if they would run on the rope. But now generally I keepa wire fence between them and myself if they show any symptoms of beingon the marry. Maybe so I was in earnest once, back on the Trinity. Butit seems that every time that I made a pass, my loop would foul or failto open or there was brush in the way.""Just because you have a few gray hairs in your head you think you'reawful foxy, don't you?" said Uncle Lance to Dan. "I've seen lots ofindependent fellows like you. If I had a little widow who knew hercards, and just let her kitten up to you and act coltish, inside a weekyou would he following her around like a pet lamb.""I knew a fellow," said Nancrede, lighting his pipe with a firebrand,"that when the clerk asked him, when he went for a license to marry, ifhe would swear that the young lady--his intended--was over twenty-one,said: 'Yes, by G--, I'll swear that she's over thirty-one.'"At the next pause in the yarning, I inquired why a wild turkey alwaysdeceived itself by hiding its head and leaving the body exposed. "Thatit's a fact, we all know," volunteered Uncle Lance, "but the why andwherefore is too deep for me. I take it that it's due to running to necktoo much in their construction. Now an ostrich is the same way, all neckwith not a lick of sense. And the same applies to the human family. Youtake one of these long-necked cowmen and what does he know outside ofcattle. Nine times out of ten, I can tell a sensible girl by merelylooking at her neck. Now snicker, you dratted young fools, just as ifI wasn't talking horse sense to you. Some of you boys haven't got muchmore sabe than a fat old gobbler.""When I first came to this State," said June Deweese, who had beenquietly and attentively listening to the stories, "I stopped over on theNeches River near a place called Shot-a-buck Crossing. I had an uncleliving there with whom I made my home the first few years that I livedin Texas. There are more or less cattle there, but it is principally acotton country. There was an old cuss living over there on that riverwho was land poor, but had a powerful purty girl. Her old man owned anynumber of plantations on the river--generally had lots of niggerrenters to look after. Miss Sallie, the daughter, was the belle ofthe neighborhood. She had all the graces with a fair mixture of theweaknesses of her sex. The trouble was, there was no young man inthe whole country fit to hold her horse. At least she and her folksentertained that idea. There was a storekeeper and a young doctor at thecounty seat, who it seems took turns calling on her. It looked like itwas going to be a close race. Outside of these two there wasn't a one ofus who could touch her with a twenty-four-foot fish-pole. We simply tookthe side of the road when she passed by."About this time there drifted in from out west near Fort McKavett,a young fellow named Curly Thorn. He had relatives living in thatneighborhood. Out at the fort he was a common foreman on a ranch. Talkabout your graceful riders, he sat a horse in a manner that left nothingto be desired. Well, Curly made himself very agreeable with all thegirls on the range, but played no special favorites. He stayed in thecountry, visiting among cousins, until camp meeting began over at theAlabama Camp Ground. During this meeting Curly proved himself quite agallant by carrying first one young lady and the next evening someother to camp meeting. During these two weeks of the meeting, some oneintroduced him to Miss Sallie. Now, remember, he didn't play her for afavorite no more than any other. That's what miffed her. She thought heought to."One Sunday afternoon she intimated to him, like a girl sometimes will,that she was going home, and was sorry that she had no companion for theride. This was sufficient for the gallant Curly to offer himself to heras an escort. She simply thought she was stealing a beau from some othergirl, and he never dreamt he was dallying with Neches River royalty. Butthe only inequality in that couple as they rode away from the ground wasan erroneous idea in her and her folks' minds. And that difference wasin the fact that her old dad had more land than he could pay taxes on.Well, Curly not only saw her home, but stayed for tea--that's the namethe girls have for supper over on the Neches--and that night carried herback to the evening service. From that day till the close of the sessionhe was devotedly hers. A month afterward when he left, it was the talkof the country that they were to be married during the coming holidays."But then there were the young doctor and the storekeeper still in thegame. Curly was off the scene temporarily, but the other two were ridingtheir best horses to a shadow. Miss Sallie's folks were pulling like baysteers for the merchant, who had some money, while the young doctor hadnothing but empty pill bags and a saddle horse or two. The doctor wasthe better looking, and, before meeting Curly Thorn, Miss Sallie hadfavored him. Knowing ones said they were engaged. But near the close ofthe race there was sufficient home influence used for the storekeeper totake the lead and hold it until the show down came. Her folks announcedthe wedding, and the merchant received the best wishes of his friends,while the young doctor took a trip for his health. Well, it developedafterwards that she was engaged to both the storekeeper and the doctorat the same time. But that's nothing. My experience tells me that a girldon't need broad shoulders to carry three or four engagements at thesame time."Well, within a week of the wedding, who should drift in to spendChristmas but Curly Thorn. His cousins, of course, lost no time ingiving him the lay of the land. But Curly acted indifferent, and nevereven offered to call on Miss Sallie. Us fellows joked him about his girlgoing to marry another fellow, and he didn't seem a little bit put out.In fact, he seemed to enjoy the sudden turn as a good joke on himself.But one morning, two days before the wedding was to take place, MissSallie was missing from her home, as was likewise Curly Thorn from theneighborhood. Yes, Thorn had eloped with her and they were married thenext morning in Nacogdoches. And the funny thing about it was, Curlynever met her after his return until the night they eloped. But he hada girl cousin who had a finger in the pie. She and Miss Sallie were asthick as three in a bed, and Curly didn't have anything to do but playthe hand that was dealt him."Before I came to Las Palomas, I was over round Fort McKavett and metCurly. We knew each other, and he took me home and had me stay overnightwith him. They had been married then four years. She had a baby on eachknee and another in her arms. There was so much reality in life thatshe had no time to become a dreamer. Matrimony in that case was a goodleveler of imaginary rank. I always admired Curly for the indifferenthand he played all through the various stages of the courtship. He neverknew there was such a thing as difference. He simply coppered the playto win, and the cards came his way.""Bully for Curly!" said Uncle Lance, arising and fixing the fire, as therest of us unrolled our blankets. "If some of my rascals could makea ten strike like that it would break a streak of bad luck which hasovershadowed Las Palomas for over thirty years. Great Scott!--but thosegobblers smell good. I can hear them blubbering and sizzling in theirshells. It will surely take an axe to crack that clay in the morning.But get under your blankets, lads, for I'll call you for a turkeybreakfast about dawn."