Depression by cmsix

Chapter 2

When I pulled off the county road toward my little rock house, I thought I'd made a wrong turn somehow, but I hadn't, because I could see the house. I just didn't know where the iron ore gravel road had come from.

I was surprised again when I saw the shed that Bob had found the time and weather to throw together. I looked it over after I parked my truck in the obvious carport section on the side. I knew it was for my truck because the gravel road ended there.

The barn was forty by sixty and had six stalls in the rear, and a twelve-foot wide central hall. There was a big tack near the front; on the other side of the hall there was an office, and a feed room.

The corrugated iron sheeting on the roof looked suspiciously new, and all the exterior walls were covered with board and batten, which at least looked used. I couldn't resist climbing up to check out the hayloft. It was completely floored with more used lumber and it was full of Coastal Bermuda hay.

The stalls were for horses, or mules, and they had wooden feed troughs with hayracks welded up out of five eights rebar. I could tell the stalls were meant for mules too, because there was a big Missouri mule in one.

In the tack room, I found a set of harness for the mule and a packsaddle rig. The mule was not dismayed to see me come into his new home unannounced, he just kept idly pulling hay from the rack and munching quietly.

The mule wasn't the biggest surprise in the new barn. That award went to the sixteen cubic foot chest type freezer that occupied a large part of the office area. Looking inside, I found it half full of wrapped and labeled beef and pork, along with six different pans containing frozen dishes that had computer printed labels along with instructions taped to the aluminum foil that sealed their tops.

I'd seen about all of it when I heard a vehicle approaching, so I went back outside and was standing under my new carport when George drove up.

"Bob got a little carried away with this project," George said, as soon as he got out.

"It is a lot more than I'd expected and it's certainly well built. I don't know how to thank you, but with the way my luck ran down in Shreveport, I can sure afford to pay for it now," I said.

"You won't believe it, but me an Ethel saw you on TV. Channel Six did a piece about the tournament on the ten o'clock news one night, and there you were, sittin' at the final table," he said.

"I think I remember someone with a TV shoulder cam now that you mention it. I did good enough in the tournament, but I found a new calling after I busted out," I said, grinning.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Where do you think all those guys go after they get knocked out?" I asked.

"Home, I guess."

"Some of them do, but a lot of 'em ain't lost enough money yet, so they hang around a few days and play in private cash games. Lucky for me there were some still there," I told him.

"I never even thought of that."

"Me neither, but I'd barely cashed out before somebody asked me into one. I don't want to brag, but I cleared over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars while I was gone," I said.

"Oh," he said, and he looked slightly upset for some reason I didn't understand.

"I guess you'll be moving down there now," he said.

"What? Not a chance. I'm glad to know I can probably make some money somewhere if I need it, but the way I figure, I won't need any more for the next three or four years. I don't have much to spend it on," I said.

George couldn't help smiling his widest at that, but he didn't say anything more about it.

"I guess you found the freezer and food Ethel sent down here," he said.

"I did, and it was a big surprise too."

"She decided she had to have stand up freezers now, it's gettin' so it's hard for her to bend over and fool around in a chest type anymore. We didn't have a place for that one after the two new ones got delivered from town, so we hoped you wouldn't mind if we gave it to ya.

"I hope you'll try to take it like a man, but I'm afraid that Ethel has decided she needs to make sure you got plenty to eat down here. That ain't all either; she's making noises about you needin' to come up for Sunday dinner. I'll try to settle her down about it if you can't," he said.

"Just tell me what time to show up. I haven't been to a real Sunday dinner in years but I'm pretty sure it won't hurt me a bit," I said, and strangely, I knew I meant it.

"I guess you found Jasper too?" he asked.

"Is that the mule's name?"

"Yep. Bob thought you might want him to tote stuff for ya if you ended up having to stay out overnight foolin' with the coyotes," he said.

"I wouldn't have thought of it on my own, but that is a great idea. It's always easier to get 'em early in the morning or right around sunset."

"That's what Bob thought too. We didn't bring a horse down here cause we figured you'd want to pick out your own. Have you got any tack?" he asked.

"Nope, not a bit."

"That's ok, we got plenty, if you find a saddle you like in it. If ya don't, a guy comes 'round with a tack trailer 'bout ever month or two. He hit's us on his way between horse auctions," George said.

"And if ya need a place to shoot in any of your guns, or just want to bust a few caps, we got a little range cobbled up not far from the house, you can use it anytime ya want, we had old Skeeter, the guy that put the gravel on your road, push us up a big backstop with his dozer."

"That sounds like a hell of a deal, I'm sure I'll be making noise out there sooner or later."

"Good. Nobody uses it much anymore 'cept Bob's boys, Dave and Chuck. They like to burn a bunch of powder when they get in the mood," he said, laughing about it.

"We'll probably get along fine then."

"So I can tell Ethel that you'll be by Sunday, at one?" he asked.

"I'll be there, and maybe Bob and you can show me where to start lookin' for those coyotes."

"We can for a fact. I'll see ya Sunday.

"Uh oh, there's one thing I forgot to tell ya," he said, looking a little sheepish. "I was poking around in my desk, up to the house, and I came across another key to your front door. I made the mistake of mentioning it to Ethel, and she made me bring her down here so she could snoop around. I hope you won't call the law on her, but I can probably bail her out if ya do."

"Don't be silly. I hope she wasn't too upset about my housekeeping."

"I ain't gonna say nothing else. I'll just give you this key so she won't be tempted again, and I think I should move along before you see what she made us do," he said, grinning when he handed me the key and then taking off.

I couldn't think of a thing she could have done that would make me upset after all the food she'd sent me. I could probably get by for six months on the frozen pork and beef, not to mention the lasagna, meatloaf, and other country style meals ready to warm take a ride in the microwave.

I wasn't upset at all when I walked in, but Ethel had surely been busy while I was fucking around down in Shreveport. My airbed was gone and there was what looked like an antique four-poster bed with a canopy that had - whatever you call the crap that looks like curtains to me - hanging down. I don't know what size you would call it, but it was bigger than a king size. I wondered how many women old Ethel thought I'd have moving in down here.

That wasn't even nearly all of it though. I had a new chest of drawers, and this one had two, six-high stacks of drawers. My rope for hanging clothes was replaced by two giant armoires, and I had a large vanity with a tall mirror and matching chair. Sadly, she didn't leave me any makeup. All of the bedroom items obviously matched each other.

There was a dining table and four chairs and it also seemed to go with the bedroom things. Thankfully she'd only scattered two armchairs and one sofa around. Of course, there wasn't that much extra room now.

It was all nice though, and it made the little shack seem almost like a real home. The new side-by-side refrigerator freezer caught my eye next and when I opened it I saw someone had filled both the refrigerator and the freezer with food.

My modest cabinet space was now overflowing with home canned foods, in jars with computer printed labels on each, and dishes. One of my drawers was now officially for cutlery and I had matching knives, forks, and spoons.

Ethel had been busy while I was down in Shreveport sinning. The bathroom was well stocked with towels and washrags, and the commode even had one of those toilet covers, and a matching toilet rug, not to mention the bath mat outside the shower's door.

I fixed myself a big supper and after eating I poked around in my new things, trying to get in my mind where everything was and what was a new arrival. I told myself that I needed to get that spare key back to Ethel as soon as possible. I couldn't think of any place where she had space for additions, but I wasn't taking any chances. I finally crawled into my new bed around nine PM.

I woke at five AM, right on the money. I had coffee made and was out in my lawn chair with my first mug when George came down my new driveway. I went inside, poured him a mug of coffee, and handed it to him as he got out of his truck.

"Thanks, don't tell Ethel, but you make better coffee than she does," he said, taking a sip and then removing a lawn chair of his own from the back of his pickup.

"You can bet that I'm never going to say a thing to Ethel that might make her mad. I couldn't believe how much nicer my house was when I went inside yesterday."

"She tolt me you wouldn't mind, but I was worried anyway," he said.

"Don't be," I said, reaching into my pocket for the spare key and handing it to him. "You need to give her this key back as soon as you get home, and you can tell her that anything she gets in the mood to do to my house is fine with me."

"Got anything on the program for today?" he asked, after a few minutes.

"Not really. I see I don't have to worry about finishing my mowing."

"Yeh, Dave and Chuck figured out that mowing was more fun than working on the barn and they nearly fought over turns on that Kubota. Funny, I don't ever member 'em liking it that well when I had it at my house," he said.

"I guess I'd better thank them too, when I meet them."

"I 'spect you'll meet most everyone tomorrow at dinner. And that brings up why I come down here so early this mornin'," he said.

"You don't need a reason to come down anytime."

"Well, I had one today anyhow. If ya got time, I think you should come on up to the house and see 'bout pickin' out a horse and some tack. I know damned well Ethel ain't gonna let you get away for it tomorrow. She don't pay no attention to going to church or the like, but if somthin' seems like work to her, she won't put up with doin' it on Sunday.

"I thought I could go ahead and show you where we've had coyote problems too, while you 'as up to the house," he said.

"Sounds like a deal to me. Think I've got time to fix a couple of eggs and some toast before we go?" I asked.

"Ya better not, Ethel's expectin' ya for breakfast."

George was right as rain about that. Breakfast was being put on the table by the time we got inside. I barely had time to meet Ethel before she showed me to a chair and brought me a plate, and Ethel had big plates.

I had five fried eggs, what looked like a pound of bacon and that much sausage too, hash browns and fresh baked biscuits, with plenty of coffee that I thought was a lot better than mine, no matter what George said. I had my work cut out for me for a while.

I also met Bob, Bob's wife Wanda, Chuck, Dave, and the ten men and two women that worked on the ranch, since all of them ate breakfast at the same time. I learned later that they all ate together for most meals.

After we'd finished, Bob and George took me into a big room that was obviously their office and showed me some aerial maps and topographical maps of their property. I was impressed, especially with the aerial photos.

They had two places marked where they'd lost stock and three more where they'd seen sign. After I got the lay of it, Bob led me to his desk and called up Google Earth on his big flat panel to give me another view of the area we'd been looking at. I was impressed. Of course I'd heard of the Internet but I didn't have any idea it had such things on it.

"Don't you have a computer?" Bob asked, after I mentioned it.

"No, I wouldn't know how to use one if I did," I said.

"Hah, that's just what I told him. I can tell ya right now that fightin' it ain't gonna do ya no good," George said.

"What?" I asked.

"Bob takes after his mama. You can expect to find one sittin' on your desk in a few days, specially since you gave me that key back for Ethel," George said, laughing at me now.

"But, I don't even have a desk," I said.

"You mean, you don't even have a desk, yet," George said, laughing at me some more.

"If you think I need a computer, I can go out to Wal-Mart and pick one up. I've seen them out there," I said.

Bob snorted and then told me not to waste my money on that junk.

"I'll get Whooper to build you one this week," he said.

"Who is Whooper," I asked.

"Down to the feed store in town. His daddy and momma own the place and he has his computer workshop in a corner not far from the front desk. He works on 'em between time when he ain't loadin' feed," George said.

It sounded like a joke to me at first, but when they kept on I figured out that they meant it. It had been a long time since I was in the feed store and it just didn't sound right. I shut up about it though and decided to drop in down there and see if they were pulling my leg.

We sat around drinking coffee and looking at maps for another half-hour or so, and then George led me out toward a big barn for a look at the horses. He has some nice ones.

I'd about decided that my best choice would be a big gray gelding that they called Simon. He was built well and moved nicely and like all of their horses, he was fat and slick. He must have been gelded early because his long nice neck hadn't developed the normal thickening that a stallion's usually does.

Of course, they led the best horse out last, a stallion. He had wider and more muscular forequarters than Simon, with bulging forearms, and his buttocks, thighs, and gaskins were simply outstanding. Even though he had a slightly thicker neck than Simon, his throatlatch was clean, and his all legs were straight, and looked almost perfect.

I could see his main detraction right away, but I certainly didn't mention it. He had a slight bulge on the bridge of his head, just below his eyes. It was the horse equivalent of a "Roman Nose" and that's what it's normally called.

He didn't really have much of one, but he didn't have the more desirable Arabian-type face. Still, his head was short and small, and his muzzle was trim. I actually thought that the near perfection of the rest of him made the slight show defect on his head stand out.

His coat and color were probably the best I'd ever seen. He was a dark, rich, sorrel and he practically shined. The star, strip, and snip enhanced the intelligent look in his eyes somehow, and the white socks on both rear legs and boots on the front ones just put chrome on his classy paint job.

He was spectacular, but I hadn't ridden in a long while, and I could still remember my old horsemanship mentor telling me, "It takes a professional to handle a stud horse."

"God, he's a beauty, but I think I'd better take Simon. I might live longer," I said.

"You're welcome to him if that's what you want, but I have to ask why you think he's better than Joe Bob, the stallion."

"He isn't better, in my opinion he isn't even close, even though Simon is an extra good horse himself. Simon hasn't got anything hanging that might steal his attention while I've got my mind on something else," I said.

"That's true, but Joe Bob is one of the easiest to handle stallions we've ever raised. He's a stud horse all right, and if he smells a mare in heat he will want some pussy, but he's never done anything stupid under a saddle because of it," George said.

"You make him sound tempting," I said.

"He ought to be. For my money he's the best horse on the place, and as far as a using horse, he can't be beat.

"We quit standing him to outside mares, except for people that already know about him and want him specifically. It wasn't because he ever threw a bad foal, it's just that he's as likely as not to gift 'em with that little bulge just below their eyes, and that kind of thing ain't in fashion now-a-days," he said.

"I might just take you up on him then, I almost never ride on the head anyway," I said, and I was glad I did.

It made George smile wide, and I could tell he had a little defensive streak about Joe Bob. He was right too; I'd probably be better off with the sorrel if I could handle him. Bob joined us then and he actually smiled himself when he learned I wanted Joe Bob.

"Ain't a doubt in my mind he's the best horse on this place, but rich dudes don't know much and they can't get by his head when they want their high priced mares poled.

"I'll tell ya somethin' else about him. We've never had another one as good at reinin', cuttin', and ropin' rolled up into one horse. Joe Bob's a using horse that just happens to look nearly perfect," he said.

"Guess we'd better send old Jeffry down there with him, it'd be better all 'round," George said.

"Who's Jeffry?" I asked.

"T'other mule, the one in the stall right by Joe Bob's," Bob said.

"Joe Bob is used to havin' Jasper on one side of him and Jeffry on t'other. They kinda keep him calmed down. He ain't raised a ruckus over Jasper being gone, but I kin tell he ain't liked it. We'll just send 'em both so the three of 'em can keep each other company," George said.

"Yeh, it won't hurt nothin' and it ain't near as bad as with Show Boy, he'll get in a snit in a heartbeat if he loses track of Blackie, his favorite goat," Bob said.

I didn't need another mule, hell, I probably didn't need the one I had, but it wouldn't be a problem. I knew exactly what they were talking about. It wasn't a bit strange for a horse, and especially a horse that stayed in a stall, to adopt what was more or less a pet. Years ago I'd owned a nice gelding that took up cribbing after his favorite barn cat got killed.

"I'll just go hook a trailer and we can load 'em up," George said.

"Don't bother, I said, I'll just ride Joe Bob and lead Jeffry. I might as well start gettin' to know 'em," I said.

George took me to the tack room then and showed me the saddles that no one was using. I spied the one I wanted right away. It was mostly a roper style, and the horn was even wrapped already to keep dallies from leaving wear marks. It looked every bit the working saddle, and it was the only one I'd ever seen made with rough out leather. There was a matching bridle laying over it.

When I told George I wanted to try it, he went to a different bridle that was hanging on the wall and removed the bit, brought it over and putts it on the bridle that went with my saddle.

"That's Joe Bob's favorite bit. I don't see what he likes about it myself. It's just a fairly plain stainless, low port, grazing bit, but he likes it. I'll tell ya somthin' else, he don't want no copper or sweet iron in his mouth if he can get out of it," George said.

"Hell, it's his mouth and if that's what he likes, I think he ought to have it," I said.

We took the tack out and saddled Joe Bob. While I was at it, George brought out a packsaddle, halter, and lead rope for Jeffry, and put it all on him. He took Jeffry out and tied him to a rail fence while I led Joe Bob out of the barn and climbed aboard.

It was a non-event for Joe Bob, as if he'd been expecting it. I nudged him with my heels and he walked off with a smooth step. I got a surprise when I urged him a little faster. He had a smother type of fast walk that would rival any Walking horse, but I could tell it wouldn't look the same. Hell, it didn't feel the same, but it covered more ground and it didn't shake me like a trot would have.

I urged him into a trot after a minute and even it was better than you'd expect out of a Quarter Horse, in fact it was nearly pleasant. I headed back toward the end of the barn, but George yelled at me.

"Take him out toward that open space over there and make him slow lope. I know he ain't supposed to have one, but he does and you won't believe how smooth it is."

I did it, and George was right. It was like a rocking chair. George let me get down when I came back this time.

"I told you he was the best horse on the place. How did you like that little fast walk he's got?" he asked.

"He's full of surprises. I've never ridden a horse that could do exactly that, and that slow lope was great too," I said.

"I can just tell that you and Joe Bob will get along fine. He likes you too, I can feel it," he said.

"Well that won't hurt nothin'."

"I knew you'd probably need a saddle scabbard, so I found this one and damned if I don't think it came with that saddle. It and the bags both if I remember right," he said, holding up the scabbard in one hand and wagging a set of saddlebags in the other.

I felt a little funny for a minute because, the scabbard was for a scoped rifle and for one with a damned big scope too. Unless I was wrong it would fit my Mauser perfectly, and it plainly matched the saddle and so did the bags. It was just funny that everything seemed to be working out so perfectly.

I tied the bags and the saddle scabbard on and then George returned with a long Mexican style riata, coiled up and ready to go. I tied it on too, and I was beginning to fear that I'd end up with so much stuff that poor Joe Bob couldn't carry it all.

When I finally got away, Joe Bob and Jeffry seemed to be glad to go somewhere. As soon as we got close to my house, they both smelled Jasper, and he smelled them when we were about halfway down my new road. Of course they all gave a loud hello, with both Jasper and Jeffry reminding me that when all was said and done, they were still jackasses at heart.

I'd started to notice, about the time I got home, that no matter what George said, something about the bit bothered Joe Bob. It wasn't a big thing, but he kept fiddling with it in his mouth and with his tongue every now and then. I let it go though, and put he and Jeffry away, with a scoop of whole oats each for Joe Bob and both mules, kind of a welcome home celebration.

When I went in the house I took the saddle scabbard with me and tried it out on my Mauser. I'd installed the ATN 4-12x80 D/NS scope that I'd bought in Shreveport with part of my winnings, though I hadn't sighted it in yet. No matter, it didn't need to be sighted in to make sure it would fit in the scabbard. It did, perfectly, almost as if it had been made for it, and since it was lined with sheepskin I didn't even have to worry about wear on my custom bluing job.

It was hard to shrug off the perfect fit to coincidence but what else could it be. Nothing, it couldn't possibly be anything else.

I didn't really have anything much to do this afternoon and so I drove back up to George's house to follow him around a little. He was glad to see me back and I figured he didn't have any more on his plate than I did.

We watched one of his trainers working with a young horse for a while, and it reminded me about Joe Bob's fiddling with the bit.

"George, are you sure you gave me the right bit for Joe Bob? You said it was the one he liked, but he fiddled with it a good bit."

"That one's his favorite ok. If you look around on the inside of the shanks you'll see we put his name on one of 'em," he said.

"Well, have you ever used him with a bosal?"

"Sure, he likes that a lot better, but I didn't mention it because I wasn't sure you'd like it. We always start them all with a bosal, of course, but Joe Bob just never really liked it when we put a bit in his mouth. He will work fine with one though, he just don't like it," he said.

"Well, I ain't got to wear it. Does he have a favorite bosal too?" I asked.

"Not exactly, but when we've used one, it's always been about a half inch plaited leather. He don't really care for rawhide, and he'll ignore rope if you let him. Course, a lotta the time he knows where he needs to be going better than the rider does, present company excepted, of course," George said.

"Might as well see if I can find one and try it on him," I said.

"Come on in the tack room and let's look around."

"We did, and we found a half-inch, sixteen-strand leather bosal within ten minutes, and George came up with a fiador that I'll swear matched the headstall and saddle I was using in five more. The bosal looked like it would fit Joe Bob perfectly.

They had a big roll of five-eights inch braded nylon rope and George said for me to take what I needed when I asked.

"I bought that whole thousand foot roll for ten bucks at the junk auction right before the horses started sellin' two weeks ago. We took a twenty-four foot gooseneck, thinkin' we'd find a few mares, but that damned roll of rope is the only thing we saw worth the money," George said, and then laughed.

"I've been to a lot of auctions like that. Remember when old Bobby used to have those auctions, for registered stock only, up there?"

"Remember 'em well, but that was two fires ago. You'd think they'd grease it where the insurance policy keeps rubbin' up against the buildin'. It'd cut down on the friction that keeps startin' them fires." George said, but even he couldn't laugh at that old joke, and he was the one that told it.

"Got a piece of one by twelve around here, and four small nails?" I asked.

"I know we got some two by stuff and a world of nails. What you need?" he asked.

"Any wide board would do for that matter, and I just need it for a few minutes, to tie the reins and lead rope knot for the bosal," I said, as I melted both ends on the twenty-five feet of nylon rope I'd cut off.

"I ain't trying to be nosey, John, but why do you need a board and nails to tie a few knots?" he asked.

"Cause I'm not good enough to tie it freehand, and it's only one knot," I said.

"You mean to tell me you can tie the real Spanish knot to make the reins and lead rope for that bosal?" George asked.

"I was able to last time I tried, and it was such a bitch to learn to tie in the first place that I don't think I've forgotten," I said, grinning.

"If you can tie it, or even try to, I'll find a whole sheet of plywood if it'll help, as long as you let me watch," he said.

We went looking for a board and it was the damnedest thing. We found a two foot one by twelve almost as soon as we went looking, and it was sittin' on a keg of number six finish nails. George found a claw hammer on a nearby shelf and in five minutes we were in business.

"Wouldn't you know it, I sold the book I found the instructions for this knot in at my yard sale. I'm sure I'll remember it though," I said.

"Ain't that the shits? I've only seen the real thing twice and never knew there was a book that told how to tie it. I wish I'd a come by your sale," George said.

"I'm pretty sure you can find the book in the library now. A woman that bought some of my furniture liked the bookcase, and she paid forty bucks extra for the books. She said she was gonna donate the books to the library and then write it all off on her taxes, even had me give her a receipt claiming the whole amount was for books.

"Damned if I'd told that around, even if I'd a done the same thing, but I did write it out for an extra hundred. If she was going to fuck the IRS, then I just had to do whatever I could to help," I said.

"Do ya member the name of the book?" he asked.

"I think it was, 'Encyclopedia of Rawhide and Leather Braiding" by Bruce Grant, but I'm not sure. I had several books about such, three or four of them were by a guy who raises and trains Paso Fina horses down in Florida, and his name might have been Dave Jones, but that's the best I can do at this late date. I only remember the name of the other one because it always struck me funny for a book about plaitin' and tyin' knots," I said.

"Ethel gives the library donations and books all the time, I'll bet she can find out for me. I'd like for Chuck and Dave to learn that," he said.

"I don't mind tryin' to show 'em how, but they'd probably do better if they looked in the book, if you can find it. It shows how to tie it freehand too, but I just couldn't figure it out, I don't think I've got enough fingers."

It took me thirty minutes to get it tied, but I was guessing at the length of the rein. I'd try it on Joe Bob and change it if it didn't suit me.

"I think you did it, it looks a lot better than most do. Looks like you did it on purpose, and most of 'em don't," he said.

I thanked him and went back to the house to try it. He let me have the board when I asked. I might need it again if the reins weren't right.

When I had the bosal on the headstall I gave Joe Bob a fitting and everything was perfect after I finished adjusting the Fiador. That wouldn't happen twice in ten years. Things seemed to be going fine today, so I saddled Joe Bob up again and took another test ride. It didn't take five minutes to know he liked the bosal a lot better than the bit, and I decided to keep using it on him unless he acted up.

I showed up at five until one the next day and they didn't waste any time putting food on the table, so I didn't waste any getting rid of what they put in front of me. It was probably a good thing, because Ethel didn't go for any funny business with Sunday dinner.

Chuck and Dave tried to start something between them once, but Ethel brought it to a screeching halt with barely more than a hard look. George told me later that the last time they played up at Sunday dinner, Ethel had made them eat their supper out in the barn, from horse trough. He laughed like hell about it, and then I did too.

It was mostly just sitting around and talking after lunch. The hands had all eaten with us, just like at the breakfast I'd been to, and when they took off after about an hour, I did too. I intended to go out and fart around with Joe Bob and the mules, but I'd eaten so much I was sleepy by the time I got home, so I took a nap.

My nap lasted about three hours, and after it was done it was suppertime, so I fixed a little something and ate it. It was too late to go out and mess with Joe Bob, so after feeding him and the mules their supper I went back in the house and back to bed.

The next morning I was up at three AM, fixed my breakfast and some coffee and after that was done, it was time to go show Joe Bob there was more to ranchin' than fucking, and knocking down fences. I poured a couple of scoops of whole oats into his trough, and then did the same for both mules. By the time I'd filled up their hay mangers, Joe Bob had polished off his oats, so it was on with the headstall and bosal, and out into the hall he came.

After saddling him, thirty minutes of riding out behind the barn had the sleep out of his eyes, so I tied him to the hitching rail Bob had provided and went into the house for the 8mm in its saddle scabbard and slung the web belt and Glock around my waist. I got a hundred rounds of 8mm cartridges and a few sighting targets too, plus my spotting scope.

Joe Bob and I just rode around killing time until the sun was up and then I rode to George and Ethel's house to let them know I was going to be sighting in the rifle. If it just so happened that Ethel invited me in for breakfast, well I wasn't in such a hurry that I didn't have time to be sociable. Like I said, it was depression that had troubled me, not stupidity.

After breakfast I wasn't sure that Joe Bob could still carry me, he did though and I made it to the backstop George had let Skeeter push up for practicing against.

There was a backstop all right, and they had metal target frames, distance markers, and a shooting bench with a roof over it, of course.

I had used an attachment for bore sighting to give me a rough center when I mounted the scope, so it wasn't too far off to begin with. It was hitting on the paper from the first shot and I kept on until I had it hitting on target, four and a half inches above the mark at a hundred yards. I moved back to the bench and fired from two hundred and it was right on the money.

The former Mauser would do MOA anytime and the damned scope was so clear that I could read the fine print on the targets from two hundred yards. I was impressed. I decided to ask George if it would wake them up from here if I tried out the night vision eyepiece before sunup in the morning.

After fifty rounds I figured it was as good as it was going to get. I love the rifle and the cartridge, but under that scope it was a little like a five thousand dollar saddle on Jasper's back.