SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE WESTERNER

Bein’ neighborly at the Mud Pump Bar

By Julie Carter

Some words are just fightin’ words and there is no way around it. This story is about one of those times.

Four west Texas cowpunchers had spent the week at the end of nowhere gathering and branding cattle. They were tired, cold and running on empty by the time they headed for home.

The eagle had flown that day and with a few spare coins in their pockets they were feeling a little flush. While not believing in government aid, they did believe in being neighborly. It’s the cowboy way.

Their justification was this. Colorado joined Texas making them neighbors. For a good while these four had been neighborly underwriting that pure Rocky Mountain spring water brewery. In fact, another wagon load had just been sent down the hill to Texas and these cowboys were feeling dutiful to their cause.

The first place they came to that looked like it would fit the bill and was in fact the only place between the prairie dog town fork of the Red River and home. It was called the Mud Pump Bar.

Not being totally unobservant, they had seen a little of the oil field activity in the area. Comment was limited to “those pump jacks make a good place for the cattle to shade up in the summer.”

That there might be “oilies” coming with this oil field activity had not yet crossed their consciousness.

The punchers parked their horse trailers out of the wind as best they could and proceeded into this fine establishment in an orderly fashion.

Now the Mud Pump Bar was a high class joint. Just last week they had changed out the sawdust on the floor and there were several new egg crates on the ceiling. There was a jukebox with country music, a waitress in a short skirt and so many beer company clocks you could tell time from Amarillo to Corpus Christi.

When their eyes adjusted to the low ambient light, the problem they didn’t know existed became quite visible. There was a long table in the middle of the room filled with oilies.

Being basically friendly and very thirsty, the foursome decided to ignore this breech of bar hospitality.

Sitting alone at the bar was one old man dressed in Wranglers, boots and a cowboy hat. He struck up a conversation by noting the four newcomers were also cowboys. “Hard life, ain’t it,” he said in more of statement than a question.

The cowboys were about to agree but before they could launch into a hard life story, one of the oiles jumped up to challenge them. This guy evidently for most the day been irrigating an already foolish mind with a sudsy beverage.

“Man you don’t know nuthin’ about hard work. You ought to try following us around one day.”

The table of oilies got quiet and for all appearances, to a man, they intended to back their mouthy buddy.

While seriously outnumbered, the punchers weren’t ready to have some oilie telling them about hard work. But they let it ride this time thinking the moment would pass.

Bent on self destruction the oilie made another run at the cowboys. “So where’d you boys park your little ponies?”

In Texas there are only men and horses. While a cowboy’s hide might shed insults to himself, nobody made fun of their horses.

After the sheriff left and the oilies had paid for the damages to the premises, the four cowboys went on about their business of helping out those Colorado folks.

It’s a dirty job but someone had to do it—they were just bein’ neighborly you know.

Julie can be reached for comment at jcarter@tularosa.net.

© Julie Carter 2005

I don't know anything about cowboys and bars, but it does sound like it might be a fun time.

Received via email:

The Atheist and the Bear

An atheist was taking a walk through the woods.

What majestic trees!

What powerful rivers!

What beautiful animals!" he said to himself.

As he was walking alongside the river he heard a rustling in the
bushes behind him. He turned to look. He saw a 8 foot Alaskan grizzly
charge towards him.

He ran as fast as he could up the path. He looked over his shoulder
and saw that the bear was closing in on him. He looked over his
shoulder again, and the bear was even closer. He tripped and fell on
the ground. He rolled over to pick himself up but saw the bear right
on top of him, reaching for him with his left paw and raising his
right paw to strike him.

At that instant the Atheist cried out: "Oh my God!..."

Time stopped.

The bear froze.

The forest was silent.

As a bright light shone upon the man, a voice came out of the sky:
"You deny my existence for all of these years, teach others I don't
exist, and even credit creation to a cosmic accident. Do you expect me
to help you out of this predicament? Am I to count you as a believer?"

The atheist looked directly into the light, "It would be hypocritical
of me to suddenly ask You to treat me as a Christian now, but perhaps
could you make the BEAR a Christian?"

"Very well," said the voice.

The light went out.

The sounds of the forest resumed.

And then the bear dropped his right paw, brought both paws together
and bowed his head and spoke:

"Lord, bless this food, which I am about to receive from thy bounty
through Christ our Lord, Amen.

I welcome submissions for Saturday Night At The Westerner.

===