I was reminded of Harry Johnson today.
I’d
been drivin’ down a long stretch of country road. The snow blowin’ up
in the rearview mirror, a thermos of coffee in the seat and the sun
warmin’ the cab of the pickup.
I
first met Harry in the feedlot. He was the cattle foreman. He was not
happy there. He was an “outside” man. He’d spent his life workin’ on
ranches. I don’t know if he ever owned one himself but he was a cowboy. A
cowboy’s cowboy. Which meant he took care of the cows like they were
his own.
He
lived in Bruneau, Idaho. Somewhere along the way he married Iris. She
was a schoolteacher in that little community, I think. Harry told me he
learned a lot about his wife the day he got his first paycheck after
they were married.
He
was cowboyin’ for some outfit down there in Owyhee county. His check
was for $163. He stopped at Angel’s to have a beer and cash his check.
They had a card game goin’ and Harry got sucked in. By the time he
realized his predicament, he had lost $162.
Harry
said he went down the street to his house. He walked in the door with
his hat in his hands and confessed to his new wife. She looked him over.
She couldn’t believe he came home with one dollar! She suggested he
might as well go back and try and lose it all. Well, he hiked back to
Angel’s, hit a lucky streak and won it all back!
Harry
retired in the 70s. We had a party for him in Mountain Home. Harry got
up and said, “Just like the shipwrecked sailor who found a woman on a
deserted island, I didn’t come here to make a speech.” Then he sat down.
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