HARLEY & MUTT
By Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 10


Running into Spider bothered Mutt a little but not as bad as it did his buddies.  It seemed to bother Harley the most; although, for the life of him Harley couldn’t figure out why.  He knew he was fond of Mutt, but he certainly wasn’t in love with him.  Okay, he conceded to himself, he did love his cowboy buddy like a good buddy; like a close friend; like his brother.  He wondered at their talent for roping together, but rationalized it was because they communicated on an unspoken level so well.  Harley never had a buddy he could look at and know what the hell he was thinking and vice versa.

Harley would see Mutt get a smirk on his face from time to time and knew damn well he read his mind.
  Then there was Waddie, Zane, and Mutt’s family, the Crenshaws and the Franzs, whom Harley couldn’t help love.  The three younger men, C.W. and the twins, idolized him.  He had no doubt in his heart he loved them.  He won their love in a short period of time.  Randy Crenshaw couldn’t do enough for him and Sarah Crenshaw treated him like another one of her boys.

Harley never had much of a family when he was growing up, and he found himself welcomed into four of the most devoted families he could imagine.  He found the Bandera faction and the Chapel Creek contingent a unique and wonderful experience.  When they got together you could feel the love flow between them.  It literally spilled over and onto those whom they invited and chose to share their lives.  Harley never experienced families like these before and wallowed in their glow.  He allowed himself to be overcome by the power of their unconditional love and everyone’s willingness to include him.

Harley never felt the gentle ebb and flow of love so well defined or as strong as that which flowed back and forth between the families.
  He began to realize where the personal strength of Waddie and Mutt’s love came from which they exhibited to anyone who would trust them enough to receive it.  It was neither complicated nor complex.  It was so basic and unincumbered a child could understand it.  If they offered their love it was real and unconditional.  There were no hidden motives, agendas, or strings attached.  To them their very joy of life was simply being able to love and be loved in return.

It suddenly struck him why his buddy Mutt was having such a difficult time.  Mutt wanted nothing more than to be able to love people like he was taught most of his life, and here he was, a horribly disfigured man few took the time to even get to know let alone accept or give some modicum of love.  All this potential love within Mutt was not finding an outlet.  It seemed to be building up inside of him like a smoldering volcano and being allowed to spoil because no one recognized his ability to love.  They couldn’t see past his disfigured face.  Yet, here was a man, Spider, who seemed to be slowly coming around to offer Mutt some love.   His purpose was anybody’s guess, or perhaps he didn’t have a method behind his madness.  His crazy side covered all the bases; on the other hand, maybe he was truly becoming fond of Mutt.  It's difficult to tell with a sociopath.  What they strive for or consider one day may not be the same tomorrow.  Attitudes and ideals are decided by a loose caucus of bits and pieces from warring internal political factions who all hate each other and come together only to reach a temporary concenses, at best, and amplify their hatred onto anyone who disagrees with them, stands up to them, or might present a threat to their nefarious exercises.

Harley could tell Mutt was beginning to respond, but he hoped his buddy wouldn’t become blinded to the fact Spider was a bad man. 
Harley’s opinion of Spider was not a very good one, with good reason.  Over the years he experienced many encounters with Spider and his gang but always came out on top; a fact, which didn’t endear him to Spider very much.  He asked himself if it truly was his fear for his buddy or was he being selfish knowing Mutt’s unconditional love for him was redirected when Mutt was running with Spider.  Harley was not an insensitive man.  He knew and understoods Mutt’s deep wellspring of unconditional love.  Harley knew it was there for him anytime he needed.  Yet, he wondered if the naivete, the childlike quality, that is many times the basis for unconditional love would prove fatal for his friend where Spider was concerned.  The deepest of wells will eventually run dry.  Even the the engines that fuel our sun will one day quiet and dim.

Harley was a man who did not occupy himself with pipedreams and tried his utmost to be honest with his inner person.  He didn’t want to pursue that line of introspection because he knew without a doubt what the answer would be.  God help him, he didn’t want to admit it, but the only term that kept yelling at him in his mind was, “jealousy.”  But why?  Was he falling in love with Mutt?  He didn’t think so.  He had to admit he loved Mutt’s unselfish way and his devotion to him and Janice, but he never considered he loved Mutt more than just a good buddy.

And, yet, during the last few weeks, being with Mutt and his family was one of the most remarkably wonderful times of his life.  He couldn’t remember a time when he was happier, felt more alive, felt more appreciated and wanted than the time he spent with Mutt and Waddie’s families.  He was made to feel like he belonged, but he knew part of that belonging was as Mutt's buddy.  He couldn’t belong without his buddy.  Then the big question hit him.  Was he willing to give up Janice and his straight life for Mutt and the comfort of his extended family?

At first thought, he dismissed it completely.  He was a straight man and he loved Janice. . . in a way.   No, no!  Yes, he loved her even though she was a little trashy; okay, a lot trashy, but he overlooked it.  She whined a lot, and was noticeably slow on the uptake.  He couldn’t imagine himself without her or some other broad on the back of his bike.  Was that what he thought of Janice, just another broad?  A convenient piece of ass?  He had to admit, if a better looking woman came along who didn’t give him any shit, Janice would quite possibly be relegated to the ‘affairs to remember’ file.  As it was he couldn’t really claim to be missing her very much.  To be honest, he didn’t think about her at all, until he began to think about him and Mutt.  Then, why didn’t he miss Janice?

Harley admitted to himself he was more comfortable and content riding with Mutt and his family than he was with Janice and her constant whining.  He just couldn’t see himself giving up his straight image and riding only with Mutt or any man for that matter.  Besides, a decision to ride with Mutt on a more permanent basis would be looked upon by his fellow bikers as jumping the fence. 
Harley wasn’t the kind of man who could do that to a buddy under false pretenses, especially one he cared about as much as Mutt.  He just couldn’t see it happening to him, although he knew none of the men he rode with and cared about would think one iota less of him.  They would simply give him a big hug, a peck on his cheek, and wish him and Mutt all the happiness in the world.  If they didn’t give a shit, why should he?  It just wasn’t that simple.  It certainly wasn't easy for Harley.  He wasn’t a gay man, damn it!  He never wanted to wear that label.  It never entered his mind he didn't have to wear any label no matter how he chose to live his life.    

He didn’t care about those who were either born to become subservient to other men or those who made a choice to be in a long term relationship with another man no matter how they chose to define it.  Hell, some of the men he knew to be straight for years who took male slaves were his best buddies and were the first ones to cover his back in a fight.  He didn’t care about their druthers.  Harley felt he owed them his respect as a fellow biker and human.  He had to admit to himself, he loved to have Mutt suck his dick and take care of him.  When they rode together, Mutt was constantly seeing to his comfort and his needs.  Harley never had to ask.  Mutt was always right there.  He wasn’t pushy, smothering, or controlling; he was just comfortable.  Janice never did that for him and he always had to adjust himself for her needs as a woman.  Harley wasn't a selfish man and considered one thing balanced the other for the comfort he received in return--- when he got it; however, he sometime thought the boundries of considerations a woman insisted they needed became blurred and crossed over into the manipulative zone.  He wondered if it wasn't something every woman, or at least the ones he rode on his bike, felt was their paticular birthright.  There always seemed to be one crisis after another. 

With his cowboy buddy, Cassidy Crenshaw, Harley never had to worry about that sort of thing.  Things went smoothly.  Life was good.  Harley was comfortable.  Mutt treated Harley like a king, the most important person in his life, or dare Harley think it, like a master.
  Harley told himself he just wasn’t that way, and yet, his heart yearned for the love and comfort which surrounded him being included in Waddie and Mutt’s greater families.  He desperately wanted it for his own.  Harley saw the peace he felt around these folks and Cassidy Crenshaw as a doorway to his personal bliss; the magic ring on the merry-go-round of life few have a chance to grab;  however, there was a huge bear standing in the way guarding the gold ring with a big pink neon sign hanging around his neck flashing one word writ big, 'GAY.'  

Harley had to admit to himself, the life he saw these folks living was almost as strong a draw for him as an addictive drug might be.  He also found he was becoming addicted to his comfortable situation with Mutt.  He didn’t care what the man looked like.  He knew Mutt’s soul; maybe, better than any of his friends and maybe even better than Mutt’s family since he returned from Nam.  The comfort, while seductive, was beginning to bother him.
  But, love can’t be equated to comfort or addiction, can it?  You wear a comfortable old pair of boots, but you don’t love them. . . do you?  Does a junkie love the monkey on his back?  Ah, well, Christmas was almost upon them and after that he’d be on his way, pick up Janice, and return to riding with Beryl’s family.  After his holiday away from her, maybe it would be better for him, things would go more smoothly, and he could more readily accept his relationship with Janice.  In the meantime, he planned to wallow in the love and comfort he was being so freely offered.  

* * * * * * *

There were hugs and a few tears when Waddie and Zane took off to return to Chapel Creek.  They were going to stop by Cowboy’s home in Mason and spend a couple of days with his dad and family.  They would see the rest of the family back in Chapel Creek for Christmas.  Both families were going this year and neighbors would be looking after their ranches.  C.W. told Waddie he loved him and to give his brother Gip a hug and a kiss for him.  After they left Harley went out to help Randy and several of the boys with something, but Mutt stayed behind to talk with his mom. They had a cup of coffee and Mutt ate another piece of his Mother’s wonderful German chocolate cake.  They didn’t talk too much except Cass told his mom he didn’t feel like he fit in at home anymore.  That broke Sarah’s heart, and she started to cry.  Cassidy realized he should’ve known better than to be so brutally honest with his mother.

“Gee, Mom, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” Cass said quietly with remorse.

“I know, Cass.  It’s just. . . ” she shook her head and continued to cry into her apron.

“I mean, I just don’t seem to fit in anywhere, Mom.  It’s not just here.  It’s everywhere I go.  That’s why I can’t seem to stay in any one place for very long.  Then I have to be up and running.  I don’t even know what I’m running from.  I just feel so defeated and worthless,” Cass said and paused for a minute.  He got up from the table, “Damn, it seems like I mess up everything, Mom.  The last thing I wanted was to hurt you or dad.  It's why I didn't come around until now,” he said and walked off into the living room to get away from his mother.

Sarah finished what she was doing in the kitchen and took the coffee cups and plate to the sink.  She washed them and did a couple of things to get ready for dinner.  She decided to lie down for a minute in her and Randy’s bedroom and have herself a good cry.  As she passed she noticed the door to Cass and JR’s room was ajar.  It was open just enough she could see her boy sitting on JR’s bed slumped over in convulsions of sobs.  She stood for a moment and wondered if she should go in to comfort him.  She decided against it.  Let him get it out.  He needed this time to grieve.  She went to her room closed the door and had herself a good cry.

Mutt didn’t know why he decided to go into his old room, but it was always a sanctuary for him when he was a kid.  If he or JR were in their room and their door was closed, they knew they wouldn’t be disturbed.  Randy Crenshaw set down rules for his boys.  Everyone needed a place they could go to get away from everyone else.  They became sacred rules to the boys.  You didn’t disturb your brothers if their door was closed.  Most times the boys left their doors open for all to come and go as they pleased, but once in a while they needed their privacy.

His hand shook as he fished the key from his pocket and placed it in the lock.  He was surprised the lock turned so easily.  He opened the door and was in his old room.  The shades were pulled down, but there was plenty of light coming through.  He walked over and raised one of the shades about halfway.  He set on his brother’s bed next to the window and watched the dust particles move and play about in the still air of the room.  ‘Dust soldiers’ he called them.  There were thousands of them slowly marching toward some unforseen battle.  He moved his hand to watch a small current of air disturb their ordered movement.

‘Is all of life like this?’ he wondered to himself, ‘Are we but small particles in a universe so big we can't grasp the reality of its size?  The star Betelgeuse, the eighth brightest star in our night sky, the big red star just above the belt of Orion, is larger than the entire orbit of Jupiter around our tiny star.  Cassidy was watching one tiny speck of dust which could be swept away in the blink of an eye at the capricious whim of some unknown, uncaring entity; some unseen cosmic force?  What if these particles were alive, and I have no concept of their existence?  What if there are intelligent beings living on that speck?  How presumptuous and uncaring of me to change their weather with a wave of my hand.  Am I more than they?  I think not.  I am less than the smallest of them.  I think, therefore I am nothing.  Micro-Chanute unto myself.  Boundless in the deep, because I am he who fills and contemplates infinitude; nor vacuous the space between.  So unimaginably small I have no reason of a greater ethos.  No more than a micro-dot of information on some cosmic explorer's report to a life form a million times larger.   

The smells and feel of his old room closed in on him like an implosion.  He felt his body start to heave in convulsions of heart-wrenching sobs.  He smelled and felt his brother all around him as if he entered his tomb to find all the trapping of burial rites but nothing of the boy; nothing of the man who was his beloved flesh and blood brother; whose body he held close to him so many moonlit nights; sill warm, full nerved, vibrating his own frequency, his own resonance of joy, hope, and delight in being alive.  JR seemed to love his life ever since the spark of his creation moved from the very soul of their beloved dad into their equally beloved mother and conjoined into one.  Their was none like him.  There never will be another.  His joy, his love, his passion, his talents will never pass this way again.  The pride of a generation gone, snuffed out in the blink of an eye; all in the name of politics and corporate greed.  Old fat men with too much money and equally greedy selfserving politicians never die on a battlefield.  They wash the blood from each others hands with homilies and platitudes and call the slaughter of young men as a noble sacrifice and a just cause for their deaths.

Cass lay back across the bed and continued sobbing.  This time more quietly least he disturb his already distraught mother.  Weird things come to the mind of a grieving person.  ‘What a waste of a good room,’ he thought as his eyes continued to give forth with tears.  ‘There is nothing in this room of the two boys, the two men who left several years ago to go to war for their country.   One or more of my brothers could be using this room.  It’s time the dead buried the dead,’ Cass thought.  He wept some more until his tears would no long come.  There was nothing left within him but a painful emptiness.  He drifted off to a dream like sleep and his brother came to him.  “JR?” he spoke to his brother.

“It’s me, Cass.  You need me so I came to you, and you’re right, it is a waste,” JR agreed.

“I didn’t mean it like it that, JR.  Awh, listen to me, I done fucked up our mother’s day by saying something stupid, and I sure don’t want to chase you away with my poor choice of words, bubba,” he replied.

“Whoa, Hoss!  Easy there, big fellow.  I grew up with you, remember?  I know you.  I’m your big, bro.  You be talk’n with your number one fan here, Cass.  You got one of the biggest damn hearts I ever knew.  I couldn’t help love you.  You were so easy to love, Cass.  You’re still easy to love, cowboy.  Don’t never forget it.  You ain’t lost it.  What’s that old saying, ‘Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.’  You been though a lot, Cass, but you’re right, it is a waste of space to not turn this room back into a usable space for our family.  We don’t need it no more.  You'll never come back here to live.  You'll always be welcome to stay as long as you like, but this ain't your home no more.  You gotta' go on with your life and you can't run back to the past.

"I don't exist here no more, brother.   Make a difference, Cass.  Get up off your ass,
go out to the old barn, look in the loft in the far right-hand corner and there’s an old empty humpback trunk what belonged to some folks who owned the ranch before mom and dad bought it.  No one’s seen it in years.  I doubt mom or dad even remember it’s there.  Put your and my stuff in it and store it in the barn.  Clean up the room, air it out, burn some incense in here, and open it up to life.  Later, if you want to look in the old trunk and remember you can, but not until you’re ready.  You won’t be for a good while yet.

"You gotta' do the same with your life, brother.
  If you feel dead to this life you gotta' start anew.  Just don’t bury those who love you and have been your main support until now.  They don’t deserve that, Cass.  Make the effort, brother.  Let them know you care.  I can’t tell you all I know, Cass, but you’re going to go through some pretty rough times, and if you ain’t strong you’ll perish.  That would devastate mom and dad far worse than your grief.  You have to make up your mind to make your life better, and the minute you do, it will start to get better.”

“I don’t know if I can make it, brother,” Cass spoke softly to JR.

“Of course you can.  There’s folks out there living with a lot less going for them than you got, Cass.  You just have to stop feeling sorry for yourself and latch on to some happiness.  I don’t mean to sound cruel. . . well, Hell, Cass. . . . y'ain't dumb.  You know what I mean,” JR said.

“Yeah, I do, bro.  Thanks for coming to me.  I’m gonna’ invite life back and make this old room live again for both of us.  It will be a start.  Then I’m gonna’ try’n jump start my life.  I love you, bro,” Cass said quietly.

“You know I’ll always love you, Cass.  I’ll be here when you need me,” JR said.

Mutt woke up to a knock on the door.  It was his mom.  “It’s about time for supper, Cass.  You might wanna’ wash up and get ready,” she said softly.

“Be right there, Mom.  And, Mom. . .?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for understanding.  I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Cass, more than you’ll ever know,” she replied.

After supper Mutt asked Harley if he’d help him for a few minutes.  Dad Crenshaw didn’t have anything else for the men to do and declared the rest of the afternoon free time.  Harley was glad to give his buddy a hand.  Mutt led Harley to the very far corner of the old barn where there was odds and ends of old furniture and small pieces of ranch equipment which hadn’t been used in years.  They moved several things until Mutt spied what his brother told him he would find, a big humpback trunk.  “How did you know this old trunk was up here, Mutt?” Harely asked.

“My brother come to me in a dream this afternoon and told me it was here,” Mutt said as a matter of fact to his buddy.  Harley laughed to himself but somehow had no doubt what his friend was telling him was true.

“What do you plan to do with it?” Harley asked as the two men lowered it from the loft to the ground floor of the barn.

“Clean out me and my brother’s old room; store the stuff in here any of us wants to keep.  It’s a big room, and it shouldn’t be closed up.  My brother and I ain’t gonna’ use it no more and my other brothers can have more space.  My little brother C.W.’s lived these last few years in a corner of Toller and Shad’s room, and he becoming a young man.  He deserves more space,” Mutt said.

The men loaded the trunk on a large four wheel, all purpose utility cart they used at the ranch for carrying anything from hay to machinery.  They wheeled it to the yard outside the house and Mutt got some old rags from his mom to clean it.  The inside wasn’t dirty but the outside took several minutes to get all the settled dust and dirt off.   When the men finished they could see the trunk was at one time an expensive and finely tooled piece of furniture.  Sarah Crenshaw came out of the house to see the progress.

“Where did you find it, Cass?  I’ve never seen it before, have you, Randy?” she asked.  Sarah looked at Randy who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head ‘no.’

“In the far right corner of the old barn in the loft,” Cass replied.

“Did you know it was up there? Sarah asked him.
 
“Not until JR told me a while ago,” Cass said but didn’t elaborate.  She looked at him with wonder and looked at her husband again.  He smiled and shook his head as if to tell her, ‘We’ve witnessed stranger things, dear.’

“What do you plan to do with it?” his mother asked.

“Put away my childhood and my love for my brother,” Cass said without nuance.  There was no tone of insolence or remorse in Cass’s voice.  It was a resigned statement of what he was going to do, what he had to do, and he expected no objections from anyone.  He broke through the barrier and was trying to tie his past to his present by doing something good for his brothers.  He softly added to his mom and dad.  “H'it just ain’t right.  That big room ain't being used for anything but stored memories, when my little brothers could have a room to themselves.  It needs to be done, Mom, and I’m the one what has to do it.  If I’m ever able to put Nam and the loss of my brother to rest it has to start here.  It has to start today.  It has to start now, with me.  I have to take the first step,” Cass said quietly.

Sarah looked at Randy for his input.  He was silent but slightly shook his head for her not to interfere.  He understood what his boy was saying.  He understood what he was trying to do.  His heart leaped to his throat.  Maybe their son was becoming reborn to life.  Maybe his brother, JR, did come to him and told him to pick himself up, dust himself off, and start living again.  Harley almost lost it he was so touched by what his buddy wanted to do.  He saw the look on Randy’s face as he quickly glanced at Harley and nodded his thanks.  Harley helped Mutt carry the trunk into the room.  Mutt opened the windows wide and raised the blinds to let the light and air flow into the room.   Mutt, Harley, Sarah, and Randy spent the afternoon going through everything in the room.  They sorted things of JR’s that his younger brothers could wear.  There was several pair of good Western boots Enid Justin gave J.R.  Cass found a couple of pair he outgrew he added to the pile.

High school and college banners were taken down from the walls.  Pictures of their football heroes, Billy Bob and Earl D., Cass took down and packed away.  Rodeo trophies; ribbons won for 4-H competition; ribbons for junior rodeo championships; a dozen trophies or more, rodeo belt buckles, Cass and JR won over the years were put into the trunk.  Cass decided to keep one of his favorite rodeo buckles to wear.  There were scrapbooks of newspaper clippings of his and his brother’s wins in team roping; pictures of Cass and his brother winning numerous rodeos; pictures of Waddie as a boy teaching his brothers to rope; all were slowly, carefully and lovingly placed in the large trunk.  Cass was neatly packing up his past and putting love away.

Cass was doing fine until he ran across a small wooden carving of a blue pony JR carved one year to surprise Cass for his birthday.  Aside from some much needed clothes it was the only present he got for his birthday that year.  It was the finest present he ever got from anyone and he knew the love his brother invested to make it for him.  He could tell his brother was so proud of it when Cass slowly unwrapped it from the crudely wrapped box JR put it in.  It sat in a prominent place on Cassidy’s dresser for many years.  He wouldn’t allow anyone to touch it.  He made it quite clear to his younger brothers they may look and admire it all they liked, but it was not to be touched or played with.

He clutched it to his chest and Harley watched as his buddy’s legs went out from under him and he fell to his knees in the pain and agony of sorrow.  He couldn’t help sobbing his heart out with the small statue clutched tightly to his chest.  Harley knelt with him and threw his arms around Cass to comfort him.  Sarah started crying and Randy took her in his arms to comfort her.  It was one of the most powerful moments Harley ever experienced with anyone.  Harley didn’t try to get him to stop, he just held him until it passed.

Cass collected himself and apologized to his mom, dad and Harley.  They didn’t say anything but his mother touched him gently with her hand in a gentle understanding gesture.  Cass wrapped the small wooden statue in a large rag and placed it lovingly on the top of the pile in the trunk with care.  Harley and Randy helped Cass put the trunk onto the cart and haul it out to the old barn.  It took the three of them to lift it into the loft.  Cass didn’t put it back in the corner.  He left it sitting next to a strong beam and covered it with an old oil cloth his dad gave him.  It was safe.  It was there if he needed it in the future.

Cass did what he set out to do.  He set out to transform a tomb into a sanctuary for life again.  He accomplished his task.  The men walked back to the house and Cass continued to help his mom clean the room and the small bathroom off the room.  It was one of only two rooms in the house which had its own bathroom.  He asked his mother for incense to burn in the room.  She didn’t have any but came up with something as good or better.  She had some old lavender and dried rose blooms she put into a pot of boiling water with some cloves and fresh mint.  It filled the room with a new wonderful fragrance.  The room was born again to life, and it seemed as if it was glad for the opportunity.

In discussion with their parents, it was decided among the boys Shad and Toller would move into the newly renovated room.  Being the two youngest men, Randy originally offered it to Shad and C.W.  Shad didn’t want to give up rooming with his big brother and roping partner, Toller, so they were willing to give it up to C.W.  Randy stepped in and suggested since it had its own bath it probably would alleviate some of the bathroom congestion in the mornings if Shad and Toller were to take it.  They could leave their old room to C.W. by himself.  It was an agreeable arrangement for everyone.  That evening and the next day everyone was moved.  Shad, Toller, and C.W. couldn’t have been more grateful to their big bother Cass.  Shad and C.W. got a lot of extra clothes and boots in fine condition they could wear.  There was even several things left over they thought the twins might like.  It made Cass feel good he made a positive step forward.

After supper that evening Randy was sitting alone in the living room talking to Harley.  The boys were excited about the move and going through the pile of clothes and boots Cass set aside for them.  “I don’t want to ask something too personal, Randy, but what was the significance of Cass’s small blue horse,” Harley asked.

“JR hand carved it for Cass out of an old chunk of two by four.  It wasn’t so much the carving that was important to Cass as what it represented.  Once the boys got old enough I gave them each their own pony to ride and train as they saw fit.  Naturally, Cass and JR were old enough they wanted to train their ponies as roping ponies and methodically set out to accomplish it.  The pony Cass chose was a dark silver grey gelding with strange highlights.  Sometimes you’d almost swear it was blue in color.  Well, underneath its hair, its hide was a blueish color.  Cass named him ‘Blue.’  They formed a strong bond and Blue learned faster than any pony we had on the ranch at the time.  He became a favorite and a pet to everyone.  He and Cass were inseparable.

"JR accused him of loving that horse more than him.  Cass would never answer his challenge, but just grinned at his brother.
  About the time Blue became a fully trained, workable, and a productive pony for Cass he developed some damnable awful rare blood disease and started wasting away almost overnight. There was nothing the veterinarians could do.  The pony got so bad we could tell he was suffering.  We knew we were going to have to put him down.  I talked it over with Cass, and he agreed.  I got out my 30/30 and started for the barn.  Cass ran after me and told me he had to do it.  Blue trusted him and he had to do it for his friend.  He couldn’t let anybody else do it because he would feel like he backed out on his buddy when he needed him the most.

"I thought about it and remembered I taught each of my boys to appreciate and respect the animals we work with everyday as our friends.  I knew what he was going through.  I taught my boys to respect and how to handle guns.  Cass knew and was fully capable of using my 30/30.  I gave him the gun and he went in and shot his pony.  We usually don’t bury animals on the ranch.  We just call the rendering plant and they come for them, but under the circumstances, with Blue’s bad blood and all, I didn’t feel like I wanted anyone exposed to it.  I took my tractor and dug a huge hole down by the low water dam near Gus’s place.  The other boys helped me load Blue on a four tire hay pull we have and carried him down to the hole.  We buried him there.  Cass was naturally distraught and grieved that winter for his pony.  His birthday’s in early summer.  Cass wouldn’t even consider another pony.  I told him he could have his pick of any pony on the ranch, or we’d buy him one if he saw a particular one what caught his fancy.  He thanked me and told me he’d think on it, but he never did anything about it.  He wouldn’t even ride another pony to rope with his brother.

"JR was getting pretty concerned for his brother.  He tried to talk with Cassidy many times and draw him out, but he just wouldn’t talk about it.  Finally, in desperation, JR asked me and his ma what he could do about it.  We didn’t have no answer for him.  Hell, we’d tried ever’ damn thing we knew to do.  I told his ma, I told JR that evening, and I’ll tell you, I think Cassidy just feels deeper ‘bout things than most folks.  His brother Waddie’s the same damn way.  S’why you always see them two off by themselves talking quietly with each other.  They share the same hurt.  We were pretty bad off financially that year when his birthday come around, but Sarah and I managed to get him some new clothes.  Sarah made him a beautiful Western shirt he wore for years.  But the highlight of his birthday was that small wooden blue horse JR carved for him.  It was made out of some kind of pine but JR  painted it with a mixture of milk and Mrs. White’s blueing.  It turned out to be damn near the same color as Cass’s pony ‘Blue.’  Looked a lot like ‘em, too.  It was a damn good resemblance and captured the spirit of Blue perfectly.

"Cass was once again devastated because it reminded him of his dead pony, but at the same time, he was so thrilled with his present he wouldn’t let his big brother go.  Cass cried his heart out, but he was all over JR hugging, kissing, and thanking him for his thoughtfulness.  He told him it was the best damn birthday gift he ever got and he loved his brother for making it for him.  He set it on his dresser and told his other brothers to look, admire, but never touch it.  If they accidently broke it, it   would be like killing his pony a second time.  Cass was serious.  His little brothers believed him.  That small statue embodied the spirit of Cass’s pony for them and everyone referred to it as ‘Blue.’  The very next day Cass asked me about a buckskin mustang with black socks and a white crescent moon on his forehead Gus was running on his place.  It was wild and never been saddled.  I warned Cass against a mustang as they could be strong willed and spirited.  However, Gus already gelded the pony and I reckoned it might not be too hard to train.  I traded Gus another pony he liked for it and gave it to Cass for his birthday.”

“Is that the pony Cass’s been riding while we been here?  The one he calls ‘Mooney’?” Harley asked.

“Yeah, ‘at’s the one.  ‘At’s what he named him, ‘Mooney.’  He set in that afternoon to gentle the pony and worked with it day in and day out.  When he finally decided it was time to put a saddle on Mooney there weren’t no arguments.  Cass could do anything with Mooney, and he wouldn’t object.  He climbed on Mooney for the first time but Mooney didn’t have any problem with his buddy being on his back.  It was almost like Cass has a sixth sense about horse flesh.  I never noticed until later he’ll stand for hours looking at the ponies and how they interrelated with one another.  After watching a group of ponies for an hour or more, he's able to tell you which one’s will make good working ponies and the ones not to waste your time on.  My dad was the only other man I ever knew what could do that.  I guess Cass got it from him.

"I’ve never seen any pony learn as fast as Mooney.  Cass only had to show Mooney once how he wanted something done and Mooney nailed it ever’ time.  Within three months Mooney was the best roping pony on the ranch and once again became a pet to all of us.  Mooney was the best roping pony until Waddie come along and teamed up with an upstart pony no one else could handle.  He wasn’t dumb.  He just had more life and energy, more piss and vinegar in him than anyone wanted to put up with.  Waddie took one look at Whiskey and it was love at first sight between the two of them.  Still is to this day.

"Whiskey was the pony he wanted to ride.  Waddie was going on eleven years old that summer, and I really didn’t think he could handle a big pony like Whiskey.  The first damn run with me out the gates we set a new arena record.  Waddie simply talked to Whiskey and told him what he wanted him to do.  That was it.  He never yelled at Whiskey, he just sort a’ talked quietly to him slightly above a whisper.  I laughed to myself thinking that big pony weren’t gonna’ listen to that kid for a minute.  Boy, howdy, was I wrong.  Well, you’ve seen what he can do with Whiskey,” Randy said and laughed at his own shortsightedness.  


"Between Mooney and Whiskey I don’t know who gets the most attention.  They’ve almost gone from ‘pet’ to ‘pest.’   The only difference is the letter ‘s,’ ya’ know.” Randy adroitly tossed off and winked at Harley.  Harley laughed at Randy’s joke.  “Well, it taught me a big lesson,” continued Randy, “always let a man pick his own pony.  Nine times out of ten he’s gonna’ pick a pony what will best suit his personality.  If you don’t pick it for him and it turns out to be a bad match he can’t come back’n blame you, none," Randy said.

* * * * * * *

For the next week and a half the family noticed a change in Cass.  He was more outgoing and showed his brothers more love than he had in a long time.  Harley even seemed to be able to relax more around him and joke some.  It was almost like he accepted his disfigurement and knew those who loved him didn’t give a shit.  They only saw their son, their brother, or their buddy.  

Both the Franz and the Crenshaws spent the last three days getting ready for their trip to Chapel Creek.  They loved to go and spend time with their folks and loved to have them come to visit them.  Buck was so easy going he didn’t try to hog all the Christmas' in Chapel Creek.  He’d announce to everyone this year he and his family would be spending Christmas in Bandera.  The little town of Bandera would shut down and everyone would be at the Crenshaws for a Christmas rodeo.  Folks came from miles around to spend time with the four families.  Everyone was welcome.

The family got ready to leave and boarded their new motorcoach they purchased with the help of their three older sons.  Gus and Dora bought a smaller one the year before and Randy and Sarah though it was a great idea for traveling back and forth. They got a good buy on theirs from some local folks who were splitting up and bought the coach brand new. They were having to sacrifice it in a bitter divorce settlement.  Randy and Sarah hated to come by it through their neighbors bad circumstances, but it was almost like they wanted them to have it.  It was beautiful weather and they made the trip in record time.  C.W. and the twins took turns riding behind Harley and Mutt on their bikes.  The two men didn’t run away and leave their families.  Even though it was slow and boring they wanted to stay close in case anyone needed a hand.

When they pulled into Buck and Linda Sue’s drive all hell broke loose.  It was utter chaos.  Folks came running from every door in the house.  Boys and animals were pouring out of the barns to greet the Crenshaws and Franz.  Gip was the first to his brothers, C.W. and the twins.  He was a year younger than they but he skipped the first grade in school.  They were all graduating that year.  With his four older brothers to teach him he was reading and had math skills on a fourth grade level by the time he got to first grade.  It was the same with Sissy.  She skipped the first grade with Gip. The boys had them playing Monopoly and Scrabble with them from the time they were four years old.

They learned to read the cards, read and spell words, and count money.  That was their introduction into reading and math.  They would beat the socks off their big brothers from time to time.  The first grade teacher caught Gip reading a “Hardy Boys Mystery” behind his “Dick and Jane” reader.  After school she had him read to her.  He read a whole chapter and didn’t miss a word.  He told her Sissy could do the same thing.  The next day the teacher tested Sissy and found Gip was telling the truth.  She immediately bumped them up to second grade.  Sissy and Gip spent a lot of their time helping the slower readers in second grade catch up.


The family gathered and it was a wonderful holiday for everyone.  Waddie and Zane got back to Chapel Creek after spending almost a week and a half with Booger, Cowboy, and his family in Mason.  Waddie and Zane thought the world of Cowboy’s old man and uncle, but their favorite was Lester the black man who lived with them.  There was a lot of rodeoing going on when Cowboy and Waddie were down to the rodeo grounds in Mason.  Waddie and Zane got to rope with everyone who came down to the rodeo grounds.  Their favorite was Cowboy’s roping partner, Phil Roamer.  He was a genuinely nice man, as big as Waddie and deadly accurate with a rope.

* * * * * * *

There was much preparation for the big day.  Buck and Linda Sue always put their tree up last in the family and invited everyone to come.  Half the damn community was there.  Of course, Buck, Linda, and Gip were constantly on the go every evening for two weeks before Christmas going to other folk’s homes for dinner to help decorate their trees.  Buck himself became the spirit of Christmas for almost everyone in the community.  He not only was the voice of authority, but he was loved by everyone.  He was one of the most loved men in the little town.  Even the kids loved the sheriff.  Folks followed the rules because they didn’t want Buck disappointed with them.  Christmas eve was mostly reserved for family, going to midnight services, and opening presents.  The adults opened their presents.  They put the kids to bed for Christmas the next morning.

There were no small children born into any of the four families recently except Jannie and Clyde’s son, Clyde Junior.  He looked just like his granddad who spoiled him rotten.  They usually had their Christmas for him before they came to the sheriff’s for the day.
  Everyone went to church that Christmas eve and the women and children of the church decorated it with greenery and candles.  The only light in the small church was from candles.  It was turned into a Christmas wonderland.  It was the prettiest anyone could remember for a long time.  Jannie set along side of Waddie and Zane was on his other side.  Little Clyde crawled up into Waddie’s lap when the preacher began to give the lesson and promptly went to sleep.  

Waddie, Oatie, Buck, Randy, and Dan were all fascinated with the boy.  He had the same personality as his dad and they could see him growing to be as big a man as Clyde was.  He would crawl up into one of their laps and ask them to tell him about his dad.  Waddie, Buck, Dan, or Oatie would talk to him for hours telling him wonderful stories about the good times they shared with his dad.  By the time they were finished he was fully convinced his dad was a super hero.  To them he was.  Christmas is a wonderful time of year.  How many times have we heard that phrase?  But, it’s genuinely true.

It can be better for some than others.  Christmas celebrates the coming together of families and loved ones.  Those who find themselves alone at Christmas can sometimes have a rough go of it.  I don’t think anyone can disagree Christmas is for children.  The wonder of the celebration and the joy of  love coming from their families is what makes it work for them.  Most get caught up in Santa Clause, Christmas trees, and the gifts they receive.  However, without the love and caring of the adults to provide it for them they wouldn’t know Christmas.


Within the four families there were no new recent births so there were few small children.  However, a couple of the newer deputies had young kids and they were shown so much attention they were usually exhausted by seven early evening.  They would be up in one adults arms or another.  They loved to run and have a kiss stolen from them by the big man, the sheriff, who was their daddy’s boss.  They loved C.D. Rawlings as well.  As the day wore on there was one pretty little girl about four years old who couldn’t take her eyes off Mutt.  She stared at him and her mother would scold her not to.  Finally she told her mother to put her down.  Her mother was horrified to see her run as fast as her little legs would carry her and held her arms up for Mutt to hold her.  Mutt looked confused for only a second, and reached down to pick up the beautiful little girl.  She looked up at him and smiled the sweetest smile.  Her mother was about to come get her, but Mutt smiled as best he could, and waved her away.  He wasn’t annoyed or being bothered by her.

“What’s your name, Mister?” she asked.

“Cassidy’s my name, sweetheart, but my friends just call me Cass.  Some folks call me Mutt, ‘cause my face is so ugly they say I look like an old stray dog,”  Cass tried to smile and the beautiful little girl grinned at his joke, “And, what’s your name, pretty lady?” Cass asked.

“Virginia Anne Woodson, but you can call me, ‘Ginny.’  That’s what everybody calls me,” she replied.

“‘Ginny’ it is then,” Cass declared, “Good to meet cha,’ Ginny Woodson.  You may call me Cass or Mutt, whichever you feel like,” he said.

“Good to meet you, too, Mr. Cass.  Oh, I wouldn’t call you ‘Mutt.’  You ain’t no mutt.  A mutt’s a mongrel dog.  You don’t look like no dog to me.  You’re eyes tell me who you are and you’re definitely ‘Cass,’" she said quite seriously.

The adults stopped their conversations to hear the unique exchange going on between the little girl and their beloved son and friend they were all concerned about.  “I apologize for staring at you a while ago, Mr. Cass,  but I wasn’t looking at your face, honest.  I was looking at your beautiful, blue eyes.  My momma didn’t understand.  She thought I was being rude, but I didn’t really mean to be.  That’s why I had to come over here and talk with you.  I knew from your eyes you’d understand if I explained.  To stare at someone because they’re a little different would be mean, and I didn’t want you to think bad of me,” she carefully explained.  Cass was stunned by the little girl’s words and seeming maturity.

“Don’t chu’ worry none, sweetheart.  I didn’t take offense nor was I bothered by you looking at me.  I was being looked at by one of the prettiest ladies here.  How could I be upset with you?” Cass asked.  Ginny giggled and hugged Cass.  He gently returned her hug and winked at her mother.  The family was mesmerized by their exchange.

“My daddy told me when I don’t understand something to ask about it, someone will explain, and I don’t have to wonder about it anymore,” she said.

“He’s right.  Your daddy is a wise man, Ginny.  You should always listen to your parents.  They love you, and they won’t never tell you wrong,” Cass said.

“Mr. Cass, why is your face the way it is?” she asked with concern.  It became so silent in the room you could’ve heard mouse fart in farthest corner of the upstairs bedroom.  Some drew in their breath waiting to hear Cass’s answer.

“Well,  Ginny, I fought in a terrible war halfway around the world from here.  I was wounded and as a result, part of my face got blown off by a land mine which exploded right in front of me,” Cass explained not talking down to her.

“What’s ‘war,’ Mr. Cass?” Ginny asked.

“It’s when two countries can’t get along, they send their young men to fight and kill each other to try and make them see things their way, and the country what kills the most young men, wins,” Cass gave the short answer.

“That’s awful,” she said slowly with emphasis, “Why don’t they just sit down and talk about it like we’re doing?” she asked.

“Sometimes they try, but after they're done with all the talking and still can’t agree, they decide to fight each other.  When they get to that point they call it ‘War.’”

“Were you fighting for our country, Mr. Cass?” she asked.  Cass paused and looked up at the adults for help and only saw tears in their eyes.  He was alone in his boat and knew he couldn’t give the little girl the answer he wanted to.  She wouldn’t understand.  God help him, he prayed to himself, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do anyway.

“Yes, Ginny, I was fighting for our county and way of life so we could be sitting here today, together, living in a land of peace and freedom,” Cass replied.

Cass was about to lose it because it was the first time he ever allowed himself to think the thought let alone speak the words, but he found himself sitting just a little taller and held Ginny tighter.  She threw her arms around his neck and planted a big one on his good cheek.  “Thank you, Mr. Cass, for going to war for me.  It must have been awful for you, but I want you to know I love you for going,” she said.  Out of the mouth’s of babes can sometimes come great truths.  Cass couldn’t hold back any longer and started to cry.  Ginny seemed to know and sensed the man’s pain she just befriended.  She held him tight until he got it out.

Cass got himself together and gently kissed her on the cheek.
  “Thank you, sweetheart, you’re the first person to thank me for going to war since I been home.  I want you to know how much I appreciate it and the Lord above knows I love you, too.  Thank you, Ginny Woodson, your parents should be very proud of you.  You made one veteran feel like he made a difference,” Cass said.

Needless to say there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, but after that, the conversation picked up and everyone went about their business as if nothing happened.  Cass continued to talk to Ginny half the morning and found her a highly intelligent and interesting child.  Unwittingly, the child did more for Cass's diminished spirit than all the talk from the adults who loved him could.  He came to adore Ginny and she followed him around all day.  Her parents were afraid she was pestering him but Cass would tell them she was a delight and let her be.  When she learned Waddie and Harley was over there with Cass she ran to them, hugged, kissed them, and told them she loved them, too, for going to war for her.

Buck, Dan, Randy, Gus, Bubba, Don, Quinton, C.D. and all the adult men got their heads together and were talking quietly.  “Damn!  How stupid can I be?” Randy Crenshaw asked rubbing the top of his head with his right hand, “That innocent little girl made me feel like a damn fool.  I been so dead-set against this war after losing Gip, J.R., and Clyde, I failed to show my sons who did survive the support and love they needed.  I never told either of my boys I’m proud of them for going to Nam nor thanked them for what they done.  No matter our politics my boy gave her the correct answer; he thought he was going to defend his country.  I feel pretty damn low right now.”

“Oh, Hell, Randy, y’ain’t the only one.  I ain’t never told Waddie ‘thank you’ for going over there.  Told him I was proud of him, but she was right, damn it, she nailed me to the barn door along side you, brother,”  Buck said, put his arm around Randy, and pulled him close.  “Let me take care of this, Randy,”  Buck said, smiled at Randy and the cowboy knew his big brother would make it right.

Everyone gathered for the Christmas feast.  The table was loaded with delicious foods of all kinds.  By tradition they stood around the table and held hands.  It was also the tradition the man whose home it was either asked the blessing or asked someone to do it.  Buck started, “Another year has gone by and we’ve had a few bad things happen to us but by and large we’ve had good year.  Some good things happen as well.  The bad part is losing someone we love but the good part is welcoming new family members no matter how they come to us, through the joy of birth or as simple as the birth of a new friendship.  But for today, this very moment in our lives, the best part is we’ve come together again to participate in this blessed season and to share our love with one another.  Sometimes the good Lord teaches us lessons in such a simple way a child can understand; unfortunately, as adults our eyes and hearts are sometimes blinded to the everyday simple truths of life; us adults lose touch with the innocence of the child within us, we fail to see the obvious we take for granted, and we don't take the time to listen to him or her.

“Ginny,” Buck said and smiled at the little girl between her mother and dad, “I thank God for you.  You taught us adults around this circle a wonderful lesson today in honesty and love.  Cass told you the truth, sweetheart, you were the first person to thank him and tell him you loved him because he went to war for you.  In our excitement to have our sons and brothers home we forgot, Ginny, that these men, Cassidy, Waddie, and Harley need to hear what you told your new bubba Cassidy earlier.  They need to hear it from the folks who love them.  So thank you, darlin,’ for coming here today with your mom and dad; thank you for teaching us a simple but honest lesson, and may God continue to bless you and show you the way.  You are a very special little lady, Miss Ginny Woodson.  Son, Cass, Harley, everyone in this room loves you and we’re proud of you.  We thank you for going over there and fighting for us.  You were, indeed, fighting for your country and our way of life.  Let no man ever tell you different,” Buck said.   

“Amen,” said everyone around the circle.

“Now, I’d like to ask my other brother, Randy Crenshaw, to say grace for us today, Randy?” Buck asked.

They bowed their heads and Randy didn’t know from where his words came.  At one point he was sure they weren’t coming from him, but it was a prayer that would patch the most wounded of hearts.  It was a prayer of thanks and one of forgiveness.  It was a prayer for peace.  Everyone followed with a resounding, “Amen.” Then Randy felt it, he looked at Waddie and instantly knew he felt it, too.  Mr. Uriel was present among them.  Randy knew from whence cometh his help with the prayer.  Buck walked over to Cass, Waddie, and Harley who were standing together.  He put his arms around them, kissed each one, and told them again how proud he was of them and thanked them.  Every man, woman, and child lined up to do the same before anyone took a bite of food.  Waddie, Cass, and Harley were moved to tears.  Mutt never remembered seeing his handsome buddy cry.  ‘Mr. Boone don’t never cry,’ he thought to himself.  It was good to see Harley could be touched.

That Christmas was one of healing and forgiveness.  Mutt felt it helped him a lot.  Going home and putting his memories in order.  Putting his brother’s love away was a major step for a young man who, up until that time, was an emotional cripple.  He seemed to be coming out of his shell more each day.  His family couldn’t have been more happy.  Harley was proud of himself for any small investment he might have made to Mutt’s new sense of self worth.  It was a good day for all.  Mutt got a new pair of boots from Uncle Enid but so did every man there.  She gave all the women expensive perfumes and colognes.  Years before the men made it a fun thing to give each other funny or sometimes a serious small gift.  There was a five dollar limit set on any one gift.  Randy always brought a box of cigars for the men to enjoy after Christmas dinner.  Of course, Buck always invited Uncle Enid to join the men.  She loved them, and they loved her.

Randy always gave Buck a pint of Southern Comfort each Christmas.  He must have passed out a gallon of the liquor over the holidays.  Buck always gave Randy something he could use around his place.  Something unusual that would be a handy tool or item that would make a chore more easily done.  And so it went, the family had a wonderful time together that Christmas.  They knew and felt their angel was with them to help show them the way.  They loved each other and they learned from each other, not the least of whom was a small child, Miss Ginny Woodson, who became their spirit of Christmas that year.


End of Chapter 10 ~ Harley & Mutt
Copyright © 2010 ~ Waddie Greywolf
All rights reserved
Mail to: waddiebear@yahoo.com
Proofed: 06/28/11