Fifty-fifty with Bonnie

“My Bonnie-e-e lies over th’ ocean. My Bonnie-e-e lies over th’ sea. My Bonnie-e-e lies o-ver th’——” wailed Chuck Warner in a minor key, turning his long nose toward the blue sky, and keeping a silent accompaniment to his vocal gyrations by wiggling his ears. “Here,” interrupted the postmaster of Curlew, handing Chuck a letter. “When yuh gits over feelin’ so bad yuh might put this in yore pocket and hand it to Johnny Myers as yuh rides past th’ Triangle ranch.” Chuck reached for the letter, stuffed it into his vest pocket and resumed his lamentations to some one to “Bring ba-a-ack, bring ba-a-ack, o-o-oh, bring back my Bonnie-e-e to me-e-e-e.” Chuck had the longest face and the shortest legs west of Bismarck. His claims to notoriety consisted of complete control of his ear muscles, an ability to ride anything that ever wore hair, the memory of a snowshoe rabbit and the conscience of a Flathead half-breed. Chuck drew an intermittent salary from Hank Padden, owner of the Seven-A cattle outfit. When he wasn’t engaged in drawing a salary from Hank, he was spending what he had already drawn, on wine and song. Women were a minus quantity with Chuck; that is, women who figure with wine and song. His favorite song—sober or not—has been mentioned at the beginning of this tale. Hank Padden was the owner of the Seven-A and a grouch against women. It was rumored that at one time Hank had been jilted by a Piegan squaw, and if that isn’t the height of humiliation there ain’t no such animile. Also Hank harbored the worst misfit bunch of cow-punchers that ever jingled a spur. Outside of Chuck, he had Weinie Lopp, Zeb Crandall, Hen Peck—christened Gilliland—Mort Blackwell and Swede Johnson. Leaving Chuck out of the group your eye naturally gravitates toward Swede Johnson. Swede is six feet five in his boots, with a head the shape and size of a croquet ball, and his boots admit twelve sizes. His hat is a 6 and he draws it up a little with a snakeskin band. Swede was not a hero and did not look like a viking. This narrative starts with Chuck and Weinie Lopp sitting on the depot steps at Curlew, cussing the train ’cause it wasn’t on time. “If I hadn’t promised th’ ol’ man before he left that I’d see that this freight…