Redeye Read Online Free PDF Page B

wagon. The men looked at one another.
    â€œThree, two, one. Damn.”
    â€œWatch your language, Zack,” said Uncle P.J.
    â€œBeg your pardon,” Zack said to me.
    Uncle P.J. said, “The timing was wrong.”
    â€œThat ain’t the problem,” said Zack. “The problem is the
charge
. We’re gone have to increase the charge. Where’s Blankenship?”
    â€œHe’s in the Yellow Bird with the newspaper man. They didn’t even hear it, I guess.”
    â€œ
No
body heard it. Hell, the damn
China
man didn’t even hear it.”
    â€œIt ain’t funny,” said Uncle P.J.
    What Mr. Perkins and the Mormons had warned about on the trip out—pertaining to the use of foul language in the West—seemed to be true.
    Then the man with the dog leash, or whatever it was, steppednearer. He removed his smoked glasses and I saw his swollen red eyes, which were tearing up and running. He had a black shirt buttoned up tight to his neck and he was wiping at his eyes with a handkerchief that looked none too clean. He stood back just enough not to be introduced and said, “Zack, I got to go find my dog.” Somehow, I sensed not to ask who he was.
    â€”——
    Later, on the buggy ride with Bumpy out to Uncle P.J.’s shop—a saddle, furniture, and buggy shop—I learned that the aforesaid attempted explosion, in fact,
was
of a
dead man
, being committed within the limits of the law, however, in order to enhance the prospects of a new business called “mortuary science” that Uncle P.J. has embarked upon. Bumpy, a friendly young man, says they’re starting small but hope to be directing entire funerals with hearses, coaches, and maybe their own
choir
in the future. They will be doing up dead people—embalming them—the way it was done in the war, so that they will last for shipment and so forth.
    So, all in all, what a memorable arrival in the yet wild West!

  THE RANCH  
    Â 
    As we prepare for our exciting journey onto the mesa you will notice that all our equipment is authentic, and our three guides are “the real thing”: Pete Moody, cook and guide; Jose Hombre Mendez, song leader and guide; and Durant “Brother” Copeland, general lecturer and guide.
    The chuck wagon for our trip is the very same one used in ’92. It was built by P.J. Copeland. Please feel free to examine it. You will find clear straight-grained stock, with gnarled
bois d’arc
for the hubs; all seasoned for seven years and kiln-dried to stand up in the dry air. High-quality iron and steel make up the fittings. The highest-quality springs were ordered from St. Louis. The wagon was framed and paneled for lightness without a nail or screw anywhere. It is held together by mortise, tenon, dowel, and dovetail and housed joints, all locked in place by bolts, and you will see a step at the front wheel displaying intricate designs carved in the casing. The “automobile” hardly stands a chance against such a trustworthy product!
    Pete, our trusty cook, will call on you to join him in his traditional chuck wagon loading chant. The words to the chant are here for you to follow. If it only rhymed it would be pure poetry!!!
    Bacon, fry pans, knives, spoons, and forks—that’s the bacon.
    Flour, cornmeal, water, salt, baking powder, lard, Dutch ovens—that’s the bread.
    That’s the bacon, that’s the bread.
    Beans—that’s the beans.
    Coffee—that’s the coffee.
    That’s the bacon, that’s the bread, that’s the beans, that’s the coffee. Hooks, canned truck, spuds, salt, pepper, sugar—that’s extries.
    That’s the bacon, the bread, the beans, the coffee, the extries.
    Shotgun and shells—that’s quail and rabbits.
    Rifle and cartridges—that’s venison.
    And hot damn! I near forgot the skunk eggs.
    How’s that? you old tenderfoot wranglers from the