A mountain tale by my guest author, my dad
When a four-year-old lived in Sweet Grass Canyon in the Crazy Mountains he couldn’t tell what would happen. For instance one time a mad bull escaped from a China Shop and crept into Ward and Parker’s bunkhouse.
It was early spring. The roads were muddy and there were no teamsters to put up over night. One night I stayed in the bunkhouse with the logging crew. About midnight I heard a monster bull prowling around, sniffing, and bellowing. Suddenly I realized that bulls could pull a latch string and open a bunkhouse door. The bellow soon became a roar that shook the inside of the bunkhouse. I lay in the bed beside Ernest Parker and listened. The sniffing and bellowing sounded like it came from Ernest’s bed.
“SSSRRRGHRrr. Huff. Puff. ZZRRRrghr, pant sss.”
Nothing sounds worse to boy raised in the mountains than a mad bull at midnight, unless it is a mad bull bedding down with him.
I eased out of bed. I could see Ernest laying on his back. The moonlight reflected from his bald head. His nose pointed straight in the air. I didn’t wake him because I could hear the bull right there, and I needed the biggest help I could find.
“AAARRRGHRR. Snap. Gasp.”
I hightailed it to the main house like a kitten with a dog chasing it. By the time I reached the door I was bawling to high heaven. “DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!”
My father raised out of bed. He rubbed the sleepers out of his eyes and lit the kerosene lamp.
“Daddy. The bull’s out!”
“Having a nightmare,” Mother mumbled.
“Daddy, there’s a bull in the bunkhouse!”
“Why didn’t you call Ernest?”
“The bull got him!”
Father took the lantern and disappeared into the danger of no man’s land. In a few minutes he was back.
My daddy was a brave man! He sat on the bed and laughed.
“Be quiet, Bud, you’ll wake up all the children,” Mother said as she tucked me into bed.
The next morning, when we sat down to the breakfast table, the hired man gave me some advice. “If the bull gets out again, just punch Ernest in the ribs and tell him to roll over.”
Ernest glared at the stack of hotcakes sitting on the table. “Lay back your ears,” he said, “and go after it.”
Sometimes people need all the help they can get. We all have a Father we can call on.
The Author on Um Dum