Once the cook refused to pick up the broken thread of his story, John
Levering, our horse-wrangler, preempted the vacated post. “I was over
in Louisiana a few winters ago with a horse herd,” said John, “and had
a few experiences. Of all the simple people that I ever met, the
‘Cajin’ takes the bakery. You’ll meet darkies over there that can’t
speak a word of anything but French. It’s nothing to see a cow and mule
harnessed together to a cart. One day on the road, I met a man, old
enough to be my father, and inquired of him how far it was to the
parish centre, a large town. He didn’t know, except it was a long, long
ways. He had never been there, but his older brother, once when he was
a young man, had been there as a witness at court. The brother was dead
now, but if he was living and present, it was quite possible that he
would remember the distance. The best information was that it was a
very long ways off. I rode it in the mud in less than two hours; just
about ten miles.
“But that wasn’t a circumstance to other experiences. We had driven
about three hundred horses and mules, and after disposing of over two
thirds of them, my employer was compelled to return home, leaving me to
dispose of the remainder. I was a fair salesman, and rather than carry
the remnant of the herd with me, made headquarters with a man who owned
a large cane-brake pasture. It was a convenient stopping-place, and the
stock did well on the young cane. Every week I would drive to some
distant town eighteen or twenty head, or as many as I could handle
alone. Sometimes I would sell out in a few days, and then again it
would take me longer. But when possible I always made it a rule to get
back to my headquarters to spend Sunday. The owner of the cane-brake
and his wife were a simple couple, and just a shade or two above the
Arcadians. But they had a daughter who could pass muster, and she took
quite a shine to the ‘Texas-Hoss-Man,’ as they called me. I reckon you
understand now why I made that headquarters?—there were other reasons
besides the good pasturage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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