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Baxter Black- farm columnist


baxter on elbowsSaturday Night
Dang it, someone spilt
their coffee on the deck of
cards again. Probably one
of the new guys. This place
looks like a den, of hibernat-
ing coyotes. Shoot, they’ve
broke another chair! And
I’d been countin’ on a little
game of solitaire.
Kids. I’ve seen a million
walkin’ through this bunk-
house door. They blow
through here like tumble-
weeds, I’ve give up keepin’
score. Tonight they’re down
at Mona’s pro’bly spendin’
their last dime ‘cause we
pull out on Monday. But way
back there was a time,
I’d been right in amongst
‘em but I quit goin’ to town.
I got a box for pop cans but
they’re scattered all around,
It doesn’t seem too much to
ask to keep the trash picked
up. Matilda whelped another
batch. Romero took a pup –
to train it. That’s okay, but
the corner by his bed Is lit-
tered with old papers. So he
could learn to read, he said.
I might just go to Mona’s.
Show them kids a thing
or two. They think I’m old
and grouchy but if they
only knew I’m just tired of
playin’ wet nurse to a string
of buckaroos.
They won’t get the sat-
isfaction of seein’ me im-
pressed by their endless
balface windys or stirrin’
up the nest. They can learn
by my example. Maybe even
save a buck. And I would go
in to Mona’s but I lent the
lads my truck!

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