JUST AN OLD LINE SHACK (3)

JUST AN OLD LINE SHACK   (3)

 

Down at the shack we had a bunk

house.   The bunk house was a

shack behind the main shack and

that is where the cowboys would

sleep when they got down here to

civilization.

 

In the middle of the bunk house was

a long table.  In the center of the

table was an old human skull.  It was

all yellowish color.  Looked like it had

sat there for a hundred years.

 

Whenever two or more cowboys were

bunked in the bunk house, the old skull

was the center of conversation.

Guys used to measure it,  heft it, rub it

with a soft cloth, count the upper teeth

and generally look for some clue to its

origin, or meaning.

 

The skull was small, but somebody opined

that if we took off our hair, skin and other

appurtenances, our skull would not be

any larger than this one.

 

Somebody thought this was the skull of

an old Indian, left to die on the prairie, long

ago.   Somebody thought it was all that

was left of some guy that had been eaten

by a bear.

 

Think I told you about the time I was alone

here in the shack and it was get`n dark.

My dog started have `n a fit.  Look`n out the

door I see this figure of a little old lady

come`n from back by the bunkhouse. She

walked along the picket fence.

 

The first thing that crosses my mind, it was

her.  That old skull was where she came from.

Danged if the cold chills did`nt turn my spine

to jelly.  Yell`n at her did no good, she just

walked on by and disappeared into the gloom.

 

Sat there think`n bout this for long time, then

got up the nerve to walk back to the bunk house.

Started to reach for the door, which was open a

crack, then those cold chills again--- I just

plain chicken`d out and beat feet out of that

place until the sun came up.

 

That old line shack had a lot of memories, but

sometimes you gotta believe the bunk house is

where the spirit dwelled.

There was Shorty who always had a fight with

his boots, could never get them off.  Scotty who

claimed to have been raised by the Indians when

his family was killed.  All true sons of the Old

West, God bless `em all.

 

----- Eagle Cruagh

Reviews

[olla]

oh yes.. I have seen the old line shacks out on the high desert.. not a doubt in my mind that they are still in use.. and more than one cowgirl that wandered alone out there..

[EMF]

Damn. One episode light, the next sends a shiver down the spine. You have a way to tell a story that keeps you hooked. I'll be ehre tommorow for the next bit.