Nighthawks swooped and whirled in the gathering dusk as the sun went down on our favorite patch of the Big Empty. Cowboys sat around the olâ campfire spittinâ, whittlinâ, cussinâ and discussinâ.Â
âI saw that liâl Secretary of State feller in town the other day,â said Panhandle, âhe was walkinâ kinda funny like he had a bad buck-off.â
âNaw,â Cookie answered, stirring the beans, âhe just got his ass kicked by the County Clerks again or else they shoved something up his fundament, probably another order he gave âem. Heâll never learn.â
âWhy does he keep pickinâ fights with folks who always thrash him six ways from Sunday?â this from Rawhide.Â
âWell, his daddy bought him that job,â Cookie replied, âanâ I guess he thinks he needs to do somethinâ to justify daddyâs investment. But it shore looks like he ainât havinâ a lick oâ fun in that office.â
Joe the Wrangler looked puzzled. âWhy in hell does he put up with all those ass-kickinâs? I heard tell heâs rich his ownself and donât need the money. I heard heâs some sorta mule baron anâ sold 2000 oâ them knotheaded bastids a couple years ago.â
Cookie stopped tending beans and corrected Joe. âNaw. Thatâs just a rumor. Them wasnât real mules. 2000 Mules was this Hollywood movie he was tryinâ to sell to folks, but nobody bought it.â
Noggins were scratched around the campfire. âWhoâd wanna watch a movie about mules?â queried Joe.
âIt werenât about real mulesâ, Cookie declared, âIt was about aliens with Jewish space lasers tryinâ to steal our elections or some such. Or maybe they had guns, I dunno. I fell asleep in the middle of it. There werenât much action.â
Several of the crew growled, âSteal our elections?â and reached for their own six-shooters or copies of the Wyoming Constitution.
âThatâs what that liâl feller was tryinâ to get folks to believeâ, Cookie explained, âanâ his daddyâs money convinced enough of âem to get the liâl squirt elected.â
Sourdough jumped to his feet and said, âItâll be a cold day in hell âfore we let a space alien take office here in Wyominâ! Our county clerks will see to that. They been keepinâ our elections safe since back in grandpaâs day.â
âSee, that thereâs the problem.â Cookie explained to the crew. âThat liâl Secretary of State tinhorn ainât never run an election in his life, but thinks he can do a better job than our county clerks. Hells bells, them folks been runninâ elections since he was a gleam in his rich daddyâs eye.âÂ
Cookie resumed stirring the pot. âAnâ the short dude keeps sendinâ âem orders to do this or that cuz oâ somethinâ he saw in that movie, anâ the clerks keep shovinâ his orders up his olâ wazoo. Thatâs why he walks kinda funny.â
Stetsons shook in disbelief around the olâ campfire. Muffled grumbles were directed at the diminutive politician, âwhat a gomerâ, âget a lifeâ and âdonât pick fights with girls who can whup youâ.
âStill, ya gotta sorta feel sorry for the liâl guy,â mused Cookie, âit ainât no fun gettingâ yer ass kicked that often.â
âMaybe,â said Joe the Wrangler sympathetically, âheâs in the wrong line oâ work. Maybe his daddy bought him the wrong job.â
Heads nodded in agreement in the firelight.
Joe added, âMaybe he should look into that mule baron job a liâl further, I bet heâd be crackerjack at it. Thereâs always a market for a critter thatâll do real work.â
Rod Miller can be reached at: RodsMillerWyo@yahoo.com