Cimarron Frost, Bounty Hunter: A Western Page 3
We visit about whatever she wants to, and I wait patiently for the old stories to come up. I have gotten very good at asking questions at just the right time. This has been a slow and difficult process, but I want this story so badly that I am willing to work in this manner. I have acquired enough information and will tell you the tale, but only if you promise to keep this between you and me. I do not want this man to come looking for me with that look that turns people very cold.
Before I tell you what brought Dockie to this place in time, I should tell you a little about how he thinks. Right and wrong are very easy for Dockie. For example, never—and I mean never—take advantage of women, children, animals, or the downtrodden. Always—and I mean always—stand your ground when being pushed in any way. Dockie will tell you that this will get you into trouble on a regular basis and has caused him no small amount of bruises, broken bones, and hard feelings.
I asked him about this, and he said, “A certain type of person wants control of the people around them. Some of them are willing to go to great effort to get it done. They don’t get it done with me.”
You are probably wondering if Dockie is also that type of person. I must say that I don’t think so. When something needs done on the ranch, he will ask first. He doesn’t seem to care about being the boss. He told me that if you give an order and everything goes to hell, then it sits in your lap.
I have only seen him be polite and courteous, and he expects the same in return. When rude behavior comes at Dockie, it ain’t a pretty scene.
Whatever you are is okay with Dockie—whether you are a person who cleans the saloon, store clerk, drummer, or cowhand, but heaven help you if you misrepresent yourself. Doing so makes you a “counterfeit sum bitch.”
However, there is one category of person whom Dockie will dislike, and a change of heart is not going to happen. That category is a politician. If a politician were to be running down the street with his clothes on fire, I really think that Dockie might enjoy the spectacle.
I mentioned before that Dockie was an imposing figure. Let me elaborate. I have seen him walk into a crowded saloon, and the room goes quiet for a moment. He is not the most powerful man in the area, but his mere presence has an effect on people. There has always been gossip that Dockie has chased many horse and cattle thieves. He has always brought back the livestock, but not the rustler. Let your imagination work with this.
On one occasion, there were two drunken young men fighting in the street. Women and children were present.
Dockie walked over to the young men and said one word: “Stop!”
They looked at Dockie, and the fight was over. Dockie then took them into the saloon, bought them a drink, and lectured them on their bad manners. I believe that people know that there is no bluff in Dockie.
Now, let me tell you about his wife, Marsha Jean. This is when things get interesting. She is fifty-four years of age, beautiful, and soft-spoken. She never raises her voice or points a finger. She seldom asks for assistance because she gets it without asking. Everyone wants to please her and no one more so than her husband. Dockie is a tough hombre until it comes to Marsha Jean. He and Aunt Marsha have been married for thirty years. I asked her once if they had ever had a fight like most married people.
She responded with a “Heavens, no!”
I asked her why, and she said, “We leave each other alone to be who we are. I don’t tell him what to do, and he knows better than to tell me.”
Sometimes, answers to life’s bigger problems are very simple.
Watching Dockie with Aunt Marsha is interesting, but the real fun is seeing Dockie with his kids. Let’s start with Brandy Lynn. She stands a little over five-foot. Probably weighs in at one hundred pounds. When she comes and goes, people always notice. She is a lot like her dad. When entering a room full of people, they tend to stop what they are doing. The conversation comes to a big whoa and spins in her direction. This happens without her saying a word. She lives close enough to her parents that she stops in quite regular. Afraid or intimidated of her father, she is not. I’ve seen her put old Dockie on the run many times. When she gets after him, he only sighs and makes an excuse to move on. She will then be nice as punch to her mother. Believe me, if an outsider tried that, the dust would fly.
Dockie and his 26-year-old son, Eric Alan, can be seen laughing at each other at least once a day. Eric Alan is young, strong, and has many friends, with fun being his highest priority. He drinks with his pards, gambles away his wages, and for him, tomorrow will never come. When he runs with his best friend, Jim, and gets rowdy, he usually ends up in jail. Dockie just smiles and goes about his business, because he knows that when Eric Alan’s mother goes after him, Eric Alan pays dearly. She walks into the jail and never says a word.
The sheriff will look up and say, “Good morning, Miss Marsha. I’ll get him for you. Eric Alan, your ma is here.”
With that being said, you can hear a groan from the back room. Because the cell door is never locked, Eric Alan will walk out, see his mother, and slump, because no one, especially Eric Alan, wants to disappoint Marsha Jean. He tries to tell her he won’t hang with Jim again and get into trouble.
She turns and looks at him for a few seconds, says nothing, then turns back to driving the carriage. A spike in Eric Alan’s heart would be less painful.
Dockie tries to be standing on the porch when they return. This is far too much fun to miss. Fortunately, Eric Alan is so well liked in town that he could rob the bank and all would be forgiven.
I saved the best ’til last. His youngest daughter, Jessie Lynn, is the baby of the family. She is twenty years old, tall, thin, blond, beautiful, and the best ranch hand on the place. She rides, ropes, and carries a gun. It is said that she can outshoot any man. There is one more thing you need to know. She can cuss like a sailor, chews tobacco, and spits where she damn well pleases—and will take no rude behavior. Quite frankly, I wonder if Dockie isn’t a little frightened of her. I know I am.
Well, there you have a run-down on the Barnett family. It’s time to get back to how Dockie got started. Hang on. This is a real Old West story.
About Mark Baugher
He is a Master Farrier, and when not under a horse, is riding one, exploring the Verde River, treasure hunting in Sycamore Canyon or working on the movie C-Bar. Mark and Marcia live in a small adobe house surrounded by a guest cabin, a barn, and a horseshoeing shop. If you get out to the ranch, Marcia will answer the door with a big smile, and you’ll feel like a youngster again, asking if Mark can come out and play.
Then you’ll hear a welcoming voice from inside the house say: “You’re just in time. I’ve got an extra horse saddled and waiting. I think I know where Geronimo’s cave is hidden. We’re wasting time, let’s ride!”
And, you will have the time of your life