–Dan Arnold  (The Fourth Horseman)

 

Yeehaw, Pard!  Glad yuh could join me.  Back to the ol’ perkolater.  Ha, that could mean either good coffee or some thoughts spewin’ and boilin’ in my mind.  Once in a while I get the ol’ graymatter to perkin’.  But shore ‘nough, it’s good to be back here with yuh sharin’ a cup.  If’n yur a teetotaler, that’s alright too, like I said, yuh can share the perkin’ from my mind.

     Good coffee this mornin’.  Usin’ up the last of some Woods coffee that my son-in-law gave me.  Viking Blend it’s called, from up in the Northwest.  Had some decent coffee on my trip at my eldest daughter’s home.  ‘Course she had a good teacher and knows how to make it.  She has one of those fancy-dancy coffee makers, not just an ol’ perkolater or drip pot.  Now on the road, that was a different matter.  I think that the coffee in hotel rooms must be half sawdust.  Usually the missus makes a half cup or pot whichever with what they give us and it’s drinkable.  However, this trip, even that didn’t help and it wasn’t much better down in the lobby where they were servin’ something that they were a-callin’ biscuits ‘n’ gravy.  But I’ve learned over the years while on the road to be thankful for what yu’ve got, and to ignore the irregular taste or no taste of the food and coffee.

     Time for a big sip or a gulp, whichever yuh prefer.  Ahhh, smoothes all the way down the gullet to delight that ol’ stomach and gizzard.  Why I even figure that the liver is enjoyin’ this cup.  

     Haven’t been watchin’ the Olympics, ‘specially after that blasphemous opening ceremony.  Pard, I know that there’s always been controversy of some kind at the Olympics.  In the past, during the Cold War, it was with the judgin’ and maybe yuh remember some of those East German “women” swimmers.  But this time they went beyond just politics and decided to mock the holy God.  Now, I don’t get the understandin’, maybe yuh can help.  They allow a mockery of God, yet I saw a commentator was fired for makin’ disparagin’ remarks about John Lennon.  Figure that one.  It reminds me of the writin’ of that early ‘postle John–the whole world is under the control of the evil one.

     Some are sayin’ that the depiction was not that of the Last Supper.  Makes no difference, they were flauntin’ what God calls an abomination.  On top of that they were mockin’ the image of man.  What did they show of the French Revolution, but the decapitated head of the Queen and the god of wine and debauchery.  Yep, man at his finest–ha.  Read the first chapter of Proverbs.  “Mock me, when calamity comes, I’ll mock you,” a paraphrase from ol’ Ira, in fact in these verses if one of the few times it says that God laughs.

     But, in all of this, Pard, we have good coffee, good fellowship, and a God that will take care of us.  In the midst of a world mockin’, there is comfort in the Rock of Ages, our Lord.  So be of good cheer, enjoy yur coffee, and know that you can trust in the faithfulness of God.  Know that He is with yuh, even when yuh forget to check yur cinch.  Ride wary, ride ready, keep a smile on yur face, and trust in the Lord.

    Vaya con Dios.

                    –Louis L’Amour   (The Man From the Broken Hills)

 

     Let’s see, stash of jerky, biscuits, sausage, coffee…yep, all set.  Howdy, Pard, just gettin’ ready.  The trail is beckonin’ us for one more ride.  Headin’ eastward to see the eldest then bring my grandson back here to Texas.  It’ll be his first trip by himself.  Not sure which trail we’ll take yet; depends on that storm out in the Gulf.  But we’ve got the gear to weather the storm if need be.  The old steel mount will be makin’ it fine.  Hopefully it’ll be as dependable as ol’ blue.

     I’d like to say that the missus and I have made it from coast to coast, but we missed that thar west coast; only made it to Yosemite and the Sierras.  But, my, my, we’ve put on the miles of this journey of life.  Wish I had me a journal to look back at all the miles we’ve traveled, the things we’ve seen, the myriad experiences we’ve faced.  Almost could count the miles by the coffee cups, but can’t remember every stream, backroad, highway stop where we’ve had a cup.  We’ve had good coffee, when I made my own, all the way to coffee that had the look of dishwater–tasted ’bout the same.

     How ’bout today’s coffee?  Tastes fine, sure hope I fine something most as good on the road.  I’ll have enough to get started, but along the way, the pickin’ can get slim.  If’n we go the northern route, thars a place I know that keeps that Community coffee a-brewin’.  That’s mighty fine coffee if’n they brew it right.  After that, well…

     Don’t be frettin’, Pard.  Either trail we take, I know the route.  ‘Course, I realize thar can be obstacles along the way.  Not expectin’ any hostiles though, but ready just in case.  Don’t think thars’ no high water we have to be crossin’.  The weather will take care of itself, not goin’ to be frettin’ over it.  Pard, a person should be knowin’ where he’s a-goin’, just like in life.  A person is on the trail to either glory, or perdition; it’s just that on either trail there are the unknowns along the way.  As for me and the missus, we’re sure ‘nough travelin’ the glory road.  Been on that journey for many a year now.

      We’ll be doin’ what that sage of yore said, “Inch by inch time draws the cinch/Till the saddle will creak no more.”  Yuh remember ol’ S. Omar Barker don’t yuh?  Wasn’t it up near Deckers along the Platte we shared our campfire with him?  Hmm, or was that some other puncher?  The ol’ bean doesn’t run as clear as those mountain streams no more.  See yuh, in a few weeks…now, yuh have to make yur own coffee.

         Vaya con Dios.

                    –Cliff Hudgins  (Viejo and the Lost Child)

 

Howdy there, Pard, coffee’s hot.  Don’t be drinkin’ too fast or slurpin’ it or yuh might burn all the hair off’n yur tongue.  That’s ‘most as bad as havin’ yur bacon curled.  Sure hope yuh had a good week.  Sure wishin’ I could get out in the wilds again, do some fishin’ up in the high country and wander about some on the high lonesome.  Ahh, the cascadin’ water and fillin’ the pot from it while lookin’ at the camp jays eyein’ the campsite.  Pard, I’m a-thinkin’ those days are pretty much gone.

       Did I watch it?  Don’t reckon I know what yur talkin’ about.  Debates?  Ah, nah, too much mumblin’ and at my age I want to be able to hear someone say something that I can understand.  ‘Course most of it is gobbledygook anyhow.  Pard, we’re in a sad shape.  I can hear the voice of my Grandma, “Lord, help us through the jungles!”

       For the life of me, I can’t figure out what’s happened to the work ethic.  Hold on, that’s not true, I can.  If’n I think about it long enough I could cite several reasons.  Molly-coddling among them.  Poor little babies, we daren’t hurt their fragile self-esteem.  Give them some candy and a ribbon for their efforts.  Bah!  I was just readin’ yesterday ’bout what the complainers wantin’ to do to the land of milk an’ honey.  Trouble is, they didn’t want to put forth the effort, just like so many of folks today.  “Thar are giants in the land!” they cried and boohooed, all but two.  Yep, Pard, yuh remember their names:  Joshua and Caleb.  Tell me the names of the other ten that went to search out the land.  

       Two men, that’s probably ’bout the percent we have willin’ to put in a honest day’s work.  The percentage of those who still hold a vestige of the Protestant Work Ethic.  See, Pard, folks don’t realize that if yuh want milk there’s cows to be a-milkin’.  Plus all the feedin’ and care of them bovines.  And fear has to be put aside, for them bees have a nasty little stinger.  Yep, the land was there waitin’ for them, but they murmured, whined, complained, and moaned “we can’t do it.”  Well, my mercy me…Lord, help us through the jungles.

       Good thing we can sit in the mornin’, enjoy our coffee, read the Bible, and converse with our Lord.  Then go out an’ get the chores done.  Oh, an’ let me mention one thing before we finish up the pot.  I was talkin’ to one of them fellars that work down there along the Rio Grande.  He was a-tellin’ me that it would be easy to put a stop to this whole illegal immigration thing; he said it was nothin’ but political.  Won’t happen, he was a-sayin’ as long as the limp-noodled brains of the left have control.  Say, wait a minute, what party controls the House?  Hmmm, see what I mean?  Lord, help us through the jungles.

       And Pard, part of the work we have to do is stay firm and stable our ownselves, check our cinch, ride with gun oiled and loaded, and be a obeying the Good Book.  Yuh take care this comin’ fourth, don’t be blowin’ the tips of yur fingers off with any of them firecrackers.

        Vaya con Dios.

               

 

Well, here we are, Pard, on the downward slope of the season.  Yep, I know summer’s just begun, but with that, the days will be gettin’ shorter.  For a while, shorter and hotter.  So far not so bad here, a couple of days in the lower nineties.  Go ‘head, grab yur cup, the coffee’s comin’ right up.  What’s the Good Book say, As long as the earth endures the seasons will come and go as will night and day, uh, that’s a little paraphrase, if’n yuh want to go look it up it’s in Genesis right after the flood.

     Ahhh, that coffee sure fits the bill this mornin’.  Plum tickles the ol’ gizzard, sure ‘nough good way to start the day.  Pard, I heard somethin’ that sorta frightened me.  Nah, not scared me as to want to pull out my gun, but it brought new light to this feeble ol’ fence post of a mind of mine.  I was on social media, when somethin’ popped up.  Now, I usually don’t pay no ‘ttention to such things, but this one just caught my eye.  A woman was a talkin’, “Just leave us alone.  That’s all we want to be left alone and go to hell.  That’s where I wanna go anyway…”  My, my, all I could do was shake my head.  That poor gal don’t know what she’s a-talkin’ about.

     Now, in my days, I’ve heard smart remarks, most said in foolishness and jest, such as, “I want to go to hell, that’s where all my friends are,” or “we’ll have a grand ol’ time partyin’ down there.”  The Lord tells us that if we have ears, then listen:  it ain’t gonna be no party.  Yuh don’t want to be settin’ yur sights on goin’ there.  It’s a place of torment where the worm dieth not.  It’s darkness and gnashing of teeth.  Why, Pard, it’s darker than that there coffee yura drinkin’.  

     Ol’ slewfoot has sure deceived that woman.  She’s done exchanged the truth of God for a lie.  Now I don’t know if she’s at the point where she believes the lie.  I read that durin’ the Tribulation, the Lord will send a powerful delusion so that people will believe the lie, but not sure if that’s for today or not.  Either way, the woman has indeed believed Satan and is not in her right mind.  If’n she was she would be seekin’ grace and mercy from the Lord, not flauntin’ her lifestyle at Him.

     My mercy, Pard, the pot’s empty.  Where has the time gone?  Seems like it gets shorter and shorter, or perhaps I’m just noticin’ it more.  Summer is upon us, the days should be long and lingerin’, but it seems they pass more quickly now.  We seem to empty the pot faster than before.  Well, the Lord willin’ and yuh don’t forget to check yur cinch and fall on yur noggin’ I’ll see yuh next week.  Sit tall in the saddle, keep yur weapons near yuh and be diligent as yuh travel through this world in the comin’ week.

     Vaya con Dios.