This is a really good thread, best we've had in a while. Great stories, dudes. Keep 'em comin'.
This thread brings back a few memories of hanging with my Great Uncle (by Marriage) when I grew up in southern New Mexico in the 1970's.
His name was.......believe it or not.......Lacy Crabtree. He was a true badass, fearless.........but a terrific person to those that needed help and that he was close to and to everyday people. Very different character.........he strayed to both sides........all in a days work. Had tanglings with the FBI over flying his cessna at night over the border. He either loved you.....or didn't, if you know what I mean.
He was fired from the border patrol in his early days........for........you guessed it.......shooting too many people.
He was REALLY GOOD to me and I spent many summers living with him and my great aunt in Deming, NM.
He used to make and sell turquoise jewelry for a few years. Several times, I went with him to Albuquerque to a show at a convention center. He would hand me a couple satchels full of $100,000 worth of turquoise jewelry, and he would take a couple as well as we walked to the show in public. He would take his roscoe (a .45 automatic of some kind), and casually without words at all hand me one as well to carry in my hand unconcealed as a display to all to not fawk with us. Open carry was apparently legal, or maybe we just never got caught. I was all of 12 or 13 years old. It was fawkin' wild........being around a manly man.....right there in public.
One summer when I was living with him and Aunt Helen, a mex kid kept stealing his doberman which he trained to be mean to folks in order to protect his stuff. The kid would bring him back as "found" and Aunt Helen would give him some $$$ for his efforts. Well the kid caught on for a couple more times, but then the kid and dog never came back.
Unca Lacy heard thru the grapevine that a mex across the tracks had his doberman tied up in his yard. So one morn, Lacy says let's go. He lays his roscoe in the seat next to me and I was wide-eyed as I knew what was gonna happen. We pulled up in the yard, and there's the dog. Lacy gets out, and the mex comes out of his house and says WTF do you want.
Lacy says.........my dog.
Mex says nope.......this is my dog.
Lacy says......I don't fawkin' think so.
Mex goes back inside.......and comes out with a double-barrel 12 gauge. This is my dog, he says.
Lacy grabs the .45 and points it right at the mex......and angrily says "Its my gd dog, and I'm takin it now!!!".
The mex got the message and dropped the 12 gauge, and says "OK senior, you can take it.
Lacy had me walk up there and unchain the doberman who promptly hopped in the truck and we drove away.
Lacy would have shot him over that dog.......and of course, the principle of it all.
I was prolly only 14 or so. I didn't tell my parents about this one. My parents never, ever liked me hanging around Unca Lacy before or after this one, LOLOL.
Not putting him down immediately was merciful enough.
