I'm one generation outta the cotton fields of the boothill of Missouri.
My grandfather on my dad's side was killed by a 12 guage back in the mid 20's,... details are sketchy,... but he left a woman with 5 sons. My dad was the baby of the family.
All the boys pitched in by pickin' cotton. They lived in a series of abandoned houses for a spell until my grandmother married Mr Bivins,... who, during his younger days had been a hand on the King Ranch.
My dad used to tell me how they kept the house heated during the winter.
The boys would wait alongside the railroad tracks,... then when a train came by they'd all jump on it,.. work their way back to a coal car and throw coal off the side. After a bit they'd jump off then walk back,... pickin' up the coal along the way.
He'd tell me how the boys didn't particularly like Mr Bivins. Apparently, he was a hard ass.
He said that Mr Bivins had an old Dodge,...but when he was headin' into town to get his buzz on he'd ride his horse.
The horse knew the way back. The Dodge didn't.
One night the boys were sittin' on the porch. Mr Bivins had ridden into town to have a few drinks. After a while here he comes along on the horse,... got it gallopin'.
Dad said that there was a little bridge across a creek that led onto their property. A recent flood had left it covered with buckshot mud.
Mr Bivins,.... drunk,.. rounded the bend on the gallopin' horse and headed across the bridge.
The horse hit the mud and all four feet shot out from under him. During the ensuing "ker-plop",.. Mr Bivins caught the saddle pommel right in the belly.
All the boys ran out to check on him.
He was layin' there with the wind knocked out of him makin' these "quack quack" noises.
My dad,.. a little shaver, looks up at my Uncle Harvey, who was the oldest of the bunch at about 15 or so and asks, "Is he gonna die?"
Uncle Harvey says, "Hell,... I don't know,..... and I don't care".
