COYOTE POKER! (edited) COYOTE POKER Not long after Coyote got himself run off the old Garnett ranch for stealing chickens there was this big to-do at the trapper’s camp up near Dog’s Ear Bluff. Coyote’d been mindin’ his own business, so he said, when the sweet smell of some fine- eatin’ grub on-the-boil wafted over the mountains from miles away. Naturally he’d come a-runnin. The men were nowhere to be seen so that old boy helped himself to the stew pot and licked every inch of it clean leaving nothing but a grease stain. Fact is, he finished off that stew, licked his lips and then got a buzz up his bonnet because there wasn’t any more. But instead of getting himself off that mountain before those trappers came looking for their supper, that old varmint fell asleep right then and there beside the cook fire, took to snoring something awful and even rolled himself up in one of the men’s blankets. Well, if you’ve ever heard Coyote snore, you know those fellers got wind of it right quick, and before long they came roaring out of the woods. The first thing they laid eyes on was their stew pot knocked over dry as a bone; the second was an unsightly view of Coyote’s backside. One of the men grabbed a big chunk of fire wood and was about to wail on Coyote’s hide. But the old boy woke up just in time and tried to make a run for it, but they had him surrounded. It was looking pretty dismal for Coyote at that point. The men were stompin’ mad and arguing about what to do. Some said they was scared of Coyote because of the old stories. But the younger ones just scoffed and said it was all just bunk made up to scare little kids and old women. Then one of the men started grinning and riffling through a deck of old cards like one of them gals up at the casino. Before long, they was slappin’ each other on the back and setting themselves down around Coyote and nodding his way. Coyote was real nervous by now so he started trying to bargain with them. But the trappers said no, damage was done and the stew was gone. Coyote said he’d work it off, work real hard around camp until everything was all paid for. But they said, “Nah, we’d love to help you out, but all the work’s done that needs doing till spring.” “Well now,” said Coyote, almost choking on a hard swallow. “Then just what exactly are you folks fixin’ to do here?” The big boss man stretched and said, “After dinner we was fixing to play a little poker. And since this is after dinner for some of us, I think we’d best go ahead with that card game. Whaddya say Coyote, how does that set with you?” By this time Coyote’s sweating real hard. “Sounds fine to me, seeing as I got no real choice here,” he muttered under his breath. “What’s that?” said the boss feller, pretending he hadn’t heard. “Sounds fine, real, real fine,” sighed Coyote, wondering what in all hell his ante was going to be since he wasn’t exactly flush at the moment. “Real glad to hear it,” said the trapper, grinning an evil mouthful of crooked yellow teeth right up in Coyote’s face. The boss feller slapped down a little bag of gold dust and one of the boys threw in a couple of old hides. One poor kid just pitched in some old rusted knife and the rest threw down handfuls of wadded up greenbacks. Then they all turned to Coyote to see what he was going to ante with. “Come on now old boy, where’s your ante?” sneered the boss man. Coyote, if nothing else he’s quick on the draw. So he looked each one of them right in the eye and then he started talking fast. “All I got on me at the moment, of any real value that is, would be this fine old tail of mine,” blustered Coyote as he fluffed up his scrawny tail a bit and showed it off to the men. But they just laughed and started choking on their own wind. “That mangy old tail of yours?” bellowed the boss man in disbelief. ”What would me and my boys want with that thing?” “Mangy and old it may be Sir, but Coyote’s tail is far from worthless. Haven’t you fellers heard the story about how Coyote’s tail can make any man’s wishes all come true and his enemies have nine years bad luck then ninety more?” he said, nodding as the men just looked at each other and shook their heads. “But if none of you want the tail, then I’ll just have to come up with something else to ante,” sighed Coyote. “Hold on there,” the boss said, scratching his beard. “Just because I never heard that particular yarn don’t mean it ain’t mighty interesting all the same. We’ll deal you in, sure we will. But keep that tail of yours handy, in case you lose.” “Fair’s fair. If I win, I get on my way and thank you boys for some damn good eatin’ grub. If I lose, I walk away, leaving you with Coyote’s tail and the best of luck to us all, no hard feelings,” declared Coyote as he settled back and took stock of his cards. “No hard feelings,” they all agreed. The boss man drew a card, his men drew, and then Coyote drew. There was some worried faces, but the boss man got a crooked little smile at the ends of his whiskers and he made no attempt to hide it. Then it was Coyote’s turn to draw, and then once more. “Hot damn!” the boss man roared and threw down his cards. “If that’s not a full house I got me right here then I ain’t never seen one!” The rest of the boys threw their cards in the dirt and started grumbling as they wandered off to their tents empty handed. This left Coyote and the boss man sitting eye to eye and nose to nose. “So, what ya got?” growled the man. “Looks like you got me beat,” said Coyote, slumping into his hide and glaring at his cards. “Fair’s fair. You sir, are now in proud possession of Coyote’s tail,” he said with a grunt. “Well then, let’s get to it boy!” roared the man as he jumped up and pulled a big Bowie knife out of his belt and made a grab for Coyote’s backside. “Yes indeed, let’s get to it,” Coyote stammered. “But you see, I do believe I may have failed to mention that this tail right here, this one stuck to the end of my backside, it’s not exactly Coyote’s true and original tail. This one’s just a fake.” “What are you talking about?” the man hissed through is teeth, his fists balling up and moving toward Coyote in a blur. “Now just hold on!” Coyote yelled. “A crew of miners skinned the real tail off me some while ago. Because you won it fair and square, I’d say I was obliged to help you get it back so’s you can claim what’s rightfully yours.” The man sat and listened, his eyes growing dark and narrow with suspicion. “You mean those miners up by Gold Hill?” he growled. “The very same,” said Coyote with a sharp nod. “Boys, get your horses, we got some riddin to do!’ yelled the man as the trappers climbed onto their horses and tore out heading up to the miner’s camp. Now it so happened there’d been a long standing grudge between the trappers and the miners up by Gold Hill and this was just the chance the boss man had been looking for. Coyote was remembering the poor old ratty dog’s tail he’d seen hung up on a nail over the door to the miner’s cook house with a sign saying “Genuine Coyote Tail” just as nasty and mean as you please. He took a real dislike to those miners after that and he’d hated that damn sign with a horrible spiteful vengeance he just couldn’t shake. So off they rode up to the miner’s place. When they got there the boss man saw the sign and the tail hanging over the cook house door. So he went up and grabbed down what was rightfully his and snatched up a couple of chickens and a side of bacon for good measure. Of course all the commotion brought the miners out of their tents and when they saw the trappers it was just an explosion of mayhem as they all started scrappin’ and tearing up the place. In the excitement of a good clean fight, the trappers forgot all about Coyote who lost no time hightailing it clean out of there and back into the desert where he belonged. He hid himself in a cave until the winter set in and all the men had more on their hands to worry about than poker games and coyote tails. Of course, by that time, Coyote had worked himself up one hell of an appetite.
Posted on: Tue, 20 Aug 2013 20:13:10 +0000
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