Unregistered Bull in a Hotel Lobby

Choice gleanings from 45-plus years of Unregistered Bull.

"Do you remember," said John, "when it was common and sometimes highly amusing practice for cowpunchers to accompany cattle to market? Nowadays, people send a trainload of stock to Kansas City or anywhere they want to and let the railroad and their commission agents on the other end take care of the whole deal.

"I believe one of the most memorable trips I ever made with a string of cattle was the time my friend Jake not only lost six month’s wages in Kansas City, but also his handle-bar mustache. It happened like this:

"We were working for a fine old gentleman named Smith or something like that, over on the Pecos River. He shipped a train full of fairly fat steers to Kansas City and told me and Jake to ride with them, not only to see that they got feed and water along the way, but also to be on hand in K.C. in case he decided not to sell them there. He said if the market wasn’t too hot, he’d just move them out to the Flint Hills and graze them till things looked more favorable.

"Jake and I liked this deal all right. We’d been a long time away from the bright lights and figured a visit to Kansas City would do us more good than a trough of liver pills.

"Now, this Jake was kind of a character. He was a good deal older than me, but just as lively. He was about the same age, in fact, as the boss. He even looked like the boss in a way, especially since he and Mr. Smith both wore the same type of mustache. However, Mr. Smith was a highly-educated, wealthy old gentleman, while Jake was a cowpuncher, pure and simple — well, he was simple, anyway.

"We got the cattle to town, to make a long story short, and Jake didn’t take a single drink till they were safely bedded down in the Kansas City yards. The old man sold them the next day and gave us what wages we had coming, plus a month’s pay. He said we might as well lay over a day or so before going back to Texas.

"That was when Jake came up with the inevitable suggestion that he and I might as well get out and look the town over. I knew that when Jake went out to look over a town like Kansas City with a pocket full of money, things were likely to start picking up. They did. We’d been in and out of every honky tonk within six blocks of the hotel about three times and were just starting in on the fourth go-round when Jake went to buy another drink and found his pocketbook was gone. He looked around and noticed a gal who’d been having a drink with him a minute earlier was gone, also. She was a bar maid, working in the place and dancing with customers.

"Jake let out a beller like a frustrated bull, demanding to know where the gal was. One of the bartenders asked him to hush up or be tossed out. Jake tapped him on the head with a bottle, and the fight was on, all over the house. He and I both had more than we could handle, however, so between attacks he advised me to get out the best way possible and we’d meet back at our hotel. We made it, all right. I got out first and walked back. Jake had a little trouble getting away, but finally he got loose, grabbed somebody’s horse and buggy, and broke all records for heavier-than-air machinery. When he got to the room, he said he’d just outrun half the cops in Kansas City in a fair race.

Before long, Jake got a phone call. It was the boss. I could hear every word he said, he was hollering so loud.

"‘Come down here immediately,’ he shouted. ‘They’ve incarcerated me!’

"‘Why, them sons of guns,’ said Jake. ‘That’s carrin’ things entirely too far. I’ll be right down with my six-shooter. Course, it could be worse, seein’ as how you’re a bachelor and pretty old, anyhow.’

"‘No, no, you fool!’ the boss hollered. ‘I said "incarcerated." I’m in jail. Just as I was coming into the hotel awhile ago the police arrested me. Said I was charged with disturbing the peace, tearing up a honky tonk, and stealing somebody’s horse and buggy. Get some money from the hotel, come down here and bail me out. By the way, where have you been all evening?"

"‘Who, me?’ said Jake. ‘Why, me and John have been on a tour of the city, visitin’ some of the interestin’ centers of culture and so forth. But we’ll be right down to get you.’

"When Jake hung up, he got real busy. ‘Hurry and get a bell-hop up here,’ he said. ‘Also, get some money at the desk — they know the old man and will let you have it.’

"By the time I got back to the room, Jake looked like a different man. He’d saved off his mustache and traded his hat and boots to a porter for a jellybean cap and a pair of low-quarters. ‘I’m leavin’ you, son,’ he said. ‘You go on down and get the old man out of the clink. Meantime, I’m slippin’ down to the station and catch the first train south. Lend me fifty. I’ll see you in Texas.’

"Just as Jake slipped out the back door of the hotel he gave me some more instructions: ‘Get the boss in a good humor. Tell him it was all accidental, and if he’ll let me come back to work for him he’ll have the steadiest, smooth-faced cowpuncher in the country.’ Jake started off, then stopped for one more word of advice. ‘Son,’ he said, ‘don’t be too anxious to make these long trips with cattle. This is the third time in ten years I’ve lost a mustache on account of too much travelin’."—(S.F. 11/08/51)