Chapter One.
A cowboy rode into town, dusty from long, hot weeks on the Arizona trails. It had been so long since he'd had a drink, he couldn't remember the taste of whiskey but he rode up at the first, and only, saloon in town and tied his horse to the hitchin' rail. The water barrel on the shaded porch looked cool and inviting and while his horse drank, he paused for a moment to consider.
He looked around. The sun was shining brightly. It always did. But for some reason, the town had a dark pall to it. A somber mood. He couldn't put his finger on it at first but after a moment, it occurred to him that it was the people. Not that there were many of them. This town was a leftover from the happy, riotous days of the gold rush and the cattle drives. Those days were long gone and the people looked it. Naw, there was more to it than that. An additional shadow he couldn't quite figure out. Should he just move on?
Nope. That whiskey was callin' his name. The batwing doors squeaked gently as he walked through them and he heard the saloon go silent as the few people inside took in his unfamiliar face. He slowly and deliberately walked to the bar, enjoying the attention and the curious stares. Of course, nobody would ask him questions out loud. It wasn't polite. He had always liked the sound of his boots on wooden floors, though, so he took his time, and made that 15 feet of hardwood last.
"Whiskey," he told the bartender. His voice was pleasant enough and the room resumed it's usual quiet chatter and poker games.
"Coming right up," said the barkeep and quick as that, returned with a glass and a bottle. "Two bits," he said. The cowboy's coin clinked on the counter as he laid it down. Slowly, he drank, sipping at the glass as if he were never going to get another one as long as he lived. The taste was beautiful to his dry, parched throat and the warmth of it burning down to his belly was truly treasured. He fell in love with that little glass right there on the spot they made love together there at the bar for quite some time.
After a little while, the cowboy noticed that there was a gloom to the saloon as well, more than you could blame on the dimness of the light. Many bars are happy places, the liquor loosening everyone's spirits, the occasional brawl being more good-natured than viscious. But this saloon was different somehow. He noticed, a little more quickly this time, that it was the people, much as it had been outside. Still, he didn't quite get it but, he figured it wasn't much of his business and continued with his cherished, long-needed drink.
Then he noticed the little sign, right there on the bar. It was an old sign, lettered by hand many many years ago. The cowboy couldn't read so he asked the drink slopper about it.
"Oh, that sign says, '$50 to the man who can make my horse laugh.' Been there a while, though."
"Make a horse laugh?!" The cowboy chuckled out loud and noticed the saloon go quiet again. The bar patrons were really paying attention, now. "Surely you jest," he said.
The barkeep explained. "Nope. Y'see, I have this horse out back. Many years ago, I bought him off'n an old gold miner who's long since left these parts in search of better things. He sold that horse to me so as to build up his stake for the next big gold rush. Then he high-tailed it outta here."
"I see," said the cowboy. He was a little perplexed and asked, "But how is it that you're offering a reward for makin' 'im laugh?"
The barkeep was more than pleased to tell all. "Well, the horse must've really loved that old prospector because the minute the old man was out of sight, this 'ere horse broke down and started cryin'. He's been bawlin' his eyes out ever since and while he's still a good horse and all, works hard, plenty capable, it's just a little embarrassing to ride around town on a horse that cries like a baby. Y'ever try to punch cows on a cryin' horse? It jest ain't manly."
"I see," said the cowboy, still chuckling a little. "And I can see why you'd want to git 'im to stop cryin'. Is the offer still good?"
"Yup. Got the reward right here," and he showed the cowboy two $20 gold eagles and a $10 bill. The cowboy inspected the $10 bill closely and then handed it back.
"Show me this horse o' yers," said the cowboy.
So, the saloon keeper walked around the bar and led the cowboy out to the back of the saloon. There was a corral there with a stall at the far end. The cowboy could see barely make out a horse in there, standing under the shade of the stall. In the bright sunlight, all he could make out was the horse's ass end. Still, he could hear it; the sounds of wracking, sad sobs and wails. The cries of a grief-stricken soul who could never be comforted. It was the saddest thing the cowboy ever heard in his life and he was overcome with sympathy for the poor animal, not to mention the bartender. As he approached the horse, he saw great tears dropping from his eyes and the horse looked over at him, forlorn and weary from all the tears.
"I kin saddle him up for ya if you like," said the bartender. "Just to show you that the horse is really a good animal."
"Naw, that won't be necessary," the cowboy replied. "Just gimme a minute."
The cowboy walked up to the horse and began whispering in his ear. After a moment, he stepped away and the horse looked at the cowboy, took one deep breath and burst out laughing!
The transformation was incredible. Looking at him, one would've never thought it was the same horse! The cowboy turned to the bartender and realized that the people in the saloon had followed them out. All of them were dumbfounded, jaws agape! They had all tried over and over and over again to win that fifty bucks and had never succeeded in all the years they had tried. More people heard what was going on and drifted over to the corral to see what was the matter. They, too, remained, awed by the miracle before their eyes.
"Wellp. That about takes care of that," drawled the cowboy. "Can I get my reward money now?"
In slow motion, the saloon keeper reached into his pocket and handed him the money. "I don't know how you did it, mister. What's your secret?"
The cowboy just chuckled and said, "I think I'll keep that little tidbit to myself for now. And I think I need another drink before I hit the road again."
The bar tender said, "Your drink's on me, sir. In fact," and he shouted out, "Drinks are on the house!"
The crowd cheered and they all went into the saloon to take full advantage of the bartender's newfound exhuberance!
"Well, that sure lightened the mood around here," the cowboy muttered to himself. He joined the celebration for a while and after he finished another drink, he moseyed on out to his horse and rode off over the horizon.
"Strange town," he commented to his horse. His horse just nickered back at him and they rode off with the sounds of a laughing horse fading into the distance behind them.
Chapter Two.
Several years later, the same cowboy found himself in the same territory. Another hot, sunny day at the end of a long, dusty trail. He rode into town and tied up at the same hitching rail as before there in front of the town's only saloon. He noted that the townsfolk were rather subdued, a little less than eager to be polite. A little tense. He listened and sure enough, the sounds of laughter rose above the saloon from the corral out back. He chuckled to himself and muttered, "Unbelievable," as he walked in, savoring the sounds of his boots on the wood floor.
Nobody said anything to him; he rather suspected he wasn't recognized at first.
"Whiskey," he said to the saloon keeper.
"Four bits," was the reply.
The cowboy raised an eyebrow briefly and wondered at the inflation but he was too thirsty to challenge the price increase. He plunked his coins on the counter and proceeded to nurse a drink which, in his opinion, wasn't quite as good as it'd been last time. He didn't expect to see the sign so he was a little surprised to see it there on the bar, as before. But he noticed it was different. He still couldn't read but he could tell it said something different. Just wasn't sure what it said this time around.
Next time the bartender came around, he asked him about it. "Oh, it's you," said the bartender. His tone wasn't complimentary in the least. "That sign now says, '$100 to the man who can get my horse to stop laughing."
"Whoa," said the cowboy, slowly and deliberately. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted him to laugh?"
"Well, I did," replied the barkeeper. "Way back then, anyways. Now, though, all that horse does is laugh all the time and he's rather useless, frankly. The crying was depressing but at least I could get some work out of him and ride him when I needed to. Hitch him to a wagon now and then, that sort of thing." The bar tender was getting a little worked up. His voice rose a little as he continued, "Now, what do I get? Nothing!" He was nearly shouting now. The patrons in the saloon hung on every word, waiting to see what was going to happen. They too recognized this legendary cowboy and couldn't wait to see how the confrontation was going to end. Frankly, it was the best entertainment they'd seen in a very long time.
The bartender carried on, "That damn horse does nothin' but laugh now. Day in and day out. Can't put a saddle on him or hitch him up or nothin'! The minute you go to touch him, he breaks into peals of fresh laughter and usually gets to rollin' around and ya just cain't do a damn thing with the worthless animal. Frankly, I'd rather had the old cryin' horse around so I could at least get something worthwhile out of him."
The cowboy listened to the man's rantings and when he was done, tipped his hat back and quietly thought for a minute. Finally, he said, "Is that reward still good?"
The bartender pulled out five $20 gold pieces from his pocket and said, "Mister, you make him cry again and it's all yours!" Well, a hundred bucks is nothing to sneeze at these days but back then, it was well-nigh a fortune.
"Done deal," said the cowboy and headed around to the corral, the bartender close on his heels.
When he got there, he noticed that a barn had been built at the far end of the corral and the horse's laughter was coming from within.
"What's with the barn?" the cowboy asked.
"Oh, that. Well, when you left here last time, word of this horse was rumored all around the countryside and people started linin' up to see him. I was charging two cents a person to everyone who wanted to see the famous laughing horse. That lasted a couple of years and I even made a little cash money but lately, nobody's interested any more. I was just about to tear that ol' barn down and use it for firewood next winter. That don't change nothin' though. I cain't get any use out of that cayuse as long as he's just laughin' all the time."
"Wait here," said the cowboy and he went inside, leaving the bartender out in the dusty corral.
He peered into the darkness while his eyes adjusted. The horse had his ass to the door and was still laughing himself silly, just as he had been those many years before. The cowby made his way over to the horse.
As soon as the horse saw the cowboy, he burst into fresh laughter which could be heard all over town. People once again gathered in the corral, curious as only quiet, bored, hot and dusty people can be.
Suddenly, they heard the laughter stop. They were awed. They wondered about it. A moment or two went by and the cowboy came out of the barn, squinting at the people in the corral while the people gaped at him, completely slack-jawed. Speechless, the bartender handed the cowboy the money. The cowboy took it without saying a word. Then he meandered back into the bar to finish his drink.
Silently, the townsfolk followed. They gathered as quietly as possible behind the cowboy, watching, not daring to speak. The miracle he had performed, twice now, was beyond their comprehension and they couldn't stand to not know how he did it. The cowboy could feel all eyes on him but he pretended not to notice. He finished his drink at his own leisure and then slowly turned to face the silent crowd.
He stared at them, smiling a little.
They stared back. They smiled back. A little.
Finally, the old saloon keeper dared to ask, "Tell us, sir, how on earth did you get that horse to laugh all those years ago and now, how did you get him to cry? We MUST know!" The townsfolk all shook their heads up and down in anxious agreement.
The cowboy scanned the crowd carefully and said, "Well, back when I made him laugh, I just whispered in his ear, 'Y'know, you sad sack of horse, my knob is bigger'n yours is.'"
"Today, I showed him!"
The End.
--Wag--
A cowboy rode into town, dusty from long, hot weeks on the Arizona trails. It had been so long since he'd had a drink, he couldn't remember the taste of whiskey but he rode up at the first, and only, saloon in town and tied his horse to the hitchin' rail. The water barrel on the shaded porch looked cool and inviting and while his horse drank, he paused for a moment to consider.
He looked around. The sun was shining brightly. It always did. But for some reason, the town had a dark pall to it. A somber mood. He couldn't put his finger on it at first but after a moment, it occurred to him that it was the people. Not that there were many of them. This town was a leftover from the happy, riotous days of the gold rush and the cattle drives. Those days were long gone and the people looked it. Naw, there was more to it than that. An additional shadow he couldn't quite figure out. Should he just move on?
Nope. That whiskey was callin' his name. The batwing doors squeaked gently as he walked through them and he heard the saloon go silent as the few people inside took in his unfamiliar face. He slowly and deliberately walked to the bar, enjoying the attention and the curious stares. Of course, nobody would ask him questions out loud. It wasn't polite. He had always liked the sound of his boots on wooden floors, though, so he took his time, and made that 15 feet of hardwood last.
"Whiskey," he told the bartender. His voice was pleasant enough and the room resumed it's usual quiet chatter and poker games.
"Coming right up," said the barkeep and quick as that, returned with a glass and a bottle. "Two bits," he said. The cowboy's coin clinked on the counter as he laid it down. Slowly, he drank, sipping at the glass as if he were never going to get another one as long as he lived. The taste was beautiful to his dry, parched throat and the warmth of it burning down to his belly was truly treasured. He fell in love with that little glass right there on the spot they made love together there at the bar for quite some time.
After a little while, the cowboy noticed that there was a gloom to the saloon as well, more than you could blame on the dimness of the light. Many bars are happy places, the liquor loosening everyone's spirits, the occasional brawl being more good-natured than viscious. But this saloon was different somehow. He noticed, a little more quickly this time, that it was the people, much as it had been outside. Still, he didn't quite get it but, he figured it wasn't much of his business and continued with his cherished, long-needed drink.
Then he noticed the little sign, right there on the bar. It was an old sign, lettered by hand many many years ago. The cowboy couldn't read so he asked the drink slopper about it.
"Oh, that sign says, '$50 to the man who can make my horse laugh.' Been there a while, though."
"Make a horse laugh?!" The cowboy chuckled out loud and noticed the saloon go quiet again. The bar patrons were really paying attention, now. "Surely you jest," he said.
The barkeep explained. "Nope. Y'see, I have this horse out back. Many years ago, I bought him off'n an old gold miner who's long since left these parts in search of better things. He sold that horse to me so as to build up his stake for the next big gold rush. Then he high-tailed it outta here."
"I see," said the cowboy. He was a little perplexed and asked, "But how is it that you're offering a reward for makin' 'im laugh?"
The barkeep was more than pleased to tell all. "Well, the horse must've really loved that old prospector because the minute the old man was out of sight, this 'ere horse broke down and started cryin'. He's been bawlin' his eyes out ever since and while he's still a good horse and all, works hard, plenty capable, it's just a little embarrassing to ride around town on a horse that cries like a baby. Y'ever try to punch cows on a cryin' horse? It jest ain't manly."
"I see," said the cowboy, still chuckling a little. "And I can see why you'd want to git 'im to stop cryin'. Is the offer still good?"
"Yup. Got the reward right here," and he showed the cowboy two $20 gold eagles and a $10 bill. The cowboy inspected the $10 bill closely and then handed it back.
"Show me this horse o' yers," said the cowboy.
So, the saloon keeper walked around the bar and led the cowboy out to the back of the saloon. There was a corral there with a stall at the far end. The cowboy could see barely make out a horse in there, standing under the shade of the stall. In the bright sunlight, all he could make out was the horse's ass end. Still, he could hear it; the sounds of wracking, sad sobs and wails. The cries of a grief-stricken soul who could never be comforted. It was the saddest thing the cowboy ever heard in his life and he was overcome with sympathy for the poor animal, not to mention the bartender. As he approached the horse, he saw great tears dropping from his eyes and the horse looked over at him, forlorn and weary from all the tears.
"I kin saddle him up for ya if you like," said the bartender. "Just to show you that the horse is really a good animal."
"Naw, that won't be necessary," the cowboy replied. "Just gimme a minute."
The cowboy walked up to the horse and began whispering in his ear. After a moment, he stepped away and the horse looked at the cowboy, took one deep breath and burst out laughing!
The transformation was incredible. Looking at him, one would've never thought it was the same horse! The cowboy turned to the bartender and realized that the people in the saloon had followed them out. All of them were dumbfounded, jaws agape! They had all tried over and over and over again to win that fifty bucks and had never succeeded in all the years they had tried. More people heard what was going on and drifted over to the corral to see what was the matter. They, too, remained, awed by the miracle before their eyes.
"Wellp. That about takes care of that," drawled the cowboy. "Can I get my reward money now?"
In slow motion, the saloon keeper reached into his pocket and handed him the money. "I don't know how you did it, mister. What's your secret?"
The cowboy just chuckled and said, "I think I'll keep that little tidbit to myself for now. And I think I need another drink before I hit the road again."
The bar tender said, "Your drink's on me, sir. In fact," and he shouted out, "Drinks are on the house!"
The crowd cheered and they all went into the saloon to take full advantage of the bartender's newfound exhuberance!
"Well, that sure lightened the mood around here," the cowboy muttered to himself. He joined the celebration for a while and after he finished another drink, he moseyed on out to his horse and rode off over the horizon.
"Strange town," he commented to his horse. His horse just nickered back at him and they rode off with the sounds of a laughing horse fading into the distance behind them.
Chapter Two.
Several years later, the same cowboy found himself in the same territory. Another hot, sunny day at the end of a long, dusty trail. He rode into town and tied up at the same hitching rail as before there in front of the town's only saloon. He noted that the townsfolk were rather subdued, a little less than eager to be polite. A little tense. He listened and sure enough, the sounds of laughter rose above the saloon from the corral out back. He chuckled to himself and muttered, "Unbelievable," as he walked in, savoring the sounds of his boots on the wood floor.
Nobody said anything to him; he rather suspected he wasn't recognized at first.
"Whiskey," he said to the saloon keeper.
"Four bits," was the reply.
The cowboy raised an eyebrow briefly and wondered at the inflation but he was too thirsty to challenge the price increase. He plunked his coins on the counter and proceeded to nurse a drink which, in his opinion, wasn't quite as good as it'd been last time. He didn't expect to see the sign so he was a little surprised to see it there on the bar, as before. But he noticed it was different. He still couldn't read but he could tell it said something different. Just wasn't sure what it said this time around.
Next time the bartender came around, he asked him about it. "Oh, it's you," said the bartender. His tone wasn't complimentary in the least. "That sign now says, '$100 to the man who can get my horse to stop laughing."
"Whoa," said the cowboy, slowly and deliberately. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted him to laugh?"
"Well, I did," replied the barkeeper. "Way back then, anyways. Now, though, all that horse does is laugh all the time and he's rather useless, frankly. The crying was depressing but at least I could get some work out of him and ride him when I needed to. Hitch him to a wagon now and then, that sort of thing." The bar tender was getting a little worked up. His voice rose a little as he continued, "Now, what do I get? Nothing!" He was nearly shouting now. The patrons in the saloon hung on every word, waiting to see what was going to happen. They too recognized this legendary cowboy and couldn't wait to see how the confrontation was going to end. Frankly, it was the best entertainment they'd seen in a very long time.
The bartender carried on, "That damn horse does nothin' but laugh now. Day in and day out. Can't put a saddle on him or hitch him up or nothin'! The minute you go to touch him, he breaks into peals of fresh laughter and usually gets to rollin' around and ya just cain't do a damn thing with the worthless animal. Frankly, I'd rather had the old cryin' horse around so I could at least get something worthwhile out of him."
The cowboy listened to the man's rantings and when he was done, tipped his hat back and quietly thought for a minute. Finally, he said, "Is that reward still good?"
The bartender pulled out five $20 gold pieces from his pocket and said, "Mister, you make him cry again and it's all yours!" Well, a hundred bucks is nothing to sneeze at these days but back then, it was well-nigh a fortune.
"Done deal," said the cowboy and headed around to the corral, the bartender close on his heels.
When he got there, he noticed that a barn had been built at the far end of the corral and the horse's laughter was coming from within.
"What's with the barn?" the cowboy asked.
"Oh, that. Well, when you left here last time, word of this horse was rumored all around the countryside and people started linin' up to see him. I was charging two cents a person to everyone who wanted to see the famous laughing horse. That lasted a couple of years and I even made a little cash money but lately, nobody's interested any more. I was just about to tear that ol' barn down and use it for firewood next winter. That don't change nothin' though. I cain't get any use out of that cayuse as long as he's just laughin' all the time."
"Wait here," said the cowboy and he went inside, leaving the bartender out in the dusty corral.
He peered into the darkness while his eyes adjusted. The horse had his ass to the door and was still laughing himself silly, just as he had been those many years before. The cowby made his way over to the horse.
As soon as the horse saw the cowboy, he burst into fresh laughter which could be heard all over town. People once again gathered in the corral, curious as only quiet, bored, hot and dusty people can be.
Suddenly, they heard the laughter stop. They were awed. They wondered about it. A moment or two went by and the cowboy came out of the barn, squinting at the people in the corral while the people gaped at him, completely slack-jawed. Speechless, the bartender handed the cowboy the money. The cowboy took it without saying a word. Then he meandered back into the bar to finish his drink.
Silently, the townsfolk followed. They gathered as quietly as possible behind the cowboy, watching, not daring to speak. The miracle he had performed, twice now, was beyond their comprehension and they couldn't stand to not know how he did it. The cowboy could feel all eyes on him but he pretended not to notice. He finished his drink at his own leisure and then slowly turned to face the silent crowd.
He stared at them, smiling a little.
They stared back. They smiled back. A little.
Finally, the old saloon keeper dared to ask, "Tell us, sir, how on earth did you get that horse to laugh all those years ago and now, how did you get him to cry? We MUST know!" The townsfolk all shook their heads up and down in anxious agreement.
The cowboy scanned the crowd carefully and said, "Well, back when I made him laugh, I just whispered in his ear, 'Y'know, you sad sack of horse, my knob is bigger'n yours is.'"
"Today, I showed him!"
The End.
--Wag--
