Red Steagall: New and Selected Poems

McCorkle and the Wire

-13McCorkle and the Wire McCorkle rode into the Whiskey Flat Camp On a lathered-up walleyed blue roan. He was talkin’ in circles, clean out of his head, And shakin’ right down to the bone. We made him get down—Billy Joe took his reins, Tom offered a nip o’ the jug. He sat on my bedroll and asked for a chew— I give him a cut of my plug. He said, “Early this mornin’ I was out ridin’ fence, About six—it was just gettin’ light. I was checkin’ for breaks from the rim of Bates Draw, When I seen a blood curdlin’ sight. “This feller was laying up under his horse. They both was tied up in the wires. Neither was movin’—I thought they was dead. I reached in my bag for the pliers. “The cowboy looked up and said, ‘Give me a hand. I think I’m all broken inside.’ I took out my cutter and worked on the wire. ’Fore I finished, the cowpuncher died. “I got on my horse and rode straight into camp. His dyin’ shore gave me a scare. Could I get you podnahs to give me some help, And bury that feller out there?” I asked if his clothes were those out of the past, If his kack was a Visalia tree, If the shank of his bit had a US Rosette, And the brand on his horse was a three. -14McCorkle looked like he had swallered his tongue. He stood up and reached for his gun. “How did you know? Did he ride by the camp? This ain’t no time to be pokin’ fun.” I looked at McAlister. He turned away. We’d both heard this story before. “It seems that some puncher a long time ago Is still tryin’ to settle a score. “Late in the ’90s they fenced off the grass. Most people thought it was wrong. Some carried fence pliers, made their own laws, But the open range era was gone. “This feller was bad about cutting a fence, Paid no mind at all to the law. The ranchers had taken about all they could take. They set up a trap in the draw. “A group of their punchers hid out in the brush. The fence was stretched ready to break. They had purposely not tied the wire to the posts. When they cut it, it coiled like a snake. “Four strands of bobwire a hundred foot long, Like a thousand knives flashed through the air. This feller had just gotten down from his horse When the wire hit and parted his hair. “The night air was filled with the sound of his screams. The coyote was captured, and then They rode off and left him to die on his own, Laughin’, ‘He won’t cut fences again.’ -15- “For ninety-odd years now he keeps coming back, And ropes in some feller like you. He knows you can’t cut him free all by yourself, And you’ll go for some help—ain’t that true?” McCorkle don’t buy it. He gets on his horse. We wait till he rides out of sight. We follered him out but we gave him some room, ’Cause McCorkle is ready to fight. When we got to the rim he was white as a ghost Said, “I’m sorry I called you a liar.” From the top of Bates Draw, we could see every strand And not one single break in the wire. McCorkle pulled out, and we ain’t seen him since. We hired a new man in the fall. We’re still out workin’ the Whiskey Flat range, Just as tho’ nothin’ happened at all. Pete says, “McCorkle’s run off the deep end. He’s crazy and moves around slow. He drinks lots of whiskey and keeps to himself, And his hair’s turned as white as the snow.” 1990 ...