Red Steagall: New and Selected Poems

Boley

-52Boley The first time I met Boley I was seven, maybe eight. He sold my dad a set of longhorn steers. About the time that school was out I helped him brand his calves. I worked for Boley six or seven years. He traded for a pinto colt the day that I turned twelve. He helped me break him, taught me how to ride. After that I dogged his footsteps everywhere he went. He couldn’t lose me even if he tried. Old Boley rode the finest horses I had ever seen. He never seemed to keep ’em very long. He’d trade ’em off then leave awhile and bring some new ones home. I never dreamed he’s doing something wrong. We lived in Palo Pinto and his place was south of town. He branded lots of cattle every spring. I often thought it funny that he didn’t own a cow. But I kept quiet and didn’t say a thing. He had an army contract and he sold the neighbors some. But yet each year his steer herd multiplied. All those years he’s strippin’ bull calves off the neighbor’s cows. My daddy told me after Boley died. I’se sittin’ on the courthouse lawn with Burt and Billy Joe— Their folks was testifying at a trial. My daddy and the Sheriff asked if Boley was in town. I said, “No sir, he’s been gone for quite a while.” -53Early that next mornin’ they all gathered at our house. They held a secret meeting in the den. I hunkered down outside the door and listened to them talk. They was saying bad things ’bout my friend. The sheriff said that Boley was a rustler and a thief; He’d stole some calves from Mr. Slaughter’s herd. Last week he took a gelding from a man in Fredericksburg. They’re lyin’ and I don’t believe a word. I saddled up my pinto and rode out to Boley’s place. I got to let him know they’re on his trail. I figured I’d go with him all the way to Mexico. I never thought I might wind up in jail. Boley’s place was empty, ’cept for one horse in the barn, A sorrel mare he used to let me ride. From the looks of things he hadn’t been at home for several days. I left a note before I walked outside. And then I saw the posse as they raced across the hill; Boley out in front a’ridin’ hard. He slid his pony to a stop and got off next to me, Then raised his hands as they rode in the yard. Now if I hadn’t been there, Boley might have got away. His horse was yet responding to the quirt. He knew that I admired him, and I’m certain that he sensed I might do something stupid and get hurt. -54His trial didn’t last too long, was too much evidence. They hung him on July the 23rd. I was on the front row and his eyes locked into mine. He ducked his head and didn’t say a word. Boley had a lot of friends who came to say good-bye. I went to pay my last respects, of course. My daddy said, “One thing for sure, he’s always mounted good. A shame it had to be a borrowed horse.” 1995 ...