A Walk Across Texas

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen We heard many wild stories About broncs and bad dogs And, in the Panhandle, they said Watch out for those wild hogs. Walk across Texas With its wonderful sights. Walk across Texas With its beautiful nights. I joined the ranks of the blister boys on this day. After showering I discovered a blister on my fourth toe. Norm and Eddie had already suffered blisters so I figured I was in good company. I remembered two days ago when Norm had discovered a blister and Eddie had given him a piece of sandpaper to sand down the skin left after the blister had been drained. Norm said it had not hurt. So I walked to Eddie’s room and asked him to check my toe. His athletic trainer background again came in handy this day and many other times on the trip. “Let’s look at that toe,” he said. He put on his glasses and looked like one of those old time doctors pictured in a Norman Rockwell painting. “Yeah, you got a blister but it’s not a big one and it doesn’t look red. Let me drain it and put some ointment and tape on it and I think you’ll be all right.” I gave him one of my disposable syringes that I use for my insulin injections. He drained the blister, added the ointment and tape, and pronounced me ready for the road. “Are you sure I shouldn’t just quit this whole thing?” I asked in jest. He shook his head. “You remember what you said your buddy, Doug, told you when things got a little tough, don’t you? When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” I pulled on two pair of wool socks over the taped toe. It felt fine. I said, “Well, let’s try it.” The weather was perfect for walking. The temperature stood in the lower fifties with a stiff wind from the north that meant we would be getting a push from it. We started about fifteen miles south of Spur and headed for Rotan. I looked at the raw, red-colored draws on the side of the road. They were lined with mesquite and junipers and a flower that looked like a sunflower with a burst of yellow at its top. I stopped and found a rock to sit on. I pulled off my shoe and sock and looked at my foot. It looked and felt okay. I kept walking. A large pickup truck with a trailer pulled over when it met me. The driver rolled down the window and offered his hand in a fierce handshake. “Howdy,” he said. “I’m Joe Nixon. Are you one of them fellers (that word is used for fellows out here in West Texas. Nobody called us fellows, it was always fellers.) walking across Texas?” As I shook his hand, I told him that we were the men walking across Texas. He had strong fingers that looked like he could drive a nail into a fence post with them if he chose to. “Daggone it, I had hoped we could have made contact earlier. We were gonna invite you boys to come out to the ranch and stay.” We talked about his life and how he wound up in West Texas. He said that his wife attended college in Tyler and got her nursing degree. Then they decided to move out here. “I love this country. Nobody knows your business but you,” he said. “I normally don’t get on this side of the fence. I like to stay on the other side where I live. No bad news over there. I get on this side, and I’m like an ostrich with his head stuck in the sand.” We talked about West Texas and I told him I had been reared there. We both knew an old-time cattleman named Buster Welch. He had sold cattle to my father, who had once owned the cattle auction at Midland. I had even worked cattle a couple of times with Buster Welch. Then Nixon talked about some of the wild animals that lived in the area. “I saw a badger this morning,” he said. “A big ’un. He was running on the other side of that fence.” He started his pickup. “Why don’t you boys think it over and come on back and spend the night. If you decide to, just come to that gate behind...