July, 2010

Issue #10

Up Against the Wall
by Jim Fischer

Molby was an old cowboy, an ornery, cranky, stove up old cowboy who, although he hadn't sold his saddle, didn't ride any more. And now Molby's the cook. In less than a minute around Molby you would know all of that, and more. He did his job as he always had, with pride, and he was a fair man. The "cook and eat" area of the bunkhouse was Molby's and you went by his rules when you were there. According to Molby he was not paid to look after or clean up after any of the cowboys other than to clean off the table when the current meal was finished and the dishes were washed.

Most evenings some of the ranch hands and cowboys would sit on their bunks or around the eating table and play cards and read, if they could read, or write a letter for themselves or someone else. Some of them would make repairs to their equipment or make some new piece of gear to trade to someone else for whatever they were good at making.

Molby always kept the big gray speckled enamel coffee pot full of coffee on the back of the cook stove so it was hot after supper and through the evening. The men had to help themselves and it was appreciated that they didn't make a mess, no matter what they were doing.

Some other unwritten rules were, if a man was coming in the bunkhouse with empty hands he should haul in an armload of wood for the stove. If the water bucket was empty someone should fill it. And the winner of the poker game always left a two-bit piece on the table for Molby. This was because he emptied the tin cans used for ashtrays and washed the coffee cups again before breakfast.

"Remember boys." Molby would say. "I'm getting up there in years and one of these days I'll have to hang up my feed sack apron and then I'll be against the wall, so every little bit helps." The cowboys chuckled and often someone would throw another two bits or a peso on the table and then they would laugh.

Molby was also the barber for those men who did not go to town for a haircut and he had the needles and thread to mend clothes but the men did the sewing. Molby never put a price on these things, just gave a sad shake of his head and said, "Remember, I'm getting old boys."

Payday was the first Saturday of the month and everyone was paid at the ranch. Molby collected his pay like the rest of the cowboys and ranch hands, but he seldom went to town. Instead, he sent his pay to the bank with the foreman or one of the older cowboys who he was sure wouldn't drink it up or lose it in a card game. They also brought him back tobacco for his pipe and every couple of month's a fifth of whiskey, and Molby always gave the person doing his errands enough extra money so they could buy a drink or two. A couple times a year Molby made a trip to town driving the chuck wagon to pick up supplies. The first thing he did when he arrived in town would be go to the bank. Then he left his list of supplies at the general store and while they filled the order, Molby had lunch and a couple of beers at the saloon. When the supplies were loaded he headed back to the ranch. The only time Molby stayed overnight in town was for the Fourth of July fireworks and dance, but he slept in the livery stable hayloft or in the buckboard, if there wasn't any chance of rain, so he didn't have to pay for a room at the hotel. Molby didn't spend his money unless he had to.

Molby's bunk was in the corner of the bunkhouse along the walls between the fireplace, where he did some of the cooking, and the wood stove where he cooked in fair weather when the fireplace wasn't being used. The length of the bunk was against the fireplace wall and Molby had nailed some boards on the wall with a shelf at the top. Hanging from hooks in the boards was his 30-30 Winchester and below it were a couple shirts and his vest when he wasn't wearing it. On the shelf along with his old everyday spurs was a fancy silver inlaid pair from Mexico that Molby had won bronc riding at a rodeo when he was much younger. Beside his shirts hung the calendar from the dry-goods store in town where he purchased all the supplies for the ranch and everyday when he got out of bed to start breakfast Molby crossed off the square for the day before. Feeding the ranch hands and cowboys and keeping track of the days on the calendar was what Molby did. Plus worry about what he was going to do in his old age.

"Remember boys," he would mutter under his breath as he put the food on the table. "I'm going to be up against the wall one of these days." Then he'd shake his head slowly as he limped back to the stove or fireplace.

Molby had asked at breakfast if anyone needed anything from town to write it down on his list because he was making a trip to town that day. A couple of the men joked about bringing back one of the gals from the saloon and a barrel of beer, laughing as they left the bunkhouse to get started on the day's work.

That warm summer evening the cowboys and ranch hands were headed to the bunkhouse after the day's work was done when they noticed that no smoke was coming from the cook stove chimney. A couple of them were joking that maybe Molby had gone on strike for more money so he wouldn't have to worry about going "against the wall."

When they walked around the corner of the bunkhouse they all stopped and stood speechless, staring at a brand new buggy. Hitched to the buggy was the number one horse from the livery in town. He was a sorrel gelding with a flaxen mane and tail and he had a way of picking up his hoofs when he trotted that made him look like he was floating and prancing at the same time. The men had never seen anyone driving him except the man who owned the livery, and the liveryman had the only new buggy. The owner of the livery had many offers to sell the horse to one of the well to do businessmen in town or one of the rich ranchers in the area, but had turned them all down, which made the gelding even more desirable.

"What's he doing here?" A couple of them wondered out loud. Then they all noticed Molby's saddle in the buggy. Just then Molby came out the door of the bunkhouse with his bedroll and threw it in the back of the buggy beside his saddle.

"Evening, boys." Molby tipped his hat to the men "I'll rustle up some grub as soon as I'm packed. If some of you give me a hand I'll get done quicker and then you'll get to eat."

There was some pushing and shoving as the cowboys and ranch hands tried to get inside the bunkhouse first. All of them had puzzled looks on their faces as they stopped to stare at the corner of the bunkhouse where Molby's bunk was, or had been.

Molby had made a big hollow in the wall behind the boards that made one heck of a big hide out for his money. The boards that had been nailed to the walls as well as the boards that had been the bunk were in a pile on the floor beside two water buckets full of coins that gleamed in the shaft of sunlight coming through the only window in the bunkhouse. They made the men think of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Molby was a grinning and humming and the men could tell he was happy as a lark.

"Now, boys," Molby stopped long enough to give some orders. "I'm going to get supper going if a couple of you would carry those buckets out to the buggy. Then put my old Winchester on the seat so I can reach it quick and by damn I'll be ready to high tail it out of here soon as I feed you all."

It took two men to pick up each bucket and get it loaded in the buggy. The rest of Molby's clothes and personal items he had already rolled up in a flour sack and they went in the back of the buggy with everything else. None of the cowboys or ranch hands had said a word and most of them just sat on their bunks with a "what is this all about" looks on their faces.

"Now I know all you fellow's are wondering what's going on." Molby said to them once he got supper started. "Well, it's no mystery. All the years I've been the cook here I've told you fellows that I was getting old and one day I'd be against the wall. Well this is the day. I got right up against that wall with a crow bar and opened up my other bank account. Yes sir, this is the account that you boys have been making deposits in for all them years. You boys and all the ones before you and now I'm making a final withdrawal and heading south where there ain't no snow." Molby stopped talking and made a sound that was half chuckle and half cackle as he looked at the men with a grin from ear to ear. "Oh yeah, that fancy gelding out there with the buggy. I offered the liveryman five hundred dollars for that horse and two hundred for the buggy and he said no, like he always does. So I just made him a better offer, double or nothing on the flip of a coin. Don't ya know I won using one of those Mexican pesos you boys was leaving me and laughing about when you were done playing poker instead of a two-bit piece." Molby held the coin up so all could see it. " Now come and get it while it's hot cause the new cook I hear has been fired from the last ten ranches he's cooked at and had his life threatened at a couple other places." Molby was chuckling again as he limped back to the cook stove. "Yes sir, I'm going where I can spend these pesos and I'll never have to worry about the wall again."

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