May, 2015

Issue #68

Cowboys in the Badlands
by Roy Jerden

Part 1 - The Greenhorn

Well, they's lotsa folks was wantin' to hear the story 'bout how me and Buck got famous and all, gittin' a paintin' of us in a fancy museum in Philadelphy. So here it is, best as I recall. It all started a few years ago when me "n' Buck was doin' wranglin' work in Dakoty Territory.

Capt'n Morris calls us in one day, back in 1887, seems like. Me 'n' Buck is supposta pick us up this here art perfesser feller in town, take him out to the Badlands, break him in, 'n' learn him 'bout the Wild West.

Buck 'n' me thunk that was pretty funny, playin' wet nurse to some greenhorn dude who was bound to get hisself kilt and maybe us too, but Cap'n Morris, he took it serious-like, so we hadda go along with the deal and it paid good, too.

Still, we 'bout split our britches when we got a gander at this dandy. He was over at Deaf Evan's gettin' outfitted for his Western adventure. Not a bad lookin' man for an art perfesser, tall and well-bilt, but them duds was another story.

He look't like he'd shopped with a drunk Injun and a dime novel. His boots were proper ridin' boots, but bright red. I guess ol' Deaf was tickled to death to finally be shed of them. His vest was black and white cowhide and he wore a rattlesnake belt with mirrored trim. He sported a big white Sugar Loaf ten gallon hat that he had poked a colored feather in 'n' had a yeller bandana tied around his neck.

We shook. He had a good grip and looked a man straight in the eye, but maybe a tad too intense, like he was lookin' for some kinda secret sign from you or sumpin, like a Mason. So far, so good, anyhow.

Said his name was Eakins, Thomas Cowperthwait Eakins.

'Tween the outfit and the name, me 'n' Buck was doin' our best to keep from bustin' a gut, so we just looked everwhere but at each other.

The pack mules at the stable was all ready to go, so we skedaddled out of town. We was kinda parched, but the saloon was out of the question considerin' the present company's sartorial splender. We figgered we'd have some fun and call him Cowperth, and I'll be damned iff'n he didn't get a kick outta that, gettin' a handle 'n' all right off. He was smilin' all the way outta town. You never knows how some folks are gonna take thangs.

Cowperth filled us in on his artistic philosophy as we rode west toward the Badlands.

He says, "I am of a mind that all painting should be done from life. I have studied and dissected the human body like Leonardo and I am convinced that the most beautiful thing in the world to paint is a naked man. A short time ago I experienced a setback in my professional life because of my beliefs, but I think I will eventually be redeemed. Now I am here in the West to find peace and to experience the natural life like the noble savage, nature as nature intended.", he continued.

Yep. I could see this was gonna be fun, lessen we actually met up with them noble savages, that is.

Ol' Cowperth was a tolerable good rider and we made 'bout twenty miles that day afore stoppin' to camp near a little creek out on the prairie.

Buck 'n' me, bein' the hired hands, set up camp while Cowperth pulls out his sketchpad. He then proceeds to strip nekkid as a jaybird.

"I shall remain in this natural purifying state as long as possible", he declares, then starts to sketch the camp, includin' hisself.

Buck 'n' me thunk a heap of his art, as he done went and captured the scene better'n life we reckon, not like some of that blurred French art that I seen in a magazine. Buck is braggin' proud of his likeness, and sits for a personal sketch.

"Shore would fancy this old mug showin' up in one of them Louvers back in Philadelphy.", he muses. Course he meant art gallery, but I guess the Louver is the only one he ever heared of.

Well, I never done sit and eat grub with a nekkid man before, but that night I did.

Old Cowperth was gonna dress back up to bed down and had quite a start when the tarantula crawled outta his britches.

Buck and me had slipped it in there, a course. We never cracked a smile.

"Gotta check yore duds for critters out here", I says, "Shake out yore britches and boots. Better off sleepin' with 'em on, in fact."

He turned pretty pale when the rattler came out of those red boots, and started whoopin' 'n' hollerin' like a girl. He was gonna shoot it, but we stopped him in time.

"Here, don't waste a bullet on that critter!", I says."That's mighty fine eatin' with some bacon. Anyhow, you fire off a shot here at night, it can be heard for miles. I'm not too keen on a pack of Sioux getting on our trail and scalping us in our sleep. I heard that old Two Toes and his band are back in these here parts.

"Two Toes? Who is Two Toes?" he inquired.

We definitely had old Cowperth flummoxed now. He was 'bout fit to be tied. Buck dispatched the rattler with an ax, while I finished my tale.

"Cowperth, I don't know if you ever heared much about the Lakota Sioux, but a brave who is in battle and on foot, will sometimes haul off and pin his sash to the ground with his spear, so he has to stand his ground and cain't run off.

Now to be clear, Two Toes ain't his real name. His birth name was Ha-O-Cha. Anyhow, he was surrounded by the cavalry. He decided to fight to the end, so he pulled out his sash, put the end on the ground, and jabbed out with his spear. But damned if he done went and missed the sash and chopped off the two middle toes of his left foot.

The Army boys thought that was so funny, seein' him hop around that they let him go, figgering he was no threat as a warrior anymore.

Ha-O-Cha was so humiliated that he swore revenge on the white man, especially the calvary. He kept them two toes and wears them round his neck to remember him his humiliation. Whenever he ketches him a white man, he whacks off his two middle toes on the left foot, then lets him go, mostly, lessen he's an Army man. Word has it that he keeps them all in a leather pouch. That's how he got that handle, but he'll kill enny man that says it."

Well, old Cowperth didn't get too much sleep that night what with the wild critters and Injun stories we done filled his head with. Course that wasn't nigh enuff for Buck 'n' me.

Me 'n' Buck took turns at watch. Whenever we heared Cowperth startin' to sleep pretty good, we'd sneak off a piece and shake a bush or make some animal noise.

Cowperth was so stirred up that he would jump out of his bedroll ever time. We'd tell him it was just a coyote or a badger or something. His nerves was so shook that after a spell we didn't even hafta do ennythang. His imagination plumb took over and he would sit straight up every few minnits and look all round, probly checkin' the bushes for Injuns, I reckon.

Well, despite that lesson, next mornin' he was back at it. He et that rattler with gusto, declaring that consuming the wild food would speed his transformation into the natural native state, which he assumed by strippin' nekkid again.

He then pulls out a pack of store-bought cigarettes and lights one up with a Lucifer match. Buck 'n' me had never seen store-bought, so he shows 'em to us, declarin' that it was all the latest rage back East.

"Now they come in different brands," he explained. "My brand is Old Judge, which I consider the finest, and the only one for a proper gentleman."

Then he pulls a card out of his coat and shows it to us. It had a picture of a baseball player on it.

Me 'n' Buck seen a baseball game once at Ft. Laramie. We thunk it was a heap of foolishness.

"Every pack comes with a baseball card", he says. "This player is Joe Mulvey, third base for the Philadelphia Quakers, my team, and world champions."

Then he pulls out a whole passel of cards and starting goin' through them, naming off all the players, their positions, and team. He even relates 'bout how many hits each one got, how many times he got on base, how many runs he scored and how many home runs he hit. Then he starts in on the pitchers. How many games they won, how many strikeouts they got and so on and so on.

I never seen sich idiocy as a person goin' on about full grown men playin' a boy's game. And the craziest thing is that they went and got paid for it, too! It's enuff to make yer ass wanna dip snuff!

Well, Buck he got a hankerin' to try out one of them fancy cigarettes, I guess, as he was goin' on about this marvel and how wunnerful it must be not to have to roll your own and kept on eyeing the pack until ol' Cowperth finally takes the hint and offers him one. Lights it up for 'em, too. Buck takes a nice long draw and declares it the finest smoke he ever had, settin' hisself up for later, I reckon.

Now Cowperth, he don't smoke regular. He holds the cigarette 'tween his thumb and trigger finger and sticks out his little finger like he's drinkin' tea in high society. He draws in a big puff with a highfalutin expression and then turns his head to the side, blowin' it out with his lips all pursed up. Damned if ol' Buck don't start puttin' on the same airs, like he's some London dandy or sumpin!

Then it come to me. I thunk he looked a little finer than usual this morning, and shore enuff, he went and waxed up his mustache and warshed his face. Even had on clean duds. He was workin' ol' Cowperth for another portrait, for sure.

Well, we lit out west again. I wanted to get us 'bout forty miles in as I knew a couple good watering places we could camp at. Buck 'n' Cowperth were ridin' in front and I was follerin' with the pack mules. I wanted Buck to scout ahead, but he was still workin' Cowperth, showing him rope tricks 'n' cowboy knots. Cowperth 'n' him was talkin' up a storm 'bout art 'n' baseball 'n' whatnot when I saw a cloud of dust on the plains. Coulda bin only one thing.

Part 2 - Nude Art on the Prairie

I was pretty shore it was Two Toes and his woods buffaloes makin' the dust. I had jist heared the story a few days ago.

The Sioux was in real sorry shape all over. The guvmint had tried to make 'em into sodbusters, which was 'bout the onliest way they was gonna eat anyhow, as the plains buffalo was pretty much done for. Mighta worked, too, iff'n these parts ever saw a drop of rain during growing season. Plenty of snow wintertime, but dry as Ezekiel's bones elsewise.

Ol' Two Toes got the notion he would bring back the buffalo hisself and took off into Canada to find a herd and drive it back iff'n he could. Turnt out the buffalo was gone there, too, leastwise the plains buffalo, but him 'n' his bunch kept on pushin' north, hopin' to find a herd. Well, they did, but them buffaloes was woods buffaloes, not the plains kind.

Them woods buffaloes is bigger than plains buffalo and has a lot bigger hump from what I hear. Anyhow, Two Toes was able to round up 'bout fifty of 'em and drove 'em all the way back to the Dakoty Territory. Jist got here a few weeks ago according to accounts. Him and his boys had shed all the white man's clothes and was livin' the old ways they said , 'cept they kept their carbines, not bein' total fools.

Carbines or not, there was no way the guvmint was gonna stand for Injuns livin' free on the plains with buffaloes. I knowed it, and probly Two Toes knowed it as well. He was jist stirrin' up the Lakota with false hopes, livin' his dream 'til he could go out in a blaze of glory, like a martyr, I suppose. Cain't say as I blamed him, really, considering all of it.

I wanted to steer plumb clear of him, but before I could say ennythang, Buck had done let the calf out of the barn. Ol' Cowperth was 'bout to have a conniption fit.

"We must view this wonderful sight!", he declares. "The Sioux in his natural state! And buffaloes, too! I am personally engaged in a campaign in Philadelphia to save this noble beast which once darkened the plains. This opportunity must have been sent by the Lord!"

I had a feelin' that the opportunity was more likely arranged by a darker spirit, but at this point, there was nuthin' stoppin' ol' Cowperth. Least I might keep us from getting' kilt.

I agreed to take him within spyglass range and I knew whar they was a bit of higher ground that we could get a looksee from. Main thang was not to leave no sign of bein' in the whereabouts.

I figgered they was pushin' them buffaloes t'wards the bigger of the two watering holes, so we could take a route to keep the high ground twixt us 'n' them, get our looksee, and hightail it to the other one afore they got wind of us.

And that's what we did. We tied up the horses 'n' mules and Buck stayed behind while me 'n' Cowperth snuck up to the top with my spyglass. There they was, 'bout a dozen braves, the buffaloes getting' watered and a remuda of ponies. Yep, looked jist like the ol' days. Them boys had shed all traces of the white man, dressed up old-style in buckskin leggin's and breechcloths and moccasins, braided hair, headbands and feathers. They all had a carbine in a saddle holster, though. I recognized Two Toes and his lieutenant Warm Bear.

Now, folks think the Sioux rode bareback, but when they seen the Spanish saddle with stirrups, which allowed you to turn the horse at full gallop without flyin' off, they didn't waste any time makin' their own kind. Most used a stretched buffalo hide over a wooden frame. Warm Bear had a saddle he made out of a bearskin, leavin' the bear head on with a pommel sticking up through the skull.

The story 'bout how Warm Bear got that saddle was pretty interestin', too.

'Pears he was trackin' a bear in the late fall. The bear was a wise 'un and circled back behind him, charged and spooked his pony, throwin' him off. The only weapons he had was his knife and spear. Well, he fought and kilt that bear, wounding it mortally, but it took a spell to die. Meantime, an early blizzard came in and the temperature dropped real sudden. He hadda find some shelter or freeze. What he done was he cut open that bear, pulled out the guts, and crawled inside. That bear's body kept him warm all night. The next day he crawled out when it warmed up, skinned the bear and walked home with the hide. Found his pony froze to death. He got a shaman to put a spell on the hide, so's when his squaw made the saddle, the bear scent wouldn't spook his horse. He took Warm Bear as his name after that.

Cowperth was plumb spellbound by the scene, and drawed a quick sketch of it. He kept on wantin' to look more, till I tole him we hadda get to the other watering hole afore it got dark, so he finally give up the spyglass and we took off.

We took a roundabout way and reached our spot mid-afternoon. Me 'n' Buck got the animals watered and set up camp while Cowperth went natural agin. I never saw nobody who liked to parade around nekkid so much. He had his sketchpad out and was makin' a larger sketch of the Injun scene we saw earlier, fillin' in more details. When Buck got done, he come over and was admirin' the fine work, goin' on about what a fine artist Cowperth was and generally oilin' him up. Finally, Cowperth stops and takes a long look at Buck.

"Buck", he says, "how'd you like to model a painting for me?"

Now that was exactly what Buck had been workin' on him for, so he was pleased as punch.

Buck loved to see his mug in photographs, specially if it made the occasional rotogravure in a magazine or sumpin. I never seen such a character who would work his way into whatever picture was bein' taken. If they opened a new bank, he would sidle over and start up a conversation with one of the group, get friendly, and then slip into the back row so he wasn't noticed while they took the photograph. Shore enuff, if you went in enny business in town and looked at they's grand openin' photograph, you could find Buck somewhar in it. If they was a shootin' in town Buck would be in the picture they took of the body. Buck wasn't proud and would even get in weddin' party pictures when he could. A lot of time he'd get run off, then hide behind a tree or sumpin and pop his head out jist afore they took it.

Then Cowperth upped the ante.

"Now Buck, if you are willing to model in the natural naked state as God made you, I will pay you for it.", he said.

Well, I figgered Cowperth was dead 'n' done for at that, but damned if ol' Buck never batted an eye, but straightaways stripped right down to nothin' and took a pose just like John L. Sullivan, boxing world champion, ready to be immortalized in art. Like I done said, Buck had no shame when it come to publicity.

Anyways, here I am, in the middle of the prairie with two nekkid fools doin' art. Somebody up there must be laffin' they's ass off, I figgered.

"Buck", says Cowperth, "that's a fine sporting pose, but I was looking for something inventive."

Damned if ol' Cowperth don't open his pack and pull out a passel of baseball equipment.

He hands Buck a fielding glove and shows him the pose a shortstop takes when fielding, legs apart, knees bent, eyes focused straight ahead, glove ready to field the ball. Buck takes the stance like he was born to the part. Cowperth even finds a baseball cap and places it on Buck's head.

All set now, Cowperth does a quick sketch of Buck in this pose. I took a gander at it and thunk it captured the scene perfectly. Cowperth had adjusted the skin tones even so Buck's pale body and his tanned hands and face didn't contrast so much. He had shaded it jist right so all of Buck's muscles showed up even better'n real life. I was sure Buck was gonna love it. Buck was fidgety and jist couldn't stand it enny more. He was dyin' to see his body captured by a real artist.

He come over and was admiring the work like all get out, 'til he seen a particular he didn't like.

"Now, perfesser Eakins" he says, "I believe this is the finest art I ever seen. I wouldn't change one thing about it, and I reckon the way you did my muscles was better than nature, but I believe that pose I was in kinda made one of my features appear smaller than God originally made it."

Well, me and Cowperth knew what he meant, but comparing the former with the latter, we couldn't see no difference, which we stated.

Buck was havin' none of this truck, and started in arguin' his case like a country lawyer, bringin' in the angle of the sun, the phase of the moon, the air temperature, the wind speed and all other kinds of scientific hogwarsh, generally making a pest out of hisself till Cowperth give in and made about a threefold adjustment in length and girth, which put Buck more in the equine size category than in the human, but apparently pleased him no end.

Cowperth give me a wink, by which I unnerstood that he would take care of matters later, iff'n he decided to make a paintin' from the sketch.

Well, now Cowperth wanted a battin' stance to sketch, so he give Buck the bat and stated that they was gonna practice some batting so that Buck would get the hang of how to stand properly when he sketched him. He takes the bat and shows Buck how to take the stance and hold it like a professional player.

He asks me to line up behind Buck and ketch the ball which I complied with even though I wasn't supposed to be part of the deal.

We's all set to go when Cowperth straightens up and stares wide-eyed right at me.

When I heared the noise behind me, I knew we was cooked and packed.

Part 3 - Indian Baseball

I knowed it was Two Toes and his bunch that'd found us.

I guessed he had gone and sent a scout to check out the waterin' hole and when he relayed the story, decided he needed to add a few more specimens to his toe collection.

Now I knowed we was done for iff'n we acted normal and tried to get to our guns, but considerin' the present scene, I figgered we had to go the other way, as the Sioux respect madness in all its forms.

"Cowperth", I said, "don't pay no nevermind to them. You jist keep pitchin', and Buck, you see iff'n you can hit the ball back to Cowperth. Whatever you do, don't look at 'em, and don't look skeered!"

Well, in for a dime, in for a dollar, I thunk, so I shed all my duds too, and we started up playin'. Cowperth pitched easy balls underhanded to Buck, and he batted 'em back slow. I caught a foul, and switched spots with Buck. I hit one in the air, but Cowperth snagged it and come to bat and I pitched. We kept switchin' round, tryin' to keep up the Lakota's innerest.

The Lakotas just sit thar on they's ponies, but we could hear them chatterin' away and laffin', I guess tryin' to figger out what the ritual meant or sumpin. Course they had us dead to rights and knowed it too, so they warn't too tense. We jist kept on at it like nuthin' was outta normal.

Finally, I seen Two Toes dismount and come over. First time I ever seen him up close. I seen his toes hangin' round his neck from that buckskin cord. He was pretty tall for an Injun, and walked kinda funny, too, I reckon from the missin' toes. He had a real intense look about him.

Two Toes went and inspected the sketches Cowperth had done of Buck. He seemed impressed with Buck's manly attributes, 'til he checked out the originals, that is, and then jist about fell over laffin'.

The other braves was curious and some started over to get a looksee on they's ponies. Two Toes made three of 'em stay behind to keep an eye on us. Well, them boys that come over thunk them sketches was funnier than a fart in church. They was pointin' at Buck 'n' comparin' to the sketch 'n' mockin' him six ways from Sunday. Ol' Buck was turnin' ever color in the rainbow doin' his best to avoid showin' his shortcomin's, no doubt regrettin' all the fuss he made earlier.

Ol' Two Toes comes over 'n' starts studyin' our weird antics, tryin' to figger out what's goin' on. Well, we was desperate, but I had me an idear, so I stops the game to palaver with him. I knows a little Lakota and quite a bit of sign language, and I heared Two Toes spoke some English and French, so I reckoned the big windy I was thinkin' up might be unnerstood.

"You have broken the spell, Ha-O-Cha", I says. The Dark Spirit will be angry." Right off, I wanted to put ol' Two Toes on the wrong side of the spirit world. I was hopin' he'd take the bait, but like I always say, you never know how folks are gonna take thangs.

Well, I was relieved to see right off that statement had some weight with him.

I seen some mighty superstitious folks before, but never none like an Injun. Nevertheless, he narrows his eyes and looks suspicious at me, as he has good reason to do.

Now most Injuns won't look you straight in the eye when they talk. Don't mean they's lying, like some folks claims. They considers it disrespectful, kinda like a direct challenge. But Two Toes never looked away when he talked, so I knowed I had a hard pony to rope.

"White man no believe in Dark Spirit. I see white man pray to god nailed on cross. He weak man, not strong like Dark Spirit.", he says.

I avoids eye contact and looks in the distance when speakin', like a respectful Lakota would do, jist glancing back ever now and then.

"Well", I says, "you got the prayin' part right, leastwise in public at church, but white folks generally don't pray to the Dark Spirit, though I kin think of a few who might. Don't mean they don't believe in him, though, cause they blame him for ever bad thang that happens. You take your average cold-blooded murderer, for example. Iff'n his mother comes to see him before the hangin' and asks why he done it, ever one of 'em will claim up and down it was the Devil.

"Now, there's some that believes in Jesus and some that don't, and some that pretends to, but they all believes in the Devil, I guarantee you. And not just him, either. You look at all that God-fearin', church-goin' salt of the earth that claims to believe in just one god and sees how many of 'em rubs a rabbit foot or hangs up a horseshoe or believes bringin' a hoe in the house is bad luck.

"And then they's fortune-telling, palm readin', numerology, and astrology, not to mention hexes and curses, love potions, and all that truck. Now that ain't got nuthin' to do with Jesus, no siree, that's the old dark spirit religion for shore. Yes sir, the Lord has his day, but the Devil's got most of the business the rest of the week."

I could see that I made the sale to Two Toes. T'warn't too hard, really, considerin' the Lakota mostly thought the white man wuz the Devil incarnate ennyhow, but now I needed to close the deal.

"Now that man there", I says, pointin' to Cowperth, "is Perfesser Thomas Cowperthwait Eakins, a wizard of the Dark Spirits. He was puttin' a spell on my friend's manhood to improve his condition. You can mock him if you like, but that drawing was important to let the Dark Spirits know what we wants. We was completin' the spell when you stopped it."

Two Toes goes over and takes a long gander at Cowperth. Sumpin passed 'tween 'em then, some kinda sign of recognition. Two Toes appeared satisfied. He then comes back over to me.

"This spell work on Lakota?" he asks.

I knowed I had him then.

"Well", I says, "I seen it work wonders on a Chinaman, so I reckon it'll work on ennybody."

I was hopin' maybe I could barter with Two Toes 'n' get him to let us go iff'n we put the spell on him, but as soon as he talked to his bunch, I seen 'em all get stirred up and start arguin' with him. Some even drawed they's knives and was pointin' at us. It warn't lookin good.

Two Toes come back over with Warm Bear to parley with me.

"Wizard explain spell now", he says. "Lakota watch."

Well, I thinks we is in for it now, but I was sellin' ol' Cowperth too short. Iff'n you thinks a cowboy kin lay it down thick, you ain't never seen no perfesser shovel it afore.

First, he gits Two Toes and Warm Bear to swear they won't reveal the secret to ennyone, then seal it by spittin' on their hands and shakin' on the deal. Then he gits a stick and draws an outline of home plate in the dirt.

"This magical five-sided figure is a pentagon", he declares in a thundering oratorical voice. "It summons the powers of the Dark Spirit. I will invoke it now. Strike one! Strike two! Strike Three! You're out!" He pumps his fist on each call, raises it with his thumb extended, then turns the thumb down.

The Lakota is impressed. Then Cowperth picks up the bat and baseball.

"These things are sacred totems of manhood." he continues. No argument there, as it seemed obvious as a circus parade.

"The spell requires at least three players, but it is stronger with more. One player must stand next to the pentagon with the bat. One player must pitch the ball, passing over the pentagon at belt level. The other players stand in the field. The first player must try to hit the ball with the bat when it passes over the magic area. Doing so will increase his manhood. A player in the field who catches the ball in the air after it is batted also increases his manhood and then comes to bat. If he catches it on the ground, the batter must lay the bat on the ground and allow the fielder to roll the ball toward it. If it hits the bat, then the fielder comes to bat, otherwise the first player continues to bat. The more hits a batter gets, the more his manhood increases."

Two Toes speaks. "This spell has many mysteries, mighty wizard. All Lakota wish to have this spell. You make magic pictures of us and we all do spell now. We happy, you go free. We not happy, Ha-O-Cha cut off toes, maybe more."

For the first time, Cowperth seems really happy. I reckons it was a dream come true for him, drawing nekkid savages and playin' Injun baseball all at the same time. He didn't seem worried at all. Buck, on the other hand, was nervous as a pig in a packin' house. He kept checkin' his body parts - to see iff'n they was still attached, I guess.

Well, Two Toes and his bunch all strip down, but some of 'em keep their carbines ready, just in case of funny business, I reckon, although I couldn't divine how it could get enny funnier, unless the cavalry was to show up all of a sudden.

Cowperth is sketchin' away, busier'n a one-armed paper hanger. Some of the braves left their feathers on, which seemed to suit him. He fixes 'em all up like Buck, too. It don't seem strange at all to 'em, which was natural I reckon, considering some of the exaggerations I seen drawn on the sides of Sioux teepees.

He's 'bout got 'em all knocked out when they's a snag. The Lakota's bin goin' through his pack of equipment and found the baseball cards.

Two Toes brung 'em over 'n' shows 'em to Cowperth. "What this?", he demands.

I had no idear what to say, but Cowperth was on his game now.

"My dear sir, why these are holy cards of the Dark Spirit. These men are demons, like saints, in a way. Why you can see the power emanating from their eyes! Look! Some of them are even holding the manhood totems, ready to cast the spell! These cards have powerful magic and many wizards wish to possess them. Why among my fellow wizards, there's a whole market for trading these cards! Some of them are rarer than others and fetch a better price, especially the older ones or the ones of demons who became famous."

Cowperth immediately regretted this story.

"Lakota take these magic cards, be wizards too.", Two Toes declared.

Cowperth looked really worried about losing his collection now, but had a response.

"These holy cards are dangerous, my dear fellow. It requires many years of learning to know how to use them. However, each man who completes the spell will get a holy card and have his own personal patron demon to protect him. I will select an appropriate one for each."

Two Toes seems satisfied, even delighted at this answer. He explains it to the Lakota, who get excited and all want to have the ritual and get their card right away, like they was joining the Odd Fellows or sumpin.

Them boys took to Injun baseball like they was born to the game, which I reckon they was, in a way. They all wanted to bat, a course, but Two Toes was the leader and took first bat. Cowperth pitched and I caught. Buck played in the fields with the braves, as he was supposta be gittin' the spell done on him, too.

Well, ol' Two Toes seemed to have a good eye and connected with the first pitch, a fly ball out to left field. Course ever one of them boys run to the ball to grab it. A couple even run inna each other. Nobody caught it, but one of 'em run after it and picked it up. Two Toes lays the bat down so's the player kin try to hit it, but it was catawampus, so's I shows him how to place it. Well that feller was too far out to get a good throw and missed the bat, so Two Toes gits another turn.

Them boys was all stirred up now and ready to go. Two Toes takes a couple of strikes on some wild swings, and then connects agin, this time hit it straight to a feller in center field, who snagged it outta the air.

Well, this nekkid Injun baseball game went on til everbody got at least one hit, even Buck, who was a terrible batter. The Lakota wanted to keep playin' but it was startin' to git dark. Cowperth wanted to parley with Two Toes and called him to the mound, which there warn't one, a course. They spoke a bit, grinned and then embraced like long lost brothers.

Well, Cowperth had cut a deal with Two Toes. We was off the hook. The Lakota was gonna keep all the baseball equipment, get a baseball card for each brave and get taught how to do the spell, which Cowperth explained had to be done ever day until the full moon afore it started takin' effect.

I dunno iff'n they believed him completely or not, but them boys was so enthused about baseball that it might notta mattered ennyways. Cowperth give 'em all a baseball card, waved his hands over 'em like a magician, and yelled "Play ball!" in a sonorous preacher voice.

Everbody got dressed back up, then Cowperth showed Two Toes the spell and had him practice it a few times to get it right and then it was time for them to go. Ever brave had a little gift for the wizard, sumpin they had made theyselves. Two Toes even give him a pair of toes outta his bag. Ol' Cowperth was happier than a gopher in soft dirt.

Me 'n Buck was too, but for a different reason.

Epilogue

Well, that adventure done seemed to straighten out ol' Cowperth. I figgered he'd wanna skedaddle home, but he had a hankerin' to paint the Badlands he said, so we pressed on. He started actin' regular even, not goin' natural no more. He declared he was havin' the best time of his life and was finally findin' peace with hisself. That suited me 'n' Buck jist fine, too.

We got there after a few days and Cowperth was excited 'bout the strange formations and valleys we was seein. He made quite a few sketches of 'em. The last day he wanted to git one of me 'n' Buck with our horses overlookin' a particularly pretty place. Well, that one turnt out to be the one that got us famous, though we never heared nothin' 'bout it till four years later.

That's when Capt. Morris called me 'n' Buck in. There was a big envelope that was addressed to me 'n' Buck care of the Captain. Come from Philadelphy. There was a letter inside from Cowperth and a big photogravure of the paintin' he had done from that sketch of me 'n Buck. It was even hand tinted to look like the paintin'. We thunk it was the best art we ever seen, and so did the Captain. He said that photogravure would be the pride of the town and wanted our permission to get it hung up in the church. Course that was afore he knew all the story. It ended up on the saloon wall behind the bar, which suited me 'n' Buck even better and got a lot more attention, not to mention all the rounds of drinks me 'n' Buck got stood for.

Cowperth had done all right after he went back to Philadelphy, even opened up another art school and had lots of students, even female ones, which was pretty strange, but so was Cowperth, so it didn't suprise us none.

He said he was always thinkin' 'bout me 'n' Buck and when the museum wanted the paintin' for its collection, he knew he had to do sumpin for us, so he had that photogravure made and sent us a copy. Said it was sellin' well around the city, too.

He wanted to know iff'n we had enny news of Two Toes.

Now that was a sad story for sure. Me 'n' Buck felt real bad about that, considerin' the whoppers we had tole them boys.

Seems the calvary was after him 'n' his bunch for awhile. Now normally, they woulda bin hard to ketch, but they had them buffaloes to watch and on top of that, the calvary come up on 'em all playin' nekkid Injun baseball.

This time, them army boys din't seem to have no sense of humor, and wiped 'em out to a man. I dunno what happened to them buffaloes.

Well, I never said nuthin' about it afore because folks was all braggin' on what a fine job the calvary done gitting rid of Two Toes and his bunch, stirring up the pacified Sioux with dreams of returnin' to the old days. Course a couple years later, after Wounded Knee, that dream was started up agin by them Ghost Dancers, but that was jist spiritual. The Lakota was done for by then. They warn't gonna wish the white man away.

Yep, they says the calvary kilt Two Toes, but I knows different. It weren't the calvary, no sir.

It was baseball.