HOUSE TOPS BEAR (standard:westerns, 2123 words)
Author: J E MOON	Added: Feb 10 2007	Views/Reads: 3585/2369	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
OLD MAN HOUSETOP FIRES HIS HANDS AND FIGHTS A MAMA BLACK BEAR

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you ride out.” 

Now me I am a peace loving man.  I would have probably stayed and
toughed it out.  But Dance he has got a stubborn streak a mile wide and 
rock hard and when pushed he just naturally pushes back. 

“Fine you, grumpy old buzzard, you kin finish off the rest of those
broomtails you self! You get our money and we'll be riding!” 

That old man was mad.  He sat there a minute his neck swelling his face
turning red I thought he was going to pass out.  With a loud whoosh he 
let his breath out stood up shoved the table knocking Dance and me a 
rolling, and stomped out the room to his office. 

I stood up, give Dance a hand up, we dusted ourselves off. 

“Well ol' buddy”, I said, “now that you quit for the both of us, what
are we going to do?” 

“We was looking for work when we got this”, he growled,  “I've had
enough of Wyoming, le's go to Nevada the winters are warmer?” 

About then the old man come stomping back in.  He had a salt sack in one
hand and a ten gauge twice-barreled shotgun in the other, fully cocked 
and stuffed against his hip.  He threw the salt sack to Dance.  “Dere 
pe two huntrred dollars in dat sack.  Take it and get oudt in twenty 
minutes or I vill shoot you for trespass. 

For a minute I thought that fool Dance was going to argue.  Two hundred
dollars was half of what we had coming.  We had contracted to break 
them ol ponies for twenty dollars a head.  We had twenty of them ready. 
 But to me, and the math I was using, two hundred dollars was more than 
two barrels of buckshot any day. 

Dance must have come to the same cipher, cause he turned with me and was
shoving awful hard when we hit that door a running. 

Old Housetop, I couldn't figure, why the shotgun?  He had a reputation
as a brawler.  He stood six foot six in his bare feet.  Weighed three 
hundred and twenty pounds.  He made his brag that no man or beast had 
ever whipped him, in his entire fifty-two years of living.   My self I 
had seen him kill a mad bull that charged him, by side stepping him and 
smashing a fist into the side of his neck.  He surely didn't need a 
shotgun for a couple of half pints like us? 

We had caught up our stock before we went to breakfast.  So it was just
a matter of rolling up our plunder saddling up and riding out.  While I 
rolled up the gear Dance was saddling the horses and cussing Old 
Housetop with every breath. 

After a while I couldn't hear him grumbling so I looked out to see what
was up.   When he saw me he put his finger over his lips and shushed me 
pointing to the west end of the barn. 

Now it was a big old barn about thirty feet wide and fifty feet long. 
On the south side, towards the house, there was a man door.  With big 
doublewide stock and equipment doors on the east and west ends. 

When I looked at the west end where Dance was pointing I sees a young
black bear cub investigating the shadows about ten feet inside the west 
doors. 

Dance had a gleam in his eye I didn't like. We led the horses quietly to
the east doors and as we were tying our gear behind our saddles he 
outlined it to me.  He ‘lowed as how that the mama bear was in the 
center of a plum thicket about twenty feet west of the barn door 
gorging her self with wild plums.  He was going to sneak out the south 
door, sidle around to the west doors swing them shut bar them, then hot 
foot it down to the east end where I would be waiting with the horses.  
He would then close and lock the east end doors leaving Housetop with a 
barn full of squalling bear cub and a mad mama bear on the outside. 

I was agin' it.  “Dance that ol' man is setting on the porch with that
shotgun across his knees.  He'll plumb load you down with buckshot, 
even if that mama bear don't fetch you!” 

“Naw I'll be around the west end of that barn 'for either of them wakes
up to what's going on.  You jes be ready to go when I get down here!”  
With that he scooted to the side door and outside. 

I looked; the cub was still there, rolling around in a patch of sunlit
dust. 

About then I hear Hans beller,  “Hey vat da.........” and the shotgun
goes off. 

Dance comes through the west doors slams them shut, drops the bar, kicks
the cub a squalling as he comes running down the ally way to me.   I am 
a horseback.  He slams the east door drops the bar on it.  I throw him 
his bridle reins and head out at a dead run.  He makes a pony express 
mount, and hits the trail right behind me.  We ride to the brow of a 
hill out of shotgun range; then Dance pulls up to watch the show.  We 
are both laughing so hard we can hardly set our saddles. 

Then we quit laughing. 

Old Housetop comes around the southeast corner of the barn, head down
trying to stuff shells in that gun, about the same time mama comes 
around the northeast corner.  Housetop drops the shells, snaps the gun 
closed, ducks a swipe by mama and they run into each other a both go 
down.  Housetop is up first but it is close.  He jambs the gun into 
mama's throat, at the V where her neck joins her shoulders, she's 
coming up so it sets her back on her haunches and you can hear her 
gagging from where we are!  She slaps the gun out of Housetops hands!   
As she is starting to get up he steps to one side and lands one of 
those ham sized fist along side her head; knocking her down again!  
Then the fool steps in as she is getting up and hits her with both 
hands in the same place.  This time she stays down. Housetop goes to 
the east doors unbars them and throws them open.  That cub comes 
rolling out and runs to his mama who is now setting up shaking her head 
trying to get the cobwebs out. 

Now me I figured up to this time he had been plumb lucky, and if I were
him I would be making tracks, cause that old bear was going to be one 
mad critter.  But no not him, he just stands there watching the cub 
snuggle up to its mama.  Then that old girl gets to her feet, stairs at 
the old man for a minute then walking a wide circle around him, her and 
the cub head up the hill to the north.  When they had gone about forty 
yards she stops stands up on her hind legs looking back at him she 
raises her right paw and kind of waves in his direction.  Housetop 
waves back.  She drops down on all fours and her and the cub disappear 
into the timber. 

Housetop looks up to where we are setting our broncs, bug eyed, at what
we had just seen; and hollers,  “You poys come here.” 

He didn't sound upset so we cantered down to where he stood.  Both of us
was kind of awestruck, and feeling pretty meek by show he had put on. 

“Yes Sir.” Dance mumbled. 

The old man smiled.  “You poys put your gear back in der punkhouse.  You
haf had a goot laugh, and I haf had a goot fight, you go on to town, 
but be back here for work Mondays.” 

Dance looked at me.  "What'cha think Windy? 

“Well Dance, I don't know bout you.  But I think I'll hang around.” 

“Me too”, he smiles back, “Ain't everybody gets to work for a man who
can whip a bear. 


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