In my travels over the years, I have met up with a lot of cowboys. They have
crossed my trail in one way or another and they’ve come from all over the
country. For the most part, they’ve been a pretty good lot, but you’ll run
across a bad apple or two, even with cowboys. Normally, as they get older, they
do a lot of story telling about the places they have been. I’m sure that most
are pretty true, but then I guess some will add a little seasoning to the stew,
as they spin their tale in the night. But I’ve met a few cowgirls who could also
tell their share of tales. And some of them were just as tough as the cowboys
they rode with. Some were cowboy sweethearts and wives, and some could put
Calamity Jane to shame, as rough as they were. But then they could be sweet as
honey and soft as a doeskin glove when need be.
There was one in mind that took a special liking to me several years ago. I was
dating her daughter at the time. Her name was Miss Bert, or so I called her. She
was cast iron tough and wore a rawhide halo, and sweet as she could be. I had
known her for a number of years - one of her daughters was married to a cousin
of mine. But, during this particular time, I really got to know Miss Bert.
She was a walking history book of tales she could tell around an old wood
burning stove at night. Of her childhood, her life that had made her so hard.
She always told me that she wanted to write a book about her past, and God, I
wish she would have. Miss Bert was cheated out of her schooling in her younger
years. She didn’t know how to put her words on paper very well. But, on a cold
winter night around a potbelly stove - give Miss Bert a few beers and with that
she could entertain you all night long.
She was born in Central Texas in the early 1930s. Her daddy was the sheriff of
that county. She showed me pictures of when she was just a baby, those that she
held close to her heart. As that was all she had left of the nice days in her
life - then she was taken away. She was kidnapped by a bunch of mean, drunken
cedar hackers in East Texas. Miss Bert never saw her daddy again, and he died
searching for her.
Miss Bert said that she was taken way deep into the Piney Woods of East Texas,
where she was forced to be their slave. And God only knows the Hell they put
that child through.
Her kidnappers consisted of a drunken old man - a pot bellied son of a bitch. He
had four idiot sons. Bert said that he’d killed their mother. They were what
white trash is all about - stupid and mean to the bone. The four sons, halfwits
at best, would do anything that the mean old man said. As Bert got older, she
would fight them. She got tough quick, and she could out-fight them all. That
infuriated them, so they would beat her even more. They would sleep in tents at
night, and force Miss Bert to sleep outside like a dog.
Bert was held in this captivity where she was a slave. They made her work
like a man all day, cutting cedar trees. They made her cook and clean for them,
and God only knows what she had to do for them at night.
Then one night the men were all drunk, and Miss Bert took them all on, as she
had to do. They couldn’t beat her, so the old man had the idiot sons hold her
down for what he thought would be the final blow. He chopped Miss Bert's head
open with a two-bladed ax. She was eighteen at that time, and by a miracle of
God she did survive the blow to her head. When she saw that the time was right,
she made her escape from slavery.
She made her way to West Texas and raised a family of five. She lived out in the
desert, and built her own house. She gave her kids a good home - she didn’t want
them to have to go through what she had. Miss Bert could ride any bronc that was
thrown her way. She was made to be tough - her life had turned her that way. But
like she always told me, " You know, Danny, I guess God made my heart too big
for this old hard carcass of mine, because I still love everybody."
And this is a prayer for Miss Bert........I don't know if she’s still alive, but
she’ll always live in my heart. I know when she’s in Heaven, she’ll be made an
angel to help the battered and abused. Because, you know Lord, Bert has been
there, and a cowboy sweetheart she will always be. Thank God for Miss Bert.
Maybe she didn’t get a chance to write a book, but this is her story...Amen
