Back in the early 1970s I was working on the old Brown Ranch south of Alpine, Texas. The ranch foreman was Don Coleman, I was taking care of the North end of the ranch. I had probably the best cowboy jobs any cowboy could ever have working with Coleman. You never knew what he would do next, but you always kept a tight rein cause you knew that he would do something. I am not sure that I have ever had a lot of sense, but I did get my sense of humor from Don. We were working for wages, just not to many dollars ever hit our bank account. We were young and having fun, hell that is all that ever mattered.

The Old Brown Ranch sits in the best cow country that a cowboy will ever get a chance to ride on. Rolling hills filled with a lot of grammar grass, a creek by the name of Calamity, more mule deer than you can count. Our boss was a oilman from Midland, Texas, Ralph Meriwether. You really did not have to work for Ralph, cause the man was not born with a nerve in his body. You did your job and at the end of the day you unsaddled your horse the way any cowboy should do. But one thing about Ralph, he liked to see his cowboys fed up well during the works. He was not worried about his cows, they had all the green grass they could eat.

One thing that we could count on, rather the spring branding, fall works or deer hunting season one thing for sure. We would have the best cook that money could buy, an old Mexican cowboy cook they called Juan Ramos. All of those old fancy chefs over in Paris could take a lesson from old Juan on cooking it the right way.

Now old Ralph's thinking was pretty good, get a good cook to keep his cowboys fed up right. Get their bellies full, well they will bring in the cattle to the pen, when shipped he would get a paycheck, as would we. He bought good land, good cattle as he knew that we would all produce for him in the end.

the vine to ease the pain. His time off was more than his time on, that is where Don and I came in.

One morning Ralph called Don from his office in Midland, Texas. It was going to be two weeks before the fall works started. Our orders were to get old Juan, as he would be the works chef. The answer to the boss was ok, we knew what to do. We went to cutting firewood for the old cowboy chef's kitchen, as he did all of his cooking outside. He could burn up more firewood, than a full blown forest fire. We knew what he would cook for us, so we did not care. In days cords of cut firewood were in store for the old Mexican cook.

Three days before the works started we went to old Juan's house in town as he knew that we were coming for him. His skin was gray form the wine, not his natural brown tone. He was not hungover as he was still drunk from the night before sitting on his bedroll. His wife was mad at him, take him away she cried.

Don and I went through his bedroll that he was sitting on, we tossed out the bottles of wine on Juan had stored there. He cried, he died, but if he wanted to go with us he knew what he had to do. At the ranch, he drank a lot of black coffee, he cussed a bunch on the first few day. Then the works started, old Juan was ready to go. Off of the wine, damn he was an old cowboy again.

Once old Juan got his outside cowboy kitchen going, you have not seen a better diner. Oak and cedar wood burning cooking a cowboy meal for all of the cowboys. Old Juan with a silver belly hat cocked to one side. He was talking to all of the cowboys in his perfect broken English. I spoke Spanish, so he cussed at me in his perfect broken Spanish. It was four in the morning, the stars were just about ready to go to bed. A pot of hot cowboy coffee boiling over the open coals, breakfast is on it's way. Old Juan had on his full length red apron, his pants were stuffed in his boots. Then all the bacon and eggs a cowboy could eat, with a hand of cowboy camp bread that the old chef had baked. Then saddle up and see you at noon time Juan. Cowboys come in at noon, old Juan would not let them down with his cookery. It was steaks from the best beef, taters only cooked by Juan, Pinto beans, tater salad. If a cowboy would not founder by that cooking, well there is more. A Cherry cobbler, that only royalty should get to eat. If you did not eat it all for lunch, well old Juan would cook it up again for supper. During a two weeks works with old Juan's cooking, a skinny cowboy like me always gained twenty pounds.

The last time I saw old Juan, he was a winging it on a prayer. The little town of Alpine has the railroad running right through the middle of it. Most of the Hispanic population live on the South side, that is where Juan rolled his bed. The railroad track went right by his house on the South side.

I dropped off the hill into town early one morning, like at about six in the morning. Here was old Juan, walking like on a tight rope on the left hand rail or the railroad track. One foot in front of the other one, like he was walking on a tight rope. He was singing at the top of his lungs.....EL RANCHO GRANDE, and full of wine.

Now this has been over twenty years ago, something is telling me that old Juan is no longer on this rock. Lord if old Juan does come a knocking on your door, just a little advice. Go through his bedroll, but let the old cowboy in your gates. Give him a sermon on the wine thing, but let him in. His cooking is Heavenly and God needs a good old cowboy cook................vayas con dios, Juan Ramos....God's Heavenly Cowboy Chef

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