Rendezvous—Memorial weekend—2 miles north of Hardware Ranch!  Come on up—you can’t miss the spot—look for teepees and smok’in rifles!  Bring your sleeping bags, you won’t want to leave.

There aint no escaping the inevitable, even the women-folk who play in the Willow Creek gang get their names.  This here story should prove to any doubting Thomas that the Gods are looking out for the nam’in and aint about to let a “Bad” name be ever attached to a “Good” person.

When this here hoss was just a young’un I recollect my younger brother “No Grimace” and I would tease our youngest sis.  Back then she was 11 years, maybe 14, in the mak’in of a woman and she was just start’in to take shape.  We’d circle her in young boy fashion calling our “Tubby Tubby Two by Four Can’t Get Through the Bathroom Door”!  Then run like He__ to not git caught.

Now I have to say that wasn’t much of a name for her and the Gods of naming must of knowed.  So after a few knots on our pea heads “No Grimace” and me changed her name to “Boney Monie”; after a poplar song of the time.  At least when we called out her name we didn’t have to do a 300 yard dash and hurtle the five strand barb wire fence out by the barn.

As time went on and people be’in people—the name “Boney Monie” got shortned to “Bones”.  I recon her womanhood had some to do with that cause she went from a 4’8” X 4’8” 14 year old to a 5’2” 110 pounder in 3 years.

Any how we was all sweat’in in 100 degree heat one day and “Bones” was drivin the team.  We was putting up the hay fer winter feed and damn if she don’t drive the wagon right off into a “bog”!  STUCK nigh up to the hubs and them hosses couldn’t begin to lift the load out.  Took us well into dark to get another team over to pull the rig out of that there bog.  Well we’d worked hard and during the time “Bones” got a re-namin:  “Bog Woman”!!!

As time went on the name began to wear off and within just a few short months most of us were back to callin her “Bones”.  Some in the group never heard us call her “Bog Woman” it was so short lived.  The Gods were a-smilin!

I amember back to the rendezvou of ’85—“Bones” had got herself a real nice coat made from a 4 pt. blanket—perty as a speckled pup.  Light blue and had a wide stripe around near the bottom.  One of the finest capotes in the land.  She was proud to be awear’in it—so much so that at the council fire that night we drawed upon the talk’in stick to giver her the new name of “Capote”.  Well let me tell you—them Gods got all upset.  When the stick was raised all heck broke out.  In other camps around we seed the Dog Soldiers gather’in up trouble makers—even had the sheriff there with his barred wagon to tote some off.  T’weren’t real pretty—then we heard the name “Capote” had already been give to another.  Well so be it.  If the Gods of nam’in are that goll dern set, then it’s back to basics and where ever the Willow Creek gangs finds themselves you’ll always see “Tracker” and “Bones” shar’in their lodge.

Bears Butt

May-June1988