I'm roamin

"I'm a roamin gambler" or something like that, just a song which I heard first time them I was a little and snotty and oldest of three. Ma sang it when she was sewing. I remembered. And I thought that my pa was also a gambler man, too, 'cause he ain't a farmer. Will Anderson looked like a farmer and lived in a snack with the biggest toad I've ever seen under our porch. But we always had money. Always. We weren't afraid of any. Anything or anyone. And ma was pleased.

Well, I got all wrong, my pa ain't gambler, he steals horses. Me too, it's easy, if you know the man, know the price, know the horsies and do not ask stupid things. Thoroughbreds and trotters, not plow-stock, molten copper and gold of their bodies. I prefer more sturdy stock, morgans. My idjit brother Jim got himself spotted horse. He is really not right in the head. Or he is right, anyone would remember that horse and not this rider. But if he feeds all carrots to his Buck again, I'll wear my new boots to his funeral! And there were seven of us.

There were seven of us a longest time ago. Pa stole horses for twenty years but he wasn't hanged for this.That judge Baker just came to our house with his shotgun and blasted my pa' brains. Not because of horses but because of my sister. Well, well, first you dunk my sis right before wedding! Second, you kill my kin. Third, I burn you alive with your shop and your dimwit brother. Outlaw? Yes! Bluebellies trying to hunt me? I'll take your scalps, cut your noses and ears, just for something fun in my life or to catch that huge catfish in Old Muddy. I robbed a stagecoach, and took some jewels and earrings for my sisters, thank you very much, miss.

"I'm roaming guerrilla, I roam from town to town". That's the song now and me now, widowmaker, with four revolvers and still on that black morgan. And I know one very nice widow nearby, I'll come to dinner, because I got that catfish and she is a mean cook.