SADDLE IN THE SKY THE THE LONE STAR STATS by J. H. Plenn ILLUSTRATED BY AGNES LIHENBERG MUENCH THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS INDIANAPOLIS NEW YORK THE OLD CHISHOLM TRAIL Goin back to town to draw my money, Goin back home to see my honey, With my seat in the saddle, And my saddle in the sky, Ill quite punchin cows in the sweet bye-and-bye Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya. The song Poor Boy page 64 from The American Songbag, compiled by Carl Sandburg, is reprinted by permission of Harcourt, Brace and Company. The Streets of Laredo page 91 from Cowboy Lore by Jules Verne Allen is reprinted by per mission of The Naylor Company. Portions of Vesta and Matties Blues first lyric on page 226 from Blues, an Anthology, by W. C. Handy, is reprinted by permission of Handy Brothers Music Co., Inc. CONTENTS BOOK ONE CHAPTER PAGE I CHARRO FIESTA 11 II CURIOS 18 III GRANDERIO 26 IV BACKDROP 38 V ODYSSEY 49 VI Rio GRANDE 75 VII MAGIC VALLEY 96 VIII DOODLEBUG 117 IX SALT SPRAY . . 131 BOOK TWO I PANORAMA 155 II CLOSE-UP ONE 163 III SWING YOUR PARTNER 192 IV CLOSE-UP Two 201 V NlGGERTOWN 223 VI CLOSE-UP THREE 233 VII CHIPPY 257 VIII CLOSE-UP FOUR 263 IX SADDLE IN THE SKY 279 BOOK ONE CHARRO FIESTA IT HAD been snowing when I left New York. Now I was in Brownsville, as far south as I could get and still be in Texas. The windows were open wide, and the air seemed fragrant and spongy, like that of a dew-weighted spring morning. But it was still winter according to the calendar. The month was February. I had with me two suitcases full of notes, an accumulation from years of newspaper work in Texas my own experiences, observations, stories told me by others. This material was to guide me in seeing Texas again in recapturing some of the feeling of a state which is as big as an empire. Brownsvilles Charro Days Fiesta was about to open, celebrating the lore and tradition of the charro, glamorous Mexican rancher-cowboy. The Fiesta would help to revive memories of earlier days, when I was stationed as a news correspondent in the border town of Granderio. I could now hear music of guitars and violins and soft voices, directly below my windowthe sweet melody of Las MananitaSj traditional serenade of Old Mexico. This music at daybreak was like a faraway echo from a Mexican village Que bonitas mananitas Como que quiere Hover, Parecen las mananitas En que te empece a querer. 11 12 SADDLE IN THE SKY Despierta, mi bien, despierta Mira que y amanecio. Ya los pajarillos cantan, La luna ya se metio. Simple words, deep words, as unadorned and as ornate, as empty and as full of meaning as I love you. What beautiful little mornings the song says. Not just one morning, but many little mornings, many sighs, many moments, many little tinkles of laughter. What beautiful, what lovely little mornings it says, as if they wanted to rain, like the little mornings when I first began to love you. Awake, my love, awake, behold the dawn has come the birds are singing, and the moon has gone away Snatches of Mexican tunes kept running through my head as I bathed and dressed. I recalled the splashing music of the waterfall in the river near the Mexican village of Tlalte nango. I saw myself again, gliding through the cool stream, swimming with Indian peasant families, everybody nude and unashamed, the hot afternoon sun beating down from a clear cobalt sky. As I rubbed myself with the towel, I thought how much more pleasant it was to dry out in the sun on a warm flat rock. When I reached the street, the sun was coming up over a fringe of tall palm trees. The suns rays struck almost hori zontally against the emerging silhouette of the big steel bridge that spans the Rio Grande. They made long slender highlights along the edges of the curved upper beams. Again I heard music, from the direction of the river Las Mananitas de Jalisco El dia en que tu naciste, Nacieron todas las fiores. El dia en que tu naciste,