The Scrappy Moore Cowboy Adventures

By David P. Lowman

Scrappy and Cuz are Texas cowboys who have journeyed through childhood and war together to become part owners of the Four Star M Ranch. While the dynamic pair share ownership of the property with Scrappy’s wife and brother, the lifelong friends handle the day-to-day running of the ranch and manage the hired hands. In this collection of stories about their lives has ranchers and soldiers, Scrappy and Cuz take turns giving their personal accounts of their own escapades, and they also share the adventurous and often humorous tales of other characters—industrious cowboys, conniving criminals, and ordinary folks—they have come across in their lifetimes.

The stories recount Scrappy and Cuz’s pilgrimage from West Texas, after they sold their first ranch, to Northeastern Texas where their efforts on the new property created an abundance of success. The cowboys take turns stringing together tales about boot camp and their acts of daring when they fought together in Europe during World War II. There are also stories that illustrate how the hardworking cowboys value human life of all colors and readily offer assistance to their families and neighbors.
The third narrator in the book is Scrappy’s nephew who spends every summer working at the M Ranch until he goes off to college. He tells the stories of the cowboys’ relationships with their wives and the roles they play in their small community. Both Scrappy and Cuz offer guidance and wisdom to the young man, which shapes him into a hardworking professional with the values and work ethic of a reliable cowboy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: Jan 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781621832737

David P. Lowman

David Lowman was born in San Marcos, grew up in east Texas, and received his education in Dallas. As a young child he learned a great deal about farming and ranch life. Those early experiences allowed him to formulate a strong work ethic, and a straightforward honest, and realistic approach to life. He found the use of these attributes served him well in his daily life, and allowed him to be a success with his own computer company, and his later career in marketing.David would frequently share stories about cowboys and the lives of country folks with his staff and friends. Soon, his story telling, evolved into story writing, and a collection of fascinating short stories, filled with examples of wisdom, honesty, and that same work ethic and straightforward approach to life.David lives in Sugar Land, Texas with his wife and three little lap dogs called the sisters.

Book preview

Chapter One

The Four Star M Ranch

We were tired, cold, and hungry, Uncle Scrappy stated.

We were exhausted, freezin’ and near about starved to death, Cuz stated a little more vividly.

Uncle Scrappy had started telling me the story about him and Cuz coming back to Northeast Texas after they’d gone broke and sold their ranch in West Texas.

Cuz remembered the events with a little more detail than Scrappy did. "Our trail back home wasn’t a direct route but one that would take us from Pecos County down Highway 10 through Sonora, and then on to Kerrville before we could turn back northeast. There was still about three hundred and fifty miles between us and home, but I’m gittin’ ahead of myself.

"Our ole cowboy friend, ‘Light Horse’ Billy Joe Donner, had a good-size place between Kerrville and Hunt in Kerr County, and he had offered us a coupla weeks work if we would come by there on our way back home. The problem was that we were real low on money when we left. I had eleven cents in my pocket and the gas gauge read empty when we rolled into Sonora, which was still over one hundred miles west of Kerrville.

"The first place we noticed was the Sutton County Livestock and Auction Barn. I said to Scrappy, ‘we outta pull in here and ask around for some work.’ They had a café and coffee shop in front of the barn, and we went in there to see if they knew anybody lookin’ for some help. We needed some work and we needed some money.

The owner was in the back, and our waitress, a cute li’l gal by the name of Soraya, went and asked him for us. Sure enough, the guy came out to our booth and said, you boys know how to do carpenter work, repair a roof?"

"‘Mister,’ Scrappy said, ‘you have just laid eyes on two of the best nail benders in all of Texas.’

"He sat himself on the bench next to me and declared that his name was Buford Hardy but that everybody called him Shotgun. We did our introductions and handshakes and then Scrappy asked, ‘Exactly what kinda job you need done?’

"‘We had us a blow afore night and the wind took half of the roof off my smokehouse. I need it fixed right now, before I suffer any more loss.’

"‘Now is when we can get started,’ I countered. ‘ We got our tools in the truck that’s parked out front.

"‘I saw ya’ll drive up. Ain’t that a 1927 Model T? What do you do, polish that thing every day? It looks like it just rolled off the showroom floor.’

"Yes sir, that’s one of the ‘granndaddies’ of ’em all. One of the first pickup trucks from Ford. Maybe the first of all of ’em. I believe that the first pickup was made in 1925. And yes, I like to keep my tools and equipment clean and in good workin’ order.

"While me and Shotgun was doing small talk, Scrappy went to have a look-see at that damaged roof. When he came back, he slid into the booth and quipped, ‘You shore picked the right men for this assignment. Now I think the next piece of business is to settle on a fair price for this labor.’

"Believing that Shotgun did not want to barter, Scrappy put our offer on the table. ‘ We’ll take a good solid meal now and one when we finish, enough money to fill our gas tank, and a coupla sacks of that Bull Durham smoking tobacco you got stuck behind the checkout counter.’

"Shotgun and Scrappy shook hands on the deal. We finished about two o’clock that afternoon and after another filling meal, we decided to have a smoke. Then we went into the auction barn and had a look around before we hit the road.

"J.L. Scrappy Moore has never met a stranger. I’ve been knowin’ him since he was five years old, and he ain’t never been bashful about talkin’ to new people or anything else for that matter. It was his personality that got us started on our next detour.

"The old rancher was squatting on the walkway between the bottom row of the bleachers and the railing next to the arena. The cowboy that he was talkin’ to was standing on the arena floor. They were having an animated conversation that was growing in intensity with each passing exchange. Scrappy moved down to the same level as the old rancher and leaned over the railing while pretending to be watching the action in the arena, but I knew he was listening to the argument.

"The rancher stated, ‘It was my understanding that my twenty-two horses would be halter broke and ready for this auction. I checked on them yesterday morning and they’re wilder’n a buncha screamin’ Apaches. You’re yet to put a rope on the first colt. What in Sam Hill you been doin’? You get drunk again?’

"Angrily, the cowboy in the arena answered, ‘Don’t get in my face about your sorry lookin’ ponies or my personal business.’

"‘Son, when you hire out for me, you ain’t got no other business, and now that you bring up the subject, I would say that you’re outta business.

"‘You firin’ me?’

"‘Consider your sorry butt fired and good riddance!’

"The cowboy reached up and grabbed the rancher’s leg as he declared, ‘Why you broke-down, high-handed old horse thief, I oughta come up there and kick tha liven daylights outta you, but no, I think I’ll just pull you through these here bars and give you the lickin’ you deserve.’

"‘Let go of me, you worthless saddle tramp,’ the rancher countered. This was vintage Scrappy; I mean this was a situation tailor-made for your uncle Scrappy.

"Scrappy reached down and clamped onto the wrist of the cowboy and gave his arm a sharp twist, usin’ the steel railin’ bars as leverage. He had that wrangler on his tiptoes yellin’ calf rope, then he yelled, ‘the man said let go!’

"The cowboy gave out with a holler as he released the old rancher’s ankle and screamed at Scrappy, ‘Who in the heck are you, you dumb pea farmer! You near ’bout broke my arm. You’re in big trouble now, boy!’

"‘Good,’ Scrappy said. ‘ You stand right there. I’m on my way down to personally explain to you the real meanin’ of big trouble.’

The cowboy’s bluff had been called and knowin’ that he was way over matched, he made an excuse. Aw, the devil with tha both of ya. You ain’t neither one worth the effort," he said as he backed for the openin’ at the other end of the arena.

"The rancher looked at Scrappy for a long minute and then stuck out his hand and said, ‘Thank ya, mister. That boy’s got a wild streak, but he can cowboy with the best of ’em when he’s a mind to. Problem is he’s got his snout stuck in a gin jug most of the time, and you just can’t depend on that kind. I shoulda knowed better. Plus I didn’t aim to get anybody mixed up in my troubles.’

"‘You didn’t. I got involved of my own accord. Now you just forget about it, no harm done.’ Scrappy shrugged, smiled, and headed toward the door with me in tow.

"‘Now hold on mister… I didn’t even get your name or meet your partner…or give a proper introduction. If this don’t beat all… now hold on there; let’s sit a spell and have us a proper visit. My name’s Claude Watson.’

After the howdies and handshakes, me and Scrappy took a bench with this Watson fellow and he said, You put the run on that blowhard on my behalf. I want to show my appreciation, and, by the way, I ain’t seen you boys around these parts before.’

"Scrappy answered, ‘We ain’t been here before. We rolled in about eight thirty this morning from Pecos, did some work for Mr. Shotgun Hardy, and was gettin’ ready to leave out but first we wanted to visit the auction barn before we went. So here we are.’

‘Shotgun Hardy, you say? Mr. Watson replied. "I know Hardy to be a man particular about his labors. You must be pretty good hands.’

"‘It weren’t no big deal. We just repaired the roof to his smokehouse, and he paid a fair wage for a fair job. Simple as that.’

"‘I saw that damage from the storm the night before last and that smokehouse was pretty messed up,’ Watson observed. ‘ But you fellers look more like cattlemen that you do roofers.’

"‘We been ranchin’ since we was knee high to a jackrabbit, but we fell on some hard times and had to sell our place in Pecos County. We’re headin’ back home to Falco up in Northeast Texas. When a man’s ranchin,’ he needs to be able to build, mend, repair, and patch a whole lotta things. So we have, over the years, become handy with a large assortment of tools. But you are correct… cowboyin’ is our way.’

"‘Bust many broncos?’ Mr. Watson inquired.

"‘We broke our fair share,’ Scrappy answered.

"‘Interested in talkin’ to me about a deal that calls for halter breakin’ about twenty or so young horses and sharin’ in the profits of their sale at auction time? Say fifteen percent?’

"‘It sounds like an interesting proposition, but we’re cash poor as it is and our finances will not allow us to do any deals on the come. We got a hundred miles to go before our next stop, and we ain’t got but a few smokes and a chew of hardtack to see us through,’ Scrappy answered.

"Claude countered, ‘Now hold on here, I didn’t get to make my complete offer.’

"‘We’re listenin,’ I said.

"‘I’ll give you three squares a day, a daily supply of tobaccer, and a fine barn to sleep in, and I’ll make sure you get a coupla extra blankets to boot.’

"Me and Scrappy said that we would like to talk it over, so we excused ourselves to have us a session regardin’ this business offer. After we knocked it around, up, and down, and every which-a-way, we finally agreed to go back and set down our conditions.

"I told Mr. Watson, ‘We agree to a lot of your conditions, but first we want twenty percent of the gross take, cash on the barrelhead. Next, we calculate that we can have those ponies ready to take to market within fifty-five to sixty workin’ days, and we’ll work with them six days a week providin’ Sundays off and Saturday night at Sonora Saloon at your expense.’

"Mr. Watson replied, ‘Twenty percent? Man, twenty percent. Only difference between you boys and Jesse James is that he robbed trains and used a gun. Man, twenty percent! I guess you boys got me over a barrel and you know it! But, we gotta put a limit of eight dollars a night at Sonora’s. I really need to get this business over with, so I guess that I have to give into this muggin. I’ll agree to these additional conditions with the exception that if you break any furniture at the saloon, or if I have to bail you outta jail, it comes outta your share. Finally, if someone gets killed other than on the job, the deals off. Agreed?’

"‘Agreed,’ me and Scrappy said. We shook hands, said we would see Mr. Watson the next mornin’, and left.

"‘Killed! Did you hear what Mr. Watson said? Killed! What in the world have you gotten me into this time? Gosh-a-misery, Scrappy. What’s he talkin’ about… killed? You think he knows something about that cowboy from the arena that we need to know?’

"‘Maybe, old son, but he ain’t gonna tell us. I guess we’ll have to find out ourselves.’

"‘Oh great!’

"Scrappy and me were drivin’ out to the Watson place when he asked, ‘By the way, do you know now to halter train a rope green horse?’

"‘Ya,’ I said, ‘do you?’

"‘Nope. When did you learn?’

"‘Dadgum, Scrappy. You took a job and didn’t have the first clue as to how to do the work? What would you have done if I had said that I didn’t have the slightest idea how to train a horse to the halter?’

"‘I don’t know, fake it I guess. We woulda figured something out.’

"‘Ya, we woulda figured out something. Like how do we get outta town without anyone noticing?’

"‘When did you learn? Who taught you?’

"‘Billie Jean’s baby brother, Welch Pittman.’

"‘Who taught Welch?’

"‘Tex Graham. You remember when my daddy brought in those three mustangs from New Mexico? We were still in high school. Well, Welch and Tex halter trained them, and I learned from them.’

"‘Where was I?’

"‘You had the mumps and you swelled up like a toad.’

"‘Boy, I had the miseries. I was one sick outlaw. Enough of that. Tell me how we do this job.’

"‘It’ll be a team effort. I suggest that we work six horses at a time. Once you get the hang of it, ya’ll be the trainer on three and ya’ll be the helper on three. After the first six, ya’ll have the process down. Then we’ll go get six more and after that, we’ll go to eight, and if we get after it, we’ll make the sixty or so days. After the auction we can drive on across to Joe’s place and work for a coupla weeks, collect another payday, and head on back to Falco with a grubstake in our hand and not our hat.’

Scrappy agreed by saying, ‘Sounds like a plan to me, partner.’

"Over the next several weeks we were knocked down and drug around, stomped, bitten, and kicked. I don’t know nothin’ that hurts like being kicked on the shin. In the middle of this process, I was so sore and beat-up that I wasn’t sure if we could finish the job or not. We did. It was Saturday, the fifty-eighth workday of our agreement, when I snapped a lead rope onto the halter of a pretty little sorrel filly I had named Precious. After I walked her into the arena, we had fulfilled our contract with Claude Watson.

"After the bidding was over, I gave Precious a lump of sugar and she gave me a gentle nudge. Scrappy and I split nearly sixty dollars then we loaded our pickup, said our adioses, and headed east.

"Billy Joe Dancer had close to six sections of land in Kerr County, one of which was newly acquired. Joe offered me and Scrappy the job of repairin’ the fence on the new property. The fence wasn’t in awful disrepair, but it did need shorin’up in several places. It was two weeks of steady work.

"After we finished, we were on the road again. But first, we stopped at the general store in Kerrville for some goods. It had been nearly three years since either of us had mor’n one change of shirt.

"We didn’t want to go back home lookin’ all ragged and destitute, so we each bought Levi’s, a new shirt, and a new pair of boots. We were ready to go give the ranchin’ business one more try.

"We had been talkin’ about a lot of things after our decision was made to come back and buy a ranch close to home. Scrappy and Billie Jean Pittman were engaged to be married as soon as we returned, and their families had agreed to help if they wanted to buy some land in Northeast Texas. Scrappy’s brother, Max, had offered to provide the down payment for a twenty percent interest in the place. Both my momma and daddy had passed by that time, so I sold off our old home place to raise enough to secure my twenty percent interest.

"We sat down at the Pittman kitchen table the day before the final papers were signed and decided the name of the ranch should have meanin’ and style. A star for each partner was agreed upon quickly, but the rest of the name took some doin’. Billie said that she didn’t want the name to carry any of the partners’ names but to reflect a more universal style and feel about it.

"Finally, Max said, ‘This ranch is gonna be well over two sections with the final count of approximately 1,400 hundred acres with the potential to add more land. The topography is magnificent. We have lakes, grassland, meadows, two spring-fed creeks, a stand of hardwood, and pines everywhere. ‘The size,’ he reflected, ‘is a monster for this part of the world, and it can be a major force in the way Northeast Texas ranches are established in the future. We got hay, timber, and water, land for grazing and mineral rights. And we’re gonna have cattle as far as the eye can see. We’ll set the standard; it will be the main attraction for folk lookin’ at how to build a classic ranch.’

"I always liked the way Max talked.

"Your uncle Scrappy sat up in his chair and said, ‘Max, that’s it! Magnificent! Monster! Main! Major! We’ll call her the Four Star M Ranch. One star for each partner and the M for magnificent, monster, main, and major.’

‘We’ll build us a storied ranch; it will become legend and she’ll be called the Four Star M.’

Chapter Two

Coming Home

I’ll have to give you credit. Your prediction about Becky Mulvaney was right as rain. She’s back home, back to the ranch, Billie Jean said to Scrappy. "It was drivin’ home from Mr. Mulvaney’s funeral that you said that Becky would be back in a matter of weeks, and you were pretty much on target. I couldn’t believe it, but Ethaleen William’s boy, Baby Earl, saw her at