Not all helping hands appreciated

There are stories about bachelor cowboys — they don’t clean their camp, they don’t cook at all, they’re cranky.

Not true. I’ve known several bachelor cowboys, and those “truisms” are myths. In fact those guys, living alone, don’t have to worry about another person messing things up, and that’s the way they like it. 

When I was a kid, a bachelor cowboy named George lived at a neighbor ranch’s cow camp. It was just over the hill from our house — about three miles as the horse trotted.

George and my dad became good friends, and at cattle working time or even hated fence repairing time George always helped out. He didn’t worry about his personal appearance much, but his camp was “just right.”

Recently, I visited a bachelor horseman named Larry who is even better in the neatness department. His horses are perfectly groomed, the pens are raked daily, the water is fresh. The saddle house and hay barn are neater than many people’s homes.

His house is tastefully furnished with Southwestern style furniture, rugs, lamps, etc. Following his example, we cleaned our boots on the scraper and brush mounted by the front door before we went inside.

I stupidly said something like, “What a neat, clean place you have,” to which he replied shortly, “Of course.”

During our visit I did manage to uncover one small gap in his independence. He admitted he took his laundry to town each week. In almost the same breath he asked if I was willing to drop it off at the cleaners on my way home. His instructions were specific about which cleaning establishment did his work because they knew how much starch, which bleach, etc.

Blew my mind. But I followed his instructions. If I’d been a guy he would have made the same request, so it wasn’t a guy-gal thing with him at all.

Years ago a young cowboy named Reuben had a homestead in central New Mexico. In those days if people got a chance to go visiting they just did it. “Call first” is a modern invention that came with telephones.

Reuben’s nephew, Bud, brought his new lady friend, Juanita, to visit. They arrived in mid-afternoon. Bud went to help Reuben bring in a sick cow so they could doctor her, and Juanita stayed at the house.

She decided to make herself useful while they were gone, so she busily “cleaned” the place, rearranging his kitchen while she was at it.

Reuben used empty coffee cans for canisters, and he kept them lined up at the back of his kitchen cabinet.

When the guys returned Juanita, really proud of herself, pointed out all the “good” things she had done.

Reuben looked the situation over and decided he’d have to go outside and smoke before he totally blew his stack.

Matches were in the coffee can on the end, so he reached in for one without looking, as always — and his hand sunk into grease.

After the fireworks Juanita cried and promised NEVER to clean Reuben’s house again.

Glenda Price has been a contributing editor to New Mexico Stockman magazine since 1982. Contact her at: glendaprice00@comcast.net