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Cody

by Dr. Lindley J. Stiles

285 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0192; ISBN 1-55395-829-2; US$25.00, C$28.85, EUR20.50, £14.50

Cody is a story of a young man's conflict when he leaves his Christian home for the rowdy life of a cowboy. Cody follows his dreams in a story of action, excitement, sadness and laughter.

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about the book      about the author      Table of Contents and excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book From ages 17 to 33, Cody Carpenter tries to make a place for his Christian upbringing in the cowboy culture of Texas and New Mexico. With his father's advice to never carry a gun and to read his Bible for help, and his memories of his stern mother's having washed out his mouth with lye soap every time he used a "bad" word such as "heck", he was totally unprepared for the cowboy culture of cussing, gambling, gun fighting, and sex purchasing that existed in Texas and New Mexico at the turn of the 20th Century. The Carpenter Credo, "Work for yourself, never for another: to hire out is but one step above slavery, and the discovery that women were not interested in marrying cowboys, goaded him to try to find ways of becoming a cattle rancher, his own boss with his own herd of registered Hereford cattle. To do so, he had to have help. It came from the C. W. Post, of Post Toasties ad Post City fame. But he had to refuse Post's offer to support his study to be anything he wanted to be: doctor, lawyer, or manager as long as he would find his life's work in the Post Enterprises. Cody's skill in gentling horses contrasted with the cowboy traditions of "breaking" them, setting him apart from the cowboy crew that followed trail drives from Texas to St. Louis and Kansas City. Only the chance to train to be a ramrod saved him from the unbearable ridicule of his trail mates. How he survived to follow his dream is the basis for action, excitement, sadness and laughter that readers will find in this work by a noted poet, author, educator and public speaker who has been named as a Living Legend by the International Biographical Centre in Cambridge, England.

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About the Author Dr. Lindley J. Stiles, Hall of Fame Educator, Author, Poet and Lecturer, was born on a cattle ranch near where Tatum, New Mexico now stands. His world class professional career was anchored in his boyhood experiences with real cowboys and Indians on his father's ranches on the Caprock, near Grants and Pueblo Bonito and on the West Gallegos. He graduated from Farmington, NM High School which elected him as one of the first members of its Academic Hall of Fame. Fort Lewis College named him as one of three Alumni of the Century. The University of Colorado awarded him three degrees: AB, MA, and his Ed. D., and gave him its coveted University Medal. Dr. Stiles has recorded his memoirs in I Never Rode Alone: My Boyhood on a New Mexico Cattle Ranch. He co-authored Half a Man with Simmie Plummer, who has designed all his Western books. his very popular book Eagle Song will soon be in its second edition. His professional autobiography was written to accompany the "Stiles Career Shelf" in the archives of the Deering Library of Northwestern University from which he is Professor Emeritus. Classroom Cowboy: Out to Pasture is an addendum which deals with his on-going career activities. All contain various episodes of his early cattle ranching experiences which sparked his pioneering spirit as a professional educator, noted poet and popular public speaker. The author says he is noted worldwide for his creation of the social wisdom, "The Best Should Teach." For this proposal which has been called the best since Democracy was adopted by the Greeks four hundred years before the Christian Era, the International Biographical Center named him a "Living Legend." The American Biographical Institute called him "One of the Greatest Minds of the 21st Century." More about Dr. Stiles can be found at the following websites. International Biographical Centre The Best Should Teach Lori Musil, a native of Tuscon, Arizona and currently resides in Los Cerrillos, New Mexico. Her artwork in its fine detail testifies to her love of horses and other animals. Lori's work encompasses a wide range of artistic media and has been shown and sold throughout the world. This is the third of Dr. Stiles' Western books she has illustrated, making them artistic keepsakes as well as readings of merit.

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Table of Contents and excerpts

Contents

Acknowledgements
Author's Note:
1. Cotton To Cattle
2. Boots and Saddle
3. Night on the Prairie
4. A Job Punching Cattle
5. Bottom Start
6. Branding
7. Breaking or Gentling
8. Learning to Rope
9. Ahead of His Time
10. First Cattle Drive
11. Cowboy Hotel
12. A Bad Homecoming
13. Teacher's Choice
14. Horsetrader
15. Wild Oats
16. Coming Home
17. It's In The Blood
18. A Dream
19. The Post Ranch Ranch
20. Ramrodding
21. Reunion Reunion
22. Taming A Woman Woman
23. Waiting For The Mail
24. Moving On On
25. New Mexico
26. A Cowboy Honeymoon Honeymoon
About the Author

From Chapter 1: Cotton To Cattle

The hot June sun of southwest Texas seemed to focus on Cody Carpenter as he plodded along behind his mule and weed plough. The cotton rows he tilled cried out for relief. Despite his widebrimmed hat and the wet bandana that hung over his ears, dampening his bib overalls, and heavy shirt, there was no relief. Farming was not for him he thought over and over.

Yet the heat couldn't keep him from daydreaming about his future. He remembered the words of Mr. Brady, his teacher, as he handed him the certificate showing he had completed the eighth grade: "Cody, you have a good mind if you would only use it. If you applied it to books you could be anything you want-a doctor, lawyer, banker, even the governor of Texas." He remembered how he had hated school and the times he had played hooky. The only enjoyment he had gotten out of attending was the ride to and from on his horse, Brownie.

Whatever made him want to be a cowboy? Riding horseback, he mused? Maybe it was the time before he even went to school when a great uncle, Hank Henderson, came to visit. He was dressed in boots, spurs, tight waist overalls with a beaded shirt and denim jacket under a big broad brimmed white hat. He remembered watching him ride in on a prancing black cowpony, leading a pinto which carried his bedroll and cooking utensils. The stories Uncle Hank told about his experiences on trail drives with their wild stampedes left him wide eyed still. He remembered listening late into the night as Uncle Hank talked about riding broncs, and racing his horse Midnight against other cowponies. When he began to brag about his winnings in calf roping, Cody's mom sent them all to bed.

Uncle Hank took a liking to five year old Cody. He showed him the championship belt buckle he had won in the rodeos, an old newspaper clipping of the calf roping winners, and pictures of himself on horseback. One day he put Cody on behind him and took him for his first horseback ride. "Hold on tight, Cody. We are going to lope," he cautioned as he spurred Midnight into the gentle gait.

Uncle Hank wouldn't sleep in the house. He spread his bedroll out under a tree in the back yard, near the corral where he could keep an eye on his horses. "There is no life like the out of doors, sleeping under the stars, listening to the animals and waking up in the wee hours of the morning to hear the birds singing. Why spend a third of one's life cooped up in a stuffy house?" he asked.

Once he even let Cody sleep out with him. "See, there is the big dipper," he said as he pointed to the constellation. "Look at the North star. It is a cowboy's compass; it always points the way." "When it rains, I just flip the flap of the tarpaulin over my head and sleep with the sounds of the rain, the wind and the thunder," he told Cody as he demonstrated how cozy it was with the flap closed.

Cody had never forgotten Uncle Hank even though he never saw him again. Now he had a permanent reminder. One day a large box had come from Uncle Hank. Among the things in it were Hank's saddle and bridle, a gift for Cody the note said. Now riding Brownie to school with Uncle Hank's genuine range-tested cowboy tack was special. Then he remembered the cowboys he saw later at the county fair. They thrilled him with their skill with a rope and their ability to ride bulls and bucking horses. He remembered hanging over the fence trying to get as close to the action as he could. One of the cowboys tousled his hair and took his red bandana from his neck and wrapped it around Cody's. "Here, little cowboy. Keep this for the time you will be out here in the ring, yourself." He laughed.

Cody had saved his money to outfit himself. The next week he went into Snyder and purchased a pair of boots, a white Stetson hat, a pair of riding overalls, a denim shirt and a rope.

"You'll need a gun, too," the merchant advised. "All cowboys carry six-shooters. Take a look at my collection."

"No, thanks," Cody replied, "My dad says that if a man carries a gun sooner or later he will find a chance to use it, and like as not, it will cause him trouble."

"Well, then, how about some chewing tabackee?"

"Chewing is for old men. I hope I never get old enough to use the filthy stuff," Cody replied as he gathered up his purchases and nodded goodbye.

"You likely will not, going cowboying without a gun." the clerk threw at him as he went out the door.

From Chapter 18: A Dream

The trail drive produced two experiences that Cody yearned for. The first was a chance for Betty to prove her worth as a guard dog; the second was a genuine stampede, something that was missing from his previous drive. When the drive moved into Comanche territory, Harry asked Cody to ride out to check for any Indian signs. With Betty following him, as usual, he rode about ten miles ahead of the herd and stopped by a stream to check on some tracks that looked suspicious. Dis- mounted, he allowed Ebony to drink, and then stooped to pick up some water upstream in his hat brim to wet his own throat. When he stood up, he turned to see a rifle barrel pointed at him out of the brush near by.

A gruff voice called out: "Don't make any sudden moves. All I want is that horse. Lead him over to that tree and tie him to it, then get going. If you look back, you will get a bullet between your eyes."

Cody reached for Ebony's bridle reins and started toward the tree. Betty was at his heels. He had trained her to attack when he said her name gruffly, rather than softly. When he was able to place his horse between himself and the gun, he nudged his dog and growled at her: "Betty, get him!" nodding his head in the direction of the gunman.

Instantly, she raced behind Ebony and dived into the brush under the muzzle of the gun which exploded harmlessly into the air. The curse the gunman uttered was interrupted when the dog sunk her teeth in his throat. Cody dropped his horse's reins and ran to help Betty. First, he picked up the gun which had been dropped and emptied it of its shells. Then he parted the brush to see the assailant flat on his back with Betty tearing at his throat. When Cody called for her to stop, she loosened her grip to reveal the blood spurting from an artery. Cody tore off his neckerchief and folding it into a pad pressed it hard into the wound. He could feel the blood pulsing from the limp body. Then, suddenly, it just stopped. The man was dead.

In a state of shock, Cody managed to get to the stream to wash the blood off his hands. Betty was lapping the water and rubbing her paws on the grass. Cody put his arm around her neck and began to clean her fur. Then for a long time he sat by the stream trying to compose himself. He found himself talking aloud, thinking how he never dreamed the life of a cowboy would lead to his being responsible for a murder. Of course, he kept reminding himself that Betty actually did it. But he had to blame himself for ordering her to attack the man.

"May God forgive me," he uttered with a look toward the heavens. "Thou shalt not kill" he remembered as being one of the Ten Commandments." Can I be forgiven because the man was holding a gun on me?" he wondered. Then he shut his eyes and silently prayed.

From Chapter 22: Taming a Woman

Good use of the delayed trip to New Mexico was made by Cody in another way, too. The surveying and construction crews for Post City, as it was coming to be called, brought new families to the area. One was the family of a senior engineer, Robert Dalton. Their beautiful daughter, June Dalton, came to occupy much of Cody's time during that summer and the next. They met first at a party C. W. Post gave to celebrate the progress being made in laying out his model city. When introduced, Cody caught her eye. Her return gaze never wavered.

"She is pretty," Cody thought to himself. "Wonder if my gentling talents would work on her." He stepped toward her, she never backed away. From the refreshment tray, that was being passed, he took a couple of cookies, extended one toward her, and said in his most soothing voice, "Do you know you deserve a cookie," he said with a smile.

"Oh, do I?" June smiled back, "and why so?" she asked.

"It is a reward for your returning my look at you, and for not turning away when I moved toward you."

I have heard about you," she smiled. "You are the cowboy who gentles rather than breaks horses, and you are plying your hypnotism on me. Well, I guess it works on women, too. At least, I find you interesting, if for no other reason than your kind treatment of animals, including me." They both laughed.

"How about another cookie?" Cody asked as he reached over and gently touched her on the arm. "I'm under your spell," she laughed as she took the reward.

Cody offered his arm. "At this point, if I have convinced you that I am harmless, and just want to be your friend, you are supposed to take a walk with me," Cody told her.

She took his arm, and they walked out on to the porch and found a seat in the shade. It was get to know each other time. And it was the beginning of a courtship that lasted through two summers.

From Chapter 10: First Cattle Drive

Back with the other riders, Wilbur told about the meeting, drawing it out and making it seem more exciting and threatening than it really was.

"You should have had a gun and shot the bastard," Bill said. "Say, Cody, why don't you wear a gun? Won't your momma let you? Don't you know how to shoot? All real cowboys wear guns."

Cody ignored him. But as the drive moved along, Bill made fun of him, called him a "fake cowboy who won't smoke, and a teetotalling, goodygoody Sunday school boy, who carries a Bible in his saddle bags. On every occasion he tried to get the other riders to laugh at Cody, too.

As they approached the Canadian River to cross into Oklahoma on a straight line to St. Louis, the scouts told them the river was running high. Jerry slowed down the drive while the scouts and some of the hands rode in both directions looking for a place to cross. Finally, it was decided to turn east several miles to a crossing used by one of the earlier drives. By the time they reached the crossing, the river was down a little but still so deep that the herd would have to swim some to get across.

They bunched the herd on the waters edge and got the lead steer, called Old Stockton because he came from the Stockton Ranch, to move into the water. Other steers followed. With a lot of whooping and yelling and beating of the steer's rumps with their ropes, the steers were herded into the water, swimming about twenty abreast across the muddy river and wading out on the other shore. Cody was riding right corner behind two swing riders, one of whom was Bill. Suddenly, Bill's horse reared throwing his rider into the torrent. The other rider, unaware of Bill's problem, rode on shouting and pushing the swimming steers. Cody watched what was happening to Bill and realized that the downed rider couldn't swim. Bill was yelling and waving his arms at the mercy of the swift current.

"Take over for me!" Cody yelled to his corner partner, and he raced down the stream until he was below the floundering Bill. Then he turned Brownie out into the shoulder deep current and guided him on an angle to intercept his fellow rider. Cody watched as Bill went under and then surfaced right next to his horse. He reached down and dragged Bill up onto the front of his saddle. Then he urged Brownie toward the bank. Once on shore, he lowered Bill to the ground, dismounted, rolled Bill over and began to pump the water out of his lungs. Steve, a point rider joined him. Together, they lifted Bill by the heels and literally shook the water out of him. Finally, when they put him down again, Cody blew into Bill's mouth & lungs. He groaned, rolled his eyes and started to cough out the remaining water. They turned him face down with his head lower than the rest of his body and rubbed his back, arms and legs to get the circulation going again.

Dear Diary: July 12

What a time we had at the river! Bill nearly drowned day before yesterday, but he recovered. He never said a word of thanks for my pulling him out of the river, and I have never mentioned it although some of the other riders have made comments. The best part is Bill never pesters me about not wearing a gun anymore. Maybe it's because he lost his in the river and isn't wearing one either. Understanding these men, with their guntoting, cigarette smoking, and rough talking is a challenge to me. I find myself trying to live the Christian life that my parents taught me in a very un-Christian atmosphere, but I find I like going on a cattle drive. Someday, I hope to be a ramrod, so I'm watching how Jerry Jenson handles the job. He seems glad to help me learn. An important thing he taught me was how to use a compass to keep the herd on course to St. Louis. He told me to keep it 18 degrees north by east, and at night to check the North Star. The heading should be between one and two o'clock from the star. I also learned not to follow the trail of an earlier cattle drive because the cattle will already have trampled or eaten the grass. P.S. I must remember to tell Max about meeting his father.

Cody

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Catalogue Information

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