“Yeee-Haw!”

Chesterfield Chipmunk was clumsily galloping around the Picketwire Café on his stick pony.

One of the music students from the nearby college sat in a booth, quietly playing “Ghost Riders in the Sky” on her harmonica.

A voice hollered out from behind the cash register.

“Now Chesterfield, you git right on over here!”

“Ma’am, why did you call me over to the corral?”

“Stop talkin’ like that! Have you been chewing locoweed again? And stop callin’ me ‘Ma’am’. Ah’m yer wife, not some stranger.”

“Yes, Ma’am, er, I mean, ‘Yes, Kimana.”

“Now, what’s got into ya’? Yer runnin’ about like your stick pony’s got a burr under her saddle.”

“Well, Kimana, I figgered since those folks way up north in Cheyenne were celebrating Frontier Days, then we should do the same here in Trinidad. So, I boiled up a pot of cowboy coffee on the campfire, and …”

Kimana interrupted, “Huh? Cowboy coffee? What campfire?”

“Well, OK, I didn’t really have a campfire; I just put the old blue enameled pot on the stove.”

“And, what the heckaroo is cowboy coffee?” [After all, she was too genteel a lady chipmunk to say, “What the Hell?”.]

“Oh, you know! Strong ‘nuff to float a horseshoe, or to tame a Texas Long-horn, or to bring a dead ‘un back to life. Yeah, I reckon I have been runnin’ a bit wild since that second cup.”

“Well, settle down a bit, cowboy. We got ourselves this here café to run. Here, run this Denver Omelet over to Table 5 and this plate of Sausage Gravy and Biscuits to Table 8. And then scurry right on back; I have a bison burger with papas fritas con salsa verde ready for Harmonica Girl. After you deliver that, I need you to head out back to ride that flat-top range.”

“Hey, can we get some more ranch dressing for our chicken tostada salad?”

“I’ll be right there!”

Back in the kitchen, Chesterfield heard his wife call, “Hey, Chet, we need two orders of flapjacks and bacon!”

“Got it!”

“And Huevos Rancheros for Señor Miguel Baca!”

The Chipmunk Chef thought he should have a dignified title, or at least a cool nickname. How about ‘Range Rider’? Or, since he was the only hand in the kitchen, ‘The Lone Ranger’? No, bad idea; with that black mask, he’d look like a miniature raccoon.

He decided to call himself ‘The Range Drover’.

“We got an order for a hot dog and beans! Make that dog a foot-long!”

Sounds like that rootin’ tootin’ Yosemite Sam must’ve rode into town. Time to git a long little doggie. Chet put a long bun on the flattop. Oops! Too long en la estufa, hotter than a blacktop road in southern Arizona. Bunsmoke!

Three more music students sauntered into the café, carrying their instruments – two guitars and a fiddle. They sat with Harmonica Girl and joined her in “Ghost Riders”. Then the gang of four played “Long Tall Texan”, although none of them could quite match the tones of Lyle Lovett’s voice. The musicians played quietly, providing some pleasant background music for the café patrons. Their next choice was “Red River Valley”, and then “Achy Breaky Heart”.

A deep, guttural roar sounded outside on the street. An African lion? An oversized bison? No, Chet recognized the burble of a powerful engine. The Range Drover took a gander through the winder. “Well, goldang if it ain’t one of them thar muscle cars from the Olden Days. Yessir, it’s a Road Runner from the early 1970’s. Ah wander if’n it’s runnin that 426Hemi engine.”

The car parked right in front of the café. A tall character, really tall, got out. Um, really, really tall, like a Ponderosa Pine, and built like an Angus bull. And hairy! Hirsute and shaggy! Wooly Bully! Was this giant wearing a derby hat? Chet looked again and realized it was actually a ten-gallon hat that just looked small atop this titan. And then Chet recognized the visitor. “Well, don’t that beat all! It’s my old buddy Samuel Clemens Sasquatch! I never would’ve thought he had such a hot car!”

El Gigante strode into the café. In a great voice, he called out, “Hey there, Kimana!” “Why, Sam! Yippee-yi-yo! Good to see ya!” Chet poked his head out of the kitchen. “Hey there, Sam!” “Well, howdy, Stripes!”

The folks in the café were enjoying the ‘cactus jam’ session of the music students. A few were even dancing. Sam joined them. The musicians kept playing the same tune, but they changed a few words. “Oh, get down, turn around, go to town boot scootin' Wookie!”

The next song was the ever-popular theme from “Rawhide”.

Then the musicians had a surprise for their audience.

Busted flat in Trinidad, waitin' for a train
Feelin’ near as faded as my jeans
Bobbi thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained [Must’ve been August 2023]
And rode us all the way to Santa Fe.

At the end of that classic song, Harmonica Girl stood. “Well, folks, after Bobbi McGee slipped away near Salinas, we found it was time for us to ride off into the sunset, or at least back to campus.”