The Name's Chisum, John Chisum

Ah, Christmas day on the ranch. Is there anythin' sweeter? My little niece came down from Roswell County with her husband Billy an' me an' him spent the mornin' lookin' out across my ranch while the women folk made the rattle and clatter in the kitchen. Nowhere more beautiful on God's green earth. The company's fine, the cigars are tastin' swell and there ain't a care in the world for now. The herd's meanderin', drinkin' from the purest river for miles around. Even the dusty winds that sometimes roll in from the north can't spoil their drinkin' or our watchin'. I remember White Buffalo told me that the comanches call it the lonely wind, but I sure don't feel lonely today.



Christmas dinner's the same every year, no nasty shocks or surprises there. The best food's put on our table, we give our heartfelt thanks to God and chow down. Everyone's happy just being together talkin' about the time I did this, the time they did that and that guy from Whatever County they once knew once done. No-one really understands my stories, all being cattle drivers' tales as they are. Surrounded by the new generation, it sure makes a man feel old and outta place. But then, everything around here's old enough. Even discountin' yours truly, the ranch here, the town, the sun and the sand around us, all older'n' Methuselah himself, an' there's some things you can't change.


I can hear the 'noon stage come a-rollin' in to Lincoln County from way off, chuggin' its way into the station. Brett Harmond - the manager of the local general store - is there a-waitin' on the platform, so it seems there may be a new delivery of somethin'. Must be fancy, he's been waitin' on it from 'noon til four... Don't know what it could be...