“A while before the cyclone season, a man with uncommon bow legs arrived
and said people usually called him Parentheses, he didn’t know why. He said he
would work for the outfit if we furnished a horse.
The foreman said that was real kind of him, and
what kind of a horse would he like.
Parentheses said it made no difference, only
he preferred a spirited mount.”
That wry and dry as
Texas panhandle dust beginning kicks off William Cunningham’s tall tale that
could put any of Pecos Bill’s adventures to shame.
It is brief and full
of amiable charm. One can easily imagine this story being told by an old hand leaning
against a corral post.
