Welcome to our new web site!

To give our readers a chance to experience all that our new website has to offer, we have made all content freely avaiable, through October 1, 2018.

During this time, print and digital subscribers will not need to log in to view our stories or e-editions.


The Missing Link


It arched across the cloudless sky like someone throwin' chum

            But they weren't fishin', no my friends, the object was a thumb

It launched from Kenneth's dally when his heelin' rope came tight

            And whizzed by Eddie's horse's head and disappeared from sight.

Eddie did a double take... hors d'oeuvres flashed through his mind,

            A little sausage on a stick that looked like Frankenstein.

"Are you okay?" he asked, when Kenneth finally took a breath

            His ropin' glove was crimson red, his face was white as death.

"Yeah, help me find my thumb," he said.  "I better go, I think."

            "You go," said Ed, "I'll bring it when we've found the missing link."

The next day Eddie got a call from Kenneth's lawyer friend.

            "A suit," he said, "for negligence is what I recommend."

Well, Eddie was surprised a bit, "We packed his thumb in ice.

            We emptied out the beer and pop, a real sacrifice

And put it in the cooler, then we rushed it straight on down

            I even got a ticket speedin' comin' into town.

I've had some past experience. It's happened here before."

            "Well, we'll concede," the lawyer said, "your service was top drawer.

The packing job was excellent, but in the final sum

            In spite of all you did for Ken, you brung us the wrong thumb."

Baxter Black is a cowboy poet, former large-animal veterinarian and entertainer of the agricultural masses. Learn more at www.baxterblack.com

Baxter Black