BooksBarbecue
Back Come Again No More Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover
  3. Title Page
  4. Contents
  5. PART I 
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. 9.
  15. 10.
  16. 11.
  17. 12.
  18. PART II 
  19. 13.
  20. 14.
  21. 15.
  22. 16.
  23. 17.
  24. 18.
  25. 19.
  26. 20.
  27. 21.
  28. 22.
  29. 23.
  30. 24.
  31. 25.
  32. 26.
  33. 27.
  34. 28.
  35. 29.
  36. 30.
  37. PART III 
  38. 31.
  39. 32.
  40. 33.
  41. 34.
  42. 35.
  43. 36.
  44. 37.
  45. 38.
  46. 39.
  47. PART IV 
  48. 40.
  49. 41.
  50. 42.
  51. 43.
  52. 44.
  53. 45.
  54. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  55. Touchstone Reading Group Guide

No matter how hard you worked, you couldn’t plan for all the disasters that could drag a rancher down. In August, Eli paid a visit to Clyde Newinger, an old-timer on Crazy Woman Creek whose ranch had been hit by a cloud of voracious grasshoppers, tens of thousands of them. Newinger had sealed himself in the house and watched in disbelief as an entire harness hanging on a corral fence dissolved under a writhing heap of bugs attracted by the smell of sweat on leather. Eli was surveying some of the damage to Newinger’s pasture when Dr. Vardel Watson of the University of Wyoming came bouncing over the prairie in a 1930 Ford Woody. Watson was an entomologist, a tall, skinny gent who wore his boots on the outside of his pants. He introduced himself and bent to examine what was left of Newinger’s buffalo grass.

“This is remarkable,” he said as he stood up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take some samples from your land, Mr. Newinger.”

Newinger exploded. “I don’t give a flyin fandango about your samples. What I want to know is, what do you sonsofbitches propose to do about these crickets?”

Watson went to polishing his glasses with a handkerchief. “Actually, that’s a misconception. The bugs that hit your land weren’t crickets or grasshoppers. They were shield-backed katydids.”

That made Newinger so mad he threw his hat in the dust and kicked it twenty feet away. “What the goddamned hell do you know about katydids? I’ll stick about a hundred of them up your ass and see if you don’t holler katydid.”

The entomologist shook his head. “Look, I understand you’re upset. But we can’t help you unless we learn more about these creatures. That’s why I need to take some samples back so we can study them in the lab.”

Newinger reached in the back of his pickup truck and grabbed his double-barreled shotgun. He waved the barrels at Watson and motioned for the man to get back in the Woody. “Now that’s just the trouble,” he said. “You bastards always got to study it up a little more before you can do a goddamned thing about a problem. If you’re so smart, you’d figure out a way to stop them little peckerwoods before they eat the whole damned country. It don’t matter if you call them grasshoppers or katydids or Aunt Sarah, they do more damage than I’d do to a cold bottle of beer right now—if I could afford one.”