"The Story of the Boots"

Note: This short story is created using long, extended sentences in a semi-educated attempt to mimic the style of authors', such as James Joyce, William Faulkner, and Charles Dickens, who sometimes use elongated sentences in the telling of their stories. I have provided words in "bold" for the reader's benefit to allow one to follow more broadly the main story.

"The Story of the Boots" written by Don Hiser

"Prompted by a friend who shared another story with me and dedicated to all my cherished friends whose single, vocalized stories sometimes require you to take the afternoon off to sit back, listen and enjoy (even if you have heard the story a thousand times before and each time the teller embellishes it even more than the previous telling) I want to share this "short story" I wrote which I adapted a while ago from an older story many times told by those famous storytellers, "Anne and Trad" (or for clarity's sake using their full baptismal name and surnames, "Anne Onymous" and "Trad Itional") and which has been retold in various versions over the years by many others, both famous and not so famous, through vocalization and in print, in many different forms, but with the same final, inevitable message. This is my version! To be forewarned, you might need to fix you a cup of coffee or tea, remove all distractions from your schedule and settle into your most comfortable easy chair as it is a little prolonged, but hopefully enjoyable, enduring and worth the journey!

Roy Rogers, one of my favorite TV cowboys from my youth, as I was inevitably progressing toward teenagery and adulthood (bedecked in my genuine replica Lone Ranger cowboy hat and mask with pop-gun and holster requested and obtained to my total satisfaction from Saint Nick, who I barely missed in his delivery but who took the time to eat the carefully placed reward of cookies and milk given for his part in assuring my joy on that wonderful Christmas Day), and from whom I had learned (along with the Lone Ranger and Gene Autry) the "Cowboy's Code" (Gene Autry being that movie cowboy of singing fame who formalized the "Cowboy's Code" and is best known for his rendition of "Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer" sung by every child across the land every December and by their parents who were asked, and begrudgingly agreed, to accompany the child in that verse for the 'hundred-and-fiftieth time that season") which "Code" stated "never shoot first, never hit a smaller man or take unfair advantage, never go back on your word or a trust confided in you, always tell the truth, be gentle with children, the elderly and animals, advocate racial and religious tolerance, help people in distress, be a good worker, keep clean in thought, speech, action and personal habits, respect women, parents and the nation's laws, and always be a patriot", was at his ranch one day, reading the daily paper, whose headline contained the latest disaster to which whatever party that happened to be in control of the government at that time had been ascribed, whether in actuality or contrived for future gain by the party not in power to be applied when folks grew tired of the former and inevitably voted in the latter to assuage their sometimes real but mostly imagined pain, or so they thought), when he got a call from Walter Mattey, the proprietor of the High Lonesome Western Wear Shop, a vaquero haberdashery and vaquera millinery, specializing in all brands of typical and exotic western wear for both women and men of the west at prices affordable by both rancher and ranch hand alike, saying his special boots he had ordered from C. P. Shipley (that famed purveyor of saddles from Kansas City, Missouri, who was also well known by both actual cowboys and those who ascribed to the "cowboy way" as a fine bootery focused on the specific footwear needs of the American west) were ready to be acquired the next time Roy happened to be in town.

Walter had known Roy since childhood where they played games of "Come With Me" and "Kick the Wickey" with other kids on the streets of McDermott, Ohio and both were surprised, 10 years since, to learn that they shared a proximity of their latter-day places of residence and business (for Roy, his place of future retirement, a thousand-acre working ranch that he had purchased (with his western-esque, cherished wife, Dale Evans, whose alias, "Queen of the West", had rightly been applied on many occasions both on and off the silver screen), using Roy's and Dale's movie-associated, legally-received monetary gains, and for Walter, Roy's prized boyhood companion, his store with a set of upstairs rooms comfortably appointed with last year's fashions, acquired with equal excellent repute and faithful dedication with funds obtained through many years of hard work as a stone-cutter at the McDermott Stone Company, a general supplier to the building, paving and bridge construction industries throughout the Buckeye State and surrounding areas, which later joined with the Taylor Stone Company of Rarden, Ohio, to become, very notably (and maybe with a little bravado), the "largest provider of stone burial vaults in the world"!

Roy thanked his long-time friend, said he would be in town directly to acquire the new boots (made by C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle and (as we now know) boot maker of Kansas City, Missouri, well known by authentic cowboys and those who ascribed to the "cowboy way" as a fine bootery focused on the specific footwear needs of the American west), hung up his direct phone line (which in those days, without question, provided much better reception in that area than those new-fangled ones to be later developed that you could carry around in your shirt pocket but would have been certainly damaged or destroyed while doing the demanding work of keeping a working ranch profitable and are usually "out of service area" when an emergency happens to require immediate communications) and let Dale Evans (his loving wife and companion of over 30 years, who was a star in her own right during those days of righteous application of good to evil in the "Western Flicks" (enjoyed by countless children at their local movie theater on a Saturday afternoon while munching on Red Vines and Raisinets), singing songs that still to this day place smiles on faces of those young and old and all those in between) know that he was headed into town, kissing her on the forehead (as folks who have seen a long, successful marriage are apt to do out of love, respect and familiarity for those loved ones who they have shared both heartache and happiness and with whom they plan to fulfill the unwavering agreement of "till death do us part" until such occurrence came to fruition) and left the comfort of his ranch house (furnished with all kinds of fine western accoutrements, many of which had been acquired from the movie sets where he had become known as the "King of the Cowboys" and which had been given to him by the Hollywood funders and producers out of respect for his honesty and talents recognized throughout the movie-making industry of the 20th century), saddled up his faithful horse, Trigger, and rode into town to pick up his new boots that had just that day been delivered from C. P. Shipley, who, as you now know, was that famed saddle maker of Kansas City, Missouri and who was also well known everywhere by both authentic cowboys and those who ascribed to the "cowboy way" as a fine bootery focused on the specific footwear needs of the American west.

Upon arrival into town, Roy went straight to the High Lonesome Western Wear Shop, that wonderful, local business, a vaquero haberdashery and vaquera millinery, providing all brands of typical and exotic western wear for both women and men of the west at prices affordable by both rancher and ranch hand alike, and upon entering the shop, Walter Mattey, the shop owner and long time friend of Roy Rogers from the days where they used to play with other kids on the streets of McDermott, Ohio, immediately stopped what he was doing, shook Roy's hand, and went into the back area where his wife, Beulah (whose joyful heart was as big as her girth which had expanded considerably from that svelte figure of their early life together but of which Walter reminded her almost daily that he loved and needed every single piece of her beautiful, even if only to him, classical buxom figure) was carefully looking over the books, smiling as he entered. He gave Beulah a peck on the forehead (as folks, you surely now understand, who have seen a long, successful marriage are apt to do out of love, respect and familiarity for those loved ones who they have shared both heartache and happiness and with who they plan to fulfill the unwavering agreement of "till death do us part") and grabbed the parcel containing Roy's new boots, proceeding back into the store with the prized package. Unwrapping and opening the box they came in, Walter handed the boots to Roy and both marveled in quiet amazement and reverence at the magnificence laid before them! Roy finally exclaimed, with the hushed tones of a small child receiving its first puppy and not having the words to fully express its delight but with an "ear to ear" smile that certainly conveyed his emotions much better than any words could ever do, "These boots are great!". These certainly were amazing boots, with scalloped top and inlaid with hearts with an overlaid wingtip style included, made of the finest leather, carefully handcrafted by the folks employed by and carefully presided over by the aforementioned C. P. Shipley, that famed owner of the enterprise that made saddles (and as we now know the maker of Roy's boots) in Kansas City, Missouri who was also well known everywhere by both authentic cowboys and those who ascribed to the "cowboy way" for his fine bootery focused on the specific footwear needs of the American west. Those talented artists, whose work was carefully monitored by Mr. Shipley and who created these boots (masters in taking the results of a bovine's skin being removed and tanned in the manner of generations of folks who provided well for their families by working with these sometimes ornery but still "magnificently fit for many human needs" creations of God who were more adaptable to the production of leather and meat than their kindred species that have the capacity to produce through transformation of lush green grasses and cool stream water, using a quartet of stomachs, the most amazing ingredient for the creation of extraordinary butters and cheeses) had even (unusually) provided inlaid semi-precious stones in strategic areas, small so as not to be seen as too flashy for that locale, but placed in points upon the boots that a true native of the west would consider, with a scratch of their chin and a nod of their head, a most thoughtful and appropriate addition and placement upon those fine boots. Still, the boots had a rugged look to them, too, so as not to acquire any smirks and jests from Roy's fellow cowboys at the ranch who were famous for jovially kidding Roy at any opportunity presented to them (which was extraordinarily more than one would have guessed would be directed at such a famous and revered cowboy legend known, with love and respect throughout the western America and even lands far distant from that vestige of democracy, as the "King of the Cowboys"). Yes, these boots were a mastery of boot making and Roy was very, very pleased. He took his old boots off and tried the new boots on....a perfect fit! Walter Mattey, the proprietor (as you now know) of the High Lonesome Western Wear Shop, a vaquero haberdashery and vaquera millinery, specializing in all brands of typical and exotic western wear for both women and men of the west at prices affordable by both rancher and ranch hand alike, placed Roy's old boots, (of great sentimental value to Roy since they had been seen by millions of admirers adorning his feet and carefully placed in the stirrups of his saddle created by C. P. Shipley (that famed saddle maker from Kansas City, Missouri who was also well known everywhere by both actual cowboys and those who ascribed to the "cowboy way" as a fine bootery focused on the specific footwear needs of the American west and who, coincidentally, had created Roy's new boots) as he rode his faithful steed, Trigger, into the sunset as "The End" flashed across the movie screen) in a canvas bag for Roy to easily carry home, hooked across the saddle horn of that C. P. Shipley-created saddle (you know! The same C. P. Shipley who was famous for saddle making, from Kansas City, Missouri, also well known throughout the west as a fine bootery focused on the specific footwear for cowboys, cowgirls and those who ascribed to the western way of life!). With his new boots comfortably in place, Roy was ready to ride back to his ranch. He was so excited to show his lovely wife, Dale, these beautifully made boots he had acquired by special order from C. P. Shipley, the famed saddle/boot maker from Kansas City, Missouri (well, you now know the rest). He asked his longtime friend, Walter, the owner of the High Lonesome Western Wear Shop, specializing in all brands of typical and exotic western wear for both women and men of the west at prices affordable by both rancher and ranch hand, to obtain for him an address for the C. P Shipley store in Kansas City, Missouri so he could send his heartfelt thanks and left the shop with a jaunty step, whistling "Happy Trails to You!".

Climbing back on Trigger, Roy proceeded on the short ride back to his ranch with a smile on his face as he rode with his new boots on his feet, his torso covered by his favorite cowboy shirt, custom made for him by Nathan Turk of San Francisco, California, whose leather fringe (in past times used as a functional detail, to allow the garment to shed rain, and to dry faster when wet) jostled in the slight, comfortable breeze, and his new Stetson signature cowboy hat, with its iconic crease, firmly placed down over his brow to block out the not uncomfortable rays of the sun on that pleasant day with a blue sky interrupted by only a single cloud, which Roy contentedly fashioned in his mind as a replica of his faithful dog, Bullet.

As Roy was riding along he came to a large outcropping of rocks beside the road. On the top of one of the giant rocks making up that outcropping was a tree with its only strong limb jutting out over the rocks edge above a road that was so dry and dusty it would have only received (if it had actually existed at that time, which we all know is certainly an impossibility) a maximum of two inches of water during that great deluge that flooded all the world and which, implausible as it sounds, was a God-send of oceanic proportions that could support a heavy mass of crafted wood designed to comfortably carry two of every known animal safely tucked inside. On that strong limb jutting out from the tree over the dusty road lounged an inordinately large and ferocious looking cougar, a western wild cat of tawny and grayish color whose ancestry had chosen to roam those parts since long before anyone attempted to write down with pencil on paper the history of the fauna and flora of that vast western land. Roy had not seen this cougar as they approached the rocky outcrop so was unaware of the danger that lay ahead of him. As he happily rode by the rock outcropping, whistling another joyous western tune (one that he promised himself he would use in his next cowboy movie pitting good against evil where the cowboy in the white hat always won but even the "good guy" sometimes wore a hat that was a bit darker than normal, and still won!), the wild puma suddenly pounced down upon Roy Rogers from his perch upon the branch jutting out over the rock above the dusty road, connected to that tree that had somehow managed to grow into a crevasse in that large rock outcropping. This savage beast proceeded to attack Roy with an aggression that only folks who have ever dealt with this kind of feline master-hunter of the west could understand and appreciate with both awe and a bit of terror (that terror that folks who had experienced the hardness that the west could bring knew how to hold close inside without an outward show of emotions so as not to be disgraced by showing that emotion). The cougar began to rip and tear at Roy, ripping at his favorite cowboy shirt, custom made for him by Nathan Turk of San Francisco, California, whose leather fringe in past times was used as a functional detail, to allow the garment to shed rain, and to dry faster when wet. The cougar shredded Roy's new Stetson signature cowboy hat with its iconic crease (and a slight show of sweat stain completely around and just above the hat-band as hats worn under a daily blistering sun by true workers of cattle are apt to have) that Roy had firmly placed down over the top of his brow to block out the not uncomfortable rays of the sun on that pleasant day. Roy was knocked off his gallant steed and, now on the dusty ground, was further attacked by the cougar, ripping and slashing with its razor-sharp claws at Roy and his clothing. Roy tried to crawl away but the cat grabbed him by his leather-clad feet and proceeded to tear to shreds his wonderful, incomparable, brand new cowboy boots with scalloped top and inlaid with hearts and semi-precious stones and an overlaid wingtip style included, made by (you guessed it) the famed saddle/boot maker of Kansas City, Missouri, C. P. Shipley!

After an excruciating battle that the cougar had gotten the best of, the cat decided he had inflicted enough carnage on Roy and he proceeded to meld into the rocky outcrop from which he had come, leaving Roy scratched, dumbfounded, unnerved, but, amazingly, still in a small manner of good working order given the ferocity of the attack.

Roy pulled himself up from the ground and dusted off what was left of his clothing. He climbed gingerly up onto the back of Trigger, deciding he might need to see the doctor back in town. He proceeded to ride back to town to see his old friend, Doc Sumner, who not so surprisingly if you knew the pugilistic excellence of Doc Sumner's physique, had been a boxer in his younger years and had unofficially beat the then heavy-weight champion, Jack Dempsey, the Manassas Mauler, in an exhibition match near Denver, Colorado that was privately held and at which Jack, that revered heavy-weight champion, called the match after four rounds stating that he had to leave for a previous engagement but which most folks in attendance from all around that locale claimed was because Doc Sumner had thoroughly pummeled Jack Dempsey before the match was called (but that's another story!). So Roy returned to town. As he was riding into town to see the doctor, his longtime friend, Walter Mattey, the proprietor of the High Lonesome Western Wear Shop, specializing in all brands of typical and exotic western wear for both women and men of the west at prices affordable by both rancher and ranch hand alike! was walking out his front door, carefully closing and locking it as he left to meet his wife, Beulah, for lunch at MacGregor's All You Can Eat for $1.99 Restaurant specializing in an exotic combination of Chinese, French and Mexican recipes that Mr. MacGregor, the proprietor of MacGregor's All You Can Eat for $1.99 Restaurant (and the man that claimed, with a great deal of facts to back him up, he had, while working as a banker's assistant in that quiet town of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, devised and sold the plans for the aerial vehicle the Wright Brothers had made famous to grub stake his eventual move to the American West to establish his somewhat quirky but always delicious menu at MacGregor's All You Can Eat for $1.99 Restaurant, which main item on the menu Mr. MacGregor had, appropriately, named "Wonton Foie Burritos". Walter saw Roy and was astonished by the blight that appeared before him. He rushed to Roy's side to help him down off his horse and with great concern asked "What has happened to you, Roy!"

Roy proceeded to relate to the shopkeeper that fantastic tale of the dusty road, the large rock outcropping, the tree atop the outcropping, the large, sturdy branch from which a ferocious cougar had bounded down onto him and scratched him profusely, laying waste to his fine hat, his clothes and even the brand new boots of unmatched quality he had just purchased from C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle and boot maker of Kansas City, Missouri.

The shop owner, (Walter Mattey as you now know, who Roy had known since childhood when they used to play together on the streets of McDermott, Ohio) shook his head in disgust. He then spoke to Roy in a tone sounding most infuriated. "I can't just let this go, Roy! I am most concerned for you of course, but I can't accept that a cougar of that ferocity, who was perched on a strong limb jutting out from a tree atop a rock outcropping beside that dusty road and jumped on you and tore up your fine clothes and amazing, new homemade boots that you just purchased from C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle maker of Kansas City, Missouri, should be allowed to attack another of the honorable and hardworking folks of our locale! This shall not stand!!! I am going to call for a posse of our respected townsfolk, who love and adore you not just as a famed TV cowboy who they refer to lovingly as the "King of the Cowboys" when out of earshot so as not to embarrass you and still provide the respect for you as a trusted and honorable member of this community in your own right! As soon as I can gather these folks we will have you take us back to the place where this wild cat accosted you and if it is still around, we will get rid of that brutish feline so no other creature, human or not, will have to deal with this psychopathic puma in the future!"

With Roy's agreement the townsfolk were assembled and Roy again told his tale of the inordinately large and ferocious looking cougar, a western wild cat of tawny and grayish color that chose to roam those parts, sitting on a strong limb jutting out from a tree atop a rock outcropping beside that dusty road and which had jumped down on him and tore up his fine clothes and his amazing, new homemade boots just purchased from C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle maker of Kansas City, Missouri! The townsfolk, equally infuriated, placed upon their horses their saddles, a few of which were purchased from C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle maker (and boot maker!) of Kansas City, Missouri! The intrepid group then headed down that dusty road that eventually led to the place where Roy Rogers, America's famous cowboy of TV fame who was appropriately cherished by all those townsfolk, was pummeled by the puma.

As they came to the large rock outcropping Roy became apprehensive, remembering the attack earlier in the day and hoping not to be involved in such an atrocity again! He whispered to himself "I never again want to experience the happenings of this day where I was attacked by a ferocious cougar, a western wild cat of tawny and grayish color, that had chose to roam those parts and was sitting on a strong limb jutting out from a tree atop a rock outcropping beside this dusty road (which would have been hardly touched by that great deluge of biblical fame) and which had jumped down on me and tore up my fine clothes and my amazing, new handmade boots just purchased from C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle (and boot) maker of Kansas City, Missouri!"

Walter Mattey, who was in the lead of the posse when they approached the outcropping, was the first to see that ferocious cougar, a western wild cat of tawny and grayish color, that had chose to roam those parts and was sitting on a strong limb jutting out from a tree atop a rock outcropping beside this dusty road and which had jumped down on his life-long friend, Roy Rogers, and tore up his fine clothes and his amazing, new handmade boots just purchased from C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle (and boot) maker of Kansas City, Missouri! Walter cursed, then spat on the ground in disgust! That cougar was still atop the large boulder from which he had perpetrated his vicious attack. The shopkeeper (Walter, who in his younger years before acquiring the High Lonesome Western Wear Shop, a vaquero haberdashery and vaquera millinery, specializing in all brands of typical and exotic western wear for both women and men of the west at prices affordable by both rancher and ranch hand alike, had been the federal marshal in those parts and had to retire after being shot by a gang of rowdy desperadoes he was able to arrest, even after being shot in his left leg and right arm causing him to regretfully have to retire from that esteemed position) was well respected by each and every one of the townsfolk there. So when he held up his hand as a signal for the posse to stop and pay attention, the posse complied immediately. He looked up at the cat, noticing that it still had the cold-blooded look of a brutal killer in its eyes. As the cougar, that ferocious western wild cat of tawny and grayish color, that had chose to roam those parts and was sitting on a strong limb jutting out from a tree atop a rock outcropping beside this dusty road and which had jumped down on the shop owner's best friend, Roy Rogers, who he had known since they played together on the streets of McDermott, Ohio, and the animal who tore up Roy's fine clothes, wonderful hat, and his amazing, new handmade boots just purchased from C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle (and boot) maker of Kansas City, Missouri, slowly surveyed the group of townsfolk, it let out a snarl, then a hiss as it showed its sharp, impressive set of fangs. Obviously, he was not at all frightened by the angry group of humans who (atop their domesticated ponies, several of which had been acquired through chases of the local herds of wild mustangs that roamed that region unbridled and unfettered and upon which several were saddled with the best riding gear made by C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle (and boot) maker of Kansas City, Missouri) were now staring back at him in awe and maybe just a little bit of fear.

Walter, that proprietor of the High Lonesome Western Wear Shop, a vaquero haberdashery and vaquera millinery, specializing in all brands of typical and exotic western wear for both women and men of the west at prices affordable by both rancher and ranch hand alike, slowly turned in his saddle to face Roy Rogers, the man and the legend for which he had delivered that day the impressive set of footwear made by C. P. Shipley, that famed saddle (and boot) maker of Kansas City, Missouri and who he had joyfully played games with on the streets of McDermott, Ohio in their youth. This shop owner, a former federal marshal and beloved friend of Roy Rogers, looked Roy squarely in the eye and Roy, with both admiration and thanks in his heart, looked back at him. The shop owner then slowly lifted his good left arm (as you recall he had incurred damage to his right arm when he was the federal marshal in those parts and had to regretfully retire after being shot by a gang of rowdy desperadoes he was able to finally subdue after being shot in his left leg and right arm) and with his "pointer finger", which shook slightly from the knowledge that he could very rapidly become another victim of this hellish creature, a western wild cat of tawny and grayish color, that had chose to roam those parts who had torn to shred Roy's clothes and brand new boots and which was now ready to once again pounce from his perch onto that gathering, Walter motioned toward that creature and asked...........................

"Pardon me, Roy! Is that the cat that chewed your new shoes!"

written by Don Hiser (adapted from a folk story told in differenct versions by many different people. The first use of the basics of this story was after the song "Chattanooga Choo Choo" was written in 1941 by Mac Gordon) Copyrighted 6/10/2022. All rights to this version reserved by this writer."