So, you come to hear the story. That's good. Real good. 'Cause the way I figger it, I ain't long for this world. No, no...it's okay. I lived a long time, a mighty long time, an' I seen all the things I wanted to see. Some of it good. Some of it bad. Mostly bad, I think...'specially when it looks really good. Things is too fancy today. Too easy. People's forgot their roots. Forgot that they gots to take care of this place what gives 'em everything they need from the day they come screamin' into the world 'til the day they go out with a whisper. People today jest don't 'preciate what theys got. Don't 'preciate the simple things, the good things, the best things in life. So you see, I ain't so upset about goin'. I've seen a lot. Enough, I reckon. I'm ready for the bone orchard. Jest plant old Blustery Bill McGee deep when the time comes, that's all I ask.
Waal then, guess I best be gitten' on with it. This'uns a long story, but it's the best one I got and I ain't never had no complaints. So move in a little closer to the fire 'cause the chill o' the desert night likes to sneak up on folks unawares. Yep. Sneaks up on a person like a creepin' Injun...kind of soft and quiet. An' that's what this here story's 'bout too. An Injun. Waal, an Injun of sorts, but a mighty peeculiar one I su'pose.
I aim to tell you the story 'bout this here 'breed t'weren't nuthin' like no regalar 'breed. This'un, waal, he was half white fur sure, but his daddy was one of them English fellas, and his mother...waal...the story goes that she was one of them E-gypt ladies. You know...from that powerful big desert on the other side of this here world where they gots them peeramid things. Now, we didn't know all this in the beginning, mind you. Fact is, the 'breed didn't come to know any of this until he was a seasoned man. What happened was this: his folks, afore he was born, come to these U-nited States of Amarica, but they weren't here long afore their souls were sent to heaven. I'd say they was here jest about long enough to bring the boy into this poor old troubled world before the angel of death come to collect their souls. Then the 'breed was on his own. Least wise, until the Injuns found him when the boy was between hay an' grass.
An' hell, wait 'til I tells you 'bout how he jest might be responsible for the defeat of the South at Gettysburg, and what happened when he went after Harrison's Raiders after the War Between the States!
I know. I'm gittin' ahead o' myself.
An' I see that look in your eyes. You s'pect I'm fixin' to tell you a real Northwester, ain't you? I ain't though. This here ain't no tall tale. This here story's the Gawd's honest trooth...least wise, the trooth best as I knows it. Now I'll admit that there's some mighty strange things about this here story. Mighty strange. And the 'breed, likes I said, he weren't no ordinary 'breed. An' when I told a Bible-puncher this here story you know what he said to me? He said, "Old man, you're either lying through your teeth, what teeth you got left, or you're talkin' 'bout one of the Devil's own!" Yessiree, that's what the preacher fella said. 'Course, you know how them Bible-punchers are. If'n a man's idea' o' Gawd is different than his, waal, then he up and claims that that man's been fooled by Satan and worships the Christian Devil without knowin' no better. Personally, I think the Injuns...and them E-gyptian people...know a hell of a lot more 'bout Gawd than them preacher fellas, always tellin' a person how sinful theys is, goin' on 'bout Hell an' the Devil, puttin' a real scare into a person, an' all the while holdin' out their hands fur your money like as if you could buy your way into Heaven.
I see you're startin' to get figity. Waal, I'll git on with it then.
'Course the trooth is, this here story really tells itself...