Campfie Tales

By Kent Mason

If you are one of those lucky ones who have sat around a campfire and listened to the stories that are repeated there then you know that gazing into an open fire out there in that part of the world that is still the way God made it can have a profound effect upon a mans senses. Peering intently into those dancing flames can rejuvenate a man's memory and oil his tongue. Many times the tales that are inspired by those surroundings arr priceless gems that should never be allowed to die. They should be kept alive so future generations may enjoy them.

This book is a collection of yarns about hunting and fishing trips which the author has put down on paper for this and future generations to read and enjoy. Anyone who enjoys the feelings that being in the great outdoors can bring will enjoy this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468587968

Kent Mason

Born in the small town of Aurora, in Sevier county Utah in 1932 he grew up in the even smaller town of Central [ Now Central Valley] Also in Sevier county. During the Korean war when Uncle Sam called he served four years in the U.S. Air Force, but he never served in Korea and he never flew a plane. While in the Air Force he worked in the motor pool as an auto mechanic. For the last thirty five years he has lived in the small town of Fredonia AZ. On the famous, or infamous Arizona Strip. He survived thirty five years out on the open roads of America as a long haul truck driver logging over four and one quarter million miles with only one minor accident on his record. After retiring from the open road he needed a hobby so he followed his lifelong dream and became a writer. Prior to this book he has written four others. A small book of poetry titled "This Sure Isn't Heaven," and "Fall Of The Sparrow," an epic historical fiction novel about fourteenth century England. Then he wrote "Nobody Knows Me," A true family story about his own brother who died of Hemophilia at the age of thirteen. he followed this up with, "Beyond The Blue," a tale of space travel in the twenty second century. Not wanting to be categorized as one time period, one subject writer he has branched out. In his three previous novels he has taken the reader from England in the 14th century to Southern Utah in the 1940s, then to outer space in the 22nd century. Now in, "Campfire Tales," he once again is writing about the American west. Southern Utah and the Salmon river county of Idaho. When asked, "Where will you go next?" his answer is, "wherever my imagination takes me."

Book preview

Chapter One

To Hell With Your Dammed Deer Hunt

Larue Ogden’s 1934 Ford truck was affectionately known as. Old Brownie. First because it was brown in color and second because it was the first truck in Sevier County Utah with an auxiliary, [brownie] transmission in it. My Dad, Mark Mason worked for Larue and drove Old Brownie. In fact it was almost as though the truck belonged to Dad and not Larue. Larue always let Dad take the truck on the deer hunt and up there it was christened with yet another name. Because of its ability to plow through the sage brush and make its own road some called it The Brush Plow.

Leonal Sorenson said. I could hear the most ungodly racket in that high sage brush and I wondered what kind of monster was headed my way. I didn’t know if I should stand my ground or turn and run. Then the sage parted like the parting of the red sea but it wasn’t Moses that came out it was that dam ford truck with a whole load of Mason’s and Madsen’s in it.

At that time the great depression was in full swing and based on the things Dad told me these so-called recessions we have now days don’t know what hard times are. At deer camp in those days when very few people could afford to buy meat at the butcher shop it was customary to send a couple of guys out the afternoon before opening day to kill a small deer which would be used as camp meat. The deer they killed would be butchered and hung somewhere away from camp. Only those who had been given the job of providing the camp with meat would know where the meat was hidden. Before supper time each day they would go to where they had hidden the meat and cut off enough to feed the camp that night.

Ben and Art Johnson. [Not their real names.] Had started drinking before the party left town that day so by the time the group arrived at their campsite and got camp set up those two were like those proverbial sheets in the wind. Flapping this way and that way. But wouldn’t you know it they were the ones who got their rifles out and firmly stated that they would take care of the task of supplying the camp with fresh meat. The others tried to talk them out of it but they were determined. They would take care of that job. Don’t worry, we’ll do it. Art stated.

After the stumbling pair meandered out of camp someone asked Think we otta go keep an eye on em?

No I don’t. Lavon Madsen said. One drunk with a gun is dangerous, two drunks with two guns–-. Well I don’t want to be within a mile of them.

A short time later those in camp heard a rifle shot. Well Mark asked. Think we’ll have some meat?

Wouldn’t bet on it, Lavon said. Those two would have a hard time hitting their back sides with a board. Let alone shooting a deer.

Some time later the two mighty hunters came winding and weaving their way back to camp with some great news. We won’t be eatun venison. Art announced. Ah shot a heifer. We’ll be eatun beef.

You shot a beef? Lavon yelled out at him. Good God man don’t you know that’s cattle rustling? That’s a worse crime than murder. You might as well of shot a man.

Now why wud ah do thaat? An indignant Art slobbered the words out. who wud want ta eat that meat? Ah got us sum good meat.

You might have got us all a prison sentence. Mark argued. If the law finds out about this we’ll all be in trouble. You get caught poaching a deer it’s a slap on the wrist but killing a beef on the range is a serious crime. What in hell were you thinking?

He wasn’t thinking. Ben explained. I tried to talk him out of it. Told him to leave it alone but he wouldn’t listen.

Well did you hide it? Lavon asked.

Well god yeah, of course ah hid it. I’m not stupid yu know.

Well you leave it where it is. Lavon said. Make dam sure you don’t tell anybody where it is and don’t you go back there anywhere near it–-and yes you are stupid.

Ben got in on the argument. Telling Art what a dumb thing he had done and really giving him a hard time until Art finally said. I try to do you guys a favor and this is the thanks I get. To hell with you and your dammed deer hunt. I’m going home. I can walk down to where my car is and I’ll go back to town. See if I ever do you guys a favor again.

After Art had taken his gun and left camp Ben said. Think I otta go after im?

Be a good idea. Mark said. In his condition no telling what he might do. Go check on him but don’t bring him back here.

Oh I wouldn’t do that. Ben explained. So the little brother went to tend his big brother.

When they all returned to camp at noon the next day the county sheriff was there waiting for them. He had pulled his horse trailer with his horse in it up as far as he could then rode his horse the rest of the way up to their camp. Thinking he would get even with them for treating him the way they had Art had gone to town and told the sheriff that those guys up there in that camp had killed a beef. The sheriff was in a foul mood because he had to miss the first day of the deer hunt in order to check the story out.

Got a report one of you guys killed a calf. He said. So I had to check it out. None of you guys here did a dumb thing like that did yu?

Naw, Lavon said. None of us here did.

Well that’s about what I thought. He said. What yu got for lunch?

Nothing fancy but you’re welcome to join us. Mark explained.

So the sheriff stayed for lunch.

Just before he left to go back to town the sheriff while speaking slow and deliberate said. Yu know if someone did accidently kill a critter, sure would be a shame to let that meat go to waste, yes sir a shame Almost criminal–-. Well have a good hunt guys. See yu back in town.

They easily found where Art had hidden the carcass of the animal he had killed. The meat was cut up and taken home as grub box meat and that’s the way that story goes.

Chapter Two

Don–Oh Don

The huntsman boys.