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“I was sitting on that old stallion feeling pretty full of myself. I guess I must have looked quite a sight, all pufffed up and cocky as a two year old stud bull. First thing I knew, one of those old longhorns spooks out of the bushes and takes off. You know Bill, I just spurred that old horse and took off right after him. It just seemed like the natural thing to do.”
I’m pretty sure this story isn’t one that Pete shared with many people, and it was Nickel that told me the ending. I about busted my britches laughing when I heard how it all ended.
It seems the old stallion Pete had spurred had been a cow pony in his younger days. Forgotten were those long lazy days of grazing, his variety of past owners, and even the stretch he’d had as a buggy horse. By the time that big steer had gone thirty or forty yards, Peter’s horse had him right up there alongside those big old horns, matchin’ steps with that rangy bull. As if by instinct, Peter threw his loop over its horns and pulled as hard as he could.
Well let me tell you, roping rocks and bushes and roping a wild beast are as different as chalk and cheese. When Pete pulled his rope, it locked on those horns and stayed there. Of course nobody had told Pete about dallying on his saddle horn. Once he poked his shot with the rope and pulled it tight, that old horse pony just locked its legs and braced for the dally. Except Pete didn’t dally. He held on to that new rope of his, and when the line played out he launched out of his saddle. Before he even had time to congratulate himself on his great catch, he found himself sailing through the air and being dragged across the rough ground. It never entered his mind to let go of the rope. It was the same determination he showed that day that would make him one of the greatest cowboys to ever settle in Hawai‘i.
That longhorn must have dragged Pete nearly a mile before it came to a stop. When Nickel and Paco finally caught up to him, he was sitting on the ground bleeding, his clothes torn and covered with dirt and pieces of shrub.
“I guess that rope you gave me works pretty good,” Peter told them excitedly. Still smiling, he rolled his eyes and passed out! When he finally came to several hours later, he’d been patched and cleaned up and was safe and sound in Paco’s cabin. He was also mighty hungry, and he could smell those fat, juicy beefsteaks on the fire. Sore and still groggy, he stumbled outside and saw his two best friends sitting next to the fire.
“Señor, I patched you up as good as I can. Come here and sit and have some coffee. It will help wake you up and take your mind off the soreness.”
Paco passed Pete a steaming cup of coffee. At the age of fourteen, that was his first taste of real paniolo coffee. In fact, it was the first coffee he had ever tasted, and it stayed with him for the rest of his days. Never again would he be happy with a cup of coffee unless it matched the one he drank around the campfire that night. As sore and stiff as he was, sitting under the stars with Nickel and Paco and smelling the meat cooking, Peter thought life couldn’t get much better. Boston and piano lessons were the farthest things from his mind.
Years later, remembering that day, Pete told me that if there was anything that could help cut through the toughness of the meat from that old range cow, it had to be Paco’s coffee. When Pete finally ended up settling on the Big Island of Hawai‘i, along with other endeavors, he started growing his own coffee beans. I can say for a fact, all of us here in the islands are mighty thankful he did. I’ve spent a good part of my life enjoying Paniolo Pete’s coffee. Matter of fact, that’s how we first met.