Paul Pumpian
Jeff and Will, aged 11 and 10, met on a Southwest Texas ranch in 1892 and became lifelong friends (Compadres).
It was predicted that Jeff would eventually spend his life manipulating money and Will’s future would find him in the company of adoring women.
They continue to pursue these goals while experiencing cowboy life at the turn of the century. They also find themselves involved in bordellos and gambling halls on both sides of the border; bloody battles of Mexico’s revolution; a hellish prison; Pancho Villa’s raid on Columbus, New Mexico; and Pershing’s expedition into Mexico to capture him.
While this story offers adventure; romance; man against man and man against killer horse in fights to the death; “the heart and soul of Compadres” is the bonding of two distinct personalities into a lifelong friendship.
Paul Pumpian majored in TV Writing And Production at the University of North Carolina and went on to write for dozens of TV variety shows, industrial films and radio commercials. He’s penned 3 National Magazine short stories; a comedy album and has written material for Friar’s Roasts, Golden Boot Awards and numerous stand-up comedians. For 23 years, he was a steady contributor to the “Blondie” comic strip.
He has owned, bred, raced and shown a number of World and National Champion Appaloosa horses.
Pumpian’s years of research into the American West and the Mexican Revolutionary period of 1911-1918 led to the writing of “Compadres” where his fictional characters blend with historical personalities and events.
After freshening up and removing their chaps and spurs, Jeff and Will met in the hall and returned to the casino. They continued wearing their Colts, fully aware that in a town wide open as this, a defensive weapon could be a very welcome companion.
As they stepped into the casino, Jeff looked toward the poker tables, while Will made eye contact with a busty young hostess. “See you later compadre,” said Will, smiling at the lady who returned his smile even more lovingly. “I just come into my breedin’ season.”
“Don’t be shittin’ me, laughed Jeff, “your breedin’ season is twelve months a year.”
Will and the hostess locked arms and strolled away, while Jeff headed toward the poker tables. A corporal in the American cavalry and two American ranchers were in a nearby game. A thin, hatchet faced American in his late 30’s, was the house dealer. He was dressed in a western style suit and wore steel rimmed glasses. His hat was propped on the back of his head.
As the dealer raked in his pot, he looked over at Jeff and forced a smile. “You wantin’ to sit in, cowboy? We got us a open chair.”
“Might,” was Jeff’s casual reply, not revealing his real intention. He was quite anxious to join this game.
“Then do it,” said the dealer, nonchalantly shuffling the cards. “A man can’t make hisself no money standin’ ‘round watchin’ ta’others.”
Still giving the impression that he could play or leave it alone, Jeff strolled the long way around the table, pulled out the one vacant chair and slid into it.
