The Cattle Tyrant of Nueces County

I have heard the cattle tyrant of Nueces County is once again in Corpus Christi. Each morning, at 8, the people gather with caution to watch him walk down Chaparral Street, vagrant and exile, contemplating the change of the world around him. Cars. Parking meters. Cement. Automobilists let him pass; parents whisper to their children as he takes up his usual posts. In the cigar lounge, he reminisces on the past terrors of pastures and paddocks; in the oyster bar, he remembers the bands he had roamed, quarrelsome and little afraid, until whatever ship brought him here. “Makhētēs”—fighter, Gray called him. Now there is no fight to be had. He is a spectacle, eating bugs on the lip of the blue dumpster behind El Camino. The photographers gather and point him out: “there he is,” they say. “The North American Cattle Tyrant.”  


 
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