 
### PANIOLO PETE

### BY:

### RJ KRAUSE

### PANIOLO PETE

Published by RJ Krause at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 by RJ Krause

Cover Art by Vila Design

<http://www.viladesign.net/>

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. Brief quotations may be embodied in critical articles or reviews.

### DEDICATION

For Mom and Dad,

Thanks for always believing.

You are the foundation of my life

For Dawn,

Your editing skills and advice

made this book a reality

For Vimilani,

My love, my life, my best friend and companion,

I thank you for our future.

Life is like a Hawaiian luau,

the best part stays buried until

the prayers have been said **. PP**

### PROLOGUE

I reckon I'll be snowed in up here on Mauna Kea for awhile in this old line shack, so I figure it might be as good a time as any to tell the story of Paniolo Pete. Every time I go into town people ask me about him. As I sit here watching the snow fall, I'll write down what I remember about one of the greatest cowboys I've ever known and truly a man to ride the river with.

I'm an old man now, and as you can probably tell, I haven't had much schoolin', and I ain't no famous author. Matter of fact, all I've ever been good at is bustin' horses. That's how I got my name, Bronco Bill. So keep on reading, and I'll tell you what I know about the legendary cowboy. Now some people claim that Paniolo Pete is nothing but a myth. After you've read the stories, you can decide for yourself whether or not Pete is real. I don't reckon I can do more than just tell you what I've seen with my own eyes about the man known as Paniolo Pete.

### Chapter 1

The Birth of a Legend

I suppose many people might think Peter Monroe was born into good fortune. But judging from the Paniolo Pete I came to know, you never would have guessed it. He came into this world around the turn of the 20th century on a snowy afternoon in the dead of winter. All the neighbors on Boston's Beacon Hill knew the day Peter Monroe was born. Mrs. Monroe was propped up in her four-poster bed surrounded by a mountain of quilts, while Mr. Monroe stood off to one side looking proud and somewhat bewildered over all the commotion. After all, this was upper class Boston society.

There in the nurse's arms was little Peter—red, wrinkled, and mad as all get out! He didn't care about being the heir to the Monroe fortune. Nor did he care that his father had taken the whole day off from the bank to witness the birth of his first son. Heck, I doubt if he even much cared that his mama had given up her role as President of the New England Women's Club just so he could be born. Like most newborn babies, all little Peter cared about was why he'd been taken from a nice, warm, peaceful place and put into these cold arms. I reckon that was about the most eventful thing in Peter's life for the next twelve years or so.

Peter was a good child who never got into trouble, never did poorly in school or disobeyed the rules. I guess you could say he never did much of anything. His childhood was one of following rules and trying to please his parents, especially his mama. Although he did well in school he wasn't by any means the smartest in the class. He played sports but was never a star. He had friends but was never a leader. Shoot, I reckon the best way to describe young Peter is to say he was boring. All his decisions were made for him by someone else. Everything was neatly planed, from what clothes he wore to what his daily activities would be to what time he would eat dinner and go to bed. This was the way Peter's life was for the first twelve years and he had no reason to believe anything would change.

Then one day he met Mrs. Monroe's seldom talked about brother, his uncle Nicolai Ramos. Nicolai, or "Nickel" as his friends called him was what you might call the black sheep of the family. He was a merchant sailor with loyalties only to the open sea, any ship that he happened to be sailing on, and his beautiful sister. Mrs. Monroe, or "sister dear" as Nickel called her, was the only family he had left. Anytime one of his ships happened to port in Boston Harbor, Nickel would make the long trek to the finer part of town known as Beacon Hill.

Now a man like Nickel certainly looked out of place surrounded by all that wealth and finery, but he could care less. He loved his sister deeply and never failed to visit her whenever he was in port. With each visit he brought such exotic gifts as a blow-dart gun from New Zealand or a stone tiki god from Samoa or a shrunken head from Borneo. Of course, as soon as he departed these rather novel presents were promptly boxed and moved to a dark corner of the basement. But his last visit to Boston had been a long time ago, before Peter was born.

One cold wintery day as Nickel approached the front gate of the Monroe house, he tried to smooth his long black hair as best he could and wipe some of the mud from his breeches. I imagine he always wanted to look respectable when visiting his sister's family. When he figured he looked pretty good and was ready to start up the steps of the Monroe's large brownstone, a carriage rolled by and splattered him with dirty, slushy snow. As fate would have it, that was the precise moment that Peter opened the front door to leave for his piano lesson.

"Why don't ya learn how to drive that big land dinghy yer callin' a carriage?" yelled Nickel. "I've a good mind to put them thar harnesses round yer neck and visit my sister dear in a style becomin' my Portuguese royal blood!" He was covered in mud and snow, hair hanging down around his shoulders, and as mad as any man Peter had ever seen.

"What in the world are you lookin' at?" he roared at Peter. "Have you no manners but to stand there gawkin' at one of yer betters? Get over here boy, and help me repair some of the damage before I present myself to my sister dear."

To say that Peter was terrified and confused is putting it mildly. Never before had he needed to make such a decision. Here he was, expected to arrive at Mrs. Peabody's for his piano lesson in ten minutes, and this wild stranger is demanding his help. What if he got mud on his own clothes or worse, on his music sheets? Mrs. Peabody would throw a fit and his mother would never allow him to go to his lessons again by himself. This was the biggest decision young Peter had ever had to make!

He'd been trying for months to convince his parents he was old enough to walk the three blocks to Mrs. Peabody's all by himself, without one of the servants to escort him. Finally, on his twelfth birthday, his parents reluctantly agreed to let him go alone, provided that he didn't "dawdle" as his mother put it. He was allowed ten minutes to walk to his lesson and ten minutes to walk back home when it was over. Any broken rules and he would lose the privilege.

Now Peter had a dilemma. To rush off to his piano lesson he would have to get past this wild man standing at the bottom of the steps. On the other hand, if he stopped to help the man, he'd be late for sure and bound to be in trouble with his mother. But before he had time to decide, Nickel came up the stairs and began brushing snow and mud off his waistcoat while ordering Peter to wipe off his back and legs.

"You be about the right height for the low work, my boy, so I'll worry about these upper areas. That's a good lad. Put yer books on the ground and let's get me cleaned up. My sister dear is about to have her day ruined, I suppose, by the likes of me!" With that, Nickel did the strangest thing Peter had ever seen. He tilted back his head and began to laugh out loud. Not a behind-the-hand giggle like his mother or even the nervous chuckle that his father made. This was a deep down loud laugh that echoed throughout the neighborhood.

"Excuse me sir, but people are looking at you," Peter told him in a soft voice. And sure enough they were. There were stares from people passing on the street. Neighbors peered through their curtains or came out on their front porch to gawk. After all, this was Beacon Hill, one of the ritziest neighborhoods in Boston. Peter had never witnessed such a hearty laugh in his whole life.

"So, what do I care if they look? It'll do all these stuffy 'nose-thumbers' some good to hear a real man laugh!" declared Nickel, and he began laughing again. Well, you know they say laughter is contagious, and pretty soon Peter couldn't help himself. He started out with a little giggle, but before he knew it, he was laughing so hard in every part of his body he thought he might shake right out of his new clothes!

Just at that moment, a dreadful thing happened. The front door opened and there was his mother. "For heaven's sake, Peter Monroe, what is all this about? You're late for your lessons and Mrs. Peabody is expecting you. Stop this racket immediately! Whatever will the neighbors think?"

Then turning to Nickel she scolded, "And you, sir, I would rather you deposited all that snow and mud elsewhere. If you can read the sign on the front gate, you will see that we do not accept solicitors. Please leave at once or I will be forced to call the authorities and have you arrested for trespassing."

Peter stood there witnessing this scene, feeling terrible that he'd let his mother down. No matter how hard he tried to please her, he always seemed to come up short. Now, as he stood there dumbstruck, not knowing what to do or say, a remarkable thing happened. This tall, rumpled, laughing man with muddy clothes and hair all over his face looked straight at his mother and grinned. "M'gawd! Call the coppers on yer only brother? Don't you sound like quite the lady! I wonder what yer uppity neighbors would think if they knew Mrs. Theodore Monroe grew up on the back of a horse and shot her first bobcat before she was twelve!"

"Nicolai, don't you dare!" But before Annie Monroe could say more (much to Peter's horror) she let out a gleeful squeal, grabbed the man in her arms and kissed him sound on the lips, mud and all.

"Sister dear, you be a sight for sore eyes," exclaimed Nickel. "I've seen rainbows over the Hawaiian Islands, sunsets on the South Pacific, and coral reefs off the coast of Australia. Not a one compares to the beauty standin' here before my very own eyes! Of course, you be hidin' it pretty good under all them fancy clothes and powder on yer face, but sister dear, yer even more beautiful than I recall."

"Nicolai, it is so good to see you! I'd given up hope and thought you were dead. I've missed you so much! Come, _mi casa, su casa_."

Peter was dumbfounded as he watched his mother and her brother walk arm in arm into the house. He'd never seen his mother act or talk that way. To think Anna Maria Monroe, the respected wife of the president of the Federal Bank of Boston had such an adventurous past. Peter had never thought much about what kind of life his mother had before she became his very own mama. I reckon most young boys just figure that the world didn't exist before they were born. Suddenly, Peter's head was flooded with all kinds of questions, but before he had time to give the matter a second thought, his mother turned to him from the open doorway.

"Peter, you've ruined your suit. There's not much point in you going to your lessons now. You look like a street urchin. Come on inside and meet your uncle, the very unrespectable Nicolai Ramos, a scoundrel known around all ports of the world as Nickel—a womanizer, a vagabond, and my only remaining family member besides you and your father."

It's funny I suppose how one seemingly little event can change a person's whole life, but that's exactly what happened to Peter Monroe, later to be known as Paniolo Pete.

### Chapter 2

Follow Your Dream

Nickel stayed with the Monroe's for more than two weeks, and during that time he and Peter were inseparable. Nickel took him down to Boston Harbor and filled his head with endless tales of life at sea. He told him about riding in the Crow's Nest on the old clipper ships, facing down a hurricane, visiting exotic ports of call, and the thrill of discovering a new place. Peter was swept into the swashbuckling life of a sailor. He began to yearn for an adventurous life on the open sea.

They visited Nickel's ship, the _SS Freedom_ , and Peter got his first real taste of what life was like on a sailing ship. The _SS Freedom_ was a merchant ship that called its home port New London, Connecticut. It was a three-masted schooner with a working crew of about fifteen men. Nickel was the First Mate and had the luxury of having his own private cabin. It was tiny, but Nickel explained to him that you don't spend much time in your cabin anyway when you're out to sea. "It's pretty much just for sleepin'," he told Peter.

His uncle showed him navigation charts, gave him a tour of the ship, and introduced him to some of the crew. Peter was enchanted. Nickel also told him stories about his mother's earlier years before she met and married his father. Annie Ramos had grown up on a horse ranch in Portugal. Yes, one of Boston's finest society women was once "a cross between a cougar and a thoroughbred horse" as Nickel described her.

Now, you can imagine that Nickel's presence must have created quite an upheaval in the Monroe household. Peter noticed that his father, the respected but stern Theodore Monroe was spending more time at the bank than usual. He would come home and have dinner with the family and then head back to the office later in the evening for some "catching up." He seemed a little bewildered by all the activity and laughter in his normally peaceful home.

Eventually though, even Mr. Monroe began to warm up to this rambunctious sailor. After awhile, he would stay home after dinner and join in the gaiety, telling some of his own stories. It was on one of these evenings that Peter learned how his mother and father had met.

Many years ago, in an attempt to offset the growing cost of running a horse ranch, Peter's grandparents had travelled to Boston in hopes of selling some of their horses at auction in America. Back then, Theodore Monroe was Assistant Manager at the bank. He was assigned to attend the auction and make his presence known in case there was a need for loans or financing. The Federal Bank of Boston often sent a representative to events where money changed hands. Not only was it a good way to attract new business, it also showed the bank's support of the community. Mr. Monroe was a new young member of the management team and was eager to snag some new clients for his employers.

On this particular day, when Theodore arrived at the horse auction, his eyes became fixed on the young and beautiful Annie Ramos riding one of her family's more feisty mounts around the arena. He watched as Annie sat atop a proud Portuguese Lusitano stallion, her long hair wildly blowing in the wind, as black as the darkest night. Remember now, Mr. Monroe was an up and coming member of Boston's elite. He was most familiar with the prim and proper young women who associated with society's finer circles. Never before had he seen anyone as untamed as this girl on horseback, nor as beautiful.

Standing there behind the arena fence, Theodore was lost in his own thoughts and captivated by the exotic woman before him. Just then, a newspaper man flashed his camera bulb right in front of that great stallion's face. That horse was of the finest stock in Portugal, descending from royal bloodlines dating back for centuries and had the temperament to match. The second the camera flashed, the horse reared on its hind legs and caught the newspaper man with a vicious kick. Annie tried her best to control the great beast, but it was too late to help the poor guy with the camera. The animal was snorting and pawing at the sky, giving the victorious scream of a wild hunter.

Mr. Monroe always remembered that day as though it were yesterday—the camera's flash, the horse rearing up, the crack of hooves, and terrifying whinny of the beautiful stallion. What he remembered most was the raven-haired beauty perched atop that wild beast as though she were a powerful goddess controlling Pegasus himself! When the episode ended, she looked as calm as a woman taking afternoon tea. Although Theodore Monroe considered himself a ladies man to some extent, nothing in his 25 years of life had prepared him for a woman such as this.

Now, I won't waste a lot of time on the details of their rather short and sometimes very loud courtship. To hear Paniolo Pete tell it, you'd think his mother was sort of a wild animal herself, but his father fell in love with her and was determined she could learn the role of a Boston society wife. I'm not sure how much of this is actually true. Pete did like to stretch a story from time to time, but I did meet his mother many times. She was truly of a breed unlike any woman I've ever known. Although she's gone now, she retained her youthful beauty and vigor until the day she died.

I reckon since this is kind of my own life story as well, I'd like to set the record straight on a few things. First, I was sweet on Mrs. Monroe since the first time I met her. Second, my great regret is that I never worked up the courage to tell her. But let's get back to the story of Paniolo Pete.

After Peter spent those couple of weeks with his Uncle Nickel, his whole outlook on life was changing. He wanted to see the world in the same way most young boys dream of. He had visions of standing on the bow of a great sailing ship, or fighting off pirates and battling off the treacherous seas to see his own ship safely to port. But the big difference between Peter and other boys his age was that he actually followed his dream.

### Chapter 3

Bad Place to Hide

On a cold January morning when the _SS Freedom_ sailed out of Boston Harbor, there was a twelve-year-old boy hiding in the first mate's sea chest. I reckon there's all kinds of reasons why young Peter didn't think about how he'd get out of the chest once the lid was closed and latched. I suppose he was just too darn excited. He was watching his Uncle Nick pack his gear and listening to him tell of his upcoming expedition. Peter felt his world coming apart. His uncle was the first real friend he'd ever had. Now he was leaving and taking with him Peter's dreams of the open seas and a life of endless adventure. All he had to look forward to now were his weekly piano lessons, long evenings spent alone in his room, and the solemn atmosphere of the Monroe household.

As Peter stood there feeling sorry for himself, Nickel went downstairs to say his goodbyes to his 'sister dear'. Suddenly, something came over Peter, and he climbed into Nickel's chest, snuggled in on top of his mostly clean clothes and closed the lid. I guess if I was a young boy like Peter, I might have done the same thing. He had barely closed the lid when two of the servants entered the room, secured the latch on the chest, and carried it down the stairs to the waiting carriage.

Before anyone even realized Peter was missing, Nickel's ship was well on its way out of Boston Harbor and heading straight into a storm. The ship was strong and she had an able-bodied crew that kept her upright for hours until they finally sailed through the storm and into calmer seas. Then and only then did Nickel return to his cabin for a much needed rest. He didn't even bother to change into dry clothes. He just climbed into his bunk, covered himself with his thick wool blanket, and began to drift off to sleep.

I imagine it takes a man awhile to react to any noises when he's nearly delirious with exhaustion. Nickel knew his ship like a good lover, and the sound he heard wasn't a normal sound coming from his ship. It sounded like a moan and it seemed to be coming from his chest. Actually, it was more like a whimper. Nickel thought maybe one of the Monroe cats had sneaked in with his clothes while he was packing and was curled up in there as proud as you please. That's what was in his mind when he jumped off his bed, stomped over to his sea chest, unlatched it and opened the lid. Now, I reckon it would be putting it mildly to say that he was a little shocked at what he found. Nickel once told me he almost fell over; thought he was seeing a ghost! It was the smell that hit him first. And then he laid eyes on a very pale and a very sick little boy. He was glassy-eyed, shivering uncontrollably, and covered in his own mess. I'm sure Peter had never heard of seasickness before, but he was learning about it now, first hand. You can pretty well imagine the jolt that hit Nickel when he opened that chest.

And that, my friends, is how Paniolo Pete began his days at sea, as a stowaway on the merchant ship _SS Freedom_. It took more than a week before Peter was strong enough to venture out of his uncle's cabin and breathe in the fresh ocean air. One whiff of the sea breeze and he was hooked. It was an experience that Paniolo Pete would never forget.

Many years later, Pete and I were trapped in a snow storm high up on Mauna Kea and needed to find shelter. I found a lava tube that was big enough for us both to ride out the storm, but Paniolo Pete would have no part of it. "Bill," he told me, "you climb on in there and build us a fire. I'll stay out here with the horses and keep them company. It doesn't seem fair we should be all snug and warm in there and leave them out here in the storm. You make us some coffee and we'll be fine."

That's the night he told me about his first adventure at sea and why he would never be trapped in a small space again. I reckon I can't blame him but it was mighty cold on those slopes that night. Good thing ol' Pete had coffee with him. I made up a fire in that lava tube and brewed up a strong pot. We talked most of the night. Of course, our horses didn't much care if we kept them company or not. We never did find the yearlings we were looking for when the storm hit. But as sometimes happens with cattle, our range count was back to normal when we rode into camp the next day. The cows had more sense than we did. When they sense a storm coming, they just head for home.

### Chapter 4

What's a Dally?

Paniolo Pete learned everything he could about ships during his first couple of years at sea. He traveled around the world and visited many exciting and exotic places. On one trip they docked in Lisbon, the capital city of Portugal. Nickel insisted they travel to the ranch where he and his sister grew up. Pete had never known his grandparents. They both died before he was born, so all he really knew about them were from stories his mother had told him.

The great horse ranch had long since gone, but having a vivid imagination as most young boys do, Peter saw the ranch as it must have been when his mama was a girl. Vast hilly slopes of grasslands stretched down to the rocky cliffs that rested above the jagged coastline. The slopes were dotted with wild horses grazing. Over the next ridge sat the beautiful Ramos mansion, sculpted in the traditional hacienda style. Of course, none of this still existed. The rolling grasslands had been developed into small family farms. The wild herds of horses had long since disappeared. What might have once been a beautiful mansion was now nothing more than a vacant overgrown plot of land. Nickel also seemed to ignore the reality of the present and as they rode along, he gave Peter a real taste of what his earlier years were like.

"Over here is where your mother's horse got spooked. He took off so fast, my poor sister dear was thrown to the ground and broke her leg. She must have been around ten years old, I imagine."

"And that area over there is where the outer corrals used to be and where we kept the wild stock. We'd round up the herds and hold them here until they were broken in. Your mother was one of the best breakers I've ever seen. She just walked up to the horse, casual as you please, jumped in the saddle, and rode that poor horse till it could run no more. No matter how hard it bucked, Annie just hung on for dear life and wouldn't quit."

Try as he might, Peter just couldn't picture his mother riding a wild horse. Both he and Nickel were lost in memories, real and imagined, of what was once one of the greatest horse ranches in all of Portugal. As they rode along, each absorbed in his own thoughts, they didn't notice a very old man with a very big gun step out from behind some rocks. Suddenly there he was, right smack in front of them blocking their path.

"Señor," the old man said in a raspy voice, "this private property. You have no business here. This land belong to Señor Ramos, and you are trespassing."

Peter was startled by the sudden appearance of the old man and more than a little frightened by the double-barreled shotgun he casually held in his arms. Nickel was also shocked, but for a different reason. He looked hard at the man, and then he broke into a big smile, as if seeing an old friend. Indeed he had! Nickel got off his horse, walked over to the man and gave him a great big hug. The old man looked a little bewildered.

"Señor, who are you? I do not know you. You do not belong here and you both must leave."

"Paco, you old caballero," Nickel said with a grin, "after all the trouble I caused you, I thought you'd never forget me. What in heaven's name are you doing here?"

"Señor Niko? Is dat really you? My eyes, they no good anymore. Why you come home now? Everything gone except me, and pretty soon I go to be with Señor and Señora Ramos. They ask me to watch the land for you, but you no come back. Annie no come back. This all we have left. I am so sorry I lost it all."

Tears flowed freely down the old man's face. Nickel didn't seem to notice Paco's show of emotions, and introduced his old friend to Peter.

"Peter, this is Paco, one of the greatest vaqueros in all of Portugal. He taught me how to ride my first horse, and he was always there to save us when Annie and I got into any trouble. Paco, I'd like you to meet Peter, Annie's son and the heir to the Ramos fortune."

Turning to Peter, Nickel said with a smile, "This man could rope the wind if he had someone to buy it."

"No, Señor Niko, I'm afraid I am too old to rope. All I do now is wait for my time to see all my friends again. They are all gone, and soon I go too."

Peter, Nickel, and Paco spent the rest of the day and well into the evening talking and telling stories about Peter's grandparents and how life used to be on the ranch. Paco especially wanted to hear about Annie. When Nickel told him about the great brownstone house in Boston and the clothes she wore and what a great society lady she had become, Paco would break into a big toothless grin and cackle.

"I sorry, amigo, but to think of Annie in a dress is too much for this old man. No-no, you must be joking!"

The next day, as they sat by the fire in Paco's run down cabin, Peter asked them if they would teach him to rope from a horse. Although Peter had learned to ride a horse early in life, he knew nothing about roping or cutting.

"I know I could learn. It doesn't look that hard."

So they gave Peter a rope and between Nickel's advice and Paco's example, he was soon learning the basics of throwing a rope. Peter was a quick study, and when he could rope most of the rocks and small shrubs around the area, he was eager to try it from horseback. He was having the time of his life, and by early afternoon he announced he was ready for live targets.

"Yee haw!" yelled Nickel. "He's got the Ramos blood in him for sure. Just like old times, eh Paco? What say we see if there's any beef left on these slopes. I'm plum tired of all them beans and rice we been eatin'. How about a good beefsteak for dinner?"

"Señor Niko, I do not think we should do this. These cows have not seen too many men, and they will not go easy to this barbecue. Besides, amigo, I am old and you are of the sea, and Señor Peter has only roped rocks and bushes. No, Señor, I think this is not a good idea."

Although Paco said this with concern in his voice, Peter saw the gleam in his eyes. They all discussed it, and although it probably was a bad idea, no one could come up with a good reason they shouldn't go. To be honest, none of them tried too hard to find reasons.

"Señor Peter, if you feel you must prove yourself by challenging the ghosts of these hills, then please Señor, I would be honored if the grandson of my closest amigo would accept a small gift from me."

Paco disappeared into his cabin and returned with a leather riata of extraordinary beauty.

"It is not much," he said, "but I would be honored if you would take this small gift."

The rope was unlike anything either of them had ever seen. It was a good sixty feet in length and throughout the entire rope braid, a white strip of leather was woven into the design. It was truly a magnificent piece of craftsmanship.

"Paco, that's about the most beautiful lasso I've ever seen! Are you sure you wouldn't rather leave it here where it's safe? Peter and I can just come along for the ride. Of course, if you really want to bring it, I'd be glad to rope our dinner with your fine new riata," Nickel said with a smile.

"Señor, I have seen you rope, and this is a bad idea. You will try to snare the biggest bull in all of Portugal and then we will spend a week trying to get it back," argued Paco. "No Señor, I think this boy has the look of a vaquero, not the far off eyes of the sea. One day I believe he will be a great caballero."

Thus far, this was the proudest moment of Peter's life. Until the end of his life, Paniolo Pete worked cattle with the hand-braided rope Paco had given him. Of course, it had been used and repaired so many times that its beautifully woven pattern faded, but it was always spot-on accurate when Pete threw it, and he always remembered the first thing he ever caught with that rope.

Peter, Nickel, and Paco headed out into open country well before sunrise the next morning while the air was still cool. As Peter rode behind his uncle and Paco, he felt as happy and proud as he had ever been. Never before had he ridden a horse other than to get from one place to another. Now he was riding a horse for a purpose. For the first time in his life, he felt like this was where he belonged. This was what he was meant to do.

Of course, Pete also loved the ocean, but he told me once that he never really felt like a sailor. Although he spent years at sea, he was never quite as content as when he was on the back of a horse. Now, I reckon I can understand what he felt like. I've been on a horse since before I could walk and would be lost without one. A true cowboy is part horse anyhow and never walks when he can ride.

Peter's grandfather was one of the best horsemen in all of Portugal, and riding was definitely in his blood. So it ain't too surprising that as he rode along with Paco and his Uncle Nickel that day, he felt like a true cowboy. We are what we are born to be, and it just felt right to him. He felt like he could conquer the world. Years later, he told me the story.

### * * * * *

"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.

### Chapter 5

Coffee Break

I was riding drag for Uluwehi Ranch on one of our annual round-ups off the slopes of Mauna Loa. The drag riders are the ones who bring up the rear of a herd, and it ain't the most popular job. If you've ever ridden drag, you know that about all you smell is cattle and dust. Suddenly I got this whiff of coffee. I thought maybe I might have been in the sun a bit too long. I couldn't figure out where that coffee aroma was coming from. Then I saw him.

We were pushing close to a thousand head of cattle off the slopes toward the town of Kamuela. When I topped one of the ridges and we were getting ready to cross, I saw the figure of a man sitting on the ground with a big mug of coffee in his hand. He didn't seem to take any notice of the wild herd of cattle surrounding him.

When I reached him, he smiled and said, "Morning neighbor. I don't think your cows would mind if you cut the dust for a few minutes with a cup of coffee. This variety I call 'Lava Java' because I grew it the fertile patches between the lava flows."

That was my first encounter with Paniolo Pete. He was dressed the same as most of us island cowboys with blue jeans, palaka shirt, and a bandana around his neck. He favored a newer style of cowboy hat rather than the lauhala ones most of us wore. Although he looked to be a fairly young man, his face was dark and weather-beaten like he'd spent most of his life outdoors. He had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. When he smiled up at me, those eyes twinkled with a mischief all their own.

"Pleased to meet you. My name is Pete, and I have a small spread down the coast a ways. I just thought I'd take a ride up here this morning and see what the real cowboys are up to."

He stood up and offered me his hand. Although he wasn't a big man, he carried himself with the ease of someone who knew what he was about. His grip was strong and his hands showed signs of years of hard work.

"Howdy," I said. "My friends call me Bronco Bill. I break horses and round up cattle for Uluwehi Ranch, and this here land you're having breakfast on belongs to them."

The name of the famous ranch or the fact that he was on their land didn't seem to impress Pete one bit, so I figured I might as well have a cup of his coffee. That was the beginning of my friendship with Paniolo Pete.

"This is mighty fine coffee. It sure cuts the dust from my throat and could put the spring back into my step. Don't reckon I ever had a better cup."

"Mahalo, Bronco Bill. If there's one thing I pride myself in, it's my home grown coffee. Those beans were started from some pretty good stock out of South America. I imagine coffee beans are like horses in a way. It's all in their bloodline."

Now I don't know much about bloodlines or beans or South America, but like most cowboys, I know a good cup of coffee when I taste it. That cup I was drinking was the best coffee I ever had. As we sat there enjoying the morning with those cows eyeing us up, two more ranch hands rode up.

"Aloha, Bill," greeted Keala, one of the biggest and nicest Hawaiians I've ever known. "How come you just sit here like one lazy _haole_ when we got plenty work to do? Maybe we just put you in the wagon and carry you like one old _wahine_." Keala and fellow worker José were riding perimeter and rounding up strays.

"Mornin' Keala, José. I'd like you to meet the reason why I'm takin' a break. This man causing all this ruckus with the herd is Pete"

"Aloha neighbors. I'm pleased to meet you. If you can spare a few minutes, I'd be proud if you'd both join us in a cup of coffee. You look like you could use a break. Gathering strays is hard work."

Keala climbed down from his horse and extended his large hand. "Howzit braddah. I'm Keala, and this guy on the horse who scared to get down is José. He new, so he like make good impression. Me, I no care."

Hawaiian "pidgin" was still a little new to Pete, but it didn't matter. Keala's body language said it all. An instant friendship developed between those two that words cannot describe. Keala finally convinced José to get down off his horse and take a coffee break. I filled all our cups, and the four of us sat there, drank our coffee, and stared right back at all those cows.

"Brah, where you went get this coffee?" asked the big Hawaiian.

"Why, I grew it myself. I have a small spread down the coast and some of the land isn't good for cattle. I just threw in some beans and got lucky. It's not bad as far as coffee goes."

"Whoa brah, if you ever like sell this stuff, I like buy. This one _ono_ cup."

"Keala, I don't think I could ever sell coffee to a friend. If you want some, I've got a bag of beans over there on my horse. I'd be pleased to give it to you if you'll take it. When that runs out, just ride on down to my place and I'll give you some more. Always plenty of coffee for friends."

I originally thought Pete was new to the islands, but after that offer I was no longer sure. This man had _aloha_ in his heart. As long as I knew him I was never really sure how long he had been in Hawaii. At times, it seemed like he had only just arrived, but then he would say or do something and you believed he'd been born here. Pete was a hard man to figure out.

The most important thing I learned about him throughout our years of friendship was that Pete had a deep respect for both nature and for his fellow man. I've seen him push a herd of cattle way off route so he wouldn't disturb the beauty of a waterfall, or stop in the middle of branding a new calf to explain to a young boy what he was doing and why he was doing it. I've seen him sit up all night with a sick cow, and I once saw him jump off the cliffs into the choppy surf to help a fisherman who'd been swept off the rocks. Pete was just one of the doers in life. But I've veered off my story here. Let's get back to the first time I met the man who became known as Paniolo Pete.

The four of us were sitting there in the middle of that herd, drinking coffee, and getting to know each other. It was all nice and peaceful until suddenly, this big old range bull decided he didn't like us near his cows. Snorting and huffing he came chargin' straight at us, and we barely had enough time to scramble out of his path. Pete's immediate reaction made a lasting impression on all of us.

That big, mad bull was running straight toward us trampling everything in its path. Myself, Keala and José darted off every which way, but Pete just sat there drinking his coffee as peaceful as if he was watching the sunset over the Kona coast. We all shouted at Pete to run. José grabbed his rifle. Right at that moment I witnessed the strangest thing I'd ever seen. That wild snorting bull locked its legs and skided to a stop. He wasn't more than two feet in front of Pete. What was even more unbelievable was that Pete walked right up to that bull, reached up and started scratchin' him behind his ear!

That bull must have weighed close to two thousand pounds, and every bit of him shouted "MEAN." He was all scarred up from a lot of fights, and had foam dripping from his nose. Well there he stood, as tame and gentle as a newborn calf, letting Pete scratch him. With his coffee cup in one hand and scratching the bull with the other, Pete stood there grinning at us like we were a bunch of fools.

José crossed himself and mumbled something in Spanish and put away his rifle. Keala stood back a ways, completely dumbfounded. He is a very superstitious Hawaiian and was more affected by the whole ordeal than the rest of us. He stared at Pete, but kept his distance for the time being. As for myself, I just figure that some things in life can't be explained. I went and helped myself to another cup of Pete's excellent coffee.

"Well, Blackie" Pete said, "it seems you tried to interrupt our peaceful morning. I think these gentlemen better get back to work, and if they don't mind I think I'll take you back home. We need to have a serious talk about that fence you broke over there."

I swear to this day, that old bull dropped his head and looked downright ashamed of what he'd done. I figured one old bull wouldn't be missed, so I let Pete take him. He turned to us, tipped his hat and said, "It's been a pleasure meeting you gentlemen. I'm sure we'll meet again soon."

I watched Pete as he loaded up his gear and his coffee pot and mounted his horse. Before he rode off, he turned to Keala and said, "Here's that coffee I promised you. When it runs out, just follow this path about twelve miles down the coast and you'll reach my place. You're always welcome."

He gave a quick wave and started off, bull in tow. The three of us stood there watching Pete ride down the trail with the bull following him like a pet dog. We watched until he reached the top of the volcano slope and disappeared down the other side.

"That one powerful _haole_ ," said Keala softly. "I no can believe he talked to that bull. He got one strong ' _aumakua_."

' _Aumakua_ is the Hawaiian word for a personal or family god. After that first encounter with Paniolo Pete, I would have to agree.

### Chapter 6

One Ugly Buggah

It was about six months later when I saw Pete again. We had all taken the day off at the ranch to participate in the 4th of July rodeo and barbecue in Waimea. As I was strapping in to compete in the bronco riding contest, I heard a familiar voice.

"Howdy, Bill. Looks like you drew a real wild one."

The horse I'd drawn was an Appaloosa and he was mighty mean. I was concentrating so hard on that horse, the sound of Pete's voice took a few seconds to register. When I looked up, there was Pete smiling at me.

"Why hello Pete! I didn't recognize you at first all duded up like that. Thought you were one of them bankers dressed in those fancy clothes."

Sure enough, Pete was all dressed up like some kind of big shot. He had on a black silk waistcoat, ruffled shirt, shiny boots, and a top hat.

"I imagine I do look a sight. I had a meeting with some investors from New York this morning and I wanted to meet them on their own terms. Just because I'm a true cowboy at heart, doesn't mean I can't play a big shot now and again."

I asked him what these investors were all about, and he explained they were trying to buy his coffee farm. It seems that awhile back he sent some of his coffee beans back home to his mother in Boston. She served Pete's coffee to her guests at a social gathering she hosted. Well, it seems that one of those guests took it in his mind that if he got a couple of friends together they could just sail out here to Hawai'i and buy the whole coffee farm for a song.

I don't think their meeting with Pete went quite as well as they planned. Pete never said exactly what happened. From the bits and pieces I gathered, when these so-called investors saw that their low offer wasn't going to be accepted, they tried to intimidate Pete. What I do know is that Pete didn't sell his land or his coffee. Those men left on the next ship that sailed out of Hilo.

"I guess you'll be riding next Bill, so I'll let you get set. Maybe after you put this colt through school, you and I can have a word. Good luck on your ride."

As I waved to Pete, my horse spooked. He reared up and threw me right there in the chute. Now rodeo bronc ridin' is a might more difficult than in a corral. In a corral, I can stub the horse until I get set or tight pull the reins. In the chute, I have to mount from the top, get my hand tie secure, and then have the chute opened. If all goes well, the bronc is out in the arena before he realizes someone is on his back. But that didn't happen this time. I wasn't set. My hand was still free, and when that horse reared, he knocked me loose from my grip on the chute. Next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the ground inside that narrow chute with horse hooves stompin' all around me. Let me tell you, that's one of the scariest moments I've ever had.

There are two things all bronc riders fear the most. One is being tied up on a horse, not able to jump free. The other is being thrown off in the chute. As I was layin' there under that horse, one of its sharp hooves landed along the side of my head and took off part of my ear. As I was trying to roll into the corner another hoof landed on my leg, and I could feel my bone snap. I heard people yelling and right before I passed out, I swear I saw a man in fancy clothes and a top hat riding that mean horse. I figured it was all a dream and I drifted off.

I came to just as they were settin' my leg. Let me tell you, it is not fun to wake up at the exact moment someone is pulling on a broken bone to get set it straight. I was about to give that doctor a piece of my mind when my big Hawaiian friend, Keala, came into the tent glowing with excitement.

"Brah, I never went see nothing like it!" he exclaimed in local pidgin. "One minute we all standing there watching you get all bust up and not knowing what to do. Next thing we know, that _haole_ with the good coffee went jump over the rail and tell us to open the gate. Braddah, what a ride! He went ride that horse like he was born in the saddle! Oh, sorry Bill. How's the leg?"

I told him I would be fine, and my big Hawaiian friend leaned closer, looked at my face and my mangled up ear and started to laugh. Now when Keala laughs, his whole body shakes and everybody around him starts laughing too. As sore and beat up as I was, pretty soon I was laughing right along with him.

"What's so funny?" I asked him.

"Brah, you one ugly buggah anyway, and now with no more ear, you one really ugly buggah," and he laughed even harder. I reckon laughter is indeed the best medicine a man can get, and pretty soon I was up hobbling around and ready to go.

I asked Keala what had happened, and he explained in more detail about Pete's ride on that bucking bronco. I knew by the way he told the story that he was quite impressed. I reckon I was feeling a little jealous. I didn't know Pete that well yet, and after all, I was the one who was supposed to be the bronco rider. But in all the years that have gone by since that day, I never again felt jealous of Paniolo Pete. He just wasn't the kind of man you needed to be envious of. I reckon it's because he always played down everything he did. He was a humble man and was always the first to joke about himself.

"If you don't mind helpin' a sore old cowboy like me," I said to Keala, "I'd appreciate it if you'd help me find Pete so I can thank him."

Keala picked me up and carried me over to where he'd last seen Pete, but to my disappointment, he'd already gone. There's not much I hate more than being obliged to another man for saving my life. I knew it would bother me plenty, so I had to go find Pete to thank him proper.

"Keala, I reckon if you'll just put me up on my horse, I'll be headin' out. I've got a debt of thanks to pay and I best get on with it."

"Bronco Bill, you one crazy _haole_! Pete went leave already and you no can ride."

"I've got to go tell him thanks. It's a matter of pride, and if you don't won't help me mount up, at least saddle my horse."

One thing about Keala that I've always admired is his ability to put his own opinions on the side and help a friend. Maybe I was a little rough on him. I was so beat up and sore that I suppose I was feeling a little sorry for myself. I was just about to apologize to Keala when he said, "We go then. If you gotta do this, then more better I go with you to keep you on your horse."

I won't try to tell you what it's like riding a horse over lava rock with a broken leg and an ear all sewed up and a few cracked ribs. I was not a happy cowboy when we crested Mauna Kea volcano just as the sun was coming up. It had been a very miserable night indeed. But when I saw that beautiful sun showing its colors over the ocean, it took my breath away. It was at that moment I got my first look at Pete's "little spread" as he called it.

### Chapter 7

The Double "P" Ranch

Below us were acres and acres of small green trees. Further down the slopes I saw a double corral with a fairly large ranch style house off to one side. Beyond the rows of coffee trees a large herd of cattle grazed in the sun.

"Eh brah, this one nice place Pete's got," Keala said as we surveyed the land before us. We began our descent down the slopes of the volcano and came to a gate with a double 'P' branded into a beautiful Koa wood sign.

"I reckon this must be Pete's place. Let's get a move on before I fall off my horse."

It took longer than we expected to reach the corral area. It was almost mid-morning when we finally reached the clearing. Pete was in the corral speaking to the very same horse that had stomped me a good one the day before. The horse stood there with his head hanging down as if he was ashamed of what he'd done. Pete continued to brush him and spoke to him softly.

As we rode up to the corral, Keala had a big smile on his face. "Hey Bill, how come you let such a nice horse bust you up so good? More better I let little Pualani ride this horse. It looks about right for one small _wahine_."

Now I'd just spent nearly ten hours straddled across a horse in a very uncomfortable saddle. I was stiff and sore and not exactly in a very good mood. But it seems that no matter how low I felt, that big Hawaiian could always cheer me up.

"Shoot Keala, I'd be happy to ride your horse back if you'd care to ride this here bronco home for your little girl." Although Keala had a smile on his face, I could see in his eyes that he wanted no part of that horse.

"Howdy Bill, Keala. What brings you to the Double 'P' Ranch? I suppose you two boys could use some hot coffee and a bite to eat. Bill, I gotta say you are not a pretty sight this early in the morning with your leg all taped up and your ear dripping blood all over my clean dirt."

The better I got to know Pete, the more I came to appreciate his sense of humor. Sure enough, my ear was bleeding through the stitches and I needed help getting down off my horse. Keala's way of helping me out of my saddle was to pick me up like a young calf in his massive arms and carry me over to the bench next to the corral. As I looked up I saw the cause of all my pain staring right at me with one eye through the wood planks of the corral. It was that same Appaloosa mare that near killed me.

"I doubt if she's still mad at you Bill if you'd care to invite her to breakfast," Pete said with a big smile.

"More better we just leave these two lovebirds alone together so they can make up and talk story," Keala chimed in. "Me though, I sure could use one cup of coffee!"

"If you two are done with the jokes, I'd appreciate a new bandage for this ear before I drip blood all over this beautiful bench."

And beautiful it was. It looked like Koa wood that had been cut and fit together perfectly. Maile leaves intertwined with small birds that had been carved from a lighter color wood and were inlaid around the top edges. It was a stunning work of craftsmanship.

"Heck Pete, this bench should be in a museum somewhere, not out here by the corral with a bloody old cowboy sittin' on it."

"Never mind, it's not for show. Woodworking is just something I do for fun. Now let's see if we can get you put back together and go have some breakfast."

While my two friends replaced my bandages, I explained to Pete why we had ridden all night to see him. I tried to offer my thanks for what he did for me. This was the first time I heard one of Pete's favorite expressions. I would hear it many times over in the years to come.

"Ain't nothin' but a thing, Bill. You didn't need to ride all this way just to thank me for lending a hand to a friend. I'm sure you'd have done the same for me. I will tell you one thing though, that feisty horse wasn't nearly so hard to ride as was keeping that stovepipe hat on my head!"

In all the years I knew him, Pete had always been able to brush off a bad situation with a smile and his legendary wink. That reminds me of another story about him that happened when we were a might younger than I am now.

I ended up working for Pete full time at the Double 'P' Ranch. One day Pete went off as usual to check the herd for new calves. When he didn't return that night or the next, I started to worry. We set out to look for him on the third day and finally found his horse. It wasn't the regular horse he always rode, but a different one that he'd ridden out a couple days before. When we saw that horse lying there on the ground, we assumed the worst. It appeared that a wild boar had charged the horse and gored it pretty badly. When the horse fell, the boar attacked Pete. The horse had died from its wounds and lying a few feet ahead was the dead boar. There was a knife wound in the boar and signs that it had been a pretty rough fight, but there was still no sign of Pete.

We followed a trail of dried blood for about a quarter mile and discovered Pete laying face down in a lava tube about fifteen feet deep. His shirt was ripped, and one whole side of his body was covered in dried blood. There were long gashes over both arms and his leg was bent at a strange angle. I had little hope for Pete after seeing his wounds. We used our ropes to lower ourselves into the lava tube and when we reached him and rolled him over, his face was a mess. His nose was broken and his face was covered with bruises.

I was pretty sure what had happened. The boar had attacked Pete's horse, and Pete attacked the boar. Looking at him lying there all busted up, I didn't have much hope. I knelt down next to him and put my ear to his heart to see if by some miracle he was still alive and breathing.

"Aw Bill, if you wanted to hug me, all you had to do was ask."

I looked into his glassy eyes with disbelief and watched him slowly lower one lid and give me that wink of his. The next second he passed out. It was a good thing he was unconscious because we had to use ropes to haul him out of the hole and tie him on the back of my horse. That was the only way we could get him back home.

Now I know I've been rambling on way too much, jumping back and forth in my story about Paniolo Pete. I probably have you readers a might confused, but like I said early on, I ain't no writer.

### Chapter 8

Peter Gets Named

Early on in my story I introduced you to young Peter Monroe and now I keep talking about Paniolo Pete. Well, they're one in the same. Let me tell you the story of how Paniolo Pete got his name.

Many years ago, when Uluwehi Ranch was still a fairly small spread, there was a shortage of men available in Hawai'i who were trained to work cattle. It had all started more than 100 years before in the days of King Kamehameha the Great. An English sea captain gifted the King a few head of cattle. He made the cattle _kapu_. In Hawai'i, _kapu_ means "forbidden" or "sacred." The King turned the cattle loose on the Big Island and prohibited anyone from hunting or killing them. A few years later, the first horses were brought to Hawaii. The Hawaiians didn't know much about ranching or working cattle or riding horses, and for many years the animals multiplied and roamed free on the Big Island. Eventually, Spanish-Mexican cowboys were imported to the Islands to teach the Hawaiians how to handle these great herds. The native islanders called them _paniolos_ , from the Spanish word _Español_. The Hawaiians learned fast, and cattle towns like Kamuela and Makawao soon sprang up throughout the Islands.

But enough of the history lesson, let me get back to my story. Earlier on I mentioned my Hawaiian friend, Keala. His full name is Keala Keaweaheulu Kahiona. The day he and I rode down to Pete's place so I could thank him for saving my life, those two took a special liking to one another. Pete and I were close friends for many years, but he and Keala had something deeper. Their backgrounds couldn't have been more different, but they were like brothers. Keala always referred to Pete as his _hanai_ (adopted) brother, and I reckon Pete felt the same way about Keala.

It was the Kahiona family who really helped Pete expand his coffee business. It was also Keala's family that helped Pete increase his herd. The whole Kahiona family would work on the Double 'P' Ranch from sun-up till after dark doing whatever needed to be done. Pete could never have accomplished as much as he did without their help. From that first day we rode down to Pete's ranch, Keala never went back to work for Uluwehi Ranch.

My two friends had finally gotten me all patched up again. We had a hearty breakfast of fresh mango, sweetbread, and Portuguese sausage, and washed it all down with Pete's great coffee. After we'd eaten, Pete gave us the grand tour of his place. It really wasn't more than a corral, a house, a good size herd of cattle, and a few acres of coffee trees. But listening to Pete and how proud he was of it, I knew that one day it would be the greatest spread in all of Hawai'i. Keala knew it too, and it was right then that he made up his mind to stay and help Pete build up his ranch.

"Bill, I no like leave Pete here with no more help," he told me that day. "You tell the folks up at Uluwehi I say _mahalo_ plenty for everything they done for me and my family, but I don't like work for them anymore. I stay here and help Pete."

"I really can't pay you anything right now," Pete told him. "But if you and your family want to come stay here and help me out, I'll give you some land and a share of the profits. You just wait and see. We WILL make a profit!"

"Braddah, you no can give us land. We Hawaiian, and all this our _aina_. This all Hawaiian land. But me and my _ohana_ (family) come stay and help you. We raise plenty _pipi kāne_ (bulls; male beef) and _kope_ (coffee beans), heh?"

True to his word, the next day Keala arrived with his four sons, two daughters, his beautiful wife, three goats, and a one-eyed dog they called Kolohe.

"Pete, this my _ohana_. This beautiful _wahine_ is my wife Noelani. This my oldest son Kawika, my two middle sons Keone and Ikaika, and this small buggah is Pekelo. My oldest daughter here is Maile, and the little _keiki_ hiding behind her mother is Pualani. We call her Pua."

He then introduced all of them to Pete and explained to them that Pete was a _paniolo_ and that from now on, he would be a part of their family. The children were a little shy around Pete at first, that is, all except Pua. She came out from hiding behind her mother and walked right up to Pete. As he bent down to say hello, little Pua surprised everyone (especially Pete!) by throwing her little arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on his rough cheek.

"Aloha Paniolo Pete, you going give me one horse to ride?" Pua asked him in her childlike innocence.

Pete was so flustered by this sincere display of affection, that for the first time since I'd met him, he was speechless. He looked down at that little girl's face, regained his composure, and with a wink he replied, "Why of course Pua. I've got plenty of horses right over there and you can take your pick whenever you're ready."

"We go then." She reached up for Pete's big old calloused hand and the two of them walked off toward the horses. From that moment on, Peter Monroe became known as Paniolo Pete, and he always had a big soft spot in his heart for little Pua.

Now might be a good time to tell you the truth about the Double 'P' Ranch. Most folks think that the double 'P' stands for Paniolo Pete, but if you think back for a minute you'll remember that the ranch was called the Double 'P' before he got the name Paniolo Pete. Here's the story.

When Pete first arrived in Hawai'i, he was pretty much worn out from spending the last several years aboard a ship with his Uncle Nickel. He'd just turned 18 years old, and after making peace with his family for stowing away when he was 12, he'd spent six hard and physically exhausting years travelling around the world on the open ocean. But the one thing that always stayed with him throughout his entire sailing career was that inner peace he'd felt sitting around the campfire with Nickel and Paco on his grandparent's land in Portugal.

The day he arrived in Lahaina Harbor on the Hawaiian island of Maui, he decided it was time to stay put for awhile and see if he could recapture that same peace he'd felt so many years ago sitting around a campfire out in the open air. He'd had enough of the sea for awhile.

He told his uncle, "Nickel, I think I'll be staying here for awhile. If you'd like to take a shot at raising cattle here in these beautiful islands, I'd be pleased to have you as a partner."

"Son, I'm nothin' but an old sea dog at heart. If I stay on dry land for too long, I reckon I'd grow tree branches. But if you want a ranch, I'll tell you what I'll do. I've been savin' up some money for my old age, and if you'll have the likes of me, I'd be right proud to be your partner. You stay here and work the ranch, and when I get into my twilight years and the sea won't have me anymore, I'll retire here with you and see if I can be of some use."

This conversation took place on the longboat as they were preparing to land in the whaling town of Lahaina. Pete was a fairly private man, and he never spoke much about his earlier years before I met him. I practically had to pry this story out of him. What I gathered is that in appreciation for his uncle's trust and financial help, the name Pete chose for his ranch was a constant reminder. The P-P or Double 'P' as it was called, stands for Pete & Partner, so he would never forget that he had his uncle's money invested.

As things turned out, Nickel never returned to Hawai'i to settle down in his twilight years. He met a Maori woman during a stopover in New Zealand and fell head over heels in love. The last we heard, he was happily married and settled on dry land with a bunch of kids and a cluster of grandkids. No matter what you may have heard, that's the real truth of how Paniolo Pete and the Double 'P' Ranch got their names.

### Chapter 9

Kolohe

I visited Pete every chance I got and spent some of my happiest evenings sitting out on his _lanai_ enjoying the only family I've ever known. Noelani and her daughters sure knew how to prepare the best food. Whether it was grown, raised, caught, or picked, they always did an excellent job with whatever they had. The four boys worked the cattle everyday with Keala and Pete. In between, they expanded their acres of coffee trees.

It was Noelani who first convinced Pete to start selling his coffee in town. Kona was a busy seaport with ships coming and going daily, and Pete slowly started to build up his coffee business. It was strictly by word-of-mouth. People just loved his coffee. Within a few years, the Double 'P' Ranch was showing a nice profit and Pete wisely invested in more land.

Being Hawaiian, Keala could never understand this buying and selling of land. "How can you buy the _aina_? It belong to all of us," he would tell Pete. "These _haole_ laws, they no count for Hawaiians. You now my _ohana_ brah, so you no need buy land."

Paniolo Pete understood Keala's logic, but things were changing in Hawai'i. In the long run, it was a good move for Pete to buy more land. Later, when the Double 'P' really began to prosper, some jealous bankers from Hilo tried to take the land from Pete and the Kahiona family. That didn't work out very well. If I remember correctly, old Pete ended up owning that bank and Keala's oldest son, Kawika, became the bank president. Kawika had always shown a natural talent for business. Pete knew his newly acquired bank would do well with Keala's oldest son at its helm.

"You one big shot now Kawika," his father told him. "I plenty proud you my son and no forget you one Kahiona and no forget you the first Hawaiian to run one bank!" To this day, that bank and its many branches is one of the most successful in the islands.

Pete just had a generous nature I reckon. He was always giving away gifts and helping people. He couldn't tolerate people who picked on others, and it especially aggravated him to see people abuse animals. Pete just had a nautral way about him that people and animals both loved.

We liked to tease Pete about talking to the animals. I reckon all of us cowboys talk to our horses and yell at a stubborn cow from time to time, but Pete would talk to them differently. He would actually have conversations with the horses and cattle, and I'll be darned if they didn't listen to him. I've seen him tell an ornery steer he'd appreciate it if it didn't wander off again. That old steer would just look at him as if he was ashamed of himself and did as he was told. Pete always had a special way with animals, and heaven help anyone he caught hurting an animal.

I remember Pete once hired a couple of boys from the mainland to help during branding. As often is the case, the young men had gotten to Hawai'i and then spent all their money living it up. In exchange for their work at the Double 'P', Pete would pay them enough so they could get back home.

As I often did, I had ridden over to help Pete's crew with the branding. It was late in the afternoon, and we had spent a pretty hard day weaning the calves from their mothers. We were all tired. One of the two boys Pete had hired kept missing his rope shots most of the day, and it was eating at his pride. Earlier, he'd been bragging to everyone how he'd grown up on a big ranch and thought he was better than all of us. I was standing by the holding pen gate when this young cowboy jumped off his horse and began to beat it with his rope.

"I'll teach you to keep moving every time I get ready to throw," he yelled as he beat his horse. "If I had my gun I'd show y'all what we do back home to a no good, flea ridden city horse that don't pull his own weight."

Pete was standing off to the side showing Keala's youngest son, Pekelo, how to tie a honda (a honda knot is what all cowboys use to form their lasso or lariat). I started over toward that cowboy to put a stop to this horse beating, but I wasn't near fast enough. Pete was over the fence, and that boy was flat on his back before any of us could blink an eye. Pete looked down at him.

"I know you boys do things a little differently on the mainland, but here on my ranch, nobody beats my horses. If you feel you need to hit something, go ahead and hit me. Of course, I might not be as easy a target since I don't have a harness for you to hold on to."

Now, I've mentioned before that Pete was not a particularly big man. I'm guessing he was around 5'10" and probably weighed around 170 lbs. But there was something about Pete that conveyed strength. As I watched him talk to that young man I knew he was mad as all get out, but he spoke softly and deliberately and never raised a hand.

Keala, of course, was right there by Pete's side and ready for a fight.

"Paniolo, I like chance 'em. This big _haole_ been acting up all day, and I like bust him up."

Meanwhile, the 250 lb. mainland cowboy was back on his feet and taking off his shirt. With muscles rippling across his chest and arms, he sneered at Keala. It was pretty obvious to all of us that this was not a fair match, even for the big Hawaiian.

"No, my friend," Pete said to Keala, "this is my ranch and those are my rules. If anyone is going to put this boy through school, I'll be the one to do it."

"Shoot, old man, back home my sister could wup an old sodbuster like you. I'd rather fight this big, fat hombre over here than some skinny old man. You ain't hardly worth workin' up a sweat over. If this fat Hawaiian wants to 'bust me up' then let him try."

Keala glared at the smart-mouthed kid and it was beginning to look as if, regardless of what Pete said, these two were gonna have at it. Then Pete walked over to Keala, and although I couldn't hear what he said, Keala looked into his eyes for a few moments, nodded his head, and walked off to stand with his family, who had all gathered to watch the scene.

Pete approached the kid and said calmly, "Since you seem so high on your horse, I reckon I'll have to stomp you before you can get to that fat sissy over there."

I'm not exactly sure what happened next because it happened so fast. One minute that big horse-beater was charging at Pete, swinging his fist, and the next he was sailing right over Pete's head and landed pretty hard on the dirt.

Pete walked over to the stunned boy and said, "Sir, it might be better all around if you just pick yourself up and call it quits. I'll still pay you for a full day's work, and you boys can just go on home. I suppose it's a lot safer in a land where you sisters know how to fight so well."

That was enough to agitate the kid all the more. "You dog, I'll teach you! I've been fightin' since I was knee high to a pony, and if I hadn't tripped, we'd be havin' a real fight." He rushed at Paniolo Pete again, and I'll be darned if he didn't just sail right over Pete's head again and land with a thump.

"Keala, I think we've wasted enough time in school. What do you say we finish weaning these calves and call it a day? Why don't you and Bill go on ahead and I'll catch up as soon as I finish showing Pekelo how to tie his knot."

Pete turned his back and started to walk over toward the youngest Kahiona boy. But that cocky kid was still livid with rage, and he wasn't about to let Pete get away with making him look like fool. He stood and pulled a big knife out of his belt and went after Pete from behind. Well, it seemed as if Pete had eyes in the back of his head! Just as the knife came down, Pete stepped to the side and that blade stabbed nothing but thin air.

"Son, up until now it's been kind of fun, and nothing has been hurt but a little pride. You just put that knife away, and I'll give you your wages, and this will be the end of it. We've got work to do before sundown, and I don't have much patience left. You go saddle up now and ride on out, and we'll call it even." Although Pete said this in his usual calm voice, there was a hard edge to his tone.

I won't repeat what the kid said, but I can tell you that he was so angry and riled up he wasn't about to just ride off and call it even. He started swinging his knife again. Pete turned to face him. As the kid lunged at him, Pete grabbed his arm. The kid dropped the knife and looked like he was doing some fancy jerk dance as each of Pete's blows found its mark. In a matter of seconds, that nasty horse-beater was bloody and flattened out cold on the ground. I'd never seen anything like it. That boy never knew what hit him. Pete turned around and walked over to Pekelo to help him finish his knot.

I watched the second white boy walk over toward Pete and worried there might be more trouble. But as it turned out, he just asked if he could stay on and work at the Double 'P'. He explained to Pete that he barely even knew the other boy. They had just met on the ship, and he hadn't much cared for his braggart ways. Pete hired him, and Johnny turned out to be one of the best ranch hands we ever found and became a good friend and neighbor. After a few years he married a local girl and now has a family of his own.

But here I go getting ahead of myself again. Back at the Double 'P' later that night, after all the calves were weaned and we were waiting for one of Noelani's delicious meals, we got Paniolo Pete to tell us the rest of what had really happened earlier that day at the corral.

The story goes back to Pete's years at sea. While he was sailing around the world with his uncle Nickel, the ship's Japanese cook, a man named Hiroki, took a special liking to young Peter and let him help out in the kitchen. Hiroki was very popular on board the ship not only because he was he a splendid cook, he also had a quite charming personality. The story amongst the crew was that he had left Japan a few steps ahead of a very angry, rich, and jealous husband! While the ship was anchored in Kobe, he swam out to it, climbed aboard and was there to stay. Although he didn't speak a word of English, he immediately took over the galley. Yes indeed, there were quite a few harsh exchanges between Hiroki and the kitchen crew, but in the end that kitchen became Hiroki's domain. The previous cook willingly turned it over to the wild and bald Asian man. Bald? Yessir, that's what I said. Seems that Hiroki had been a Buddhist monk and in his journey to enlightenment, had been willing to give up all of his vices and worldly pleasures, except one—women. So here he was, a former monk on an American ship with a bunch of scrappy sailors and one fresh-faced teenager. Peter had never seen an Asian person before, and he took to hanging around the kitchen just to watch him. They soon became friends, and while Pete taught English to Hiroki, Hiroki taught him various forms of martial arts and also gave him lessons in the Japanese language.

As we sat there listening to Pete tell the story, we all felt a little lost. Not one of us knew anything about kung-fu and judo and tai-chi or any of that stuff.

"It's a little hard to describe, but I guess all those years practicing with Hiroki must have paid off. I really didn't want to hurt that boy, but he shouldn't have pulled a knife. It's one thing to fight on the up and up like a man. Win or lose nobody usually gets hurt that bad. But a knife can kill mighty quickly, and I just can't tolerate that."

About that time Noelani and the girls started bringing out the evening meal. As usual, it was quite a spread—fresh fruit, squid lu'au, lomilomi salmon, shoyu chicken and plenty of rice. Even though Pete had collected some very fine china in his world travels, the Kahiona women insisted on serving food the traditional Hawaiian way, on ti leaves and wooden bowls. Thinking back on those years at the Double 'P', it was indeed Paniolo Pete's domain, but when it came to the kitchen, it was Noelani who ruled! Even Keala was smart enough to leave anything to do with running the kitchen (or the whole household, for that matter) to his wife. I asked Pete about this arrangement once and he said with a wink, "A man's got to know his limitations and when to get out of the way where he's not needed."

While Noelani ruled inside the house, Pete and Keala presided over the ranch, that is until coffee harvest time. During coffee harvest everyone at Double 'P', including Noelani and her entire domestic crew, swarmed into the coffee fields and worked day and night until the harvest was over and the coffee beans had been picked. I reckon if it weren't for Noelani and her business sense, Pete, Keala, and I would all be broke. Pete could have cared less about money, Keala was just way too generous, and I'm just not smart enough. I guess you could say in a lot of ways, Pete owed much of his success to Noelani Kahiona.

Oops, here I go gettin' sidetracked again away from my story about Pete's love and respect for animals. Remember little Pua, Keala's youngest daughter who gave Paniolo Pete his name? When the Kahiona family moved to the Double 'P' Pua arrived with a little, black, one-eyed dog named Kolohe who was forever causing trouble around the ranch. That little mut would tear through the house with muddy feet, chase and bark at the _nēnē_ (Hawaiian goose), and run around spooking the horses and cattle.

One time I saw Noelani so mad at that dog she came running out of the house with a big butcher knife in one hand. Kolohe charged past her from behind and she yelled at her daughter, "I going kill that dog! Pua, you go catch that bugger and bring him here. Tonight we having dog _adobo_ for dinner!"

Now, I don't really think for one minute that Noelani would have cooked Kolohe for dinner, but I do know for certain that there are some people that consider black dog a culinary delicacy. Little Pua was in tears, but she had enough sense not to argue with her mother. Instead, she ran to Paniolo Pete.

"Mama going make _adobo_ out of Kolohe! Please, no let her," she cried. "Try help Kolohe this one time, and I promise he make no more trouble!"

Paniolo Pete looked down at the desperate little girl and without saying a word, he walked over to his horse and grabbed his rope. Then he went over to the house and waited around the back. Pretty soon, here came Kolohe charging around the corner and Pete poked his shot. Then he reached down and scooped the little dog into his arms, swung into his saddle and rode off.

Now Noelani was watching all this through the kitchen window and she yelled at Pete to bring that dog back! But Pete just kept going. That was the first and only time I ever saw anyone disobey Noelani. We didn't see Pete for the rest of that day or the next. Early in the morning on the following day, we heard rim ride back into the yard just as we were getting ready to eat breakfast. As soon as we heard him, we all jumped up and ran to the door. There was Pete, unsaddling his horse with Kolohe standing next to him wagging his tail.

"Where'd you go Pete?" I asked him. "We've all been downright worried."

Pete said that he and Kolohe had gone off for a few days and 'had a little talk,' as he put it. That's all he ever said about the incident. Now I don't know what he talked to that dog about. But I can tell you that from then on, there was never a more faithful or hard-working ranch dog than Kolohe. Of course the little dog still loved Pua, but he was devoted to Paniolo Pete. Those two were never far apart. It was pure music to watch Pete and Kolohe work cattle together. It was as if they knew each other's thoughts. Pete would chase one of the cows in the paddock that needed roping. Every time the cow would try to turn away before Pete could poke his rope shot, Kolohe was right there barking and nipping at its hooves to turn the cow around. I reckon if the two of them ever competed in a rodeo, none of the other cowboys would have much of a chance. Be it calf roping, bull dogging, or bronco riding, Pete was the best. I'm not saying he never lost. He did, but it sure was rare.

Anyway, I guess you can see for yourself the curious effect that Pete had on animals. As long as the dog had been in the Kahiona family, he'd been a real pain in the backside. But after his little excursion with Paniolo Pete, he became one of the best and hardest working ranch dogs I've ever seen. That was just another one of the mysteries about Pete.

### Chapter 10

Mrs. Monroe

Now, y'all may be wondering what happened at the Monroe household after young Peter had run off to sail the high seas with his uncle Nickel. As you can imagine, Annie Monroe, like any mother was more than a little upset. When she first discovered her son was missing, she assumed he was just feeling sad about Nickel leaving and was probably upstairs in his secret spot in the attic. She missed her brother, too. Even though she always referred to him as a "sea urchin," his infrequent visits were always fondly remembered. When Nickel left, there was always a noticeable void. Her house felt large and empty and the laughter was gone.

Respecting Peter's feelings about losing his new best friend, Mrs. Monroe decided to let him have his privacy. Peter was such a good and quiet boy. She wouldn't worry about him until it was time for the evening meal. On that particular evening she was expecting several guests for dinner. She had been so busy all afternoon, she hadn't realized until the guests were about to arrive that Peter was missing. As a matter of fact, she had not seen him since early morning. Still thinking he was up in the attic, she sent one of the servants up to fetch him.

"Please make sure he is 'respectable' and send him down to dinner," Annie instructed.

As we now know, Peter was nowhere to be found. By this time Nickel's ship had set sail out of Boston Harbor hours ago, and a seasick little boy was locked inside a smelly chest in his cabin. Peter had desperately tried to scream for help, but his cries went unheard. Nickel and the rest of the crew were up on deck working like mad to keep the ship afloat during a treacherous storm.

"Madam, Mr. Peter is not here," the servant reported to Mrs. Monroe. "I have looked everywhere and I cannot find him!"

"What do you mean he's not here? Of course he's here! Where else would he be? I will find him myself!" She proceeded through the house to check all of her son's favorite hiding places. She was soon joined in her search by her husband and all the household staff. They eventually had to concede that Peter was indeed missing.

The police were called in immediately and because of the Monroe's position in the city of Boston, every available officer was put on the case. Kidnapping was suspected at first, but as days went by with no ransom demands, it was finally ruled out. Another possible scenario was that Peter had gone down to see his uncle off and had been roughed up by one of the gangs that hung around the docks. Although a sizable reward was offered and an intensive search was centered on the dock area, there was still no sign of the boy.

Annie Monroe was a stern mother at times and often didn't spend as much time as she wished with her son, but she still loved him more than life itself. She was devastated by his loss. She had always felt lucky to have been given so many blessings in her life. She married a wealthy, handsome, and devoted husband. They lived in a beautiful house, wore the fanciest clothes that money could buy, and had been accepted into Boston's elite. But it all paled in comparison to the joy she felt in having her son. Even though no one blamed her in any way for Peter's disappearance, she still felt responsible.

"If only I had paid more attention to him and spent more time with him, maybe he would still be here," she said over and over again. "I should have taken him down to the dock myself to see Nickel off. This is all my fault!"

As the months passed, Theodore Monroe expressed his grief of losing his only son by working longer hours at the bank. Work was the only way he could get his mind off it. He too, felt a deep loss, but he was of a proud nature that wouldn't allow him to show his emotions except when he was alone.

Many nights passed with Mrs. Monroe crying herself to sleep. Her husband didn't know how to comfort her, so he just left her alone. They began to argue over meaningless things which led them to avoiding each other. They were both miserable. Mr. Monroe blamed himself for being inadequate as a father and a husband. Mrs. Monroe blamed herself for not being a more attentive mother.

Years later, when I heard this story, I reckon it's the only time I ever wanted to just punch Paniolo Pete right in the nose. I'd always had a secret crush on Annie Monroe from the day I met her. When she shared with me how her world had unraveled at the loss of her son, it broke my heart. But my feelings for Mrs. Monroe are a secret that will go with me to my grave. So any of you folks reading this right now better not breathe a word of it.

Getting back to my story, the situation at the Monroe house was declining. Late one evening Mr. Monroe came home to find the house in a huge mess. The servants were huddled in the kitchen, and most of the lights were out or broken. The parlor looked as if an angry grizzly bear had torn through it. Chairs were overturned, lamps were reduced to heaps of ceramic dust where they'd been thrown against the wall, and crystal glasses had been shattered on the floor.

Mr. Monroe's first thought was that there had been a robbery or a fight, and his primary concern was for his wife. As he looked around, he saw an envelope with his name on it resting on the fireplace mantel. Strangely, while the rest of the house was in complete disarray, the mantel had remained undisturbed. The Monroe family portrait sat between two silver candlesticks. He stared at the handwriting on the envelope and knew it was from his wife. He had a sinking feeling that she had left him, and for nearly thirty minutes he couldn't get himself to open it. But Theodore Monroe was not the kind of man to let fear get the better of him. He walked across the parlor, grabbed the envelope, tore it open, and began reading his wife's words.

Dearest Love,

At long last, we received a letter from Peter today. He says he's in fine health and is sailing toward Cape Town, South Africa with his Uncle Nickel. He said he's sorry for running away and hopes he didn't cause us too much heartache. He misses us both.

I have gone to get my son. Please don't blame yourself for my leaving. You are a good husband and a good father and God willing, we will all be together again soon. By the time you read this, my ship will have departed. I'm sorry to leave so abruptly, but I need to once again hold my son before I can start thinking about a future.

All my love, Annie

In all the years they had been married, Mr. Monroe felt that there was another side to his wife that he would never know. This refined Boston lady had grown up on the wild ranges of a Portuguese ranch. As a child she had little supervision, a quick temper, and a wild streak that most outlaws would be proud of. When he finished reading the letter, Mr. Monroe did the most appropriate thing. He picked up the one crystal glass that remained intact and hurled it across the room. He watched it shatter, then picked up his jacket and headed back to the bank for another long night of work.

### Chapter 11

The Soul of a Ramos

I never did get all the details of Mrs. Monroe's voyage, but I know that by the time Nickel's ship sailed into port on the island of Singapore there was an irate, but very beautiful woman waiting for them on the dock. Pete once told me that when he first saw that woman standing on the dock, it never crossed his mind that it was his own mother. Gone were the fancy society dresses, the soft slippers, and the perfectly styled hair. In front of him stood a woman with her feet planted firmly on the ground, hands on her hips, and a look that could melt ice. She was wearing a leather vest over a blouse with the sleeves rolled up, a light brown skirt, and tall boots. Her hair was wild and wind-blown and she had the deep tan of a field worker.

"By gosh Peter, ain't she a sight!" exclaimed Nickel. "It's my own sister dear lookin' like a she-devil. I'll be darned if she's not the most beautiful woman in all the Far East. She might be a Monroe by name, but she's a Ramos in her soul! She looks a might upset over you're departure my good nephew, so if you'll excuse me, I think I'll just sit out this little reunion." At that moment, Nickel jumped over the rail of the ship and started swimming toward another dock.

"Niko!" yelled Annie, "don't think you can get away from me. As soon as I have a little talk with my son, I'll come find you." The name 'Niko' was what his sister called him growing up.

Pete never did tell me all the details of their reunion, but I eventually learned that his mother decided as appropriate punishment, she would not let him out of her sight until they sailed into Boston Harbor. It was more than a year before they arrived in Boston and it was during that time at sea, that Peter got to know the true Anna Maria Ramos Monroe. She seemed to be an altogether different person than the mother he had always known, and their relationship was rather awkward at first. But as the months passed they developed a deep bond that would stay with them always. Pete once told me that it was probably the happiest time in his life. For the first time he felt he could talk to his mother about anything, and he frequently did just that. Yes, once in awhile she made him a little uncomfortable when she would introduce him to a cute girl, but even those minor matchmaking efforts were a small price to pay for the friendship that Peter shared with his mother. As far as this matchmaking business, one day Annie just pushed him one time too many, and Pete decided to put an end to it once and for all.

They were in Bangkok one afternoon having lunch in a small café. Mrs. Monroe pointed out a beautiful young Thai woman sitting across from them. She kept urging him to go over and introduce himself. Like I said, this always made Pete a little uncomfortable.

"Mother, do you dislike spending time with me so much that you want to get rid of me?"

"Why no, son, whatever gave you that idea?"

Peter finally told her how he felt when every time they saw an attractive girl she would try to steer him toward her. Mrs. Monroe looked a little confused at first, then burst into laughter.

"Peter, dearest Peter, I only thought that's what all young men wanted. My only wish is to see you happy. I'm certainly not trying to marry you off. You're only fourteen years old!" From that day on, she left Peter alone about girls. But she always smiled to herself whenever she caught him taking a second glance at a pretty young woman.

Mrs. Monroe saw a lot of her father in her son. They had the same taste for adventure, an inquisitive mind, and solid morals. While Nickel had that same wild streak and had always loved the sea, Peter seemed to enjoy the beauty of it more than its unpredictable nature. He was more interested in hearing about the horse ranch where they had grown up. Many of their long days at sea were spent telling Peter stories of wild horses, sleeping under the stars in an endless sky, roping cattle, and the joys of delivering a newborn colt.

Rarely had Peter heard his mother laugh when they lived in Boston. Now a day never passed when his mother's delightful laughter couldn't be heard throughout the entire ship. I reckon that's why when the ship finally docked in Boston Harbor, everyone on board seemed a little sad and at a loss for words. Seeing all those rough old sea dogs lined up in front of Annie Monroe with their hats off and tears streaming down weather-beaten faces must have truly been a sight. She shook the hand of every sailor and took a few minutes to speak with each one of them. After all had said their goodbyes, she and Peter walked off the ship and headed for home. Nickel remained on board. I reckon he felt that the Monroe family needed a little private time to get reacquainted.

### Chapter 12

Annie's Charm

Mr. Monroe felt a mix of emotions when he finally got the news that his wife and son would soon be home. For many months he had been dodging questions from friends and neighbors concerning his wife's absence. In fact, he almost began to believe himself that she might never come back. Nevertheless, he hurried down to the pier to welcome the ship. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw his beautiful raven-haired wife on the arm of a tall strong lad walking down the plank toward him.

Peter was no longer a boy. He had grown considerably and the few years of hard physical work aboard a three-masted schooner had filled out his chest and arms. Although he was only sixteen and maintained his youthful looks, Peter had become a strong young man.

Walking beside him was the same woman Theodore Monroe had married nearly twenty years before. To him, she looked even more beautiful at this moment than she had on their wedding day. I reckon it's safe to say that Mrs. Theodore Monroe was about to shock the Beacon Hill community to its core. No longer was she a young girl from another country, insecure in Boston society and desperately longing to fit in. She had become a mature and confident woman who didn't care what other people thought. All the phony airs that she had often displayed in the past, were discarded like yesterday's trash. From the moment of her wild tantrum at the Monroe house before leaving to find Peter, she had again become Annie Ramos, the fiery tempered Portuguese beauty that enjoyed life to its fullest. All of her neighbors who walked around so high and mighty snubbing their noses at those "less fortunate," were in for quite a surprise.

As word began to spread about the return of Mrs. Monroe and her son, the whole community was ablaze with gossip. Rumors circulated about what this "poor dear woman" must have gone through to find her son. Friends and neighbors came to call, ready to offer sympathy and listen to the dreadful story. I reckon everywhere you go you'll find vultures ready to pounce when a person is down on their luck. What they hadn't expected was to be greeted at the door by Annie Monroe looking happier and more vibrant than she had ever been. All who came to call were captivated by her charm. She became the envy of every man for miles around, and it wasn't only the men. All of the prim and proper society women that she'd often shared tea with, were equally enchanted. You might expect these ladies to be somewhat resentful over their husbands' attentions to Mrs. Monroe, but in reality the opposite was true. The women of Boston's social circles adored her as much as the men.

New fashion trends were soon popping up all over town. Women were seen wearing pants, boots, vests, or anything else they chose to wear. Now, I'm not sayin' that Annie's abrupt arrival back in Boston suddenly changed the whole fashion scene, but I do know that within a few years things began to change for women all over the country. Times were changing. Before anyone knew what had hit them, women began getting college degrees and became successful in jobs outside the home. And yes, in a few more years, they would win the right to vote. Now I reckon an old cowboy like me don't know anything about politics, or women for that matter, but I do believe that God created men and women to be equal and that's the way it should be. Here I go again, getting away from my story about Mrs. Monroe's arrival back in Boston.

The city's elite was a fickle group. It was hard to figure out what they were thinking. Once you thought you had it figured out, everything changed. Upon her return, Annie Monroe became the talk of the community. It was not out of pity or sympathy because she had lost her son and had traveled to the end of the earth in search of him. She became the talk of the town simply because everyone loved her, and that included her own husband. Theodore Monroe had been so distraught over her absence that when she finally did come home with Peter in tow, he wasn't sure how to react. His wife seemed like a different woman than the one who had left all those months ago.

The Monroe's didn't have much time to get reacquainted, however, before friends and neighbors began calling to welcome Annie and Peter back to Boston. With a houseful of noisy guests, the more reserved Mr. Monroe retreated to a tranquil corner of the parlor to watch all the activity. As he watched his wife, he was filled with renewed happiness and love toward her. He wished he could just shout it out, but that would have been completely out of character for him. He had never been very good at showing emotion. What he didn't realize was that Mrs. Monroe felt equally as passionate toward him, and she had no problem expressing her feelings, much to the surprise of her guests.

"My dear friends and neighbors," she announced to the group, "if you will please excuse us, my good husband and I have some catching up to do!" And with a twinkle in her eye, she walked across the room, took her husband's hand, and led him up the stairs to their bedroom.

It was years later when Paniolo Pete told me this story and we both had a good laugh. There was all of Boston's finest standing around sipping tea and drinking brandy when his mother made her sudden announcement.

"Bill, it was so quiet in that room you could've heard an ant sneeze!"

After his parents had gone upstairs, one of the older ladies in the room smiled at her husband, took his hand and headed for the door. After that, it was a darn near stampede with all those couples, young and old alike, headin' for the door.

Pete stayed with his parents for a couple of weeks while his ship was being refitted and stocked with fresh supplies. It was an enjoyable time for the family, but Pete knew in his heart that Boston was no longer where he belonged. When it came time for the ship to sail, both he and his Uncle Nickel were ready. The goodbyes were short and heartfelt. Everyone had misty eyes when they finally departed, but for Pete it was a good feeling.

With the house to themselves, the Monroe's settled into a somewhat normal routine. That is, until one day Mr. Monroe announced he was quitting his job at the bank. Pete's parents had decided to buy a large parcel of land out in the country. For both of them, it was as if their marriage had started anew. With seemingly endless energy, they built a new house, and began planning and developing what was to become one of the largest racetracks on the east coast. Eventually, they began raising thoroughbred horses of their own.

But their wonderful new life together was short lived. Mr. Monroe died a few years after the opening of the racetrack. Although Pete was halfway around the world when the telegram reached him with the sad news, his mother assured him that his father had lived a full and meaningful life and passed away in his sleep with no suffering. Life was by no means over for Mrs. Monroe, however. In the years to come she would play a major role in Pete's life.

### Chapter 13

Tomorrow We Plant

Eventually Pete and Nickel parted ways, and Pete was looking to settle somewhere in Hawai'i and start his own ranch. He'd been there for a couple of months but still wasn't sure which island he wanted to settle on. The Big Island had by far the largest parcels of land on which he could raise cattle and horses, but Maui also had its good points. Makawao was already raising cattle and with the busy seaport of Lahaina nearby, he would have no problem selling his beef and shipping it out. The Waimea area on the Big Island was home to Uluwehi Ranch, one of the largest ranching operations in the country.

While Pete was still island-hopping, trying to decide where to buy land, he had a surprise visit from his mother that would change his life forever. Mrs. Monroe arrived in Hilo in the middle of a heavy rain storm, and it was pure chance that Pete happened to be in the area. He had been on Oahu for most of the week and had just arrived in Hilo the day before. It was the middle of the rainy season and had been raining for over a week. As he walked down the street with his head bowed against the heavy downpour, he suddenly heard a familiar voice.

"Señora, dis boy has grown up and become a man. Maybe now he has learned to let go of de rope."

Pete looked up and there was Paco, the old caballero he had befriended on his grandparents' ranch so many years ago. Standing there next to him smiling through the rain, was Pete's beautiful mother. It was quite a reunion with all three of them laughing and hugging and getting soaked to the skin. They found a place to stay overnight. By the next morning the rain had stopped and the sun was shining. Pete rented a carriage and took his mother and Paco to do some sightseeing around Hilo. They traveled for several days and saw the wide rolling grasslands of the famous Uluwehi Ranch. They had a picnic lunch at Rainbow Falls, enjoyed the surf at Black Sand Beach, marveled over the volcanoes of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea, and made camp wherever they happened to be each night. They rode around the island leisurely, drinking in its natural beauty—endless blue skies, spectacular sunrises and sunsets, and the clear aqua colors of the ocean. They lost track of time, but eventually reached the town of Kailua-Kona on the other side of the island. As they approached the town, Paco became so excited he started speaking rapidly in his native Portuguese tongue.

"Hey Paco, slow down a minute, and tell me in English what it is you're so excited about."

"Dis place good for growing coffee trees, amigo. I can see this with my own eyes. Paco can smell coffee soil and dis one is good for coffee." He jumped to the ground and began scooping up dirt with his hands and letting it run through his fingers.

"You buy land here Señor Peter. You raise coffee with your cows and you be plenty happy in dis life!"

Of course, there was a lot more to the story, but that's pretty much how Pete decided to buy land and settle outside of Kailua-Kona on the Big Island of Hawai'i. The "passing on" of the coffee growing tradition began shortly after Pete had bought the land to build his ranch. He hired a couple of local Hawaiians to help them with construction of a house. One evening, after a backbreaking day of work, Paco, Peter and Annie sat down to rest and watch the sunset.

"Tomorrow we plant Señor. Da beans I have here in my pouch are from my father's father and are of the finest in all South America. They were a gift to me and now I give them to you. We plant tomorrow and soon we have the best coffee in all the Islands."

"Paco, can't we wait at least until the house is built and we have a roof over our heads? A few more weeks shouldn't matter that much."

"Señor Peter, these beans do not care about a house. They want to be sent home to the earth. I can hear them asking this Señor. If we no give them to the earth now, they no give us coffee later. It is how they are. We must plant _mañana_."

And so, the first coffee of Columbian stock was transferred over thousands of miles, passed down from father and son to father and son, and finally into the rough callous hands of a young cowboy born in Boston, known as Paniolo Pete. Some time later, when Pete told me the story of his first planting, it seemed as if he was describing some religious experience. The volcano was smoking on the upper slopes, there was a beautiful sunrise over the ocean, and a cool tropical breeze was blowing. As they were getting ready to begin the planting, a small flock of _Nēnē_ (Hawaiian geese) landed on the side of the field to watch.

"See Señor Pete, these birds were sent from my _padre_ to make sure we respect his beans. We must be very careful, and when we are finished, they will fly to the heavens and bring us luck."

Now I'm just an old cowboy and know little of what is involved in the planting of coffee. But I'll tell you this as sure as my name is Bronco Bill, it's the best darned coffee I've ever had! I've been drinking coffee most of my life and have sat around more than my share of campfires. Yes sir, Paniolo Pete's coffee is the best I ever drank.

### Chapter 14

Kokoro

Mrs. Monroe and Paco stayed with Pete for about a year. Most of that time was spent building the house, tending to the coffee, and gathering livestock. Paco was a patient teacher, and Pete was an eager student. The skills of braiding a rope, tying a bull-nose knot, throwing and dallying a lasso from the ground and on horseback, were practiced for hours on end. Paco also taught him how to properly throw a young calf without hurting the animal, how to wrestle a stubborn steer to the ground, and even how to turn a calf while it was still inside its pregnant mother. There is a lot involved in running a cattle ranch, and Pete had to learn everything from the ground up. Although Paco was now nearly 80 years old, he was a caballero through and through. Pete couldn't have found a better man to learn from. Paco's whole life had been spent on horseback or working cattle and in no time at all, Pete was starting to look and act like a genuine cowboy.

Operating a cattle ranch is not just about cows. It is also about horses. Now I'm pretty sure that most of you readers are cowboys at heart, so I'll share a little secret. A real cowboy is only as good as his horse. No matter how accurate he is with his rope, if the horse doesn't put him in position, he will miss every time. That means all the horses have to be trained as cow ponies. The horse has to know when to cut, when to back up and put tension on the rope, how to stay facing what's been roped, and about a thousand other things. Heck, I reckon now that I think about it, the horse is probably smarter than most of us cowboys.

In the beginning, it was Mrs. Monroe who took charge of the horses. She had been in Hawai'i for only a few months and had already gotten to know all of the horse traders by name. She was one truly remarkable woman. Although she had found some top quality stock and purchased enough horses to get them started, she hadn't found the one horse she was lookin' for. She wanted to find that one special horse to give to Pete as a gift before she left the islands. She wanted to make sure her son had a good mount to keep him safe. It might seem strange to think of a horse keeping a man safe, but there's many a cowboy who owes his life to his horse.

Time was running out. Soon Mrs. Monroe and Paco would be leaving to return to the Mainland. One morning, she got up earlier than usual and was riding out of the now completed ranch area when Pete and Paco stepped out onto the _lanai_.

"I wonder where mother is off to so early."

"I do not know Señor, but I know she is excited this day."

Mrs. Monroe had been thinking about riding over to the Ka'ū district of the Big Island to investigate some rumors she heard about a horse that was "not from the living," as the locals put it. Although she wasn't generally a superstitious woman, she had been in the islands long enough to respect the beliefs of the Hawaiian people and trust them about all things concerning animals and nature. She had never seen a horse "not from the living" and had her doubts as to what she might find. Her time to return to her own home back in Boston was rapidly approaching. Before she left, she knew she had to find that one special horse for her son.

As she turned her horse off the main road on the outskirts of Ka'ū that morning, she felt as if she'd stepped back in time. She rode up a trail that was surrounded by hapu'u, guava, and mango trees. It seemed like all the birds on the island had gathered to sing greetings to her. A wild sow with her babies stopped to look at her as she rode past before continuing their rummage for food. She had visited many places around Hawai'i but never before had she felt the serene peace that came over her as she guided her horse along that trail.

Her serenity was abruptly shattered by an unearthly scream, unlike anything Annie Monroe had ever heard. It made her shiver. The scream she heard sounded as if it might be a horse, and yet it sounded human. It was an eerie sound, not so much a scream of fear or anger, but oddly like a scream of happiness. I asked her once if she could describe it and she gave me a pretty vivid description.

"Bill," she told me, "if a horse was able to yell 'whoopee!' in pure joyful abandon, I guess that's what it sounded like."

By now I've heard that horse's scream more than once, and I reckon she hit the nail right on the head. I will say it still rattles me every time I hear it.

As Annie approached the small house that morning, the horse was standing against a high cliff with a waterfall off to one side. That was her first look at what had let out that blood-curdling scream. Standing inside a small corral, with its head held high, was the most striking animal she had ever seen. With a shiny black mane blowing in the breeze, nostrils flaring, and a look of defiance in its eyes, stood a young stallion unlike anything she had ever seen in all her years around horses. It wasn't an unusually large horse, although compared to most of the horses in Hawai'i, it stood a good two hands taller. What impressed her most at first, were the muscles rippling across the horse's chest and hind quarters. Without a doubt, this was a horse to be reckoned with. As though the horse could read her mind, it reared up on its hind legs, pawed at the clouds, and let out another scream.

Years later she told me, "Bill, I felt as if that horse was laughing at me. It was the strangest thing, but I swear to this day it knew exactly what I was thinking."

Anyway, as she stood watching this great beast rearing up and screaming at the heavens, out of the house appeared an even stranger sight.

" _Ohayou gozaimasu_ , Monroe-san. _Kyou wa ii tenki desu ne_. I think you come sooner, but all in good time, eh? _Shikata na gai_."

Standing by the front door smiling at her, was a very old and wrinkled little man who looked like he had stepped out of another century. His hair was pulled back tight and wound up in a top knot. He was dressed in a beautiful kimono with an obi around his waist. Tucked inside was a gold silk fan. He stood there grinning at Mrs. Monroe and seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

" _Dozo_ ," he motioned her to come into the house. "We have tea and discuss why Kokoro should go to Peter-san."

To say the least, Annie Monroe was more than a little startled. A strange little Japanese man, whom she had never before met, acted as if they were close friends and he had been expecting her visit. As he helped her off her horse, she felt weightless in his grasp. This tiny wrinkled old man couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds, but he lifted her off that saddle like she was a toy doll. Although he looked to be well over 80 years old, he had the confident walk of a young man out to conquer the world.

"So sorry, Monroe-san, I know who you are, but you do not know me. I apologize, how unthoughtful of me. I hope you come sooner to see Kokoro. For long time I hear you look for horse for your son, and I know there is only one horse for him. Please forgive me, my name is Toshiro. Sit, I will bring tea."

He quickly disappeared through a beautifully painted sliding door. His guest looked around the room. It appeared nearly empty except for a low table and floor cushions to sit on. There was an elegant vase of flowers on one end of the table. In no time, he reappeared with a lacquer tray, two small china cups, and a steaming pot of tea. Annie watched him as he placed the tray on the table.

"Sir, I am at a loss for words. You seem to know exactly who I am and why I am here, as though we have met before. But I do not know you."

" _Hai_ , we have not met before. I knew you were coming from my dreams, and this morning Kokoro tells me you arrive today. Please forgive an old man his rudeness. We just wait very long time for you to come."

So it was that Toshiro and Mrs. Monroe first met. They drank tea and talked for hours. By the time they finished and were about to go out and see this special horse, she had shared her life story with her new found friend.

"Now, it is time to meet Kokoro. He is impatient for this moment and sometimes he is not very well behaved. Ah well, _shikata na gai_. Come, you see. He is strong Japanese war horse, and there is no other like him in all these islands."

As they approached the corral, the high-spirited horse stood with his head raised and pranced around in front of them. But when the old man climbed the fence and jumped into the corral, the horse calmly walked up and nuzzled him like a puppy.

Annie Monroe had spent a lifetime around horses, but in all her experience with these animals, nothing had prepared her for a beast of such breathtaking beauty and spirit. Before her stood the very essence of magnificence with its gleaming black coat and a proud bearing that spoke of royal birth. This horse had the spirit of a true champion. Kokoro was completely black except for a patch of reddish gold on his chest that resembled a shield.

"He's beautiful, Mr. Toshiro. Do you ride him often?"

"Oh no, Monroe-san, I am just an old man who feeds and cares for him. No man has ridden Kokoro yet. Only your son ride this horse."

Now, if there's one thing Mrs. Monroe knew how to do, it was bargain for horses, and she had done so most of her life. With the thoroughbreds she raised for her own track and even as a young girl in Portugal, she could bargain with the best of them. She was about to make an offer for the horse when once again, the old man seemed to know her inner soul.

"See, Kokoro is by gate and ready to go home. Better you take him to Peter-san before he leave without you."

Sure enough, the beautiful stallion stood by the gate with a look of great excitement but seemingly mixed with a look of sadness. He would prance around the corral gate, then stop suddenly, bow his head, and look at Toshiro. The next minute he'd go right back to high stepping by the gate.

Mrs. Monroe looked into the old man's eyes. "Mr. Toshiro, this is the horse I have been searching for. Please name your price and I will pay it. There is no point in bargaining for this animal, for surely we both know he is priceless. Please sir, I will pay whatever you ask. My son must have this horse."

So much for all her years of horse trading. I reckon that wild beast could do that to a person. How can you put a price on perfection?

"I will take no money. This horse was destined for Peter-san before it was born. Please take Kokoro home now and let this old man have some peace and quiet. It has been a pleasure to finally meet you. Sayonara." Toshiro took a deep bow, opened the corral gate, then turned away and disappeared into the house.

Mrs. Monroe wasn't quite sure what to expect from this magnificent beast, nor was she sure how she would get him home. She didn't even have a rope. Her own horse was nervous around this wild stallion and began to shy away when she approached with Kokoro. But as fate would have it, there would be no need for a rope or halter. The feisty animal calmly walked along side her and her horse all the way to the slopes overlooking Pete's ranch. It was as if he knew exactly where he was going. Never once did Kokoro stray from the trail or show any indecision. When they topped the crater, the horse stopped and looked down at his new home, the Double 'P' Ranch.

Peter had been working all morning. At the moment he was busy holding down a calf. All of a sudden he stood up and gazed toward the volcano. Now, I wasn't there to witness that moment because at this point in the story, I hadn't yet met Paniolo Pete. But Mrs. Monroe and Paco both swear it happened, so that makes it gospel to me.

When they had descended the slopes and Kokoro walked into the corral area, a hush fell over the entire ranch. If you've ever been around a cattle ranch you'll know there's always noise, especially during wean-off time when the calves are separated from their mothers. But on this day, for that one brief moment in time, all of nature seemed to respect the first meeting between Pete and Kokoro.

"Hello mother. Did you have a pleasant ride?" Pete asked calmly. But his mother was still rather bewildered by the day's events, and this last display left her in deep thought. It was a few moments before she replied.

"Why yes, son. Thank you. This is Kokoro, and although I think no man will ever really own him, he is your horse. He is an Asian war horse and was brought here from Japan. Other than that, I know very little about him. If I didn't know better, I would say this horse has waited his whole life for you. Is that possible? Today has been a very unusual day indeed."

Pete walked over to the beautiful animal and laid a hand on his neck. The horse nipped playfully at his hat and with that small display of affection their future together was sealed.

"Well boy, I imagine we had better try to earn our keep around here. We can get acquainted later. Let me get you saddled and you can give me a hand weaning off this herd."

Mrs. Monroe thought about telling Pete that Kokoro had never been ridden, but after all the strange events of the day, she decided to keep quiet and see what happened. Even as she was contemplating this thought, Pete had already put a blanket on the horse and was throwing on his saddle. Next thing you know, he had swung himself up on the horse and was trotting toward the corral gate. Paco opened the gate and Pete and Kokoro rode inside. It was as if that horse had been working cattle his whole life by the way he began cutting calves out of the herd.

What I'm sayin' is, Kokoro was a true cow pony if I've ever seen one. Pete would cut the reins lightly and the horse would turn. He tapped with his foot and the horse side-stepped. Once a calf was roped, the horse would keep just the right amount of tension on the line. And when Pete was finished checking a calf for scours and pink-eye, Kokoro stepped forward to release the rope. Even an irate cow wouldn't come very close after a few snorts and pawing from that horse. That Kokoro was born from a bloodline of fierce Asian war horses would become evident on more than one occasion.

### Chapter 15

Anything For Pua

I don't quite remember exactly what year it was, but I do know it was a 4th of July weekend. The ranch was in full operation and Paniolo Pete and the Kahiona family were producing a mighty good crop of coffee. Pete decided everyone needed a break from our routine of picking coffee beans, working cattle, and doing daily chores around the Double 'P' Ranch. We all loaded up on the buckboard, tied on the horses, and headed for town.

The plan was to load ourselves and our mounts onto one of the inter-island barges and travel to Oahu to participate in the 4th of July rodeo in Waimanalo. All were included—the Kahiona's, myself, the other ranch hands, and of course Paniolo Pete. We each brought our favorite horse.

Only one person stayed behind to watch the ranch. Remember Johnny? He was the second Texan who had stayed on at the Double 'P' after the horse beating incident. Well, by this time he was all sweet on one of the girls in town, and we learned later that the real reason he wanted to stay behind was that he planned to ask his girl to marry him. Pete had offered Johnny a fifty acre spread just north of the Double 'P' if he could ever find a woman who would have him. I'd say that was a pretty nice wedding gift. Johnny was hoping to make good on that offer before the holiday weekend was over. And as it turns out, he did marry her. Johnny and his family are now Pete's neighbors.

OK, back to Pete's horse Kokoro and the 4th of July rodeo. Pete and Kokoro entered most of the events and by the end of the day he had tallied up enough points to be considered the overall winner. That wasn't anything new, of course. Pete usually won most of the events he entered. But as with most competitions, there's often one sore loser. The sore loser that day happened to be a fancy-dressed cowboy who called himself Samuel Star. He thought himself to be the best bronc rider in the country. Now we know that Pete was never one to brag, and when Samuel Star started egging him on, Pete just ignored him and agreed with everything he said.

"Why, you're probably right neighbor," Pete told him. "I just had an easy horse. No doubt you're as good as they say and I'm sure next time, you'll beat me bad."

Instead of leaving it at that, this Star fella continued to complain about the bad horse he'd drawn and he wanted a one on one match with Pete right then and there. Pete apologized in his quiet way and said that they were all headed to the other side of the island to visit Noelani Kahiona's parents in Kahala.

"Darn it all boy, that visit can wait. Let's you and I square off on two fresh broncs and we'll see what you've really got."

I reckon Pete still wouldn't have ridden and would have just smiled in his good natured way and walked away if it hadn't been for Pua, the Kahiona's youngest daughter.

"Please Paniolo, I went get soda the last time you ride and I miss 'em. Please, I like see you ride and show this big _haole_ you more better than him," she pleaded.

Well, Pete had always had a soft spot for Pua. He had always done pretty much anything she ever asked of him. This time was no exception, but Pete did make a mental note to have a talk with Pua later about the difference between a good competitor and a sore loser.

"OK, Pua, I'd be glad to ride for you. Would you like to pick the horse for this gentleman to ride since I'm sure he's planning on picking mine."

"More better we let this _haole_ ride Kokoro. I go get saddle and ask him for be nice!"

"What's this?" snarled Star. "You're having me ride a cow pony? I thought we were going to compete!"

"I assure you sir, that so-called cow pony will give you a few good turns in the saddle."

Of course, you can probably guess which horse Star picked out for Pete to ride. It was the same one that had thrown him earlier in the bronc riding event. They drew cards. Samuel Star won and chose to take the first ride. Word spread amongst the crowd about another event, and people began to gather to watch this grudge match between Pete and Star.

"We don't need any judges either. We'll just ride the horse until you're thrown or it drops."

It was evident he planned on working Kokoro for all he was worth. "Working" a horse during a bronc ride usually means spurring it or racking your spurs on the neck while you ride. Although it will excite the horse and give more action on the ride, it's still rather cruel. There was no doubt that Samuel Star was planning on taking out his anger on that old war horse of Pete's.

Kokoro was loaded into the chute. Star had his riding rig on him, and as he lowered himself onto the great beast, the bucking strap was cinched tight. As soon as the gate opened and horse and rider cleared the chute, old Kokoro let out that wild scream of his, reared up on his hind legs, and began leaping and bucking for all he was worth. I will say this for Samuel Star. He definitely was a bronc rider, at least for about five seconds. Kokoro dropped his head almost to the ground, gave a vicious kick with his back legs, and Star found himself without a horse. He sailed over the arena fence and into the stands. The crowd was in an uproar when the hotshot loud mouth landed in their midst, and many a beer and soda was spilled or poured on him. It was not a happy cowboy who untangled himself and walked out of the arena that day.

To make matters worse, the rodeo hands couldn't even approach Kokoro to release the bucking strap. Every time one of them got near, that feisty horse would attack. Finally, it was Pua who called out to Kokoro and told him to behave. The horse put his head down and calmly walked over to the little girl. She uncinched the strap, took the reins, turned around to wave at the astounded crowd, and led Kokoro happily out of the arena gate. I happened to be standing near Keala at the time and I tell you, that big ol' Hawaiian had tears in his eyes he was so proud of his little girl. I was a might choked up myself over the whole scene. Kind of puts a big lump in my throat even now when I think back on the story.

Paniolo Pete was up next, and his ride started out good. The horse had a buck-turn style, and Pete was just getting into the rhythm of the ride when his hand tie broke. No matter how good Paniolo Pete is, he's not good enough to stay on a bucking horse with nothing to hang onto. He flew head over heels off that horse and landed none too softly on his back. He was still holding his tie strap and the first thing he saw when he cleared the dirt off his face was the rope had been cleanly cut most of the way through.

As he was picking himself up off the ground he briefly heard screaming and shouting from the crowd before he was slammed back into the dirt. Someone had cut his tie rope and had now released one of the bulls into the arena. These bulls only see men on the rare occasions when they're brought off the slopes of the volcanos for rodeo bull riding events. The one facing Pete now was known as "Bad Black," and in his twelve years of life he had never been ridden. More than one cowboy had given up his bull riding career after a bout with Bad Black.

The first pass of the bull busted Pete's shoulder. Although he was back on his feet, Pete knew he was in trouble. A 2,000 lb. angry bull was snorting and pawing at the earth a short distance from Paniolo Pete when it decided to charge. The crowd was panicked, shouting for someone to help Paniolo Pete when suddenly, a bone-chilling scream shattered the air and over the top of the arena fence flew Kokoro. I reckon "flew" is not the right word, but it sure did look that way. That fence must have been a good six feet high, but the horse cleared it with ease.

Meanwhile, Keala and two of his sons had grabbed their horses and were frantically trying to mount up and rescue Pete, but they would have been too late to stop the bull from charging. Kokoro wasn't. He never broke stride when he landed and rushed into that huge brahma bull broadside. The bull was caught off guard, side-stepped, and fell. Before Big Black could regain his footing, Kokoro reared up, let out his viscious war cry, and plunged both of his sharp hooves into the bull. The bull cried out in pain, and Kokoro screamed a victory cry. The crown was dumbfounded as the massive bull shuddered one last time and lay still.

Kokoro walked over to Paniolo Pete's side, nuzzled his head under Pete's arm, and helped him walk out of the arena. A hush fell over the entire crowd. It had been a horrible scene to witness when Kokoro attacked the bull. That was one powerful and loyal horse. No bull was going to charge his master!

### Chapter 16

Fishing Tales

After the rodeo incident, things returned to normal around the Double 'P' Ranch for awhile. It took nearly a month for Pete's shoulder to mend, and poor Noelani was his only companion around the house. Everyone else seemed to find plenty to do outside. I'm not saying Pete was feeling sorry for himself, but he was just not a good patient. Every morning he was up before sunrise, pulled on his boots, and took a cup of coffee out to the lanai. There he would sit watching everyone else get ready and head out to work. Paniolo Pete was not one to shun responsibility and relying on others to run the ranch didn't sit well with him at all. By the end of the first week he'd just about worn out his welcome in Noelani's house. Her sympathy was wearing thin and she finally told Pete to go find something to do.

"Paniolo, you no can just sit around here all day. You in the way! So what you have one bust up shoulder. Go fishing. You only need one arm to fish."

So Pete took her up on the suggestion and began his fishing days. He would rise early, saddle up Kokoro and ride to the cliffs above Hāmākua. There he would cast his line, sit back, and wait for a bite. This went on for three or four days and Pete would proudly bring home his catch every night. There was always plenty of Onaga, 'Opakapaka, and Ahi for everyone to eat. He seemed to be happy and more relaxed, and Noelani had succeeded in getting him out of the house. Even better, she had fresh fish to cook every night. Harmony had once again returned to the house. Life on the ranch had gotten back to its smooth routine.

One evening, Kokoro returned to the ranch without Pete. They had left early in the morning to go fishing, but now the horse seemed a little on edge and kept nudging Keala with his nose. Keala thought Pete had maybe fallen off his horse and had been hurt out on the trail. Without a second thought, he trusted the horse. If Kokoro had returned for help, Pete's ' _aumakua_ was leading the way.

Noelani came out of the house, took one look at the riderless horse, and ran back into the house. She quickly returned with a basket full of medical supplies that she kept handy.

"Keala, you take this. Ikaika, Pekelo, go with your father and help. No stand here, go! Paniolo Pete needs you."

The two youngest Kahiona boys ran to their horses and saddled up. Within minutes, the three of them were following Pete's horse down the trail. They reach the Hāmākua coast early the next morning. The closer they got, the faster Kokoro walked. All of a sudden, as they were making their way down a narrow cliff trail, the horse snorted and took off in a quick trot. Now as I said, this was a _narrow_ trail, not more than a couple of feet wide with a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. Waves were crashing into the jagged rocks below as they stopped their journey across the ocean, but that horse of Pete's trotted off like he was running across a grassy pasture.

Keala had spent much of his life picking opihi from those rocks, but his two young sons were not familiar with this area. Most of their hunting and fishing had been done closer to home. But a true Hawaiian doesn't know the meaning of fear when it comes to trails, cliffs, or any other obstacles nature puts before them. They have a deep respect for danger but also a strong belief that their ' _aumakua_ will protect them. Never once did they hesitate or slow down on the trip down those narrow cliff trails, and when Kokoro broke into a trot, they naturally followed. I reckon I should mention that even though the boys' horses weren't in a class with Kokoro (who was one of a kind) those animals were of good country stock. They had been raised walking trails like these and they were sure-footed, even if they weren't as big or as fast as Kokoro.

The three Hawaiians had lost sight of Pete's horse, but kept making their way down the trail. Suddenly, over the sound of the pounding surf, they heard Kokoro's wild scream. Fearing the worst, they quickened their pace down the side of the cliff. As they neared the bottom, they heard a loud familiar voice.

"Come on you big overgrown tadpole! I'll stay here all week if I have to. If you want to fight you better do it now. My friends will be here soon and then it won't be a one-armed old man like me you'll be up against."

I think Keala was the most shocked by the sound of Pete's voice. As long as they had known each other, Keala had never heard Pete raise his voice. It sounded like a fight, but at least Pete was alive. He was still out of sight, but without a word the three Kahionas dismounted and started toward Pete's shout. Twelve-year-old Pekelo picked up a tree branch with a look of determination on his face. Whatever they had expected certainly wasn't what they found.

"Well, my friends, it's about time you got here," Pete said as they approached. "I hope you're well rested. This big old boy is about to call it quits and I think I re-broke my shoulder. Noelani will scold me for sure this time."

Propped up against a boulder was Pete. He was covered in sweat, feet braced against a large rock, and holding a thick bamboo pole that was nearly bent in half.

"If you don't mind lending a hand, I'm about played out. Hawaiian, you take this pole, and if your two sons don't mind helping me up, I could sure use a cup of coffee. I've been doing battle with this fish all night."

Keala took the pole from his friend, braced his sturdy legs, and felt exactly what Pete had been dealing with all night. Below, in the outside surf area was one of the greatest fish Keala had ever seen. Cutting through the surf was the fin of a very large _A'u_ (marlin). This was indeed the biggest fish Keala had ever seen, and in no time the big Hawaiian was laughing and shouting at the same time.

"Braddah, Noelani going bust your butt when you bring dis buggah home for her to clean. She plenty worried you get hurt and here you been all night, talking story with this fish. We go make poke and smoke fish when we get home."

All four men were soon laughing, and Kokoro was prancing back and forth glowing with excitement. Pete had not re-broken his shoulder, but it sure was sore. As he sat back sipping his coffee and relaxing after a long night, he realized that this was another of those special moments in his life. He was thankful for having good friends. He remembered the day long ago that he roped his first cow with Nickel and Paco. He had been just as sore then as he was now. He knew he was just as happy. Both times he had been in the company of the best friends a man could ask for and with a mighty fine cup of coffee to savor the moment. Keala's shout suddenly jolted Pete out of his daydreams

"Braddah, we no can lift this big buggah up here. Why you no fish off the beach like most people? Mo' bettah the boys go down and grab 'em."

Although the fish was tiring considerably after nearly twelve hours on the hook, it was still a formidable opponent. This was evident by the veins straining out on the arms and neck of Keala. Ikaika and Pekelo began their descent down the rocky cliff and in no time they were wading into the surf.

The marlin is also known as a billfish because of the long sword-like structure on the end of its nose. This one was no exception, and Pete began to wonder if Keala was fully aware of the danger his two boys faced. He needn't worry. Keala's sons were country boys who had spent their lives wrestling cattle, hunting boars, trapping mountain goats, and spear fishing along the dangerous reefs of Hawai'i. With Keala trying his best to direct the sea monster closer to the shore, Pekelo began splashing to distract the fish. It was similar to the technique used when chasing fish into a net. The fish veered away from Pekelo's splashing and shouting and swam directly toward his waiting brother. As the _A'u_ approached, Ikaika dove down to the bottom and waited for the monster fish to swim overhead. When he was directly under the fish, he darted up from the bottom toward the surface and cleanly slipped his knife behind the gills. Both boys immediately swam away from the thrashing fish and watched in fascination as the great _A'u_ did its final dance. It made one last valiant effort to free itself by pushing its tail through the water and raising its body well out of the surface. But it was all over for the great fish and everyone knew it. When he was sure it was safe, Keala shouted down to his sons to bring in the fish.

"Boys, you go pull him in and I come meet you down there. Get going now, or something come steal him." That "something," of course, was sharks or barracuda.

Keala was almost dancing with joy as he waded out into the surf to help his sons. "Paniolo, you rest now. We go tie up dis buggah and bring him in. Then we eat some poke for sure!"

Pete dozed off for awhile, and when he opened his eyes, the huge fish was on the ground a few feet from where he sat. His three friends were busy weaving a large ti leaf basket to carry the monster home.

Four very tired cowboys rode into the Double 'P' Ranch the next morning. Behind them, being pulled by a not-so-happy Kokoro was a huge ti leaf basket supported by long bamboo poles that contained a 400 lb. Marlin. The feisty horse was anxious to be freed of this burden. Only when he was finally released did he seem to forgive them for the indignation of being used as a plow horse.

Noelani scolded each of them (mostly Keala) with appropriate comments:

"Thanks for sending word that you alright!"

"I thought you raised stronger sons than these two tired old men!"

"I no worry about you ever again!"

She then proceeded to attack the great fish with her carving skills. Noelani Kahiona was truly a master when it came to cleaning whatever animal her family brought home. By the time we had unsaddled the horses and washed up, the _A'u_ was cleaned, carved, and moved into the kitchen. As young Pekelo ran up to his mother, she shouted with glee.

"See, dis one raised good. He no forget _limu_ for the _poke_. The rest of you too _pupule_ to think of that!"

I supposed you're wondering what _limu_ and _poke_ are. _Limu_ is a type of seaweed that is mixed with the raw fish pieces along with green onions, sesame oil, and red chili flakes to make what the Hawaiians call _poke_. Of course, every chef has his own recipe and secret ingredients, and Noelani was no exception. Later that evening, we all sat down to grilled Marlin steaks that had been cooked over a Kiawe wood fire, _poke, poi_ , fresh mango, and Noelani's famous _Haupia_ for dessert. By the time coffee was served, everybody seated around the table was yawning in peaceful contentment.

"Mo' bettah we clean up all this mess before you all fall asleep at my table," Noelani announced. "Come boys, you help me clean up. We leave these old _kāne_ alone to talk story."

I had arrived shortly before dinner and was treated to a play-by-play account of the adventure I missed. Earlier in the week I had gone into town to straighten out a few problems with some new stock for Uluwehi Ranch. I felt a little "left out" at the time, but when I think back, I reckon that was when I made my decision to leave Uluwehi and spend the rest of my days at the Double 'P', but that's another story.

Although Pekelo and Ikaika were tired, they had enough sense not to grumble at their mother. They got up from the table and carried the dishes to the kitchen while their sisters saved whatever little leftover food there was. By the time Noelani returned with more coffee, Keala was snoring loudly, Pete was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, and I was nodding my head up and down on the verge of sleep.

"Hey! You no sleep at my table. Go, you old buggahs, go sleep now. If you no can handle, no more fish!"

The next morning Kawika and Keone, Keala's two oldest sons, returned from Maui where they had gone to buy cattle. They brought with them three nice looking yearling bulls. One was a stocky Hereford and the other two were Black Angus bulls.

"Looks like you boys got us some mighty fine breeding stock," Pete told them as he helped put the bulls in the corral. "Come on in the house. We were just sitting down to breakfast."

Even though the boys had only been gone for two weeks, the family acted like they hadn't seen them in years. Noelani jumped up and gave her sons big hugs and quickly made places for them at the table. As they helped themselves to _poke_ and rice everyone started talking at once. How was their trip? What's going on over on Maui? How were all the aunties and uncles that lived on that island?

"Hey, dis good _poke_! Who went catch the _Ahi_?" Kawika suddenly asked his father in the midst of all the conversation.

"That _A'u_ son, not _Ahi_. We went get him yesterday over Hāmākua side. Pete catch him, but no can handle. His horse, Kokoro come get us for help. When we got there, I took over for Pete who was about to drop from exhaustion. While I hold the fish, Pekelo scare him and Ikaika jab him. Kokoro pulled him all the way home and your mother clean him. I tell you, that fish was one mean buggah!"

The two younger boys basked in all the attention. While the two older boys were happy for their brothers in landing the great fish, they were a little envious that they missed all the excitement. When all had their fill of a delicious breakfast, it was time to get back to the daily chores at the Double 'P' Ranch.

### Chapter 17

Catching Waves

I reckon by now you folks feel like you know Paniolo Pete, the ranch crew and the Kahiona family fairly well. I suppose after all my rambling, you probably do. But there was another side of Pete that I haven't yet talked about much.

One of the reasons Paniolo Pete was so well loved was because no matter how old he got, he always had the heart of a boy and loved to let loose and have fun. Don't misunderstand me. He was a man through and through. But I think it was that playful quality in him that affected people. You couldn't help but love Paniolo Pete. As they say in the islands, "He's good people."

I remember one day when we were working a small herd of yearlings down around Hilo. We were moving them toward the docks to barge them to Molokai for auction. The cattle were taking their sweet time along the beach. It was a beautiful tropical afternoon with tradewinds blowing, and no one seemed to be in a great rush. Pete, myself, and our Texan ranch hand Johnny were trailing behind the small herd when Pete noticed some young local boys out in the surf area yelling and laughing and obviously having a good time. As we stood there watching, one of the boys stood up on his longboard and rode it all the way in to shore.

"Shoot Bill, did you see that? He caught that wave like he roped it! Sure does look like they're having fun. I think these cattle could use a little break after such a long walk. If you two don't mind, I think I'll take a break myself and go for a swim to cool off."

Now I don't know about the cattle. I think Pete was the one that wanted a break. Next thing you know he jumped down from his horse, stripped off his clothes, and dove into the surf. I don't know where he learned how to swim, but Pete was a swimmer if I ever saw one. His long powerful strokes took him out where the young surfers were sitting on their boards. A minute later I saw Pete's white behind on top of one of those longboards. Then a big wave came along and grabbed him and pushed toward the shore.

"Hey Bill, did you see that?" pete yelled to me. "Reminds me of the time you got dragged across the paddock by that old steer you roped. But this is a might more fun! Yee Haw!"

Pete turned his board around to paddle back out when one of the other boys passed by him riding a big wave. He was so caught up in watching the boy he wasn't paying attention to the approaching swell. But that wave sure saw Pete. It picked him up clinging to his board, tumbled him around some, and washed him up on the beach. Paniolo Pete sat there in his birthday suit, covered in sand, and laughing for all he's worth.

"Bill, you guys should have a go at this. I haven't had this much fun in ages!"

He picked up his board, turned around, and paddled out again into the wild surf. Pete spent a good part of the afternoon out there riding waves, and by the time he finally swam back to shore, he was able to stand on the board and cut back and forth across the water. All of his new found surf buddies were waving to him as he stepped up to shore, and Pete himself was glowing with pride and excitement.

As he dried himself off with his shirt and began to dress, he told us, "That, my friends, is called surfing! Those boys out there helped me learn how to stand, and I'll tell you I've never felt anything like it. Bill, why don't you and Johnny give it a go? Even a couple of old cowboys like yourselves need a little fun in your life."

"No thanks, Pete," said Johnny. "Me and Bronco Bill here had about all the fun we need watching you out there gettin' sunburned on your backside!"

To put it delicately, Pete had a little trouble sitting on his horse (or anywhere else for that matter) for several days after his surfing adventure. But he just laughed right along with the rest of us everytime he winced when he sat down.

Another of Pete's little capers took place over on the slopes of Mauna Kea. Off in the distance Pete saw people sliding down the side of the volcano. We ended up riding a good two hours through snow and wind, fighting bone-chilling cold just so Pete could "take a shot at sliding down those slopes."

As usual, I went with him, and I never regretted it for a minute. Some of the best laughs I've had in my life came from watching Pete try out new things. His first experience with skiing was no exception.

On his first try, he strapped on those skis and took off down the the slope. He immediately fell flat on his butt and slid all the way to the bottom. But by now you know Paniolo Pete was not a quitter. By the time we headed back home, he could ski as well as he could surf.

### Chapter 18

Clowning Around

Of course, Paniolo Pete also had his serious side, especially when it came to work. He was a strong believer in never asking a man to do a job he wouldn't do himself. If the job was dangerous, he would most likely do it himself.

One of the neighbor ranches was having some financial trouble. Pete decided we should all get together outside of Hilo and put on a big rodeo event to help raise money for his neighbors. Now, you city folks might not realize that of all the jobs in a rodeo, the clown has the most important and most dangerous job of all. He is the one responsible for saving the cowboy if trouble arises. It is the clown who distracts the wild bull after a rider is thrown off so he can get up and get to safety. He's also there if a foot gets stuck in a stirrup or a rope tie doesn't come loose. Many a cowboy owes his life to a rodeo clown.

Paniolo Pete volunteered to clown for the Hilo event. With the help of Noelani and Pua, they dressed him and painted him up to look outrageous. Most kids love clowns and Pete was playing his role with all his boyish charm up until the time the rodeo began.

Everything started out well and all of the events were going smoothly. There was a sizable crowd, and so far no one had been hurt. Between the entry fees, food sales, and some side amusements for the children they would make enough money to help their neighbors hold off the bank for awhile.

The final event was the bronc riding and as usual, it had the biggest turnout. Pete, the clown, was stationed off to the side of the chute and was there immediately when the accident occurred. One of the youngest riders, a fifteen year old boy, got tied up in his stirrup when he was thrown from the bucking horse. His spur had gotten twisted around the leather covering, and as the horse continued to buck, the boy was thrown about with his leg hung up in the stirrup. Pete was there as soon as it happened, but the horse was in such a panic he couldn't get a good hold.

One his first attempt, Pete was thrown behind the horse and kicked in the ribs as he fought to free the young man's foot. His second effort was just as bad, and this time one of the horse's sharp hooves caught him in the leg. The young rider had been awfully lucky so far. Except for a few minor cuts and bruises he was still unhurt. But Pete knew it was only a matter of time before one of those pointed hooves landed on the boy. Forgetting about his own sore ribs and bleeding leg, he rushed the horse one more time. This time, Pete got his hand around the neck of the frightened horse and locked his arm. After a few moments he was finally able to free the boy's foot. But as the boot slid free, that spur raked across Pete's hand leaving him another gash for his efforts. Pete fell to the ground as all of his injuries caught up with him. He could barely move, but he knew the boy was safe.

The horse, however, wasn't through yet. Seeing Pete lying on the ground in all those bright colors made a perfect target for the panicked horse to vent its fear and anger on. The bronc rushed to where Pete lay and was rearing up to trample him. Pete was so dazed he didn't realize the danger he was in. Just as it looked like those hooves were going to land on Pete, a lasso landed around the neck of the rearing horse and pulled it backward. Standing at the other end of that rope was a sight that first shocked, and then awed the crowd of onlookers. Holding the rope was a man who was well over six feet tall. He was lean with muscles rippling and his body covered almost entirely with tattoos. It was a sight to see. This was one of the scariest men I've ever seen, and judging from the stunned silence of the crowd, I wasn't alone in my astonishment.

The horse regained his footing but had the fight knocked out of him. He stood for a few moments to regain his balance then trotted off to the other side of the arena. Standing there looking down at Pete with a tatooed face and body was a man who looked like he dropped in from another planet. He in fact had, as we would learn later.

"Much obliged to you neighbor for roping that horse," Pete said as he looked up in a daze at the stranger. "I figured I'd be meeting my Maker for sure when that horse reared over me like that."

Pete was still trying to stand when Keala, Noelani, and a bunch of other people rushed over to help him. Everyone began talking at once, asking if he was alright, if he was hurt and so on. When Pete regained his footing he brushed himself off and looked around for the man who had saved him, but the man with the tatoos was nowhere to be seen. Only then did Pete realize how badly he'd been hurt. His leg was gashed open, his ribs mighty sore, and his hand was dripping blood all over the dirt.

"Braddah, better we take you to get sewed up. You make one big mess on all this clean dirt," Keala said grinning.

As his friends helped Pete toward the medical tent to get patched up, the wild man appeared in their path. A _lava-lava_ was the only piece of clothing he wore and his head was shaved on both sides with a long mane of unruly hair cascading from the top of his head all the way down his back. The tattoos on his face were perfectly matched on each side and ran over a good portion of his body. The design was one that Paniolo Pete had never seen before.

Now remember, Pete had spent many years at sea and was familiar with people from all over the world, but he had no idea where this man had come from. One thing that was clear, he was a warrior born and raised, evidenced by the scars all over his body.

The stunned little group came to a sudden halt, and as they stood there watching, the man pulled out a long bone-handled knife. Keala immediately stepped in front of Pete to meet the challenge, but Pete stepped around the big Hawaiian and stood facing the warrior. As they locked eyes, the man lifted up his own hand and drew the blade across it. The blade was so sharp and the cut so deep that at first, there was no blood. But it soon started flowing and ran down his arm. Pete never took his eyes from the man's face and to his astonishment, the man never once flinched. There was no doubt in Pete's mind that this was a formidable opponent, or a lifelong friend, depending on your position.

The warrior took two quick steps toward Pete. Everyone around them took a few steps back. Even Keala, who outweighed this man by at least 100 lbs. and was somewhat of a warrior in his own right, took a tentative step back. There seemed to be an unseen force in the air. The crowd watched as the tattooed man thrust out his bloody hand. Without hesitation, Pete grasped the warrior's hand in his own torn one and looked deep into his eyes. In those eyes, Pete saw what it must be like to live in the wild—free to hunt when you're hungry, roam the plains, and have no responsibilities other than survival.

"Brother," said the warrior.

"Brother," replied Pete.

Those were the only words spoken as the two men stood there in silence, hands clasped together, staring into each other's souls.

### Chapter 19

Tangaroa Kahotu

Pete's new blood-brother returned with us to the Double 'P' Ranch. His name was Tangaroa Kahotu and he was from New Zealand. Tanga (as we soon came to call him) was a tribal war chief on the South Island of New Zealand, and his sister had recently married Pete's Uncle Nickel. That made him family to Paniolo Pete, which in turn made him an immediate member of the Kahiona household.

Tanga had traveled from Christchurch by ship, bringing news of the marriage between Nickel and his sister. It seems that Nickel had fallen deeply in love with her. After the traditional waiting period, he was given permission to marry the Māori princess. The couple was now expecting their first child, and as head of the family, Tanga felt it was his duty to deliver the announcement of the marriage and upcoming birth. Pete was somewhat shocked by this news at first, but once it sunk in, he was truly happy for his uncle. Until this very day, picturing Nickel as a family man still brings a smile to me. The wild man of the sea finally found his one true love.

It was late afternoon when we all reached the Double 'P' and to everyone's amusement, the one-eyed dog, Kolohe, was the first to officially welcome the Māori warrior to the ranch. The minute Tanga stepped down from his horse, the feisty little dog circled around the warrior barking the whole time. What followed can only be described as a rough and tumble wrestling match between a man and his dog. It stunned everyone because ever since Paniolo Pete had his "little talk" with Kolohe, the dog had been a companion only to Pete. That's not to say that Kolohe didn't occasionally play with the kids on the ranch. He did, but his loyalty was only to Pete. Even Paniolo Pete was surprised to see the dog's show of affection toward the Māori man. But as if reading Pete's thoughts, Kolohe scrambled back to his feet and ran over to greet Pete. I swear that dog looked downright embarrassed over it, but like most things in Pete's life, he merely excepted the unexplained and let it go without another thought.

Now Tanga and Keala Kahiona made a strange pair indeed but were close friends right from the start. Keala was easily 300 lbs. with massive arms, a huge belly, and tree trunk legs. Tanga, who was a few inches taller, didn't have an ounce of fat on his frame and had muscles that rippled every time he moved. Keala always seemed to be smiling and laughing, while Tanga rarely showed any emotion. But for all their differences in appearance and attitude, they held the common bond of both being Polynesian warriors from a long ancestry of warriors.

It became evident in a matter of days that Tanga had no equal on the back of a horse. Even Paniolo Pete had a hard time matching some of the moves the Māori warrior displayed on horseback. He could lean out of his saddle and literally reach to the ground to pick up a fallen rope. That trick is tough enough to do on a horse that's standing still, but Tanga did it at full gallop. I saw it happen time and again with my own two eyes, or my name ain't Bronco Bill.

The first time I witnessed this feat I was so shocked I nearly walked my horse into a tree. Pete, Tanga, Keala, myself, and two of Keala's sons were pink-eyeing the new calves up on the eastern slopes of Mauna Loa. Pekelo poked his shot at a calf and missed. He was riding at full gallop, lost his grip on his rope, and dropped it. At a full gallop over rough country it's something that all of us cowboys have done. Before the boy could even stop his horse, Tanga had ridden by and passed him a rope. Pekelo continued after the calf and only when he'd roped it and finished pink-eyeing, did he realize it was his own rope.

"Bill," Pekelo asked me as I released the calf, "did you see Tanga stop and get my rope? I thought this was his rope, but it's the one I dropped."

"He didn't stop for your rope. He just reached down and grabbed it. I've never seen anything like it!"

I had seen it sure enough. When Pekelo dropped his rope, Tanga was a few yards behind him. He leaned way out of his saddle, picked the rope up off the ground, and passed it to Pekelo. It was all done in one smooth motion at a full gallop.

Before I continue, I'd like to share with you a statement Paniolo Pete once told me. He said, "A man can only be judged by the friends he keeps and the loyalty they show."

That being the case, I reckon old Pete could be judged mighty highly. Why he took a liking to me I'll never know. I'm just an old grouchy cowpoke who was never good at much except bustin' horses. As far as the Kahionas, or Tanga, or even Johnny from Texas, Pete couldn't have asked for a better or more loyal group of friends.

Okay, where was I now? Oh yeah, I was telling you about the Māori warrior and his talents on horseback. I reckon there's not much more I can say except I've never seen an equal to Tanga on a horse. Panilo Pete was a close second, but that's to be expected. I never found anything Pete couldn't do or learn to do. If he tried something for the first time and didn't get it right, he just practiced until he did. It might take a few tries, or even a few days, but he wouldn't quit until he mastered it. Whether it was sewing leather for a saddle, roping wild pigs, mugging a steer, or even surfing, he just kept at it until he got it right.

That's exactly what happened the first time he tried to make macadamia nut coffee. Pete loved his coffee, and also enjoyed Hawaiian macadamia nuts. I reckon it was only a matter of time before he started experimenting. That's one experiment I ain't likely to forget!

"Bill," he said to me one morning, "I have a new batch of coffee I'd like you to try. You're too old and ornery to be anything but honest, so I figure you're my best bet to get a candid opinion."

I'd just been riding round-up most of the night and I have to admit, a hot cup of Paniolo Pete's coffee was something I'd been thinking about for the past few hours. As I sat there on my horse, he passed me a cup of his newest flavor coffee. I suppose the expression on my face with that first sip told Pete all he needed to know.

"That bad, huh Bill? I suppose it needs more work. I tried putting the nuts in with the beans before I ground it, but I guess it didn't come out too well."

"No Pete, it didn't come out too good at all."

I didn't elaborate, but it was terrible. I love Paniolo Pete's coffee more than most things in life, but I had trouble figuring out why he would want to ruin a perfect cup of coffee by putting nuts in it. Now, I like macadamia nuts myself, but it just seemed unnatural to me to mix them with coffee. But what do I know? Pete was the coffee genius, and if he said he could make it work, I was sure he would.

Well I'm here to tell you he eventually did make it work. Paniolo Pete's Macadamia Nut Coffee is sold all over the world so I reckon there's the proof. I'm still partial to his original Kona Coffee, but that's because I'm just an old cowboy who ain't used to fancy stuff. But I must admit, old Pete sure figured out a way to blend those two together. I don't rightly know how he finally ended up with the right combination, but whatever he did, it was a success.

The main reason I'm telling you folks so much about Paniolo Pete and his story is because I want you to see for yourselves that he was as real as you and me. Many times I've overheard people talking about Pete's coffee and claiming it's an advertising gimmick. Well, I'm telling you straight, it's no gimmick. Paniolo Pete was a very real man who made one heck of a tasty cup of coffee.

The reason he sold so much of it was because of the marketing smarts of Noelani Kahiona. I reckon Pete could care less about selling any of it. He would rather just share it with people and give it away. But Noelani was a businesswoman. She knew it cost money to run the ranch and provide food and clothing for her family. It was she who oversaw Pete's coffee business. She showed the same love and dedication that she would have for any one of her own children.

I don't reckon it would be a good idea to ever describe Paniolo Pete as an advertising gimmick. Now I apologize for preachin', but it riles me a might when people talk about my friend and never met him. I reckon our society is plum full of stories about made up people. But real live heroes do exist, and as far as I'm concerned, Pete was sure enough a very real hero. When my story ends you can make your own decision. Paniolo Pete was a hero to a lot of folks here in the islands and I'm proud to have known him as a friend. Okay, I'll get down off my soapbox now and continue our story.

### Chapter 20

The Proposal

Tanga soon became a familiar figure around the Double 'P' Ranch. The Kahiona boys were somewhat hesitant at first to go near the tattooed warrior and kept their distance. But the kind of hard work you do on a ranch breeds camaraderie, and in no time Tanga was telling us stories of growing up on the islands of New Zealand. We learned about the customs of the Māori people, their beliefs, and their way of life. Tanga was an excellent teacher, and Keala's sons were eager students.

Although he came from another side of the world, there were a lot of similarities between the Hawaiian and the Māori cultures, and the Kahionas embraced him as one of the family. It was a happy time for everyone. Many a night was spent sewing fishing nets or weaving lauhala baskets. Certain things are seldom taught in schools and I reckon culture is one of them.

Tanga had become such a part of the family that it came as quite a surprise when one morning at breakfast he announced that he would be going home in a few days. The boys were sad at first, but as with most boys, their sad feelings were soon forgotten. Keala accepted it in his good natured Hawaiian way, like everything else life threw at him. Noelani and Pua were sorry to see him leave but immediately began preparing what he would need for his long trip across the ocean.

Tanga had gotten up from the table and stepped outside onto the lanai when suddenly we heard a woman's scream followed by the wild scream of the tattooed warrior. Maile, the oldest Kahiona daughter, had been away at school on the mainland. She was home for vacation and was just walking up to the house as Tanga stepped out on the lanai. As she looked up and saw this wild warrior walk out of her home, she let out a frightful scream. Not one to be outdone, Tanga let out a scream of his own. Paniolo Pete was the first one out the door to see what was going on. Noelani nearly knocked Pete over as she rushed outside and took her oldest daughter in her arms.

"Oh, mother, I thought we were being attacked. I'm sorry, but he is so scary looking!"

Upon hearing this comment, Tanga turned to Pete and said, "Too small to bear warrior children."

Maile stopped sobbing and stood staring at Pete and Tanga. She had the same spirited personality and sharp tongue as her mother and retorted back, "What do you mean 'too small' you unkempt, painted-up excuse for a man? What do you know of being a warrior? I am Maile Ke'alakapuna Kahiona, and if I ever bore a son as ugly as you, I'd give him to Pele."

"Small feet, too. Probably fell down a lot as a small girl," commented Tanga.

Now Maile was really riled up. "Small feet? Small feet? I'll show you small feet you overgrown ink blot!" She gave him a sharp kick in the stomach and squared off in a classic martial arts stance. "This wahine show you what warrior is. Come on, we fight!"

Tanga didn't quite know what to make of this feisty young girl confronting him. He began to chuckle, and soon they were all laughing. That is, all except Maile.

Now I don't speak the Hawaiian language except for a few words, but I know it doesn't contain any swear words. So whatever it was that Maile yelled at them, it had an instant effect. As she addressed each one of the laughing people in Hawaiian, their expressions changed from glee to shock. Each one paled as she continued her tirade, and with her last words, all of the Kahionas fled the lanai. I know Tanga didn't speak Hawaiian, but certain words were close enough to his own language that he raced off the _lanai_ with the rest of them. I just stood there with Pete watching Maile. When she had calmed down a little, she looked over at us and gave us one of Pete's famous winks.

"I guess everyone forgets that the women of our race have warrior blood too," she smiled and walked in the house.

Although there wasn't an obvious display of affection between Tanga and Maile, it soon became evident that there was something going on between them. When Tanga announced his ship was leaving for New Zealand the next day, Maile was the most upset. I guess I will never understand women. It looked to me like the two of them had done nothing but argue in the few days since they had met over a scream.

After Tanga made his announcement, he asked Pete and Keala if they could spare a few minutes outside. I wasn't there, so I'm not sure what all was said, but I know when they came back in, all three of them had big smiles on their faces.

Tanga walked over to Maile and softly said something to her. As her sad eyes filled with tears, she looked up at him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him right on the lips. We were all taken aback at the moment, but probably the most shocked of all was Tanga himself. He stood there with his stoic expression and only his eyes betrayed his total confusion. I reckon even a tribal chief warrior would have trouble understanding a woman like Maile.

"Oh no, you no can do this," Noelani stated firmly. "I no raise my daughter to go live in one hut and waste all her school. She gonna be one big shot lawyer, no wife in New Zealand jungle."

"But mother," pleaded Maile, "we love each other. After we are married, we'll spend some time in New Zealand with his family, then we'll come back here so I can finish school."

Now I've seen a few things in my life and I'm telling you, there's nothing prettier than a woman who's just been proposed to. They literally glow. Well Pete and I gave some excuse about tending to the cows and left the room. Soon enough, Keala and Tanga joined us.

While is seemed at first that Noelani was pretty upset, seeing her daughter so happy and knowing she wouldn't be away for long, sort of knocked the fight out of her. Before long, all of the Kahiona women were caught up in planning for the wedding and the house buzzed with excitement.

Tanga postponed his departure, and the following week he and Maile were married near Rainbow Falls. It was a beautiful Hawaiian wedding, and friends and neighbors from far and near were in attendance. Maile was a beautiful bride, and Tanga looked equally magnificent. Of course his tattooed face caused a few comments, but one look from his stern eyes ended further discussion.

Paniolo Pete was the best man and after the ceremony was finished and the _luau_ had begun, he motioned for Keala and me to join him off to the side for a few words.

"Gentlemen, there is no one I trust more than the two of you to run the Double 'P' should something happen to me. I've decided to go away for awhile, and I'd appreciate it if you keep things running smoothly while I'm gone."

"Where you go, Pete?" asked Keala. "Can I come too?"

"No Keala. Your family is here. I am going to make sure our newlyweds have no problems getting to New Zealand and it's a good excuse to visit my Uncle Nickel. I've been thinking about it for awhile, and now seems like a good time to go."

As it turned out, Tanga and Maile returned within the year, but it would be almost three years before Paniolo Pete returned from his New Zealand adventures.

### Chapter 21

All Bust Up

I was sitting out by the corral on Pete's old koa bench talking to his horse, Kokoro. Right in the middle of my discussion, that horse starts screaming and stomping and prancing around. I was so startled I barely heard a familiar voice over my shoulder.

"Hello Bill. I see you didn't let the house burn down while I was away."

Standing there behind me with a couple of saddle bags hanging from his shoulder, stood Paniolo Pete. He'd aged little in three years. He looked pretty much the same, except for a new scar on his face. We shook hands and while we were greeting each other, that darn horse of his reared into the air and gave out another of those ear shattering screams.

"Well, it looks like someone missed me. How ya doin' boy? I see you put on a little weight while I was gone." When he climbed into the corral, that mean old war-horse was about as excited as a boy waitin' for Santa Claus. Kokoro pranced around the corral, kicking up his hooves and bursting with joy at the sight of Pete. I was a might pleased myself, but I'm not a very good dancer, so I just stood there grinnin'.

"Bronco," Keala yelled from the barn, "no make hu-hu with Paniolo's horse. Pretty soon he come home and we both get scoldings."

"Listen to that Hawaiian, Bill. Not only is he big, he's smart too!"

At the sound of Pete's voice, a very excited Keala came running out of the barn. When he reached Pete, he put his massive arms around him and lifted him off his feet in a big bear hug.

"Aloha brah. I miss you plenty."

Noelani came out of the house to see what all of the commotion was about. The minute she saw Paniolo Pete, she ran down the steps toward the corral to give him a big hug.

"Paniolo, good you home. We get plenty trouble with those _pilau_ growers down the road. You go talk to them so Keala no need break their heads. He like bust 'em up already."

Over coffee on the lanai, Pete was able to get the full story of what had been going on. It seems that some large company out of San Francisco had purchased a large parcel of land in Kona and was now trying to buy out all the other coffee growers. Although there was not yet any proof, it was evident that the large company was using strong-arm tactics and intimidation to convince the smaller farms to sell. There had already been a few unexplained 'accidents.'

Johnny, the Texan who worked for Pete, was now a happily married family man and raising coffee on his land. As a smaller farm, he was getting pressure to sell, and Noelani was worried about him.

"Paniolo, you know Johnny get one thick head and he no sell. You gave him that land for a wedding present and no matter what, he no sell. You go talk to him and make everything good again so I no need worry."

As they were talking, Johnny's wife and his newborn daughter stepped out onto the lanai to greet Pete. When Pete heard that Johnny had sent his family to the Double 'P' until the trouble cleared up, he realized how serious the problem was. Johnny was never one to over react. He must have felt his family was in danger.

"Bill, you feel like taking a ride this afternoon? I'd like to see Johnny and find out who these people are. Keala, I'd appreciate you keeping an eye on things around here until I can find out how serious these city boys are."

Although Paniolo Pete had been gone for almost three years, it seemed like he'd never left. He took charge, and everyone naturally followed his orders.

As Pete and I were saddling up our horses, Keala came out to the barn looking a might worried. "Brah, I plenty sorry you come home and get all this trouble. After you go talk story with Johnny, you come back home. No go make trouble with those _haole_ without me, or you be plenty sorry." Although Keala said this with a smile, there was deep concern written on his face.

"We'll be home in a few hours. A couple of old cowboys like Bill and me aren't looking for trouble. I'd just like to check on Johnny-boy before that big luau you promised me tonight." Pete smiled at his friend, gave him a reassuring wink, and we headed off.

The Double 'P' Ranch had grown quite a bit over the years and it took us close to an hour to reach the front gate. There, tacked to the gate post was a note that read:

Dear Owner,

We, the Maxell Home Corporation, are interested in acquiring your land at a fair and just price. One of our representatives will contact you in the near future to finalize the deal.

Sincerely,

Paul W. Maxell

Vice President

Maxwell Home Corp.

"Well Bill, I imagine this Maxell character is the one we'll have to see. What do you say we make a quick check on Johnny to let him know his wife and daughter are missing him, and then take a short ride into town? I'd like to think this Maxell is a reasonable man, and if we ask him nicely, he'll leave our friends alone."

Pete was about to learn otherwise. We were strolling our horses down the dirt road when a big truck came around the turn and passed us. It was going pretty fast, and hanging on the back roll bar were three rough looking boys and two more were in the front seat.

Now my horse and I had been around a few automobiles in our time, but Kokoro had spent the last three years running wild on the Double 'P' while Pete was in New Zealand. Even if Kokoro had seen cars before, he reacted like this was his first. The great stallion started prancing around the road almost as though he was planning on charging that big truck. And knowing Kokoro, he might have if Pete hadn't reined him in and walked him off the road. Pete didn't seem too excited and once Kokoro calmed down, we continued on at our leisurely pace. Johnny's house was a couple of miles up the road and we reached his fifty-acre spread around lunch time.

"What do you think Bill? Did Johnny ever learn to cook better than those biscuits he made for us the last time we were here?"

"Don't know, Pete, but I reckon we can always use them to drop our lines next time we go fishing." We both chuckled.

In fact, it wasn't Johnny who had made the rock hard biscuits. It was a few years ago, and he had only been married a short time. I reckon his wife didn't know much about cooking because those were about the worst darn biscuits I ever ate. But Johnny is a gentleman from the South, and he never told us that she was the one who had made them. He good-naturedly took all our verbal abuse and sent us packin' with about two dozen biscuits hidden in our saddle bags. I reckon he told his wife we liked her biscuits so much we ate them all.

The small cabin we'd helped Johnny build looked deserted when we first rode up. The front door was open, but nobody seemed to be around.

"I suppose since his wife is gone, he figures he lives in a barn. We may as well get some water while we're here and leave him a note. The Hawaiian promised me a _luau_ tonight and I was hoping Johnny could join us."

As we were dismounting, we both heard a noise coming from inside the house. We approached the front door cautiously and were stunned by what we saw. The normally tidy house was in shambles. Broken chairs, an overturned table, flour spilled all over everything, and Johnny was lying face down in the middle of it. What we'd heard from outside was the moan of a man in deep pain. Someone had beaten him badly, and judging by the look of things, it had happened pretty recently. His face hadn't had time to bruise or start swelling, and his split lip and broken nose were still bleeding. One thing for sure, he was not going to be a pretty sight by this time tomorrow. But neither of us was much concerned about his looks at the moment. We both knew the more serious wounds are usually on the inside. A broken rib can easily puncture a lung or there could be internal bleeding. These were the kind of injuries we were worried about. Whoever had beaten Johnny had done a good job of it. As we checked for more serious wounds, Johnny regained consciousness. As Pete was wiping blood off Johnny's face, we watched his expression change from confusion to pain, and finally settle into shocked disbelief as he looked up at Pete.

"Why hello, Johnny, I hope this beating was over nothing more that you serving them your hard old biscuits again."

Johnny smiled through his cracked lips and mumbled a soft "Howdy," as he tried to sit up.

"Whoa partner, hold on a minute. Let me finish cleaning you up a bit before you try to sit up. You're ugly enough without all this blood and dirt covering your face. Come to think of it, maybe it's an improvement. What do you think, Bill? Johnny does look a sight better with his face all covered."

"I reckon you're right, Pete. Johnny always was one to start a new fashion."

When Pete was done cleaning up Johnny's face, and the Texan cowboy was back on his feet, we got the whole story of what had happened. Those boys in the truck that had spooked our horses earlier that day were the same ones who had beaten up our friend. They had come with their final offer for the ranch and when Johnny refused to sign over his land, they started beatin' on him.

"Shoot fellas," he told us in a somewhat defeated tone, "I reckon I could have held my own against a couple of them, but there were just too darn many of 'em."

I could see his pride was wounded worse than anything else, and I agreed with him that none of us could have fought off that many men single-handedly. I also assured him that next time we'd make sure it was even odds, and he'd get another chance to redeem himself. The thought of getting another chance at those roughneck bullies seemed to cheer Johnny up a bit. No man likes to lose a fight but it's especially hard when you're outnumbered and it's not a fair fight.

Paniolo Pete seemed to be in pretty good spirits this whole time, which surprised me. I'd expected him to be mad as a bee-stung bull over the beatin' of his friend. But as usual, Pete didn't react as one would expect him to. I had learned through the years to read some of his moods and reactions. This was one of the few times I was pretty sure I was right in judging what was happening. The reason Pete wasn't angry was because he had already decided on a course of action and as far as he was concerned, the problem had been solved. I don't reckon it ever entered Paniolo Pete's mind that he still faced a very real problem. The hardest part of solving it was yet to come, but I guess he thought once he figured out a plan of action, it was as well as done. As long as I've known Pete, that's been the case. Once a problem had been solved in his mind, he just dismissed it. The problem no longer existed. It may not have worked out exactly the way he planned it, but the result was the same.

"Bill, how about you take Johnny here back to the Double 'P' and get ready for the _luau_ tonight? Kokoro and I have got some catching up to do, so I think we'll take a little ride before we head home. I'll see you around sunset."

As he was mounting his horse I asked him, "Would you like me to get Keala and the boys to meet you in town?"

"Why no, Bill, I imagine this Mr. Maxell is a fair man and probably doesn't even know what happened. I'd like to believe it's just some of his boys getting a little carried away to impress the boss."

As promised, Pete returned to the Double 'P' around sundown. When I asked what happened, he simply stated, "Mr. Maxell and I reached an agreement, and he won't be bothering us anymore."

Since I wasn't with him, I don't reckon I can give you a true account of what happened. Pete didn't say anything except how good the food was and how good it was to be home and how much he missed us all while he was away. He told us the latest on Nickel and his beautiful Māori wife and assured us that as soon as he rested up, he promised to tell us more about his adventures abroad. He didn't mention again the incident of the beating Johnny had taken or anything about Mr. Maxell and his company. If Keala's cousin hadn't come to the ranch for a visit the next day, we might never have gotten the story.

Keala's cousin Moku, was the county sheriff. He arrived in the late morning, and as he rode up, everyone naturally stopped work to see what he wanted. Since it was almost lunch time, the Kahiona boys were told to fire up the barbecue, and in no time, the rich smell of Keawe wood circled the ranch. We all gathered on the _lanai_ to wait for the meal to be served.

Although Moku and Keala resembled each other in looks and size, they were very different in character. Keala was always happy, smiling, and the first to laugh over whatever life threw at him. Sheriff Moku, on the other hand, had a stern manner and took law enforcement very seriously. We all assumed that he had come to follow up on Johnny's beating. I reckon that's why we were so shocked when Sheriff Moku turned all his attention on Paniolo Pete.

"Pete, I no like trouble in my town, so I ask you not to come into town for awhile. You went bust up those boys pretty good and they all took their money out of the bank and left town. Me, I no care. Those _haole_ got what they deserved, but some of the businesses in town think you lost them money, so they kind of _nuha_ over the whole thing."

Paniolo Pete apologized to the sheriff and assured him he didn't mean to cause trouble. Kokoro was a bit excited over him coming home and maybe he had gotten a little too playful. Pete agreed to stay out of town for awhile to let the big-shot business people cool off.

Noelani walked out with a big platter of teriyaki ribs and the girls followed with more food. While the ribs were cooking, we all munched on _pupu_.

"Moku," asked Keala, "what happened in town last night? All dis buggah Pete say is 'da problem is solved.' Tell us what really happened. We all like know."

So, over delicious barbecue ribs and in excellent company, we all relaxed and listened to Sheriff Moku tell his version of what happened in town the day before.

### Chapter 22

Maile's Straight Right Hook

I just went finish my rounds and was headin' up da street when I saw Paniolo come riding his horse into town. I never see for him long time, so I figure I go say aloha and see what's up. We talk story for awhile and he went tell me he just come back from New Zealand and had some stuff for take care of. I told him okay, we talk later and left him in front of that haole Maxell's office place. I went cruise down the street to 'Matsura's' and figure I go eat before I head back to da jail.

No sooner I went sit down than BAM! I hear glass breaking outside. I grab my sushi and soda and went out to see what's going on. In front of Maxell's, there was one haole layin' on da ground. He no move and the window behind him all bust up.

I hurried up there fast and inside the office I saw two more boys all bust up and knocked out on the floor. That crazy horse of Pete's was standin' inside the office place and had his backside up against the wall. I no see Maxell anywhere. Paniolo Pete was just standing there smiling and Auntie Pukilani was laughing and slapping her leg. That big old horse just stood there watching the whole thing.

I no can see what's so funny with all these punks who work for Maxell all out flat, so I ask Auntie what's up. Now, you all know Auntie Pukilani and she one big wahine. When she laugh, everything shake all over, and I tell you, she was shaking plenty. Auntie was laughing so hard, she cannot answer.

I went talk to Paniolo. I told him I no like arrest him, but if Maxell press charges, I got no more choice. I not one judge, but da law is da law. I no like all dis kine trouble in my town and if Maxell press charges, I got no choice but to arrest him.

Now I've seen braddah here scrap before so I no like try take him by force. I figure he'll come nice kine if I explain what's up.

" _Why Moku," he went tell me, "I'm not sure that I did anything wrong, but I'll be glad to clean up the mess that my horse made on the floor. I'm sorry about that, but sometines when he gets excited he forgets where he is and just answers the call of nature."_

When Auntie heard this, she went laugh even harder and tears were falling down her face she was laughing so hard. Then Paniolo ask Auntie if she thought he had broken any laws. When she finally calm down enough to answer, she says to me, "Shoot brah, those punk haole jump Paniolo and they get what they deserve. Besides, you no can arrest him for protecting himself. If it never happen so fast, I like broke their heads too. Try ask Maxell if he like press charges." Then Auntie went crack up again. I've known Pukilani since small kid time, and I never seen her bust one gut like that.

From da wall where that horse was leaning, I heard one moan and went to see where it was coming from. All I could see was two legs behind the horse. Then Paniolo tell his horse to move so he could talk to Maxell. That horse went walk away and standing up against the wall was Maxell.

_I no could help it, and I bust up laughing too. The big shot haole who was making trouble for all the ranchers was standing up against the wall covered in do-do. All his fancy clothes was one big mess. Auntie went tell me when da fight started, Pete told his horse to watch Maxell. That big old horse just back up and pin Maxell against the wall._ _Now, that horse is plenty tall and Maxell not so tall. When Kokoro back up, Maxell was face to face with the horse's 'okole. I no could help but laugh!_

I went ask Maxell if he like press charges, and he just shout and run out da door. Last I saw him he was still covered in horse dung and drivin' his fancy truck out of town. I no think he come back.

With the story told, the big Hawaiian sheriff leaned forward in his chair, scooped some food onto his plate and started eating. Now I reckon Moku pretty well described what all had happened, and we heard Auntie Pukilani's version later that week. There was just one thing I couldn't figure out and bein' naturally nosy, I had to ask.

"Pete, if you don't mind me askin', one thing strikes me as right peculiar. How did you ever get ol' Maxell to kiss your horse's butt? I always thought that old war horse didn't take a likin' to strangers."

"Well Bill, I guess even old Kokoro gets to feeling lonely now and then and needs to be kissed."

Panilo Pete smiled at me, gave his famous wink, and helped himself to more lomi lomi salmon. We spent the rest of the evening eating, talking story, and listening to Pekela and Pua entertain us with song and slack-key guitar. It was another of those beautiful Hawaiian evenings spent surrounded by loved ones.

When we were all finished and Pete was standing off to one side by himself, I approached him with something that had been kind of worrying me. I reckon I just like to see stories have happy endings, so I asked him about Auntie Pukilani and the other girl who worked for Maxell. I assumed they were both unemployed over what had happened.

"Why, I hadn't even thought of that, Bill. I guess I'm still tired from my trip and not thinking straight. You're right, though. It was my fight, and it was me who caused them to lose their jobs."

Pete stood there and stared at the fire for awhile. I could tell he was deep in thought. After several minutes, he finally spoke.

"Bill, while I was down under in New Zealand and Australia I had plenty of time to think. I had an idea I wanted to discuss with everyone, and now might be the right time to bring it up."

There was quite a lot to the discussion, but the gist of it was that Pete wanted to move the coffee packaging out of the barn and into town. It was growing so fast that Noelani needed a bigger area and more help to keep track of all the orders. It was decided that the bookkeeping and packaging end of the business would be moved into the vacant area where Maxell's office had been.

"I figure Maxell no need the space," laughed Noelani. "Besides, his fancy clothes all stink now so he no need office. Better he work in a barn."

Pete decided to ride into town the next day and square things with the bank. While he was there he would ask Auntie Pukilani and the other girl if they would work for him in his coffee company. Although he had first agreed to stay away for awhile to let things cool off, everyone agreed that a new business would make the bank happy and be good for the town.

The night was getting late, and we all had that contented feeling that comes with good food, sweet slack-key music, a warm tropical breeze, and talking story with family and friends. We were all about ready to go to bed when Pua asked Paniolo Pete about his trip.

"Hey, how come you never tell us about what you went do for the last three years? When Maile and Tanga came back they said you went on a walkabout. What's one walkabout?"

Even though we were all pretty tired, the prospect of a new story woke everyone up. Noelani started another pot of coffee and the boys threw some more wood on the fire.

"Let's see, where should I begin?" Pete said with a gleam in his eye. "I suppose I'll just start at the beginning and work from there."

He told us about boarding the luxury cruise ship at Aloha Tower in Honolulu and how excited everyone was about the voyage across the Pacific. The sadness over the farewells to friends and family was forgotten once the ship set sail and the excitement set in.

"Tanga and Maile were getting into their new roles as husband and wife, so I kinda left them alone and went exploring on that great ship. It was one of those big luxury liners with restaurants, a swimming pool, and even a movie theatre."

"It must have been the second or third day out when I noticed a group of men shooting off the stern of the ship. Being an old cowboy, I naturally strolled over to see what kind of hunting they were doing out in the middle of the ocean. Well, they weren't shooting anything live, just practice shooting on clay disks they called pidgeons. The sport was called skeet shooting. They all had fancy guns and one young man in particular, seemed mighty impressed with himself.

"Now I suppose I like good competition as much as the next guy, but it raises my hackles to listen to a braggart. He was some Earl from England and claimed he had won every contest he ever entered. When I asked him if I might borrow his gun and have a go at it, he reacted like I'd asked to borrow his wife's pleasures."

"'I say ol'boy,' this fancy dude said to me, 'it's a jolly good thing to want to have a go at a gentleman's sport, but if a man doesn't have his own bloody gun he can hardly expect to borrow one. Be a good chap now and run along back to those heathens you came on board with."

"What?" yelled Noelani, "he went call my daughter one heathen? I hope you bust him up, Paniolo!"

"Well, I may not know much about these gentleman sports, but I do know when a man is insulting my family. Of course, I figure all three of those fellas put together wouldn't amount to more fight than a scared calf, so I just let them be and walked off."

"Now, sometimes fate has a way of playing your cards for you, and I suppose that's what was about to happen. I left the deck and wandered into the galley and starting visiting with one of the old cooks. As we were talking, I noticed an antique Remington 22 caliber bolt action rifle leaning against the wall behind him. I asked him what it was for and the cook told me it was for sharks, rats, and any other varmint he took a fancy to shooting. He was a skinny black man from Mississippi who looked to be about a hundred years old. He had the gait of a man who had been at sea most of his life and we hit it off right from the start. We got to talking about hunting and fishing and the next thing I know, I was asking to borrow his rifle. When I told him what I was planning to do with it, he laughed and told me a 22 rifle was no match for a shotgun at shooting skeet. I had to agree but told him I was a might out of practice and that should make it a little more even."

"Anyway since it's getting pretty late, to make a long story a bit shorter, I borrowed his gun, and in no time I was squaring off with that English Earl. Most of the kitchen crew had followed me up on deck to watch. 'I say old boy,' the English fella says, 'what say we have a bit of a wager. Say fifty pounds to make it a bit more of a sport. Ten birds and the best out of the lot takes all.'

"I told him I'd take his wager, but if he lost he would agree to apologize to my friends for calling them heathens. So we flipped a coin to see who would go first and he won the toss. I will say one thing for him. He was a pretty good shot with that fancy shotgun he was using. He hit seven out of ten and was rather pleased with himself when he was finished."

"Now, I'm not the best shot here in the islands and I suppose all you Kahiona boys and Pua as well can probably outshoot me with a 22. But this stuffy Englishman was going to have to work a little harder than that for his money. When the machine released the clay pidgeon and it flew off the back of the ship, I aimed that old Remington and poked my shot. 'Looks like you missed, you bloody fool,' the Earl pipes up. 'Did you honestly expect to hit the target with a single shot rifle? My advice to you old boy is to stick to shooting cans on your barnyard gate instead of competing in a gentleman's sport.'

"I'll admit I was a might confused because I know I had sighted that bird true. While I was standing there feeling kind of foolish, that old black cook who had lent me the rifle came over and whispered in my ear. We smiled at each other and the next nine birds they threw for me exploded pretty as you please.

"The English gent was fit to be tied, but true to his word he went below deck to apologize to Maile and Tanga for calling them heathens. Now, I gotta tell you Noelani and Keala, you would have been so proud of your little girl the way she knocked the Earl out with a straight right hook! When I came down the stairs and saw Maile take that swing, she smiled at me with that innocent look and gave me a little wink. Then she closed her door and I suppose went back to some more honeymooning."

"She really went knockout that loud-mouthed haole?" asked Noelani in an excited voice.

"I went teach her that punch small kid time" said Keala. Both parents where glowing with pride over their little girls virtue being restored.

I could see everyone was getting a might tired and Paniolo Pete seemed to have finished his story. There was one thing that was bothering me, though. But before I could say anything, Pete asked to be excused and promised to tell us more about his trip once he had some rest. After all, it had been a pretty exciting two days since his return. Well, I just couldn't wait, so as he started walkin' toward the house I followed him. I had to know what the old cook had whispered in his ear.

"Why Bill, he told me not to aim for the center of the disk. He said to just shoot the clay on its side so it will explode. My first shot just made a clean hole in the top. I gotta tell you, Bill, it was sure easier to shoot the disks on the side rather than on top."

Pete smiled, turned, and gave me a wave as he headed into the house. I thought about what Pete said. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how shootin' the side of something maybe an inch thick with a 22 off the back of a moving ship could ever be called easy. But I reckon maybe it was to a man like Paniolo Pete.

### Chapter 23

Walk About

The next few days around the ranch were mostly back to normal. Whenever we were sittin' around the table, someone would ask Paniolo Pete to tell us more about his trip to New Zealand.

Tanga's whole family was waiting for them when their ship docked. Remember he was of royal blood and was treated as such. The whole village and the surrounding neighbors gathered to celebrate his wedding to Maile, and the festivities lasted several days.

Although Maile and Tanga had been officially married in Hawai'i, his family insisted they be remarried in the traditional Māori manner. What a wedding that must have been! Whenever Pete talked about it, he got kind of a far off look in his eyes and seemed to be deep in thought. Come to think of it, he never really did give us all the details of the second wedding. All he really said was that if he ever planned to marry, he would do it in Māori tradition. Paniolo Pete also told us that a man can only handle so much attention. After a couple of weeks at being the center of attention, he was ready for some peace and quiet.

By this time Pete's Uncle Nickel had a bunch of children and was greatly enjoying the life of a married family man. Every time Pete visited their home he was instantly attacked by a crowd of youngsters and Nickel would be bursting with pride over one of his kids' latest accomplishments. To hear Pete tell it, Nickel's children were about the smartest, fastest, most talented, and generally the best young'uns anywhere in the world.

"Everything they did was a wonder to Nickel," Pete told us, "even if it was just climbing a tree. Maybe that's one of the reasons I took to wandering around a bit. It was about my third or fourth week there and I decided to take a little side trip to another land down under. I sailed across the Tasman Sea to Australia, where I was about to be introduced to a new culture of native people, the Aborigines. Now Australia is almost as big a country as the Mainland United States and after I arrived, I decided to head by train almost 2,000 miles west into the outback. Now the Australian Outback is pretty remote. It doesn't get much rain, and because the land is so dry and arid, that part of the country is pretty sparsely populated. Most of the people who live there are Aborigines, the native people of Australia."

"A few days after I arrived, I was out exploring in the brush when I saw a little man stalking a wild boar with a long stick. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out how he was planning to scrap a pig with a stick. I followed him quietly and was surprised when he raised his long stick to his mouth and blew into it. I was even more stunned when that old pig dropped in his tracks. To make a long story short, the little man was an Aborigine whose name was Miro, and we took a liking to each other right from the start."

"Neither of us spoke the other's language, but we seemed to communicate by nodding our heads and doing a lot of pointing. We also drew pictures in the dirt. We must have been quite a sight—two grown men squatting and drawing pictures in the dirt."

I can't quite remember exactly what Pete said after that except that when Miro decided it was time to leave, Pete naturally followed him. We may never know everything that happened in those few weeks after he met Miro, but Pete told us he learned how to live off the land with no possessions to speak of. I reckon his first experience with raw survival didn't turn out too good. Hearing him tell the story, I can almost picture what it must have been like.

Paniolo Pete and his new friend Miro were teaching each other how they do certain things according to their own traditions. Miro decided it was time for Pete to learn how to use one of the blow-guns he hunted with. Now unless you've seen one of these guns, it might be hard to picture what it looks like. The blow-gun is about five feet long, hollow on the inside, and it takes a lot of practice to learn how to use it. The darts Miro made were soaked in some kind of poison plant juice. After much explaining, I reckon Paniolo Pete got the point, because he told us he treated those darts as gentle as a newborn calf. He was extremely careful to load the dart just as Miro had shown him and carried the blow-gun so the dart wouldn't fall out.

When they spotted a type of Australian rabbit, Pete very carefully put the blow-gun to his lips, sighted down its length, took a deep breath, and wham! Next thing he remembered was lying by the fire, shivering and sweating and never so sick in his life. As he had taken a deep breath to shoot the rabbit, the dart naturally followed the flow of air right into Pete's mouth. He told us he thought sure he would be meeting his Maker soon.

"If brother Miro hadn't been there to babysit me over the next few days," Pete remembered, "I guess I wouldn't be here now and you would have to change the name of our coffee to 'Foolish Pete's Kona Coffee'."

Needless to say, Pete developed a very deep respect for hunting with a blow-gun. But as can only be expected, it wasn't long before the Kahiona boys convinced Paniolo Pete to show them how to make and use one. I gotta tell you, it sure was a sight seeing all them fellas out there at the Double 'P' sitting on the _lanai_ and shooting bamboo darts into the palm trees. The practicing might have gone on much longer except Noelani and Auntie Pukilani came out to see what they were doing and promptly put an end to the competition.

"Hey, how you like I stick those things in you? Those trees no bother you, so why you bother them?" Noelani scolded the would-be pig hunters.

Auntie Pukilani added, "Sista, they got nothing more to do. See, it's still daytime and they all playing like we no got work to do. Come, all you boys, we go clean the coffee mill plenty good." So ended the blow-gun games around the Double 'P.'

Getting back to my story about Pete's adventures down under, after he became a little more efficient in living off the land, he went with Miro on a walkabout. When I asked him how long he was gone, he just shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I guess it was nearly a year Bill. We just took our time. Australia is a pretty big place."

At the time he told me this story, we were working cattle at one of the neighbors' ranches, and I guess my shock must have showed. "It's not like we just walked, Bill. We had to hunt and fish to stay alive and we had a few setbacks during our trip." He never really did explain to me what a walkabout was.

Knowing Paniolo Pete, I can imagine a certain amout of time was spent making new friends and helping them in any way he could. One thing about old Pete, when it comes time to lend a hand, he's always at the front of the line. No matter how busy we were, anytime one of his friends or neighbors needed help, we'd be there. Whether it was working cattle, shoeing horses, or building a house Pete would always go, and we went with him.

### Chapter 24

The Gift of Aloha

While Paniolo Pete was always ready to help a friend, the reverse was also true. Pete had friends everywhere he went who were just as willing to lend a hand. I remember the time our mill burned down and we lost over two thousand pounds of coffee. By that time we had a lot of obligations to meet from all of the orders Noelani and Auntie Pukilani were receiving for Pete's coffee. There has always been stiff competition in the coffee business, and if we were unable to meet the demands, Paniolo Pete's reputation would have been in heaps of trouble.

Now you and I know the type of man Pete was. His word was his bond, but the folks buyin' coffee off the shelves or through the mail didn't know Pete except by his brand of coffee. If they sent in their money expecting some good Kona coffee, I reckon they had the right to receive it. Although we could never prove it, I suspect some of those competitors played a hand in the coffee mill fire. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes if the truth is ever found out.

As I was sayin', we lost over two thousand pounds of coffee beans and we were in a sorry state indeed. The morning after the fire we were all pretty sore and tired from tryin to save the mill. Although everyone worked throughout the night, we lost the mill and the coffee inside. We could rebuild the coffee mill, but the beans couldn't be replaced until the next harvest season. It's one of the few times I've ever seen Pete at such a loss over what to do. No matter how we tried to figure it, those lost beans would prevent us from filling the orders from our customers.

The next day, the family was sitting around the table not talking much when a knock on the front door interrupted our thoughts. Pua answered the door and returned shortly with a strange message.

"Paniolo," she said, "you got one _keiki_ outside that say he like talk to you."

Pete went to the front door and was surprised to see a small boy about seven or eight years old standing there clutching a brown paper bag like he held the king's jewels.

"Morning son," Pete said to him, "what brings you by the Double 'P' Ranch so early in the morning? We're not looking for any cowboys at the moment."

"Mr. Paniolo, my mom told me to give you this before I go school. She say it not much, but maybe it help little bit."

Inside the brown paper bag was about five pounds of Kona coffee beans.

"Son, I can't accept these beans. Please tell your mother I appreciate the offer, but I can't take her coffee. It will be months before I can replace it."

"Mr. Paniolo, my mom told me you say that. She told me to tell you she no like 'em back and I gotta make sure you take 'em. I no like get rough with you, but I no can go home with these beans."

Pete looked down at the small boy standing there in shorts, t-shirt, rubber slippers, and two missing front teeth. He chuckled softly and said to the boy, "Well son, I guess I'd better accept your mother's gift. I certainly wouldn't want to get you in trouble, and I know enough to not want you to get rough with me. I thank your mother, and I thank you."

Well, I'll tell you, that little boy's chest just puffed right up and he strutted off toward school. We had all gotten up from the table to see what this keiki wanted and had overheard the whole conversation. Pete turned to our astonished stares, gave us a wink, and informed us he was headed for town to build a new coffee mill.

Throughout the next few weeks, that same scene repeated time and time again. We would return from working on the new mill to find stacks of packages of coffee piled on the table inside the house. They had been delivered by hand, sent through the mail, or dropped off by boat in town. All of Pete's friends throughout the islands heard what had happened and sent whatever coffee they had to help out. None of the packages were very big. I think the largest one held about ten pounds of coffee, but they came in a steady flow. All of the other growers who knew Pete sent whatever they could.

We never recovered the total loss, but at least we were able to meet all of our obligations. Because all of the packages were addressed to him or delivered to him by hand, Noelani and Auntie refused to open them. When we returned in the evening from working on our new mill, the two women would be anxiously waiting for Pete to open all the bags so they could begin grinding and packaging the coffee to fill orders. I asked Auntie Pukilani why she and Noelani didn't just open the packages during the day while were were away working.

"No can, Bill, I no like being _niele_ (nosey). Besides, these people send to Pete, not me or sista. How you like come Christmas, I went open all your presents?"

Well, I reckon I'm a little old to worry much about Christmas presents, but I got her point. Everytime someone would stop by with a bag of coffee, whether at the work site or at the ranch, Paniolo Pete reacted as though it was the only bag he'd ever been given. He acted like they were bestowing a great trust in him and it was a very solemn moment. No matter if he was hammering nails at new mill or shoeing a horse back at the ranch, he'd stop whatever he was doin' to receive the gift of coffee and thank its giver.

Also during this whole period, Pete refused to drink a drop of coffee. From the arrival of that first bag from the little boy on his way to school until the next harvest was complete and we had repaid everyone we knew, Pete didn't take a sip of coffee.

"It just doesn't seem right, Bill," he told me, "all these people giving me their coffee to help out. How can I sit here and drink a cup of coffee when they are going without? No Bill, I'll just have to wait."

Needless to say, we all agreed with Pete's thinking and gave up coffee for a spell. Let me tell you folks, it's a darn good thing I never found out who burned Pete's mill. Going without coffee for a few months is about the hardest thing I've ever done. Matter of fact, to this day when I wake up in the middle of the night and can't sleep, I take a walk down to the mill and just kind of check on it. Relaxes me a might I reckon, knowing it ain't burned down. Then I can go back to sleep knowing I can wake up to a steaming cup of Paniolo Pete's Pure Kona Coffee.

Funny how we take the little things in life for granted until they're gone. Suddenly that little thing becomes an all important big thing. Well, back to my story...the building of the new mill became a community effort. As a result, Pete donated the new mill to the town and many of the townspeople still work there and maintain it. It worked out well for all of the small growers in the area as well as for Paniolo Pete's own coffee business.

### Chapter 25

Best For The Horse

As I've mentioned before, Pete had a mysterious way with animals. Not only did they understand him, he also understood them. Several years ago one of our young mares stepped into a shallow lava tube and broke her leg. Paniolo Pete was the first to react to the horse's screams. When he reached her, she was thrashing around on the ground and trying to stand. Pete laid a soothing hand on her and spoke in a quiet voice. I swear, that young mare calmed down right quick. By the time the doctor arrived from town, there wasn't much anyone could do for the poor horse except keep her calm. We all expected her to be put down. Although I hate to see any animal put to sleep, I dislike it even more to see them suffer.

Now Pua was right fond of that young mare and while I won't swear to it, I think Pete's horse Kokoro and the mare were right friendly with each other. When the doctor first arrived, we were all standing around lookin' mighty sad about what we were sure he would say. The stallion Kokoro was off to one side stompin' his hooves and looking at all of us as if it was our fault the mare had broken her leg. After a fairly quick examination of the leg, the doc confirmed our fears. He told Pete that an injection would be the easiest way to put her out of her misery. Pua's eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing. Growing up around cattle and horses she had seen her fair share of nature's misfortunes.

"Doc, if I'd wanted to put the horse down I suppose I could have managed on my own. I asked you out here to reset the leg properly," Pete told the doctor in a quiet voice.

"Pete, you and I both know that once a horse breaks her leg, it won't heal because you can't keep her off it. I appreciate your concern and if it's easier on you, I'll wait until you all leave before putting the horse to sleep."

Sometimes I swear, that wild stallion of Pete's understands English better than I do. Right after the doc made the statement about putting that mare to sleep, old Kokoro released that ear shattering scream of his, rose up on his hind legs and pawed at the clouds.

"Doc," Pete said firmly and loud enough to be heard over Kokoro's racket, "I guess you don't understand what I'm telling you. This horse will not be put to sleep. Her leg _will_ be set properly. If you don't want to do it, I'll do it myself. Let me worry about her healing process."

Paniolo Pete had never raised his voice in anger as far as I know, but I reckon that little speech he made to the doc was about as close as I ever saw. I will say this for the doc, though. No matter how intimidating Pete can be when he's riled up, that doctor's first concern was for the horse.

"Please sir," the doctor said to Pete, "you know this is unfair to the animal. I don't question how you run your ranch or make coffee. Please don't question how I treat my patients. This horse cannot be saved no matter how much we would all like to."

Pete glared at the doctor, but I reckon he knew he was right. Pete looked over at Kokoro and the two of them seemed to be communicating in their own way. When Paniolo Pete returned his gaze back to us, he had that set look in his eyes and I knew he had reached a decision. I told Pua and her brothers we should all head back down to the ranch house, so I was surprised when Pete spoke to me.

"Bill, if you can hold on a few minutes, we'll be needing your help."

Now I just assumed it would be for the nasty business of burying that young mare, so I told the young Kahiona's to go on home.

"No Bronco, I'll be needing _all_ of your help," Pete told us and then turned to the doctor. "Doc, I'll make you a deal. If I can show you a way to keep this horse off her feet, will you set the leg?"

"Okay Pete, I'll make you a deal. You prove to me how you're going to keep this horse off her feet and I'll set the broken leg. Otherwise, Mr. Paniolo Pete, this horse will be put to sleep and you will leave me to do what is best for the horse."

The two men stood there glaring at each other, but I could see they had reached an agreement. After all, there's nothing a true cowboy hates more that to see an animal suffer. And an animal doctor, or any other doctor for that matter, feels the same way about a patient. Both men made it clear that they wanted what was best for the mare.

I figured I'd about seen and heard everything to do with horse doctorin' in my time, but when Paniolo Pete began describing what he had in mind, I have to admit it took me for a loop.

"We need kind of a body sling. Lord knows I've worn enough slings in my life. I've broken so many bones, I guess I can figure out how to make a sling. What I plan to do is jury-rig some of those big Koa posts we have in the barn to support the horse's weight. We'll rig a sling between the posts to keep her off her feet."

Both Pete and the doc got caught up in the idea and squatted down next to that mare and were drawing pictures in the dirt. By this time, Keala, Noelani, and the two older Kahiona boys had arrived. Paniolo Pete explained to us what he had in mind and that old horse doctor even added a few comments about what was needed. Before long, we all had a good idea of the plan.

The boys were in charge of cleaning out an area in the barn and building the sling. Noelani and Pua were asked to clear a path between the fallen horse and the barn. Pete and Keala were in charge of getting the mare to the barn, which was no easy task. As Pete and the doc were discussing how they might do this, Keala solved the problem for them.

"Braddahs, for smart _haole_ , you not too smart. Us Hawaiians been moving stuff more big than us for generations. All we need is some even trees and then build one platform. No worry, brah. I go show you."

True to his words, the big Hawaiian showed us alright. He took out his cane knife and headed into the trees. In no time, he had cut off twenty kiawe tree branches about six inches thick. He added some smaller ones to the pile and called us to come help move them next to the horse. Kokoro, who had strict instructions to watch the other horse, was standing beside the mare. I reckon Pete sometimes forgets that Kokoro is an animal. When he was giving out job assignments, he naturally included his horse.

"Kokoro, you keep this mare lying down and calm. I'm counting on you boy to make her behave."

I have to admit, it's a little unnerving at times to watch those two communicate. But Kokoro understood and kept the other horse down with a few nudges and whinnies. I reckon that's all that counts.

We moved all the Keawe trees up next to the two horses, and Keala set to work trimming off the branches and cutting to length. He framed out a rough square about ten feet by ten feet. He tied the poles together with rope and started laying some of the thicker poles on top. These he also tied in place and before long, he had what looked like a small raft. He then flipped the whole structure over and announced he was _pau_ (finished).

"Okay braddah, I figure out how to move the horse, you go figure out how to get the horse on this thing."

Pete grinned, went over to talk to his horse, then turned to us and gave us his familiar wink. "If you gentlemen will step back some, Kokoro will take care of the problem."

Now, I don't know exactly how horses talk, but to our amazement, Kokoro bent his massive neck down and made it clear what he wanted. That young mare with the broken leg struggled to its feet, keeping the weight off the broken one. Both horses turned to look at Paniolo Pete with an expectant look in their eyes.

"Try wait!" yelled Keala. "I no ready yet."

He ran over to the poles lying on the ground, placed them side by side about a foot apart, and lined them up with the barn. Next he told us to help him put the kiawe raft on the first five poles and put the rest of the poles in front. It finally dawned on us what he had in mind. If we could get the young mare on the platform, we could roll the whole thing down to the barn. We would use the extra poles to lay in the front and as the horse and wooden platform rolled down the hill, we take the poles after they had been rolled on and carry them to the front. That's kind of like how those Egyptians built the pyramids I reckon.

Once everything was in place, Paniolo Pete told his horse to ask the young mare to step onto the platform and lay back down. I swear that's exactly what Pete did. He told his horse to ask her, and sure enough, the mare did exactly as she was told! She struggled up onto the platform with her three good legs and laid back down calm as you please.

Pete tied the back of the horse platform with his rope and dallied it on his saddle. He told Kokoro to keep it tight and work it slow. Then we all went to work pushing that kiawe raft carrying the young mare toward the barn. By that time the barn was finished and a path had been cleared. All of the Kahiona men were there to help slide Keala's horse carrier down the hill. As we passed over each of the poles laid on the ground, the boys would grab the pole and run to the front area. It's a good thing Pete had tied off the contraption and dallied it on his horse, because about halfway down the hill the whole process was controlled by that rope on Kokoro's saddle horn.

I'm telling you, I never felt prouder than in those minutes when we were scrambling around moving that young mare toward the barn with Kokoro high-steppin' to keep the proper tension on the rope. When we reached the bottom of the hill, old Pete just changed the rope to the front and Kokoro pulled that horse raft right into the barn with all of us running to put the poles down in front. After we had the mare in the barn, the doc told us he would need to knock her out for awhile to set the leg and get her in the sling.

That was the only time Kokoro gave us any trouble. After the doc had given her a shot and the mare fell asleep, Pete's horse began stomping around the barn and pushing people out of the way. I guess he wanted to see everything that was going on, and he didn't understand when the mare did not respond. Kokoro kept whinnying but got no reply. The big stallion was getting a might troublesome when Paniolo Pete finally scolded him.

"Kokoro, stop acting like such a baby. If you can't keep quiet and let the doc do his job, you'll have to wait outside."

That big old horse had his hoof raised ready to stomp on the ground, but I'll be darned if he didn't look downright embarrassed as Pete said this. He gently put his hoof back down, looked at Pete, and put his head down like a ten year old boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

As soon as the unconscious mare was securely fastened around the belly in her big sling and lifted into an upright position, the ropes were tied off and she was all set to have her leg worked on. It looked like she was just standing there peacefully with her head held down. In fact, her hooves were about six inches above the ground.

Once the horse was set in the sling, the doc got to work on his end of the bargain. He cleaned the break, reset the bone, and made some splints to keep her from bending it. When everything was finished and the mare started coming to, it took Paniolo Pete and his horse both to convince her that hanging there like that was the most natural thing a horse could do.

I doubt if she ever believed them, but her leg did eventually heal fairly well. Although she always walked with a slight limp, and never ran quite as fast, she was always a very important part of the Double 'P' Ranch. She gave us some of the best colts we ever had, and many of them grew into the finest cattle horses a rancher could ask for. Like I said earlier, I can't prove Kokoro was sweet on that mare, but every time she gave birth, he would prance around with a smug look on his face.

### Chapter 26

Cowboy Hula

It was around that time that Paniolo Pete took a fancy to spear fishing. Now it probably seems a might strange to most of you folks to think of a cowboy who likes to swim in the ocean and spear fish, but most cowboys don't live in Hawai'i. It was Keala who first taught Pete how to dive. Whenever they went diving, all of the Kahiona boys would take Pete with them. I reckon, even while he was in New Zealand and Australia Pete found time to do some diving. He just took a shine to it and it stuck with him. He just loved diving under the surface of the ocean and coming back up with some kind of fish that he'd caught. Although he tried many times, he never could convince me to give it a try. It seemed to me kind of unnatural for a man to act like a fish. Besides that, it was a might dangerous.

Shoot, I remember one time we rode down to the shore near the Double 'P' and Pete said he had the urge to do some diving. He had these rubber goggles that he always carried in his saddle bag, but he hadn't brought his spear. I figured he was just gonna do some underwater sightseeing, so I hunkered down in the sand under a palm tree, took out my old harp and started entertaining myself as I watched Pete swim out to the reef. It was a beautiful afternoon. The tradewinds were blowing, the sun was shining off the ocean and it was darn peaceful on that beach. If it hadn't been for Pete's horse, I might have taken me a nap. Kokoro did not take kindly to being left out when Pete went out diving. Many times I witnessed that stallion follow right after Pete when he headed into the ocean. I imagine it might be rather hard to spear fish with a horse swimming next to you. Pete always solved the problem by formally asking Kokoro to please wait on the beach and keep an eye on things. Although the horse wasn't very happy about it, he always did what Pete asked.

As I was saying, it was one of those peaceful afternoons that we often take for granted here in the islands. It must have been about ten minutes or so after Pete first dove into the ocean that I saw him return to the beach. He walked over to one of the smaller kiawe trees growing out of the sand and cut off a branch. He then cleaned it and sharpened it with the knife he always had strapped to his leg. After he had a sharpened stick about three feet long, he grabbed an empty coffee bag and headed back into the surf.

He didn't say a word, so I just leaned back and kept playing my harp. As usually happens on the beach, when someone starts playing music, folks start to mosey over to listen. At first it was just a few young _keiki_ , but pretty soon I had some folks stop by with a guitar and a ukulele. At first we just played a few chords to kind of get a feel for each other. In no time we were harmonizing and playing music.

Hawaiian country is a might different that other country music I've heard. It's not so much about broken hearts and lost loves and such. But country is country, and although I couldn't understand most of the words, that old foot of mine just got to stompin'. We had just finished a song when that horse Kokoro screamed and started pulling on his tied off reins.

"He brah, I think that _haole_ you came here with got plenty trouble. Try look," one of the bystanders said after hearing the scream from Pete's horse.

Sure enough, Pete was out there thrashing about in the water and I could see blood beginning to surround him. He was wrestling with what I figured was a shark, and if that was the case, he didn't stand a chance.

We all dropped our instruments and ran into the shallow water as Pete struggled about a hundred yards off shore. A couple of the older boys dove in and started swimming out to help. Now I'm as brave as the next man I reckon, but it never entered my mind to swim willingly into what looked like a shark attack. Even the two fellas who were swimming out must have realized just how dangerous it was because they stopped a safe distance away from Pete. They just treaded water with a look of complete helplessness.

Nobody likes to watch a man struggle for his life and the Hawaiians probably more than most. They grow up facing the dangers of the ocean and the land and are always first to help. But there are limits to what any man can do. Meanwhile, Paniolo Pete was still out there fighting for all he was worth. One minute we'd see him, the next we'd see a large silver streak. Then they would both disappear under the surface.

I doubted I could be of much help, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. I ran to my horse and pulled my rifle out of its scabbard. Kokoro was chompin' at the bit and trying to break free of his rope. So far it was holding, but I figured it wouldn't be long before that stallion would be running into the ocean to help his master. He kept looking at me to release him, but it wasn't in my heart to send a horse into the ocean if sharks were about.

When I turned back around there was no sign of Paniolo Pete. The whole area was dark from blood and the surface was once again calm. It broke my heart to think it, but I figured there was nothing more any of us could do for Pete. We stood there on the beach and in the surf staring out into the ocean where we'd last seen Pete. It must have been a good two or three minutes before anyone moved.

The people in the surf started drifting back on the beach, the two boys out in the ocean started to swim slowly toward shore, and I turned to put my rifle back. Even Kokoro had calmed some, but I swear there was fire burning in that horse's eyes. I was sure there would be a debt to pay, but at that moment I was too stunned to even move. As I looked out toward the ocean I felt a thick fog surround me.

Suddenly Kokoro lifted up his head. He reared and the cords stood out in his neck. The rope holding him snapped as he raced down the beach toward the water. As I stood there and watched the horse, I saw Pete's head break the surface of the ocean. He coughed a few times and took a couple of deep breaths. Next thing I heard was Pete yelling at the top of his lungs. It wasn't quite as eerie as his horse's scream, but it was close.

Everyone turned to look and the boys out in the ocean turned around and headed toward Paniolo Pete. I just stood there on the beach with a big grin on my face. We watched as Pete and his two helpers headed toward shore dragging something behind them. We all rushed into the shallows to help and as they got closer, Pete looked over at me and said in his usual calm voice, "Bill, I guess we're going to have fish for dinner." As he gave me a wink, he missed his step and fell face down into the water.

Kokoro, of course, was right there at Pete's side, and although everyone was a little scared of the huge horse, no one backed off from the task at hand. We got our shoulders under Pete's arms and helped him to shore while the rest of the people finished bringing in what Pete had been fighting with.

Paniolo Pete had some nasty gashes on his back, legs and stomach and he had lost quite a bit of blood. I asked one of the boys to please take my horse and go get Noelani. He jumped in the saddle and was headed for the Double 'P' Ranch before I even finished the sentence. Although Pete had some pretty nasty wounds, they were clean from the sea water. As long as we got the bleeding stopped, I figured he would be good as new in a few weeks.

Lying on the sand a few yards away was the cause of all this trouble. It was a big old dogfish, more commonly known as a barracuda. I can't say I've ever seen a bigger one. It was every bit a fighting fish, and even lying there on the beach it was a frightful sight. One of the stronger boys slipped his hand into its gills, lifted it up and announced with a wide grin, "Over hundred pounds dis buggah!"

Paniolo Pete was laying there looking mighty proud as a crowd began to gather around to admire the monster fish. One of the onlookers was Auntie Pukilani who immediately took charge of the situation.

"Kimo, Nakana! You boys go get Auntie some ti leaves. Bring da center part cause I like stop this bleeding all over our beautiful white sand!"

The boys returned shortly with exactly what Auntie had requested. The center stalk of the ti leaf plant was removed, the top bitten off, and Auntie put the remaining part in her mouth and began chewing it.

Noelani and Keala soon arrived with their whole family and after quite a fuss and a lot of scolding, Noelani and Auntie Pukilani began working on Pete. The look on poor old Pete's face changed quickly from one of pride to sheepish humility as the two women chided him for his recklessness as they treated his wounds. The only explanation Pete could offer in his own defense was to say that when he coaxed that octopus out of its hole, the dogfish stole it.

We all laughed until Noelani silenced us with one of her looks. "Dis crazy buggah almost die and you think it's funny? How you like scrap with that fish over one octopus? No just stand there, go clean da fish!"

Keala was the first to react and while the two women put the chewed up ti leaf stalks on Pete's wounds to stop the bleeding, Keala began organizing the cleaning and preparation for cooking the fish. When Pete's wounds were all dressed with the ti leaf pulp, Auntie announced, "Now no need sew." Sure enough, the bleeding had stopped and Pete's skin was tightening around the edges as it began to heal.

Some folks might not take to the thought of a chewed up plant being used to heal a wound, but I'll tell you, there are few injuries the Hawaiians don't know how to cure. For generations they have done fine without hospitals and modern medicine. The only doctor they needed was their _Kahuna_. I've seen more than my share of injuries treated in the traditional Hawaiian way, and as sure as I'm writing this, it always works.

"Okay, now you all patch up," Auntie said to Pete in her sternest voice. "Time to get ready for one _lū'au_! No sense we go waste dis ugly buggah after Paniolo work so hard to catch him."

A _lū'au_ is a Hawaiian feast at which the main course consists of a pig cooked in an underground pit called an _imu_. The pit is filled with kiawe wood and then rocks are placed along the top and sides. The wood is burned down to hot coals which heat the rocks. When the rocks are hot enough, you begin cooking. The pig is wrapped in wire, placed on top of the rocks, covered with banana stumps and ti leaves and covered with wet burlap bags. The whole _imu_ is then covered with dirt or sand and the meat is just left in the earth like that until it's cooked. All the steam, juices, everything, are contained in this manner. I tell you, there ain't much I like more than Kalua pig.

This time though we were cooking a big fish instead of a pig, but as the afternoon wore on, people brought many other traditional favorites for the feast. Breadfruit was placed in the _imu_ to cook with the fish as were about two dozen lobsters. While the pit was being prepared, a group of young Hawaiians grabbed spears and headed into the reef to try their luck. They returned with some good sized octopus' and a considerable number of reef fish. The octopus was put on the table to cut up for _poke_ , and the fish was placed in the _imu_ with the lobster and barracuda.

By sunset, the _imu_ was uncovered to the sounds of good Hawaiian music. We had _haupia, lomi lomi_ salmon, squid in coconut milk, _tako poke, taro_ bread, and dried _manini_. This was all to accompany the feast that had been cooking all afternoon. Just as we were sitting down to eat, another group of friends showed up with four large jars of opihi they had just picked off the jagged rocks further down the beach. There was so much food on that table, I swear we could have fed a small army. We ate, danced, sang songs, and enjoyed the music until well into the night. It was indeed a mighty fine evening—good food, a cool tropical breeze, a little slack key guitar and ukulele, and friends and family.

Someone even got Auntie Pukilani to dance for us. Now, she's a large woman, but I swear when she dances the hula, she's as graceful as any woman I've ever seen. It took some coaxing, but we finally got a sore and battered Paniolo Pete up there to dance with Auntie. Now, I'm not one to laugh at another man's misfortune, but I will say that old Pete was surely out of his element. In the saddle he is as graceful and talented as any man I've ever seen. But on the beach that night, trying to match Auntie Pukilani's moves, Pete was downright hysterical. Those cowboy boots of his with those big old spurs just aren't cut out for dancing the hula. But typical of Pete, he was having a great time and laughed at himself as much as the rest of us.

Not to be outdone, Keala got up to help his friend learn some moves. It seemed that Pete just wasn't cut out to dance hula, and he sat down after a few more failed attempts. We then had the good fortune of watching Keala and Auntie Pukilani dance together. When the song was over, Auntie walked over to Noelani and helped her to her feet. Watching Keala and Noelani dance to some of the ancient chants by the fire was by far, the highlight of the evening. When they finished everyone applauded and they seemed a might embarrassed over all the attention.

After the dance had finished and the attention had somewhat died down, Paniolo Pete got up and walked over to a pile of dried kiawe wood and selected a piece about three feet long and maybe an inch thick. We sat there watching him as he took out his knife and cut a couple of burlap strips to tie on each end. Next he walked over to the musicians and quietly talked to them for a few minutes, then proceeded over to where Keala and Noelani were seated.

I ain't exactly sure what happened next, but before I knew it all the guitars were turned upside down. A steady beat was being drummed out on the backs of the guitars by the musicians' hands. Keala began to alter the beat with a stick he was rapping on the side of a coconut. It was definitely Polynesian but a beat like I'd never heard before. It sounded warlike in its rhythm and spoke of wild and exotic places. Those of us seated around the fire weren't sure what was going on until Paniolo Pete himself jumped into the middle, lit his stick on both ends and started spinning the flaming torch. He was naked except for a piece of burlap tied around his middle like a skirt. His body glistened with sweat as he danced, and all the cuts and bruises he'd received earlier in the day glowed in the firelight. Old scars and new were visible on his strong body as he moved to the hypnotic beat.

He danced like a man possessed. He threw the twirling fire stick, spun around and caught it behind his back. Then he threw it again, caught it in mid-air and dragged the flames across his chest and through his legs. He didn't even wince as the flames touched his skin. I've seen a lot of dancing in my life, but I gotta tell you, never before had I seen a more violent and at the same time, more beautiful display than we witnessed that night.

It seemed so out of character for the man we all knew and loved as Paniolo Pete with his easy smile and mischievous wink. Before us stood a hardened warrior from another time and place, performing a dance to prepare for battle. I didn't know the meaning of the dance, but everyone who witnessed it was awestruck. Frightening but mesmerizing, the dance continued for a good long time. Then suddenly, the drumming and spinning reached a climax and all was silent. Pete caught the flaming stick in his teeth, and in the eerie silence that followed, he slowly pulled one end into his mouth and extinguished the flame. The drums started again and Pete threw the fire stick into the air and caught it as the beat stopped, then snuffed out the other end of the stick in his mouth. He gave a shrill scream and stuck out his tongue, stomped his feet, and all was silent.

No one spoke as we all stared at the almost naked, cut up warrior who stood before us. One minute we were laughing at his foolish attempt at hula, and the next minute we were struck speechless at his unparalleled ability to master the Tongan style of fire dancing.

Keala was the first to recover from the spell, and in his good natured way, he took it all in stride. "Braddah, I guess when you went New Zealand you went learn how to dance. I always knew you get the heart of one Hawaiian. Better you give up being one _paniolo_ and go Waikiki. Can make plenty of money dancing for tourists!"

Keala gave his friend a smile and a big hug and announced to all, "This one my braddah." We could clearly see the love that these two men shared.

"No thanks, Hawaiian. I cannot leave Kokoro alone, and I don't think I could ever find a _lava-lava_ big enough for him. Besides, who's going to keep you out of trouble if I go off and become a famous fire dancer?"

The two of them just stood there and smiled at each other for a few seconds. Like I've said all along, those two always had a special relationship. Now, Pete and I have always been close, and I reckon he's about the best friend I've ever had. I guess the only way to explain it is that Pete and Keala were brothers, and Pete and I were partners.

### Chapter 27

An Evening Swim

It wasn't very long ago that Paniolo Pete and I were out ridin' herd up around the volcano. We were easing along the trail enjoying the evening. The cattle were calmed for the night and it was a typical quiet night in the islands. We were taking the herd to one of our upper paddocks and it was shortly after sundown. The moon and stars were bright so there was little problem seeing where we were headed. Plus, those old cows all knew the trail and they didn't need much coaxing to head for the fresh grass in the upper paddock.

As for me, I decided to answer the call of nature and figured it was as good a time as any. I got down off my horse and took a couple of steps off the trail when suddenly the ground gave way under me and I felt myself falling into some sort of hole. I can't remember for sure how long I was in that hole or when I came to after the fall. What I did know was that I was pretty beat up. My leg wasn't workin' too well, and although it was so dark I couldn't see my hands in front of my face, I could tell I was pretty cut up.

Now sometimes lava tubes are just shallow holes that don't go anywhere. Other times they're connected to caverns that can run underground for miles. The one I'd fallen into must have had a turn or something in it because I couldn't see any light at all from above. I'm telling you, I was one mighty scared fella about then. I was afraid to move in case I was on some sort of ledge and I was afraid to not to move in case no one found me. But I knew Paniolo Pete was up there somewhere and I was hoping mighty hard he would find me.

Pete is one of the best men I've ever known when it comes to reading signs and figuring out what was going on. Most of us cowboys can do it; we've all done our share of hunting and tracking, but Paniolo Pete was amongst the best. I've seen him track lost cattle over lava rocks, follow wild pigs through streams, and identify a horse or bull by its hoof mark. He was one of the best and I was sure he'd find me. I reckon that's why I wasn't too surprised when I heard him yelling down at me. I answered him and briefly told him the shape I was in. It sure eased my mind hearing his voice though. There is no man I'd rather trust to pull my irons out of the fire than old Pete.

It also struck me about that time that I was bein' a might selfish by just layin' there expecting Pete to climb into that hole. I knew darn well how Paniolo Pete felt about closed in spaces. Ever since his experience with that sea chest as a young boy he'd been downright skittish when it came to small areas. Now, you might think this was a foolish thing to do, but I decided to be of some help and crawl toward Pete's voice. Like I said earlier, my leg was pretty busted up and I was sure not feelin' too strong, but I could at least drag myself towards Paniolo Pete. I didn't make it far though. I'd probably only made it a few yards when the whole area I was crawling on gave way and I found myself falling again.

This time I remember the fall and thank the good Lord I landed in water. But one thing was for certain, I was now deep in the volcano. Just when I figured I was lucky for landing in the water, something banged me on the head. That was the last thing I remembered until I came to and saw Paniolo Pete leaning over me with Keala and one of his boys standing there lookin' mighty scared. I figured one of those lava rocks must have landed on my head because I don't ever remember feelin' so sore. But there was light again so I naturally thought I was back up top and everyone was lookin' at me funny because of the trouble I'd caused.

It took awhile, but what little sense I had started to come back and I could make out what Pete was telling me. It seems I'd landed on a shelf and when I started crawling it began to collapse. I'd then fallen into an underwater stream that fed into the cavern we were in.

"Bill, I don't think we can bring you out the way we came in," Pete said to me in a calm voice. "You're hurt pretty bad, and we need to get you to a doctor."

Now I know enough about injuries to know Paniolo Pete was right. I couldn't see very well, even with the torch Keala was holding. My head felt like it had been stepped on. When I put my hand up to look at it, every one of those fingers were a might fuzzy. It didn't help my spirits much when I felt the top of my head and realized I had a bump the size of a guava on top of it. Plus to make matters worse, I could hear the fear in Pete's voice even though he was trying to hide it. I tried to convince myself it was only his fear of being in the cave, but it wasn't working too well. I knew Paniolo Pete well enough to know that no matter how scared he was about being in a small, closed area, we'd never see his fear. The concern I saw on his face was for me. I'll tell you, that scared me plenty. I couldn't see much with my blurred vision, but I could sure feel the soreness, and seeing Pete look concerned over my condition certainly didn't help.

"If you don't mind a little swim, Bill, I figure you and I can just float down this stream a ways and see where it comes out."

I reckon I've taken my lumps a time or two from riding wild horses most of my life, and I'm pretty good at holdin' my beans when it comes to pain. I might not remember much about the fall, but as sure as I'm here I remember everything about that float down the stream. It took about all I had not to scream everytime we bumped something, and we bumped plenty.

Keala and his son were gone for a time, and Pete just stayed there holding my head. The two Hawaiians returned after awhile and they were carrying a bunch of canteens and a couple of saddle bags. They began putting the canteens inside that first saddle bag and then did the same thing with the second. In no time they had everything ready and were easing me into the water again. The saddle bags were tied under my arms and I felt about as foolish as a tourist on their first trip into the ocean. I couldn't do much except just float there waiting with my feet a danglin'. Pete slipped a rope around my waist and tied me off to his own waist.

"This rope is so you won't swim off and leave me down here, Bill. You know I'm not real partial to these small enclosed places. It looks like we're about ready. You just relax and try to enjoy the ride and we'll see where this stream takes us."

Although Pete was trying to make light of the situation, I could clearly hear the fear in his voice. To this day, I'm still curious if it was becaue of what we were fixin' to do next. Of course I would never ask, so you folks will just have to wonder along with me.

"Braddah, you no worry, Paniolo going make sure you no get hurt. I going see your ugly face downside when you come out. You think you sore now, try wait till Noelani see you. She scold you plenty."

Even Keala sounded strange. He seemed to be at a loss over what to say, so instead he waded into the water, shook my hand, and embraced Pete.

"Paniolo, you no get crazy on me. More better I take this old buggah and you go wait for us _makai_ side."

"No Hawaiian, I'll be fine. You know what needs to be done and how to find us when we come out. Don't worry about us. We'll take it slow and easy."

Pete began easing us into the current. As soon as we were around the first turn we lost all the light from the torches Keala and his son had brought. Now if you've ever been underground, you know what I'm talking about when I say it was pitch black. We couldn't see anything, as if all senses to our eyes had been shut off. I reckon I can better understand now what a blind person must go through. I respect their bravery even more after that experience.

The dark scared me more than anything else in that underground stream. I could hear the water easing along with us. I could smell the odors of moss and other things, but I saw nothing. It's a pretty strange feeling floating along all peaceful deep down in a volcano. The cold water chills most of your body quick like and in no time I felt like I was floating through space in a dream. After awhile I heard Pete's calm voice.

"Bill, I think it might almost be over. Listen. I'm pretty sure I hear the ocean."

What Paniolo Pete heard wasn't the ocean at all, but an underground waterfall. Before I even had a chance to yell, there was a sharp pull on my waist rope and I felt myself sliding over the falls. If Pete hadn't tied me around the waist like he did, I'd have been lost for sure. It's a funny thing being in the water when you can't see. You don't know when your head is above the surface.

"Bill, don't give up on me," I heard Pete shout above the roar of the waterfall. "I can see light up ahead. We're going to make it."

Hearing his voice made me realize I wasn't still under water so I took a deep breath and went into a coughing fit. It's kind of funny now that I look back on it, but if I hadn't heard Pete's voice, I imagine I might have of just held my breath till I burst.

"Bill, I thought we had it for sure when we slid over those falls. Then when you didn't answer right away I thought I'd lost you."

His voice was filled with emotion, but it was excitement I was hearing most of all. Paniolo Pete was funny like that. No matter what kind of a fix he was in, he still enjoyed things like slidin' over a waterfall. The excitement I'd heard was short-lived though when he asked if I was alright. I told him I was and it was at that moment I realized how much this whole trip inside the volcano must be costing him. So I did what seemed appropriate. I apologized for getting him in such a mess knowing how he feels about places like this.

"Why Bill, I guess this is a might bigger than a sea chest. It's probably time I got over my old fears anyway. Besides, last I looked it was a fine evening for a swim. After all these years I finally got you to join me."

Even though I couldn't see Paniolo Pete's face, I'd be willing to bet he winked at me after he said that. He was right, you know. He had been trying for years to get me to go swimming with him. I'm not scared of the water. It's just that I grew up on the plains of the Midwest and never had much use for the ocean. I have to admit, though, it was a pretty good feeling floatin' there with old Pete, and I started laughing over the thought of two old coots taking an evening swim inside a lava tube.

Pete joined me in laughing and before long, both of us sounded like a couple of young boys seein' our first girlie picture. We finally calmed down and after a few more minutes of rest, we began our next leg of the journey toward where we could see a dim glow of light. The current caught us in its gradual pull and after we made it around the next turn, we could see where the light was coming from. About two hundred feet above us was a small hole and the sun was shining through. It had been evening when I'd fallen in the lava tube and here it was daylight already. My how time flies when you're havin' fun. Even from way down in the depths of a lava tube I couldn't help but marvel at how blue the sky looked. It's funny how little things like the color of the sky stick in a man's mind.

"Well Bill, I guess unless we can fly we'll have to find ourselves an easier hole to climb out of."

Once we passed the sunlight hole, everything suddenly became dark again. At first I wasn't sure why and I asked Pete.

"I don't know, Bill. Seems like someone just turned out the light. Did you just hear something?"

Sure enough, very faintly I could hear someone yelling to us from up top.

"Sounds like he's telling us to stop here," Pete said. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, but let's just stop and see what happens."

Paniolo Pete took hold of the rock face and began pulling me over toward the wall. The current was a lot stronger now and he was struggling.

"Bill, it's a little too strong here in this current to stop for long. Maybe we should go a little further downstream and try our luck there."

We could still hear someone yelling from above, but we couldn't make out any of the words. I reckon it's safe to say by this time I wasn't thinking too clearly and had no idea what was happening. The peaceful lull of the undercurrent had me in its grasp and I told Pete we should continue. We probably would have if we hadn't suddenly recognized Keala's booming voice. This time there was no mistaking what the big Hawaiian was shouting. He told us to stop where were, not to go on.

"I guess we better stay put, Bill. I'm not sure what the Hawaiian is so excited about but he sounds pretty upset. You just hold on and I'll pull you over here."

Now I had every intention of holding on. Not that I had much choice with the rope around my waist. Plus the cold was setting in and I couldn't have moved much if I'd wanted to. I could still hear Keala yelling, but I was more concerned at the moment on reaching Paniolo Pete. Water was rushing by me on both sides and the rope around my waist was cutting into me. Suddenly I felt a strong grip on one of my arms and the next thing I know, Pete pulled me over to the rock face he was holding on to.

"Bill, I won't lie to you. I think we're in kind of a tight spot here. I couldn't make out all of what Keala was saying, but he seemed pretty upset. We'd best stay here until we can figure this out."

So we just stayed there hugging that rock wall and looking back toward the hole above us. To both our amazement, there was a big splash and the small hole opened up and a sight more daylight came through. Both of us were staring at the beam of sunlight about fifty yards upstream when we saw a mighty strange sight indeed. Out of that beam of light appeared a bright yellow flower print cloth billowing down with two thick legs attached. Next we saw a huge belly and Keala's smiling face.

"Aloha, anyone down here?"

Maybe it was purely from exhaustion, but seeing our big Hawaiian friend floating down toward us through the sunlight struck Pete and I mighty funny. We burst out laughing at the thought of Keala as an angel being sent down from heaven to save us.

"Keala, over here," Pete shouted. "We're holding onto the rocks but we can't last much longer. The current is too strong."

Although Pete was trying to sound calm, I could hear the strain in his voice even in my dazed condition. I'll say one thing for Keala, he can be fast when he wants to be. We heard him talking to someone up top and then saw something drop down to him.

"Braddah, where you stay? I no can see nothing is this hole. I went hear all the laughing and thought there only _menehune_ down here. You OK braddah?

"We're fine," Pete shouted back. "We're about fifty yards downstream from you."

Although there was a bit of desperation in Pete's voice, that steel determination was also there. No matter what obstacles were still ahead, I could relax a little knowing Pete and Keala were there. It's strange what goes through a man's mind at a time like that. Here I was, all busted up in a lava tube a couple hundred feet underground, freezing cold and, all I could think about was how lucky I was to have such trusted friends.

"You hang on," yelled Keala. "I come get you."

If Paniolo Pete hadn't been holding me, I would probably have just drifted away in that underground stream. As it was, the only thing that kept my head above water were those saddle bag floats and Pete's strong grip. We watched as Keala was slowly lowered into the water and the rope was fed out to allow him to approach us. It took some intense swimming on his part, but few currents could match the Hawaiian's powerful strokes.

"Aloha, braddahs. I plenty worried you two went over Akana Falls already. I no like have to pick you like _opihi_ off the rocks. Good thing Pekelo not fat like me and went see you float by. More better I take Bronco now and then I come back for you Paniolo."

Then Keala shouted to Pekelo, and the rope was pulled back against the current. Keala was holding me like a baby in his arms when suddenly the rope around my waist pulled taunt, and I could see Paniolo Pete being yanked off the rocks. The strain of three grown men and the current was taking its toll on the rope and I was sure it would break. But before that happened, I felt the slack around my waist, and Keala and I were lifted out of the lava tube.

The last thing I saw before I reached the surface was Pete trying desparately to gain a hand-hold on the rock face inside the cavern. I closed my eyes from the glare of the sun as Keala's strong arms laid me out on the ground. Noelani's voice brought me fully awake.

"Bronco Bill, you too old for all this attention. I no like patch you all up and then have you die on me. You open those _haole_ blue eyes now."

I fought the white haze that had set in and did as she asked.

"Pekelo, try hurry. Paniolo cut his rope and I no more time for fancy knots. Try lower me now." I could hear Keala's voice as I looked up into the beautiful but worried face of Noelani Kahiona. "You be OK now old man. We plenty worried."

Pete's horse, Kokoro, was being used to lower Keala back into the hole and looked about as unhappy as a horse can look. Kokoro would tolerate all of us around him, but there was never a doubt he did it only because of Paniolo Pete. He knew Pete was still down in the lava tube and until he was back safely, the horse would follow whatever instructions were given him. Of course, once Pete was back, we could talk to that horse till we were blue in the face and he'd remain stubborn as a mule.

The sun felt mighty good after the chill I'd taken and I must have dozed off. Next thing I knew it was near sunset and Keala was being pulled up out of the hole. I heard him talking quietly to his wife.

"I went try find him. He was just nowhere. We went trace this stream all the way to Akana Falls and thought that's where he would be. Noelani, I could not fight the pull of the current further up. No more chance for Paniolo."

I had never seen Keala so close to tears as at that moment. He stood there with his head sunk into his massive shoulders and looking about as upset over life as a man could be. It hadn't fully registered what it was they were talking about and when they started loading me onto a bamboo stretcher, I asked about Pete.

"Braddah never make it. I went down but he no was there. I cannot find him. I should have tried to carry both of you at one time."

It was indeed a somber night as we all headed into Kona town. Keala and Noelani were riding lead, and their three sons were walking behind them leading my buckskin with me being pulled on the stretcher mat behind him, and the great stallion, Kokoro, walking behind us all. When Kelala had come out of that hole the last time I think even Kokoro knew Pete wasn't coming back. As we came toward the front of the hospital, Kokoro gave that shrill yell of his and raced off down the street. We all just looked at each other, not sure what was going on, when I heard Keala yell out in pure joy.

"Braddah must be OK. That crazy horse no do that for nobody."

We picked up our pace and sure enough, sitting there on the front steps of the hospital, smiling like it was Christmas morning, sat Paniolo Pete.

"Howdy folks. I figured you'd be bringing Bill here so I just decided to sit and wait for you to show up. Hope I didn't worry you too much by taking a short cut."

Although Pete was trying to make light of the whole experience, it was obvious he had been through a lot to get himself to the hospital. His face was a mask of small cuts, his arm was bandaged up, both his hands were wrapped, and he was mighty slow getting to his feet.

"Pete, looks like you was rode hard," I told him. "I figured I was in pretty bad shape, but you look worse. How did you get so beat up?"

"I guess it's safe to say that old waterfall got the best of me. At least we're all here now. Enough talking, let's get you in to see the doc."

It took awhile to finally get the story out of Paniolo Pete about what happened after he cut our tie rope and Keala lifted me out of the lava tube. I reckon it's like pulling teeth trying to get a man to recall an ordeal like that. The best we could figure is once he got caught up in the current of that underground stream, he got swept right on over the falls. Sometime later, over our morning coffee, we finally got the rest of the story.

"I remember hearing a loud roar and the current was moving pretty fast. Everything around me suddenly got bright and the next thing I knew I was looking at a beautiful blue sky. I tell you, I thought for sure I was on my way to meet my Maker face to face."

Although Pete was still trying to make light of it, the whole experience was a sobering and emotional one. When he finished talking, his eyes briefly lost their mischievous gleam and took on a slightly haunted look as he thought back on it.

I ended up spending almost a month in the hospital while they patched me up and helped me heal. I reckon it's times like that when a man knows he's got friends. The nurses at Kona Hospital were probably pretty happy to see me leave. The daily visitors I had weren't exactly the most respectable folks in town. Cowboys have a certain sense of humor and whether they were walking down those clean halls in their boots and spurs, or sneaking free food from the kitchen, they could be quite an unruly bunch. I suppose if truth be told, some of them old boys I've ridden with over the years just came to that hospital for some fun and used my being there as an excuse. But it still makes a man proud to have so many visitors.

Anyway, let me finish telling y'all the rest of what we learned from Paniolo Pete about his ride over Akana Falls. The falls themselves must be a good 400 feet high and crash into some mighty big boulders before washing out to sea. Pete told us he remembers falling and was mighty scared. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the beach watching a sand crab walking over his hand. Whatever happened in between remained a mystery to him. They best he could figure was he had been knocked out as he passed through that hole and then washed up on the beach after he landed.

Now me, I'm a curious sort on such things so one afternoon when Pete was busy in town, I asked my friend Keala to take a ride with me. It was a beautiful afternoon for a ride with the sun out and the tradewinds blowing.

"Bronco, why you drag me back to this place? You like try ride the falls like Paniolo?"

"No Keala, I wanted to see how Paniolo Pete survived this fall. Nobody seems to have a good answer so I figured maybe you and I could solve the mystery."

"No mystery. His ' _aumakua_ went put him on da beach," Keala answered in a tone that left little room for discussion.

Now, I reckon I'm not very superstitious and I've always felt that most things can be solved if you read the signs right. But I have to admit, as we rode along the beach to the area where the falls pounded into the rocks, I was hard pressed to find an answer. Unless Paniolo Pete could fly, I didn't see any way a man could survive a fall like that. We tied off our horses and I went to investigate on foot. Keala went off to pick _opihi_ because in his mind there was no mystery. The gods had saved Pete and that was the end of it. But there were still some things I just couldn't sort out.

It was merely by chance that Pekelo had found the small hole he yelled at us from that day. He had followed the direction of the underground stream as best he could and when he reached the falls, he immediately turned back to warn his father. The horse he was riding stumbled and being the country boy that he is, he stopped to check his mount's legs before continuing. As luck, or fate, would have it, he noticed a small hole a few feet from where he stood. This was the hole to the lava tube he yelled to us us from, and the same hole that Keala later enlarged to bring me out.

Sometimes waterfalls, such as Waimea Falls over on the island of Oahu, will land into a nice calm pool of water and people can swim there. But Akana Falls is not one of those places. It falls directly onto jagged rocks. Maybe in another thousand years or so there will be a pool, but for now it's nothing but them big ol' rocks. I scouted around for a good hour or so, but for the life of me I couldn't find a single area that Pete could have landed than on those rocks. I was sitting there staring up at the falls when Keala came over and joined me.

"You like some _opihi_ brah? I got plenty. We take some home for _ohana_ (family), but I got enough to eat some now."

I'm not sure how to describe _opihi_ except that they're a small round shellfish found here in Hawai'i that attaches itself to the rocks above the surf line. They can range in size from about as big as your fingernail to that of a silver dollar. Their shells have a coned shape and underneath the shell is some mighty good eatin'. Tastes like a clam or a muscle, only better.

Keala had his bright, flower print _lava-lava_ tied up and inside was a pile of _opihi_. We sat there for awhile cleaning out the meat, eating _opihi_ , and staring at the falls. Whatever doubts I had that I may have overlooked a place where Pete could have landed were shattered as we watched a fairly good size koa tree branch come out of the top of the falls. The branch seemed to hang momentarily at the lip until the force of the water pushed it over into a long descent toward the bottom. With a loud crash it smashed on the rocks below.

Keala and I watched it silently, but I got up to take a closer look. What was left of the branch had wedged itself into a small crevice between the massive rocks. Nothing could survive a fall like that. I'm not sayin' I don't believe Pete, cause that's like sayin' the sun won't rise tomorrow. Pete doesn't know how to lie, and what he said could only be the truth. But there had to be a logical explanation. As I was looking at that destroyed branch, I saw a sparkle in the water on the rocks. When I reached for it, I almost fell over. Right there, lodged in between a couple of smaller rocks, was a piece of the wheel of a silver spur. And it wasn't just any spur; it was Paniolo Pete's spur. Then I remembered that he had been complaining a few days earlier about how long it was taking for his new spurs to arrive by mail. The ones he usually wore had gotten damaged in his "lava tube swim," as he put it.

Now in all my years, I've learned that some things in life cannot be explained and this was one of them. I put the piece of spur in my pocket, rounded up Keala, and headed back to the Double 'P' Ranch.

To this day I still have that piece of broken spur from Paniolo Pete's boot and every time I get to feeling sorry for myself, I take out that spur and think of how fortunate I am. I might not be rich, and I'm certainly not a pretty sight to look at, but I've had the best friends a man could ask for. The Kahionas, who are like family to me, Tanga, the tribal war chief from New Zealand, all the boys I've ridden with over the years, and especially Paniolo Pete, the best darn friend a man could ever ride the river with. If a man's wealth is measured by the company he keeps, I reckon I'm one of the richest men alive.

There's so much more to tell about Paniolo Pete, his travels, and life on the Double 'P' Ranch. If you folks will be a might patient with an old bronco rider, the next time I'm snowed in or laid up a spell, I'll tell y'all some more stories. Like about Pete's walkabout in the Australian outback or about the time Mrs. Monroe invited us all out to Boston to spend some time on her horse ranch and see the racetrack, or even about Paniolo Pete's one true love in life. That story is a book all in itself.

Anyhow folks, I reckon I've rambled on enough for now. I hope y'all keep enjoyin' that good Kona coffee we've be growin' for years out here in Hawai'i on the Double 'P' Ranch. As we say in the islands, Aloha.

Bronco Bill

### THE END
