ZACK TILMAN
   Wallace Macrae

They say his dad was bone-deep mean;
his ma had ceased to care.
His sisters quit their home range
and they scattered everywhere,
Wherever neon glittered and booze and life was cheap.
So off Zack slipped one dark night
while the old man was asleep.
He hitched a ride to Idaho
where one sister was a whore.
"Naw, she's not here," the madam said.
"Been gone six months, or more."
An old mustanger coming through
from down Nevada way
Said he could use a maverick kid
his keep would be his pay.
They gathered up the mustang bands
and lived light off the land.
Till some buckaroos and ranchers
began to understand
They didn't own the beef they ate
nor was it store-bought
Nor did they check for brands real close
on cayuses they caught.
Now when the law came sniffin' 'round
the old man never bent.
They shot him down, as young Zack watched
just outside their tent.
"Be tough," the old man taught him,
"You gotta learn t' fight."
At "School for Boys" young Zack learned quick
the old man was dead right.
Zack never shed another tear.
He never took no guff.
He learned his bitter lessons well,
got lean and mean and tough.
Zack rode the rough strings here and there,
all up and down The West.
Old connoisseurs of cruelty
still claim "Zack was the best."
He stormed the weekend rodeos,
or so old hands relate.
A surgeon, with his locked-spur rowels,
on stock he'd operate.
The forties came, and young lack learned
some crafts not used before;
He honed his skills at killing
in the South Pacific War.
He'd finally found his place in life,
new talents were refined,
But then they up and told him
that an armistice was signed!

He scorned the peacetime army;
jeered their proffered "bars."
And only missed the battlegrounds,
grenades and BARs.
Now most men think that war's a curse,
a sojourn down in Hell.
But war to lack was heaven-sent;
a job that he did well.
A hero – semicivilized –
Zack was, when he got back.
He went to GI Bill trade schools
and sorta found the track
Of normal life. He sparked and won
an old-time rancher's prize.
He beat her until finally
she came to realize
That though his love for her was strong
he'd prob'ly take her life.
She left him. But he always claimed
"the bitch" was still his wife.
He fought with neighbors constantly
and shot their stock for spite.
Some say he torched a neighbor's hay
when they were gone one night.
He picked a hundred fights in bars.
He'd push, then take offense
And beat a murder rap one time
by claiming self-defense.
Soon every one was terrorized.
He couldn't find a fight.
He finally found his enemy
and killed himself one night.