Weakeyes Codybullet


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DESCRIPTION: Born 1833 in the rolling hills west of Fort Gibson, in what was to become Oklahoma Territory, to an older half breed Cherokee woman. She claimed his papa was a sergeant in the Cavalry but the sergeant never claimed him. In 1838, when the second group of Cherokees came to the Cherokee nation so generously given by President Jackson, and driven west from eastern Tennessee and western Carolina, Cody's mother took him to live with the distraught remains of the bitter Cherokees.

In 1849, Cody, took his dog, Sonofabitch, and struck out for the west on foot. Then in Santa Fe' New Mexico Territory, a man killed Sonofabitch, his dog. Breaking into a hardware store that night he stole a rifle, a can of powder, some patches and a bag of balls. Next morning he espied his enemy on the street and quickly took aim at him, realizing too late, that his balls were too small causing his shot to go seriously awry striking the town Mayor in the derriere.

Cody, managed to escape his boyhood misadventures to join the Texas Rangers, at twenty-one. From 1854 to 1861 he rode for the Lone Star organization carrying an 1851 issued Colt navy .36 caliber, and always made sure the balls were also of issue size. At the outbreak of the Southern War for independence, He returned to the Cherokee nation to join the Cherokee Rifles and rode with General Admission. Lee surrendered in April of '65 but the Rifles held out till June of that year being the last bonafide Confederate band to lay down their instruments.

Growing tired of eating crow, In 1866, Cody obtained a new Yellow Boy Winchester carbine and headed for Kansas to board the train west. It was very slow going because the railroad was yet being built by the predominantly Irish laborers. When the eastern segment met the western division in May of '69, in Utah, He went quickly on to California, thinking "Man what a ride!"

In the summer of '69 in Los Angeles, He hired on as a teamster for a freight company delivering goods to the mining towns in the Mojave Desert. He often philosophically ponders if he had left sonofabitch behind, thus never attacking with small balls, and fighting with General Admission, what caliber of man he would have been? As it were, he is destined to be called a damned old Mulkeskinner.

 

to Writins of Weakeyes Cody Writins of Weakeyes Cody

Weakeyes Cody   Painting by Patti Doolittle



Member #15 - CA

Member since 1999

 

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