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Madge Parsons, Ranch Woman: A Fictional Monologue about Revenge
by Debbie L. Miller
Madge Parsons sits with her feet propped up, polishing a Winchester 58 shotgun with a flowered hanky. She wears blue jeans, a barn jacket, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat. It’s 1956 at her Montana ranch. She’s addressing a ranch hand.
Why’d you do it, Willie? Whatever possessed you? If you’d have asked, I’d have given you a horse — even Brownie, if you had a good reason. If your family back in Kansas needed a horse, I’d have given you one. If you needed money, I’d have given you as much as you needed. If you only asked.
What were you thinkin’, Willie? Stealin’ horses. The problem ain’t so much that it’s a crime in this state, but stealin’ from me? That’s the real crime. We’ve worked together too long for you to just up and do somethin’ like that. Fifteen years, Willie. Working side by side, makin’ a go of this ranch. Why, you’re practically my partner, you know that? Can’t say what I plan to do with the ranch when I pass. Maybe I’ll leave it to you. Might could. ’Cause you’re my best ranch hand. Not like those other no-accounts. Hell, them others, I keep ’em around ’cause even though they drink like fish and they’re as stubborn as mules, they work like oxes.
Was it the fever made you do it? Fever’ll make a man do crazy things. Maybe the other…
