Tamaker

I won her on a whiskey bet,
At a place called Rusty's Shack,
In a poker game in Fargo
With three deuces and a Jack.

I took her from a mountain man
Who had bought her in a trade,
For a rifle and a jug of Rye,
Off an Indian renegade.

I had no yen to keep her;
I meant to set her free.
I never thought she'd want to stay,
Or that she'd follow me.

I told her she was free to go,
No longer be a slave.
But the squaw refused to leave me,
Called me her Paleface Brave.

And when I rode out of Fargo,
Headed for Cheyenne,
She followed every trail I took,
No matter the terrain.

I couldn't seem to lose her
No matter how I tried.
By the time I got to Deadwood
She was riding by my side.

We rode hard through a valley,
Forged across Powder Creek,
When I fell from my saddle
Three miles from Miner's Peak.

My saddle pony stumbled
And landed on my knee.
He broke his leg and I broke mine
Unable to get free.

If I hadn't had that Indian squaw,
A maiden called Tamaker,
I be wearing a peg-leg now,
Or living with my maker.

She patched me up and catered me
With herbs and Indian lore,
Until my health and strength returned
And I was whole once more.

And when we finally reached Cheyenne,
Still riding side by side,
We found a cowboy preacher
And I made her my bride.

The squaw I met at Rusty's shack,
Won on a whiskey bet,
Became the lady of my dreams
And we're together yet.