The Old Cowboy
Author James H. Wilson
September 8, 2000
© Copyright 2000
THE OLD COWBOY Part One
He sat on the porch. In the rocking chair. Whispering. . . to himself.
Mumbling under his breath, “Did anyone know, and do they care? At my age. .
It’s true, it’s a fact, he was no spring chicken. He could have been a
hundred and ten to look at him. He reminded me of John Wayne after wondering
in the desert for thirty or forty years.
Sometimes I’d sit and talk to him for hours. He was always up on the latest
news, but what surprised me the most was the past he carried around in his
head. Why he knew every inch of ‘Jack Rabbit’ canyon.
He rocked, he spit, but the look in his wrinkled eyes put him back on
‘Tanner’. The best horse a cowboy ever knew. The best friend he’d ever had.
Oh ya, he’d had a wife, three of them.
He was a little to young for the Spanish American War and a little to old
for the First World War. Just after the Spanish American War was over, (a
couple of years after), they seemed to have a lot of cowboys in Oklahoma. So
he roamed out to New Mexico.
‘Tanner’, a pony, was stranded on a rocky ledge when he’d gone looking for a
couple of strays. The pony was a mustang as wild as the wind, standing on
next to nothing and just couldn’t back up or turn around. He sized up the
situation and roped that pony. He carefully and slowly pulled him to safety.
He could see it in his eyes, that pony would become his best friend. He
named him ‘Tanner’ to match his tanner than usual color. He rode Tanner all
over the western United States, worked for more than half the ranchers there
in his day.
“How ya doin’ ‘Grandpa’? Are they treatin’ ya alright here? Yep, it’s
another breezy day, a good day to go ridin. . . .
To Be Continued. . . .
THE OLD COWBOY Copyright © 2001