A COWBOY AT A TENDER AGE

Remenisce

A Cowboy At a Tender Age

When I was about six years old, I more or less learned to read by reading old "Western" magazines. These were pulp fiction, dealing mostly with gun fighters and outlaws who rode the Western ranges. Well, I got the idea that a real man was one who “forked a bronc”* at an early age, took his whiskey straight, and never backed down from a fight.

In those days, I used to sit on top of Thunder Butte and listen to the old steam train pull in and out of Faith. It was over 20 miles away. You couldn’t see the train but you could hear the whistle as it echoed across the plains. It was the most lonesome and mournful sound one could ever imagine. One day, on hearing the old train whistle as it was leaving Faith, I decided to ride into Faith and have a fling. A neighbor, Ruben Strong, had a magnificent red, pacer stallion, about 16 hands and a beautiful horse to behold. I asked Ruben if I could borrow his stallion for the day. He agreed and I rode to Faith.

On my arrival in town, I rode up and down Main street a couple of times just to make sure the locals all got a look at the most magnificent saddle horse in the area. Next, I stopped in front of one of the saloons, ground hitched the stallion in front of the saloon, swaggered in, climbed up on a bar stool, and ordered a shot of whiskey. The bartender, without blinking an eye, poured me a shot, slid the glass over in front of me and waited for the results. I tossed off the shot, thought I would die, but never blinked. I just threw my silver dollar on the bar and swaggered out.

It was the custom then for the cowboys to stop at the West Hotel, and Mrs. Joyce would run them a hot bath for twenty five cents, so that was my next stop. After a good bath and running low on money, I rode up and down Main a couple more times. Then, since the sun was getting low in the west, I started for home.

I wish I could remember the bartender’s name. About a year ago, I heard that he was alive and well, and living in Las Vegas.

Reviews

[Tracie Skarbo]

I really like this story, I guess I am a little bias though...seems I am partial to cowboys. :) Cowboys with facial hair and I am totally at a loss. Out in Alberta I would listen to those long lost wails of the trains as they follow the iron trails throughout the night. They did sound lonesome and mournful. It was like they had discovered they too had a fragile time line. Almost as though in all those miles of travelling they had seen the march of the world around them, and knew that it was not the snow or rockslides they had to fear but that time and technology would be their ultimate undoing. This was a pleasure to read. Thanks for posting and letting us see a little more of your world.

[Norma M Sutton]

Ouch . . . my aching backside. Pacers are the roughest horses I've ever ridden lol. Beautiful to watch, but . . . Nice remembrance.

[Michelle Espinosa]

Jeeze, takes me right to those little priarie towns! Except these days folks are driving their trucks up and down main street to show off or whatever else that whole ritual employs. lol

[Simone]

Wonderfull story. I loved the bar tender scene ^_^ A great read and I'll definately be reading more of your stories.

[x]

A charming glimpse of a young man taking his first wobbly steps towards manhood.
A great write, full of sincerity of character. I loved the way the 'young man' learned the theory of being a man and then reckoned on being old enough to take the part on and went forth and applied himself to the plan.....following it to the letter. The shot of whiskey....poetic.
This write captures the ritual perfectly and all the elements are there for the reader to be able to see the subject from the outside and to also be within the character and feel his pride and courage. The build up was perfect. First the reading and then the comtemplation atop the ridge, the train whistle, so mournful in the distance comes across like a calling.
I now wonder who the 'young man' saw in the mirror the next day!!
A great write and a pleasure to read.

[Tony]

This is a good story. When I was a kid I knew more about the milk cow than any dang horses. A Horse was what I wished I had to carry a new calf out of the marsh on a cold march morning...... yeah, your stories got me reminiscing.......

[Ellen Hammond]

The way you wrote this, I can just visualize it so clearly. What a brave little cowboy you must have been to down that whiskey and not blink. This is a delightful read! Glad you shared it.

[Epiphany]

I enjoy a story that draws the reader in - I am not a seasoned story writer - though I don't know I've ever tried, and I enjoy the parallel of my minimalism in writing. Great!
Enjoy the NOW with love,peace,joy,abundance & smiles to share ;-) ;-) ;-)