Cowboy with No Cows
The Palo Pinto Mountains are where beauty is created from the rough landscape. Too bad this beauty is lost on rich people looking for a pretty view, Tommy thought. Over the years since Tommy was born, a son of these hills, to the day he took over control of the Stuart Ranch lease, he had learned what it took to live and even prosper in a harsh environment. The Western Palo Pinto Mountains are closer to hills than mountains but are still breathtaking to visitors. Over the last thirty years as Ft. Worth and Dallas sprawled outwards, their influence came to blanket the small Palo Pinto County. Not too long ago, the only city people to come to this backwards county were a few deer hunters, happy for a deer lease on a ranch to kill a buck or two, but over the years the relationship between the city and country had strained, with new millionaires coming out and spending ridiculous amounts of money on land which more often than not led to less cattle and more high fences. This used to worry Tommy until it had happened to him. This week was the end of his lease, and with that, he would have to make room for the new owner, Doug Quickly. The thought of that lecherous old man putting his hands on what was rightfully Tommy’s disgusted him. Doug had been in this area for about ten years when he retired from his law practice and had bought a two section ranch with a tall hill right across from the Stuart Ranch headquarters. All of this time, he had lusted after the Stuart Ranch but had been unable to buy it due to the influence Tommy’s dad had over the owner. Now with Tommy’s father in the ground, Doug had quickly bought the famed ranch.
“Hey, Tom, what would you rather have, the Easley or the Hughes?”
The voice of his brother, Joe, woke Tommy from his thoughts. “Well, I want the Easley, but I will take the Hughes,” he replied. It truly didn’t matter to him which trailer he got now that he had one horse left to haul in the lonely sixteen-footer. As Joe started to hook up the Easley, Tommy noticed an old ranch truck approaching. It was Bob, the manager from the Twisted Creek ranch. Tommy had to stomach an ache when he saw all of the kaliche dust rolled up from behind the clattering Chevy. It had been a long drought and dust blew all around even with no wind it seemed.
“Well, Bob, how are things going over at the Creek?”
Bob leaned back in his seat and pondered a moment before replying. “About the same; we could use some rain, but, oh well.”
“Yes sir; well, I guess you won’t have to be putting up with my cows getting on your place no more.”
“Yeah, and I will probably get a new high border fence for no cost.”
Tommy fingered the Trip Hopper feeder in the bed of the truck, pulling a cylindrical piece of cake out. It had always bothered him that they called these pieces cubes not cylinders or something else more reasonable.
“You know, it was a real shame seeing your old man waste away in the end; he was a good friend.”
Tommy choked back bad memories, “I wonder what he would say to this.”
“First off, he wouldn’t blame you, and he wouldn’t blame Doug. And second, he would probably go on up to the Spade, or Tongue River, or the Swinsons and start over.”
“Yeah, I have a job offer from the Browns, but I’m not going to take it; it’s too close to home.”
As he stared at the empty pens, Bob replied, “I understand...It sure is sad to see a cowboy with no cows.” Bob was silent for a minute, staring across the road to the cedar-covered hill that held Doug’s house. “Just remember what your father would do, and you should be fine, son.”
“Thanks, Bob, I appreciate you stopping by,” Tommy replied.
Bob nodded as he started the tired, old truck back to the county road. Tommy was lost in thought again, Yes, my dad would turn the other cheek, but can I? This question rolled in his head over and over while he loaded the drip torches in the back of his truck. His gaze drew upon the hill with Doug’s house; the hill was covered in cedar while at the base dead brush had been grubbed up and waited for a cleansing fire. The words from Bob kept echoing in his ear, It sure is sad to see a cowboy with no cows.
“Hey, I’m about to leave,” shouted Joe from across the compound.
As Tommy ambled over, he could see his mother sitting in the front seat, and her frailness for some reason reminded him of his schoolteachers’ agreement that Tommy was not stupid but had stupid tendencies. This thought followed Tommy all the way to the truck.
“Y’all going to Abilene?”
“Yes sir; I have decided to take that internship at Cable and Shorner.”
Great. Another lawyer, thought Tommy. “Well, it might be a while till I see y’all, so take care.”
For the first time, concern crossed Joe’s face, “You better stay out of trouble; I mean it.”
Tommy smiled and nodded. Joe took this as the best answer he would get and then jumped into the truck. Tommy couldn’t help but smile as they drove away, maybe it was because he was finally alone or that he knew his brother was going to end up at the top of the pile no matter where he was.
Sunset fell on Tommy while he loaded his horse, Biscuit, into the trailer. “Shoulda took the damn Easley,” he muttered under his breath as he fought the locking mechanism. As Tommy drove up out of the headquarters he turned off his lights and pulled into Doug’s ranch. With one free hand, he grabbed a drip torch and with the other, a matchbox. With the wind blowing up the hill, Tommy started lighting the brush piles. They caught fast and burned hot; it didn’t take too long for the blaze to sweep to the live cedars on the hill. As each one caught, it exploded with a brilliant orange glow. Tommy watched
the fire head up the hill quickly, too fast and ferocious for any man to stop now. As the house caught, Tommy turned away and slowly got into his truck and pulled back onto the county road.
About thirty miles down the interstate towards Arizona Tommy murmured, “A cowboy with no cows.”