Take off your hat, I want to stand up.

Part 26: The Cowboy Way.

Chapter 26. The Cowboy Way.

The cowboy way.

In my whole life, I have tried to strive for the truth in life. Where it applies and how it applies is often a means to an end a discussion. Truth ultimately is based on ones interpretation. My mom and her grave state of determined existence pushes your sense of priorities to new levels of awareness and acceptance.

My good friend Howard was a true to life cowboy. He was an American hero. He was a self-made man and a quality person of the very first order. In days of yore he would have been a Templar Knight, a protector of the people. He was a shining example of what is good in people. He asked for no recognition nor did he seek fame for profit, he did expect to be paid for his time, effort, goods and services. He lived and died as he would have wanted, on his own terms. The newspaper wrote, the State of Montana lost a good cowboy when he passed.

One story in particular has guided my thinking and contributed to my personal growth. He told it to me many years ago, but it still shines with a glimmer of hope for us all.

Howard was a dry land farmer and rancher in the upper North Dakota country, he raised quarter horses for cattlemen, farmed a bit, built custom horse trailers and hired himself out as a rodeo heeler in team roping. He was a crack shot and could deliver a stubborn colt at two in the morning during a Dakota winter blizzard. He would say colts always choose the dead of night in a storm to ramble into this world. He would smile, a smile of satisfaction. He enjoyed a tough challenge.

He demanded fair dealings, and was always quick to help a friend in need, without seeking reward or recognition. Late one night he was called into town, his uncle Racey had passed away, Howard was the next of kin. He would need to see to matters of importance.

I asked him why he was called Racey? Howard did not know, in point of fact he did not know his real name, everyone just called him Racey ever since he could remember.

He continued, Racey was a real cowboy, rancher and farmed a quarter section for thirty years. He did not go to town save to get supplies, he was a confirmed bachelor, slept in his long-johns, broke horses for his friends and lived a quiet self-satisfied life. In the dead of winter Racey was known to kindle down the fire in his pot belly wood stove, throw a horse blanket on to the top and sleep on it through the night. If he was still alive in the morning and the place did not burn down he was content. The cowboy in him made due with what he had.

In his old age Racey decided to move into the old folks home in town. He as could be suspected not running to live in town, he sort of manoeuvred around the thought. First he booked into the local motel, he had a single bed in a single room, for one single night. The day before he was to collect himself into his new home.

Howard said, he just up and died. Howard entered the room a creepy quiet fostered all around. The room smelled of pine air-freshener. In the closet Racey had neatly placed his clothes on handy hangers, two shirts, one pair of pants and his cowboy hat. The bed was made, pillows tucked square, blanket folded at the foot of the bed.

In the closet there was one black, beaten bag, it was the size of a carry-on, it had two latches and a tag for the owners name, which was left blank. Howard hefted it up to the bed, laid it out, turned out he latches and opened the case.

Inside the case, he found a collection of pieces of paper. There were literally hundreds of small, neatly folded bits and pieces of paper. Upon further inspection Howard found one hundred thousand U.S. Dollars in cash.

Howard spent the better part of two hours unravelling all of the items in the small, black. Once the case was empty the paper piled high on the small bed the collection took most of the bed and side table. Every single grain bill Racey had was on that bed. Howard said he could not put the assigned paper back into the case in a million years, he scratched his head, grinned and thought about his dear Uncle filing all of his precious papers into his safety keeper for thirty plus years. As it turned out Racey was a rich rancher after all.

When Howard brought the whole kit into the probate lawyers office in town the legal expert said to him, you do know you have over a hundred grand in cash? Howard acknowledged the intent of the attorney and said he was just trying to do a solid for his kin. He did not know where the estate was going to go. In true, honest cowboy fashion Howard dealt with all of his affairs and transaction with the heart of a champion and the will of an honest man.

Our people were cut from the same cloth. We were taught to endure hardships without complaining. We wanted to give the other guy a break, do good deeds. If you could not speak well of someone, then be silent and get yourself out of the way.

So it went with Ev, she could not do anything she would be made to feel the slightest bit guilty. She was simple, direct, mostly cheerful, she was her own person, first last and always. She was not one to make excuses and she tried to make the best out of each and every situation.

When she could not speak for herself, she needed people to stand up for her. She would need people to cowboy up for her.