The Legend of Cowboy Thursday

Chapter 3- The Showdown at Tractor Supply Co.

We ran into the store, expecting to find Owen and Thomas waiting for us at the entrance, but our expectations were the polar opposite from what actually happened.

Not only were Owen and Thomas missing, but we could hear their voices bounce off the walls of the massive store interior, and the cashier, who looked like he had come from harvest season to make some extra money, hopelessly follow these voices around like a man haunted by the ghosts of two teenage troublemakers.

Robert pointed at me and Heather as he said:

"Alright, you take the left side of the store, me and John will take the other."

John smiled and he one-handed bro-shaked Robert's hand, while me and Heather just looked at each other, shrugged, and we both made our way to find Owen or Thomas.

Heather made her way to the clothing section, which was packed with farm gear and attire no to far off from her look, and I looked at the column of cowboy hats, which in turn was not too far off from where Heather was looking.

There were a large assortment of cowboy hats that I could envision myself wearing, and as I put each one on, I could imagine myself walking into a saloon or any other outlaw things you see in movies.

One I really liked was a leather black hat in pristine condition, when I put it on, I felt as if I were in a Western movie. I could see myself bust the doors open, everyone staring as I slowly made my way to the bar, and all I could do was tilt my hat to the bartender, and he immediately came to me, stopping whatever poor fella's drink he was concocting.

"I think you should get that." It was Owen, who had changed into a red plaid shirt, tight blue jeans, and a black hat angled in a way that the upper half of his face was hidden under the shadow it cast.

I look at the price tag, and I see that it was a very hefty price, and I unfortunately turn to Owen and say:

"I can't."

Owen just shook his head, and with words of encouragement said:

"That's unfortunate, just get richer next time."

And just like that, Tommy's jumbled threats echo through the store, and Owen quickly makes his way towards the voice.

I just look at this hat, and I put it back on, and with it, I don't feel like myself, but almost like a cooler version of myself. One that can order the hottest whiskey and chug it down as if it were nothing. One that could ride wherever he could please, and no one can stop him, but just stop and stare as he enters a room. And best of all, he is someone who won't take shit from no one.

Especially from his own father.

I just stop and look around me, and see the faces of ranchers with these hats, stock photos of people just working a farm, and not downing rum or bandana wearing outlaws riding through the scorching wastelands just outside of town, a glorious sunset behind him, and a spooky vibe as one shadow rides into the darkness beyond.

Man, what I would give to feel like this at least once a week, maybe even more.

Heather calls out to Owen, but Owen was in his own little world. Heather sighs and she picks out some jeans with a sparkling design on the back pockets, and then she turns to look at me.

It took a moment, but a little dimple on her right cheek began to form, and clapped her hands as if satisfied with my choice for a hat. Then she came around me and picked up a plaid, red shirt and said:

"I think you might need this, and you'll be one heck of a looker for Farmers Only."

I take the shirt, and I say: