Cowboy

There's group of folks on Face book who grew up more or less at the same time as I.  We lost track of each other for years but lately have had a lot of contact.  It's a ton of fun, and recently there have been several posts about the Cowboy Way.  Ya know - campfires, star filled nights, honor, all the stuff ya see in the movies.

Well, not quite everything - I don't think anybody has mentioned shooting Indians yet, but it may be there somewhere and I managed to miss the discussion.  I have to pay more attention to putting my socks on right side out these days, and my attention span is a little shorter than it used to be.  Something's got to give - usually it's something on my computer screen.

All the talk of cowboys brought to mind the only REAL cowboy I've ever known, a guy named Billy.  I've known a bunch of dudes who rode horses, owned horses and ranches, or just had a Resistol Hat and a pair of boots.  At one time or another in my life, I've done all three.  All that stuff has in no way made a cowboy of me, and all the other guys with that stuff were the same.  Wannabes.  Billy was for real. 

I met him back in the mid to late 80's while visiting my sister.  She and her husband owned a livestock transportation company, based out of Del Rio, TX  at the time, and the business put them in contact with a bunch of rowdy characters.  Billy was one of them, and he hung around the house a lot.  It might have been my sister's wonderful cooking, or her husband's home made Chili, but probably it was the indoor plumbing that kept him leaning against one or another fence.

For some reason, he and I hit it off and one day we headed across the border to Acuna, Mexico.  Twenty-five years ago a couple of guys could cross the border without first putting on a bunch of bullet-proof body armor, and since we weren't carrying around all that extra weight, it was a lot easier to have fun than it is now.

That was the start of a friendship that lasted several years.  I lived and worked in California at the time, but every year I'd head to my sister's place in Del Rio during vacations and he and I would find some sort of trouble that needed to be started.  We were pretty good at it. 

Billy was one heck of a wrangler - not the jeans, the occupation - and worked with animals most of his life.  He'd go from ranch to ranch, staying just long enough to get fed up with the foreman before moving on.  There are a lot of ranches in Texas and he could always find work.   After drifting for most of his life he finally caught a break just before I met him.

Some TV producers hired him on as a wrangler for the series "Lonesome Dove" and he made more money than at anytime before in his life.  In fact, he made enough to buy a piece of land, a good horse trailer, and when he heard the script called for a burro, he bought one of those too.  Her name was Emma, and he managed to rent her to the producers.  She was the animal the camp cook refused to ride as the herd moved from Texas to Montana during the series.

When I met him, he was living the cowboy dream.  His own land, a horse trailer to live in, an extension cord, about four or five hundred feet long, filled with electricity and a garden hose of the same length filled with water; the last two paid for by a neighbor with whom he traded his skill as a farrier.   And, for spending cash, he had Emma - the world famous TV/movie star of Lonesome Dove - who brought top dollar at the local mall parking lots giving rides to kids.  There was little government interference in his life - it's a fact that it's OK to go potty on your own land in Val Verde County, TX.  As long as you don't have running water, ya don't need a permit. 

Imagine that.  Going potty on your own land without the local government charging a fee.  Now that's a good idea.

I enjoyed his company for a while, his spirit was the freest I've known.  But, I got married and quit spending vacations in Del Rio.  My sister got divorced and moved to San Angelo.  We both lost track of Billy but I bet I can still find him camping out on his own land and trading his neighbor for lights and water. 

I guarantee he didn't get fat like I did, and if Emma has died he probably has replaced her with another Emma - and claims the new one was the movie star.  Being a cowboy has nothing to do with a slow wit - it has everything to do with working hard and being free.  Don't know if he's lonely at night now or not.  There were always plenty of ladies around back then but never one who wanted to live in a horse trailer.

He taught me being a cowboy is about not needing very much and wanting even less.  It's about taking care of yourself with your own two hands and the brain God put between your ears.  He didn't need a horse to be a cowboy - didn't want to pay for the Vet and feed.  The boss always had one if he needed to ride and, if he needed a boss for a while.  Mostly he had no use for either.  He knew more about living than about getting along and just flat didn't give a hoot about what people thought of him and his ways.

I learned a lot about life from him and hope he's well and warm.  One of these days I'm gonna look him up again.  Maybe we can find some more trouble to get into.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_a4BU09GrU