HOME | DD

Description
The Old Cowboy
Written by Tyrell Johnson
Illustration by McKenzie Johnson
An old cowboy starts a fire by the side of the trail. His clothes are dusty and worn from many days on the trail, his hands, tough and leathery from years of riding and pushing cattle. His eyes have grown weak, and his hearing has gone, but goes through the same motions, slowly and methodically with years of repetition. The only thing slowing him down are his muscles and joints aching, protesting the years of harsh use and abuse that comes with being a cattleman.
Smoke from the fire eventually curls into the sky, a twilight showing its first stars as the sun dips below the mountain peaks on the western horizon. The old cowboy dusts his knees and sits on a nearby log, softened with rot and termite damage. He gazes into the fire, the flames dance around the logs, casting flickering shadows into the forest behind the old man.
His gaze wanders over to the clearing he let his horse roam, the muffled sound of the bell that hung around its neck reassuring the cowboy of its presence. A stiff breeze blows smoke into the cowboys’ eyes, but after years of harsh wind, snow, and dust, the old cowboy just squints past it.
The air is different, the cowboy smelled something heavy and unrelenting in the air, even the fire seems to sense it as it dims ever so slightly.
"I don't know if I'm ready yet.." the cowboy's voice cuts through the silence like an axe through kindling.
His apprehension mixes with the smoke, rising upward to the heavens.
Another figure shifts opposite of the old cowboy, clad in black, his wide brimmed hat covers his face as he takes a place beside the fire. The figure wordlessly cocks his head.
The old cowboy takes a deep breath, pondering all that he's done, the places he's been, the people he's met. The memories of loved ones, family members, and friends bring up a well of repressed emotions.
"Well, I suppose I could have been kinder, for one" the old vaquero said, taking his hat off as memories arguments long past come back to the surface.
Memories of giving his dog a hard boot to theSho side after chewing his good reigns the night after he bought them. He remembered the night he stormed out on his belated wife after an argument, the subject lost in time. Memories of taking a switch to his good mare after she tossed him to the dirt for the fifth time. These memories brought tears to the old man's long dried eyes, regret taking hold of his old heart as these memories flooded him without cease.
A low, but soothing voice rose from the figure opposite the cowboy.
"Yes, there were times you were angry, perhaps even cruel. But I know you, I've been with you for a long time now, and I know that your heart is filled with regret and sorrow, but instead of lashing out more, you sought to redeem yourself. I've seen you recite the Bible front and back, even though your eyes no longer work like they once did. I have seen you rescue calves that were born in the cold, rain, or abandoned by their mother, caring for them until they were well enough to get along on their own."
The figure adjusted his hat, the bottom of his bony jaw poked out from beneath the brim. The flames from the fire flicker slower, it's light growing dull.
"You're a good man, and as such you can't help but to wish to do more good, and for that I commend you."
The cowboys stands and pulls his long worn saddle near the fire, resting his head down on it, eyes straining to see the individual stars from behind tears that are too stubborn to fall.
"you're too kind." The old cowboy croaks, his voice growing faint, much like the flames of the fire that have died down to a single flame, flickering, sending smoke spiraling to the stars above.
The figure in black bows his head, "There's plenty of cattle to push in God's great pastures."
The old cowboy smiles, as a single tear paints a trail down the side of the old cowboy’s cheek, as his last breath is sent to the heavens with the smoke of the last flame of the fire beside the trail.

Description
The Old Cowboy
Written by Tyrell Johnson
Illustration by McKenzie Johnson
An old cowboy starts a fire by the side of the trail. His clothes are dusty and worn from many days on the trail, his hands, tough and leathery from years of riding and pushing cattle. His eyes have grown weak, and his hearing has gone, but goes through the same motions, slowly and methodically with years of repetition. The only thing slowing him down are his muscles and joints aching, protesting the years of harsh use and abuse that comes with being a cattleman.
Smoke from the fire eventually curls into the sky, a twilight showing its first stars as the sun dips below the mountain peaks on the western horizon. The old cowboy dusts his knees and sits on a nearby log, softened with rot and termite damage. He gazes into the fire, the flames dance around the logs, casting flickering shadows into the forest behind the old man.
His gaze wanders over to the clearing he let his horse roam, the muffled sound of the bell that hung around its neck reassuring the cowboy of its presence. A stiff breeze blows smoke into the cowboys’ eyes, but after years of harsh wind, snow, and dust, the old cowboy just squints past it.
The air is different, the cowboy smelled something heavy and unrelenting in the air, even the fire seems to sense it as it dims ever so slightly.
"I don't know if I'm ready yet.." the cowboy's voice cuts through the silence like an axe through kindling.
His apprehension mixes with the smoke, rising upward to the heavens.
Another figure shifts opposite of the old cowboy, clad in black, his wide brimmed hat covers his face as he takes a place beside the fire. The figure wordlessly cocks his head.
The old cowboy takes a deep breath, pondering all that he's done, the places he's been, the people he's met. The memories of loved ones, family members, and friends bring up a well of repressed emotions.
"Well, I suppose I could have been kinder, for one" the old vaquero said, taking his hat off as memories arguments long past come back to the surface.
Memories of giving his dog a hard boot to theSho side after chewing his good reigns the night after he bought them. He remembered the night he stormed out on his belated wife after an argument, the subject lost in time. Memories of taking a switch to his good mare after she tossed him to the dirt for the fifth time. These memories brought tears to the old man's long dried eyes, regret taking hold of his old heart as these memories flooded him without cease.
A low, but soothing voice rose from the figure opposite the cowboy.
"Yes, there were times you were angry, perhaps even cruel. But I know you, I've been with you for a long time now, and I know that your heart is filled with regret and sorrow, but instead of lashing out more, you sought to redeem yourself. I've seen you recite the Bible front and back, even though your eyes no longer work like they once did. I have seen you rescue calves that were born in the cold, rain, or abandoned by their mother, caring for them until they were well enough to get along on their own."
The figure adjusted his hat, the bottom of his bony jaw poked out from beneath the brim. The flames from the fire flicker slower, it's light growing dull.
"You're a good man, and as such you can't help but to wish to do more good, and for that I commend you."
The cowboys stands and pulls his long worn saddle near the fire, resting his head down on it, eyes straining to see the individual stars from behind tears that are too stubborn to fall.
"you're too kind." The old cowboy croaks, his voice growing faint, much like the flames of the fire that have died down to a single flame, flickering, sending smoke spiraling to the stars above.
The figure in black bows his head, "There's plenty of cattle to push in God's great pastures."
The old cowboy smiles, as a single tear paints a trail down the side of the old cowboy’s cheek, as his last breath is sent to the heavens with the smoke of the last flame of the fire beside the trail.