Trail Drive

TRAIL DRIVE

From the Running J, down Waco way,
We took the longhorns north and east,
From dawn to dusk, day after day,
We drove those ornery, obstinate beasts,

Along the Goodnight-Loving trail,
To the railhead at Kansas City,
Through dog-drowning rain and rock-hard hail,
Nature showed us no merciful pity.

With bandanna in place, over my face,
To filter out the trail's choking dust,
Ambling along at a nodding pace,
I woke up fast when Shorty cussed.

In time to see him throwed and kicked,
Laid out on his back, still and gray.
That old horse put out Shorty's wick.
Too great a price for a dollar a day.

We're used to being stuck by cactus,
And burned red by the scorching sun.
But I don't think there's a one of us
Who expected to die on this run.

Watching blood red skies at sundown,
Drinking coffee by a low mesquite fire,
An outrider says he heard strange sounds.
We pray there ain't Injuns out there.

A drover crooned to the skittish herd,
As lightning cut a "Z" in the dark.
Mossy-horns bolt at a too-loud word,
Thunder, snake, or coyote's bark.

We'll be making town in one more day.
Then the work ends, and we're free.
As soon as the boss man counts out our pay,
We'll go on a drinking, gambling spree.

Then homeward, our pockets empty,
We'll share an old cowboy joke --
Don't matter which way we're headed --
A cowboy is always broke!

End

*Third Place Winner, Cowboy Poetry Division, of the Johnson County (Texas) Creative Writers Annual Writing Contest, June 1997.

**Published in Crossbow Publications magazine Western Digest, late 1997 or early 1998.