So, You Think You Want a Cowboy

What is it about a cowboy that makes women quiver down to their boots with conjured images of unbridled love under a starry western night with only a saddle for a pillow? I’ve been doing a lot of research about this and I think I’ve got it figured out-at least partially-because no one will ever be able to fully understand The American Cowboy. I think Waylon Jennings sang it best when he sang “Mama’s Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys.” One of the lines from that classic hit claim that cowboys ain’t easy to love and they’re harder to hold …’

A cowboy is an enigma-a puzzle-that women have been trying to piece together for more than two centuries. He is much more than the leather chaps, hats, boots, and spurs he wears. His is a way of life that only a few brave, tough souls ever survive. Living by an unprecedented code handed down from generation to generation, the cowboy is the epitome of the true American West, still as wild and untamed as it was back in the days of Billy the Kid and Wyatt Earp. Sometimes they can be real bad boys and others can be real good men. And we women, still drawn to The American Cowboy as much now and back then, are still trying to figure out which is which.

Hard working, hard riding and hard playing, though not necessarily in that order, today’s cowboys are throwbacks from those ancestors of yesteryear. His Code is to be true to himself. Except for rare instances, rodeos are more a part of his life than a family. His best friend is his horse. As long as he has a one good saddle, a good pair of boots, a good hat, and a pair of jeans and a shirt, he’s ready for anything. He doesn’t set to much precedence on money. He knows he can always pick up a buck or two somewhere between one rodeo and the next … just enough for another entry fee … always in hopes of winning that 8‑second ride or some another purse to get him to the next rodeo. A true cowboy can ride anything with four legs and appreciates anything with two. And there’s always both waiting just in the next town.

Attending a hometown rodeo recently, I had a wonderful opportunity to talk to a few cowboys during intermission. One young man even obliged me with a quick tour of behind the gates where the broncs and bulls were kept. What a wonderful experience! As my eyes were trying to take in it all, the hustle and bustle of the riders dousing their hands and ropes with rosin to ensure a good grip during their next ride, I asked my new found friend (who has been riding since he was 15) if he’s had any broken bones, he answered without blinking. “Seven ribs, my left arm, and both my legs.” When asked how many good horses he’s had in his life. The tall and lanky twenty‑eight year‑old cowboy answered, “Two.” “What about a family?” I asked. “Does your family travel with you?” “Nah,” he said slowly. “None of my wives understood me. “Sides,” he continued, hoisting his saddle easily onto his shoulder, “I quit after five.” “Fffive?” I was stuttered dumbfounded. “Yeah,” he drawled, spitting into the dirt, “none of em had enough horse sense to fill a boot.” (Just about this time, Chris LeDoux’s smash hit, “What’cha Gonna Do With a Cowboy?” came to mind.)

His mischievous blue eyes traveled down the length of me and back up again. I couldn’t help the way my heart pounded and my pulsed raced, it didn’t matter that I was old enough to be his mother! He took off his black Stetson and wiped the sweat from his forehead. As he replaced it, he gave me a slightly crooked, shy smile. Walking away, with a slow western drawl, he advised over his shoulder, “Ma’am, you really need to watch where you step.”

I looked down at my brand new black suede Durango boots only to discover I was standing fringe deep in fresh manure!

God! I love cowboys! But, what would I do with one if I had him? I don’t know, but it sure would be a lot of fun finding out! Yee-haw!