Doggone Cowpoke

The air was chilly as the sky started to turn from black to a dark blue and then shades of pale blue. The stars that he slept under slowly disappeared and gray clouds turned pink and orange and the sun turned the horizon into dark silhouettes. A long legged horse the same color as the rising sun snorted as he stood up to his feet from where he laid next to his cowboy, shaking the chill from his bones before turning to sniff at the man’s face with a whiskered snout and then using his lips to smack at his cheeks. 

He scratched at the stubble on his face, shaking his head with a groan as he fixed his hat on his head and reached up to pat his stallion's nose. The horse’s dark nose sniffed at his face, his whiskers tickling at his cheeks and making the strawberry blonde smile. He planted a quick kiss on the sooty walnut colored horse wearing white socks and blotted spots and couldn’t help a chuckle from slipping from his lips. 

“I’m up Otis.” The cattle puncher grumbled as he sat up from his makeshift pillow- the lightweight saddle under his head. He pulled his worn blue coat around his body to protect him from the gust of cold air that stung through to his bones. 

Otis took a stance and shook from his head down to his long curly tail, snorting in complaint of the cold weather alongside Tom as the man brought his sore limbs to shift to his feet. One of these days he’d be smart enough to get himself a small tent to hike up for himself but he enjoyed falling asleep looking at the stars and it hardly seemed fair for him to have that sort of shelter while his horse faced the weather. 

The strawberry blonde picked up the dark blue patterned saddle pad and placed it over Otis’ back, patting at the stallion’s maneless neck with a dimpled smile. The cattle were starting to get restless nearby and their soft mooing of the early morning always brought the man a joy he couldn’t describe with words. He dutifully placed his leather cutting saddle on the stallion and secured it, giving the side a tug to make sure it was sturdy before collecting his heavy loping hack to place around Otis’ snout and over his ears. 

Otis huffed and lifted his head, getting mouthy with Tom’s face as if returning the kiss from earlier and tickling him more with his whiskers.

“Let’s get these doggies movin’ boy.” Tom chuckled as he pushed Otis’ snout before climbing onto his saddle. 

Otis lifted his head, his ears perking up and nearly touching at the tips as he started his trot towards the cattle just downhill of them with little command from the cattle puncher on his back. 

The cowpoke let out a whistle through his teeth, tapping Otis to get him to pick up the pace as he started working to round the herd up and get them gathered. The herd of cattle was smaller than what the cowboy and horse could handle with about 40 head to manage and Tom planned on keeping that number nice and even. It took little encouragement to get the cattle moving and any onlooker may claim that the cowboy spoke their language with the way they moved. 

Along with his sharp green eyes, shaded by the brim of his well worn hat was a pair of sharp brown eyes. Where Tom wasn’t looking, Otis was. The cowboy was lucky to have such a horse.

“They are a lovely bunch aren’t they?” Tom asked Otis as he rode with his legs hanging from the sides of the saddle and his feet  dangling loosely out of the stirrups. 

Otis snorted his answer and bobbed his head as he picked up his pace for a few steps. 

“I’d say so too.” Tom chuckled, shaking his head as he claimed the stirrups with his worn down boots and clicked his teeth to catch up with a steer that decided to start straying.

“Get back in line, where do you think you’re going?” Tom asked with a laugh as Otis reared his head and nipped towards the red cattle in warning.

The cowpoke had to laugh as the steer bucked his head and snorted as he returned to the rest of the cattle.  

“That’s it, listen to what Otis got to tell yah.” Tom chuckled, letting the reins drop on the horse’s withers as he settled in his saddle and pulled his harmonica from his coat, silver and gold with ‘CH.WEISS GERMANY’ engraved on the top of it and intricate design on the edges of it. The cowpoke wasn’t much of a singer, rarely using his untuned voice to ease the cattle and instead started playing his mouth organ to entertain himself and keep the herd moving. 

Otis’ ears perked up at the sound, huffing and bobbing his head playfully as he started to trot in tempo with the music Tom played with the shiny metal against his mouth. Not many cared for the obnoxious sounds the instrument could make, but the cowpoke didn’t have anyone else but him, his horse and the cattle to worry about and none of them seemed to be complaining as they tread through valleys and brooks.

As they rode, Tom collected wood that would be suitable for a fire and bundled it in his lap between his playing, content riding his horse alone with nothing but the sound of cattle mooing and their bovine hooves against the earth. 

They rode well through the day, a peaceful and so far successful ride as Tom stopped the herd on a green patch just south of the mountain range. Pocketing his instrument, Tom tapped Otis to cut the leading steer and circle them to get them to stop with little complaint from the herd of brilliant red colors that vibrated against the orange colors of sundown. 

The air was colder here and Tom rubbed his gloved hands together to warm them up before placing them around his mouth to exhale his hot breath, white vapor spilling from his hands and Otis’ and the cattles noses. 

The cowpoke dropped his bundle aside and dismounted, patting Otis’ neck and humming with content as his stallion perked his ears up and turned to look at him so he could pull the bridle off of his head. 

“A good days work.” Tom hummed sweetly to the stallion as he loosened the saddle and dropped it to the ground where he would use it for a pillow. He collected the bundle from the ground to undo, sitting down to set up his place for a fire when he heard a sound no other would call so sweet. 

The obnoxious scratching of turkeys making their calls, like someone scratching two pieces of thin wood against each other in the worst way possible and yet it was music to Tom’s ears. He wouldn’t be eating a can of beans tonight. 

He scrambled to his feet and snatched his rifle, a wide smile on his face as he looked back at Otis. 

“You stay here and watch the herd, I got this.” He told his stallion as he grinned from ear to ear before he rushed off towards the sound. 

Tom pulled his jacket closer to him as he crouched by a pine tree, readying his rifle in his hands as he looked over a group of turkeys as they ate their dinner, oblivious to their imminent danger. The cowpoke steadied his breathing, aiming at one of the smaller birds before slowly pulling the trigger. 

The explosion from the gun made the large birds scatter and gobble out, their wings fluttering- all but one anyways. Tom couldn’t help the wide smile that came over his face as he lowered his gun to look at his success before rushing down the hill to claim the bird.

Tom toted the bird back to Otis and sat down, crossing his legs as he leaned in to light the fire he had set up and then started plucking.

“Finally got some meat tonight Otis.” Tom chuckled, plucking the long wing and tail feathers from the bird before pulling the smaller feathers off by the handfuls. “I’d be lucky if I could live off of the grass like you and them damn cattle you know.” He hummed as he pulled a knife from the saddle he leaned against to start gutting the bird. 

Bones cracked as he expanded the bird’s structure to remove the guts and set the guts aside for the time being. Otis snorted at the unsavory smell that came from the dead bird, his tail flicking before turning to rip some grass from nearby. 

“I know Otis.” Tom said with a smile as he started carving out the breast of the bird’s chest and then cut the legs from the hips. “Beats the hell out of beans again.”He explained himself to his stallion as he pulled the small pan from the saddle bag to put over the fire and then placed the meat in it. 

With a happy and full stomach, Tom took the scraps of the bird to bury away from the herd, in hopes any coyotes in the area would decide to not disturb the herd before he walked his way back to the campfire and laid down with his head on the saddle. He crossed his ankles and folded his hands under his head, humming to himself and Otis as he looked at the stars between the clouds.

“I think it’s gonna snow tonight boy.” Tom said as he looked over at his pumpkin colored stallion. “What do yah think?” 

Otis lifted his head and perked his ears at him, huffing as he was asked a question and then started to walk over and lay down next to the broad shouldered cowpoke. 

Tom reached over and gave the stallion a pat on his side, closing his eyes with content as enjoyed his last night under the stars until the next ride. 

~

Cattle called out as Tom herded them into the pen, a man with a large mustache, mutton chops and dressed with a work shift and suspenders sat on the edge of the fence counting the head as they were driven in. 

“Well, I’d be damned, all forty of them. When Mr.Beckett said he just had one cowpoke on forty head, I’ll admit I had my doubts.” The man said as Tom closed the gate from Otis’ saddle. 

Tom nodded, keeping his eyes down and hiding behind the rim of his hat as the man spoke, obnoxious really. The man smacked his jaws as he spoke, the cowboy could hear the saliva that spit from his mouth with each syllable and then the man spit the tobacco from his mouth. Unsavory, really. It was nature when a steer chewed on grass, but the steer never spit it back out. 

“He also warned me you weren’t for words, is it ‘cause you’re dumb?” The man asked as he reached into his pocket and flipped through his bills. 

Tom couldn’t help the sneer that came over his face over the question, shifting on his saddle as Otis pawed at the ground. 

“Suppose so, here’s the pay.” The rancher said as he offered the cowpoke the money he counted out. 

Tom accepted the bills and opened them up to count it himself.

“Oh, it’s all there- seein’ all the cattle are here.” He said with a dismissive wave. 

Tom glanced up at him, biting the inside of his cheek before he finished counting and put the money away in a clip before tucking in his coat. Some men were just not worth his two cents. 

The cowboy looked back at the cattle in the pen before tapping Otis to leave the ranch and head towards the Livery. Tom wasn’t against working two jobs back to back and likely would never take a break if it wasn’t for his horse. 

He dismounted as he approached the small Livery, nodding quietly to the owner as he walked with the orange stallion at his side. The livery was small, only with six stalls in it and only two of them occupied by horses. 

The man was tall and wide with a salt and peppered beard a wizard would be jealous of. 

“£30 a day, how long you staying?” The man asked in a gruff tone as he wiped his hands off on his apron and put his hand out to shake the strawberry blonde’s hand. 

Tom let go of Otis’ reins to reach into his coat and pulled out his money clip, counting out £60 to offer to the man’s outstretched hand. The man grumbled under his breath but took the money and put it in one of his apron pockets.

“That’s a fine horse you got there. Can’t say I’ve seen one like that, what is he?” The man asked as he started to overlook Otis.

Otis raised his head, his ears turning forward as his nostrils flared to smell the unfamiliar hand that reached for his snout. 

“Not sure.” Tom answered quietly with a gruff voice as he collected the reins. 

“Hm.” The man said as he looked at Tom, looking uncertain for a moment before nodding. “He’s impressive for sure, never seen a tail like that one.”

Otis lowered his head and nudged at Tom’s side, who answered by scratching at his poll. Tom nodded to the stranger before he pulled off the halter.

“A good horse.” 

“I can tell.” The man agreed with a smile, though Tom wasn’t much for words the man found his politeness again. “Why don’t you take it easy cowpoke. I can get him taken care of.” 

Tom shook his head, “If it’s no bother.” He answered him, hanging up the halter before he started to unsaddle Otis.

The man put his hands up and chuckled. “I won’t get in your way.” 

Tom nodded quietly, pulling off the saddle and the man gestured to where he could put it.

“Not too tired after the trail?” The man asked as he leaned against an empty stall door. 

Tom shook his head, taking a brush and running it against his hand a few times to dust it off before starting to brush out Otis’ coat. 

“Got oats?” Tom asked timidly as he glanced up at the stable owner.

“Sure do.” The man chuckled. “Not one for words?”

Tom shook his head again as he kept brushing Otis’ coat. The man hummed and nodded, crossing his arms as he watched Tom work. From what Tom could assess the man didn’t seem so bad. Though more chatty than he preferred, the man wasn’t as obnoxious and full of himself as most were and by the way he held himself, the calluses on his hands and the state of the livery, he worked hard and well.

“Hoof pick?” Tom asked as he set the brush aside, his stoic expression breaking as Otis turned to nuzzle at his face. 

The man nodded and pulled the tool from his apron to offer Tom. 

“He’s good tempered for a stallion.” The man commented. 

Tom accepted the tool and had to nod in agreement as he knelt, tapping Otis’ foot and the horse complying as he put his leg in lap for the cowboy to start cleaning his hooves.  

“Men would pay a lot of money for a horse like that.”

“I didn’t have to pay any.” Tom answered him as he picked at the dirt from the horse’s hooves, feeling his hat come loose and whiskered lips play in his hair. 

“Don’t tell me he was stolen.” The man laughed.

Tom couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head and pushing Otis’ snout out of his hair. 

“Man gambled too much.” 

“You don’t say?” 

Tom nodded with a smile, letting Otis’ foot fall before he moved to work on another without bothering to spare his hat. 

“Maybe you can play a few rounds with me, what’s your game?” 

“Any of ‘em.” Tom answered, starting to feel sweat grow on his brow. With how cold he had been from outside, he hadn’t thought to remove his coat before he started to work. 

“Maybe before you head to the saloon for a place to stay we can play a few games.” 

Tom glanced up at him, a smirk claiming his face before he nodded.

“Bets?” 

The man gave a hearty laugh. 

“You know what, yeah. You beat me and I’ll let you stay under my roof.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, standing up to finally remove his coat and hang it with his halter before he went to a back leg. He thought for a moment before he nodded.

“And if you lose?”

“I’ll work.” 

“Any work?” 

Tom nodded as he dropped Otis’ back leg and moved to the next.

“Know how to break horses?” 

Tom paused to glance at the man, tipping his head slightly. It wasn’t work he usually picked up, but he wasn’t shy of it either. 

“Got a mean one I’ve been working on.” 

“How mean?” Tom asked, finishing Otis’ last hoof and returned the tool to the man’s hand. 

Otis picked up the man’s hat and lifted his head proudly to present it, a nicker coming from the beast before Tom managed to snatch it from his mouth and return it to his head. 

The orange stallion extended his neck and let out a playfully whinny that Tom couldn’t help but laugh as before he started brushing out the stallion’s tail. 

“I ain’t nimble enough anymore to get him to listen. I was thinking about sending the damned beast somewhere else. It’s the stallion in the last stall if you wanna meet him yourself.” 

Tom nodded as he brushed Otis’ tail, giving the stallion a pat on his croup as he straightened himself up and dusted his hands off. 

“Here, you can put him in this stall and get him fed.” The man said, pulling himself off of the stall door and opening it for the stallion. 

Tom put his hand on the side of Otis’ neck and gestured for him to go in, though the horse didn’t seem to need much direction to walk over and inspect the stall as the door closed behind him. The man didn’t forget about the request for oats either, taking the bucket from the stall and giving it a good scoop with some water for the horse. 

Otis’ ears perked up as he turned around and nickering happily at the presented goods. 

Tom followed the man’s lead down the stables and to the last door to see the stallion that was put up, a stunning red mustang with a dark mane and a dun stripe that was quick to squeal and show the white of his eyes as the two men approached the stall. 

He would be a task, that much was apparent in the way the stallion moved and nipped at them before they had even gotten close. 

“What do you think?” The man chuckled as he looked over at the cowboy.

“I could try.” Tom admitted with a nod, shifting his hat on his head as he watched the mustang throw his fit. 

“Then let’s play, less you got somewhere else to be.” The man said as he gave a hearty pat on Tom’s shoulder. 

Tom shied his back to the man but nodded, lowering his eyes as he pulled away from the stall. He wasn’t much for horse breaking, it reminded him too much of the rodeos he didn’t care for but a bet was a bet and Tom wasn’t the one to go back on his word. 

“Frank Little.” The man introduced his name to the young cowpoke.

“Tom.” The cowpoke answered him with a nod. “Wackerly.”

Next thing he knew he was sitting in the back of the stables on a bale of hay and playing cards from the top of a barrel with a gifted cigar hanging from his mouth as cards were laid out and he was looking at a handful of cards given to him. Smoke fell from his lips as he shifted on the bale, shaking his head as he dropped his cards to show a winning hand. 

“Well I’d be damned.”

Tom shook his head and removed the cigar from his mouth as he lowered his eyes, the brim of his hat concealing his eyes for a moment. 

“You cookin’ too?”

“Don’t have much but I’m sure I can come up with something decent.” Frank told him as he gathered the cards and tucked them away as Tom took the last swig of the shared liquor bottle. 

The cowboy stood up and stretched, tilting his head to each side to stretch out his sore limbs before walking over to Otis with stiff legs. Tom leaned on the stall door, folding his arms as the horse looked out the window in the stall and he watched him for a moment before clicking his teeth. Otis’ head swiveled and his ears pointed up as he turned his body with a soft nicker to greet the man. 

“I’m gonna get a meal and rest for the night.” Tom muttered to him as he scratched his nose and then up his head. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“Think that’s the most words I’ve heard you say at once.” Frank chuckled from behind him as he put his tools up and hung his apron. 

Tom glanced back at the man, his cheeks going a little hot as his commentary was mentioned.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” The near stranger teased. 

Tom lowered his eyes, giving Otis a final pat with a shake of his head before he pulled away. 

~

The stranger’s canned food wasn’t anything to brag about, nor was the couch that Tom ended up crashing on, but the cowpoke didn’t bother complaining. The only thing he really didn’t care for was the view at the ceiling as he laid down, feeling lackluster compared to the view he usually had before he laid down to rest. Tom found that if he covered his face with his hat and closed his eyes, it wasn’t too hard to pretend. 

Morning came too soon though, waking up to the sound of Frank getting ready for work and as he shifted to sit up and place his hat on his head his body reminded him of how uncomfortable furniture could be to sleep on. 

“You awake cowpoke?” Frank asked as he brought him over his own cup of coffee. 

Tom accepted it, holding it under his nose to feel the steam relieve pressure in his nose from the stuffy house before sipping it. 

“Don’t know if you got more business around here but you’re welcome to stick around.” 

“Need a hand?” Tom asked. 

Frank drank from his own cup, shaking his head with a chuckle once he swallowed. 

“You got nothing better to do?” 

Tom shook his head, all he really needed to do was restock and bag a new job. He’d much rather be working than sitting around in the meantime. 

“Then I’ll take the help, but I don’t got much to pay.”

“Don’t want any.” Tom explained. 

“Well, whatever you get done I’ll take off your bill for your horse.” Frank made an agreement and the two of them made their way back to the livery. 

He was greeted by a nicker from the stall as Otis stuck his nose out and looked at Tom with perked ears, reaching out to the man as he got close enough to pat his head and offer him a snack that he had grabbed on the way in. 

“That horse is really something. He’s got this smart to him you don’t see often.” Frank mentioned as he got started getting buckets of horse feed ready. 

Tom nodded in agreement, “He’s a good one.” 

Tom made himself busy shortly after feeding Otis, mucking out the empty stalls, swishing the feed buckets, and even pulled out one of the other horses in the stable to brush. 

The cowpoke brushed the sweat from his brow as he looked up to see a man pulling a new horse in and his temporary boss spoke to him. He didn’t think much of it, he was at a livery and it was common for people to bring their horses to stay. Tom finished his grooming and pulled the horse back into its stall, patting its nose and offering it a treat as he started to overhear the man talking about Otis. 

He was accustomed to hearing comments about him, but this man had a far different interest then just admiring the horse. Instead, the man wanted to buy him and he didn’t seem to be happy with Frank’s answer. 

“You’ll have to talk to him if you’re wantin’ to buy, but I don’t think he’s wantin’ to sell.”

Tom dusted his hands off, shaking his head in agreement as he approached the new stranger standing by Otis’ stall. 

“Well, I can offer more than the horse is worth.” The man turned his attention to Tom, putting it out to shake his hand. He looked like tanned leather, a thin black mustache over his lips and wearing a suit that was dirty from the road. 

The strawberry blonde lowered his eyes, shaking his head and not accepting the hand shake.

“Not sellin’.” 

“Everything has a price.”

“Not ‘im.” Tom reiterated as he raised his eyes, chewing at the inside of his lip in annoyance. 

“You haven’t even heard what I’m willin’ to offer.” The man chuckled. 

“I’m not wantin’ to hear it.” Tom said with a growl.

“I think that’s enough, the horse ain’t for sale.” Frank butted in. “It’s £30 a day.”

The man huffed but pulled a money clip out with an impressive amount of bills, counting out a nights stay before placing it in the man’s hand. 

With a quiet nod, the man left his horse with them, grumbling under his breath.

None of it sat well with Tom, shaking his head as he scuffed his heel on the ground and shook his head. 

“Think I’m gonna sleep out here tonight.” He said.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, getting a nod of agreement with Tom. 

“If that’s what you want to do.” Frank sighed.  

~ 

Tom made himself comfortable in the small hayloft, looking down at Frank from the brim of his hat as the lantern was directed towards him.

“Sure you’re going to be okay there?”

“Slept in worse places.”

“Alright. Suit yourself.”

Tom watched as the light slowly disappeared, leaning back on a square of hay and tilting his hat to cover his eyes as he crossed his arms and ankles to get some rest. The man slept with one eye open though, trusting his gut more than the stranger he had seen earlier.

His eyes snapped open as he heard boots stepping into the livery, his eyes taking a moment to adjust in the dark as the man from earlier stepped in with a lantern in hand. Tom shifted to a crouch, his lips curving into a snarl as he saw the man approach Otis’ stall and reach his hand to pet the sweet horse’s snout. 

He swung the stall door open and Otis started to have another opinion about the man, lifting his head and bouncing on his front hooves as the man in a suit tried to throw a halter on his nose. 

Tom climbed down quietly, sneaking up behind the man as he managed to get the halter over Otis’ head and went to pull the snorting beast out as he backed up into Tom. 

“Jesus!” The man exclaimed, spinning around on his heels clumsily, the smell of liquor on his breath hitting Tom in the face a moment before he drew his arm back and swung.

“I prefer Tom.” The cowpoke growled as the man’s back hit the stable wall and blood spilled from his nose.

The man gasped and grabbed his nose, “I wasn’t doin’ anything!”

“Bullshit!” Tom exclaimed, not sparing a moment to wait for an excuse as he swung again and knocked the man to the ground. 

“I swear! I was just-!”

The man found out how Tom’s worn boots tasted and cried out, shifting from his pleading to trying to crawl away from the man. 

Tom snatched his coat and flipped the man onto his back, spitting in his face before throwing another solid punch as he clung to the man’s collar to keep him in place.
“I said you can’t have him!”

Otis let out a squeal, kicking at the livery wall and arching his neck as he started to pace in the stall, testing the entrance but not running out. 

“Please! Please! Okay!” The man spat blood out, trying to hold his hands up between him and Tom to keep another fist from coming down on him. 

Tom squared him another time before dragging him by his coat to the exit of the livery and throwing him out. 

“Outta here!” 

“My horse!” 

“Steal another one!” Tom roared as he watched the man scramble to his feet as he tried to run off. 

Tom spit to the side, Frank coming out with a shotgun in hand and watching as the man ran off. 

“I’d be damned.”

“‘I’d be right.” Tom hissed, shaking his head. 

Frank grabbed Tom’s shoulder and shook it as he lowered his gun. 

“I outta keep you around.”

Tom shook his head and scuffed his heel, pulling away to go back inside to the startled horses but only approaching Otis. 

“Easy boy.” Tom coaxed, brushing his palm against the stallion as he snorted. “Easy.” He hushed as he pulled of the halter and hung it aside, bringing both his hands to scratch at his neck. 

Otis huffed and snorted, sniffing at Tom’s hands expectantly for a treat but shook his head and neck as he found out there wasn’t one and the stall door slowly closed him in. 

“You comin’ in for the rest of the night?” Frank asked.

Tom shook his head, leaning against the door as he looked at him.

“More comfortable here anyways.”

“If you say so.” Frank told him, tossing him his shotgun. 

Tom caught it and shifted it in his hands, giving him a nod.

“Try to get some rest cowpoke.”