SGDHS * Taste the Words.

Cowboys Do Cry

By CHELSEA KNAPP

“. . . 8, 9, 10.”

The two men wheeled around to face each other and shots began to ring out. The two cowboys were not strangers as they had had many duels before and were sworn enemies in the town. There was a sudden shrill cry from the gathering crowd of onlookers as one of the horses tied to the nearby saloon’s hitching post, buckled at the knees and collapsed on the ground.

“NO!” shouted Bill Jones, one of the two men participating in the high noon shootout, as he realized it was his horse, Bob, who had taken a shot in his left shoulder.

Shoving his gun back into its sleeve in his belt, Bill broke his way through the stunned group of men and women, after dodging the last of his shootout partner’s bullets. As he reached his faithful companion’s side, he found Bob alive but bleeding profusely. Bill knew there wasn’t much time to save him. As they lived in such a small town there was no veterinarian around for miles. Bill desperately racked his mind for a way to save this horse, who had been all Bill had for the past twelve years. He wasn’t about to lose him now.

“Somebody fetch me a pail of water and some rags before this horse bleeds to death!” Bill shouted at the people accumulated around the pair.

“Surely you ain’t gonna try to save the beast, Jones. He’s almost dead as it is. I still have one shot left in my gun if you’d like me to put him out of his misery.”

As Bill looked up to see who had spoken, he realized it was the voice of Sam Curry, the man he had just stood off against in the shootout.

“Put the gun away, Sam. This horse ain’t gonna die today,” Bill replied with gritted teeth.

“I’d betcha everything I got that he does,” Sam laughed, “And more if you’d like.”

“Your on, Curry,” Bill replied, “I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to this horse, you hear.”

“Apparently you already have.”

With that Sam walked away, leaving Bill in a pool of blood with new motivation. Bill didn’t have time to dwell on Sam’s words as a young boy came stumbling through the crowd struggling with a bucket of water. His mother, the local doctor, was right on his heels carrying a medical kit and an armful of towels.

After taking a quick look at the situation, Dr. Mary Clarke looked at Bill with a sympathetic glance and said, “Geez Bill, I don’t know if I can help him. He’s lost so much blood and that bullet is pretty deep. It’s probably best to just sh-”

“If you won’t help me, I’ll go in myself,” Bill replied before giving her a chance to finish.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do. First, I need everyone to leave because all the excitement is causing the horse excess stress which isn’t going to help the situation. Next, I need you, Bill, and my son to assisst me in trying to remove the bullet and then stitch him up. Finally, I need you, Bill, to be prepared for the chance that we may have to shoot him. I’m not a miracle worker.”

The crowd dispersed but most of the onlookers didn’t go very far as they were curious to see if this crazy cowboy’s horse pulled through. With a nod from Bill, Dr. Clarke began to work.

It was only after an hour of searching that the doctor was able to pull out the bullet. Without pausing, she immediately began to stitch Bob up. The horse’s breathing had slowed down quite substantially since the crowd had left and was now quite laboured. Bob’s conditioning was worsening with every second that passed by. Aware of this, Bill put his arms around the horse’s soaked neck and prayed to God that he would live.

With a final stitch, Dr. Clarke turned towards Bill.

“He sure has lost a lot of blood, Bill. I’ve done all that I can to help him. The rest is up to him now to see if he can some how miraculously pull through this.” I have to head back to the clinic now but I’ll be praying for you both.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Clarke,” Bill said with unshed tears welling up in his eyes, “I really owe you one.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Dr. Clarke replied before leaving Bill and Bob.

Several hours passed and darkness began to set in. Bob and Bill were soon left completely alone as the curious onlookers slowly dispersed. Bob’s condition, although no worse, had not improved at all. He became to become restless as though he was nervous about something but made no effort to get up.

Bill slowly rose to his feet to stretch some of the aches out of his body. Just as he was about to sit back down he heard a low, rumbling sound behind him. He turned around and peered into the dark night but couldn’t see anything.

A few seconds later he heard another deep, growling sound but still couldn’t see anything. Bill reached for his gun but to his surprise it wasn’t in its sleeve. It must have fell out on his mad dash over to Bob, Bill thought to himself.

All of a sudden, something caught Bill’s eye.

Less than 100 feet from where he was standing he could see two large, dog-like forms, slinking their way slowly towards him and Bob. Wolves. Damn, Bill thought apprehensively, they must have smelled Bob’s blood and fresh flesh. Unsure of what to do, Bill frantically began scanning the area for something he might be able to use to scare them off with.

The darkness restricted him from looking very far and all he could find was a few stones on the ground. Out of desperation, Bill picked up all the stones he could see and started pelting them at the wolves. Unfortunately, this only aggravated the wolves further, encouraging them to pick up the pace towards their prey, inching closer until they were now less than 30 feet away. Bill heard another noise behind him but refused to turn around and put his back to the wolves.

They were almost on top of him, when all of a sudden a large form clambered past him, squealing with rage.

It was a short fight. Bob immediately killed the first wolf with a swift kick to the head and, after a struggle and small amount of bloodshed, proceeded to kill the second by stomping him to death. Bill, in a state of shock, stood helpless as he watched the miracle unfold in front of him. Only a few hours ago had this same animal been lying beside him on the ground, dying, and now he had just witnessed him save his life. Bob was paying him back.

Bill ran over to Bob and flung his arms around his sweaty neck. He knew that cowboys weren’t supposed to cry but he could no longer hold in the tears. Still weak from his almost fateful day and now in more pain then before thanks to the wounds the second wolf had left with him, Bob stood with his head hanging low.

“Thanks, partner,” Bill commented to his horse, “I guess that about makes us even.” With that, the pair began to make their way home.

Bob turned out to be alright but he would always have a huge scar on his shoulder to remind Bill of the worst day of his life. As Bill had won the bet between him and Sam, Bill and Bob soon became very rich. Because Bill felt bad about taking everything of Sam’s, though, he made him a deal. They agreed that they would become partners in Sam’s business and share Sam’s ranch.

This meant that Bob would be able to live in a proper stall and have many other horses to hang out with in his retirement. It also meant that they lived happily ever after.

Posted 15 DEC 04 in Fantastic Fiction

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