he had left the ranch house that morning in the dark. his bay horse at a jog trot. 4 hours later he had reached the back side of the ranch. the clouds were black, low hanging threatning a snow or ice storm. but the old rancher had some first calve heifers on the west fence line that he wanted to get into the shelter of a deep canyon.
the ranchers hair was a dark iron gray, brought on by 45 years of life in the saddle and working rough country. his wife had gone on to glory a few years ago, a victim of alzheimers. his son and wife with their young daughter had returned to the ranch to help care for it and him. then his son was taken by a drunk driver. now his daughter in law and grand daughter depended on him to keep the ranch producing.
the clouds dropped lower rolling along the ground. snow fell and when it reached eye level melted then froze. the wind was swirling, pelting him and his horse jed with stinging ice . that morning at the breakfast table , with the little emerson radio siting in the kitchen window sill broadcasting the the weather and cowboy music he prepared for a cold miserable ride. a thick wild rag wrapped around twice on his neck, a carhardt coat that was water proof went on over his denim vest. thermal socks on his feet that were stuffed into his tony llama boots. fleece lined gloves would protect his hands. his thermal underwear protected his legs under the heavy bull hide chaps. but this wasnt enough as he turned jed toward the house 8 miles away over rough country.
as he rode on, the wind at his back, a song that the radio was playing as he ate his breakfast, kept running through his mind. LIKE DESPERADOS WAITTING FOR A TRAIN kep playing through his mind. the ice started to build up on his carhardt coat. he thought of the lines of the song, telling of old men playing dominos, waitting for that last train ride. like desperados waitting for a train. tabaco stains dripped down the old mens chins while dressed to go away, like desperados waitting for a train. jed marched on toward home. the ice was building up on his tapaderos and chaps, when he moved it crackled. his old friend roy who had died a year ago was standing at the station window watching out into the dark, like desperados waitting for a train. icecicles hung from the old mans moustach, as he looked down the ridge toward the far away lights of the ranch. there would be a warm fire there, a hot meal, and a warm, soft bed there. on jed trudged. the wind howling the words of the song, like desperados waitting for a train.
at last jed carried him into the hall way of the barn. it was still cold but the frozen fingers of the wind ceased to torture him. realizing his where abouts the old man slowley raised his head, the ice breaking off in little glittering crystals and falling to the ground as he dismounted. a bench stood along the tack room wall and he backed to it and sat down heavily. a sigh escaped his lips as he lay his head back and closed his eyes. roy stood there by the window looking out the window into the night. like desperados waittin for a train. slowley roy turned his head and looked at him then said come on jack that son of a bitch is commin. jack reached out to roy but the voice he heard and the pull on his arm was that of his grand daughter.
come pappa, momma is waitting supper she said. when jack opened his eyes he say that jed was in his stall eating, his saddle on the rack and the dark haired 14 year old was smilling at him.
come on pop, she was smilling but around her eyes was a glimmer of fear. she pulled on his arm and he heaved to his feet. unbuckling his chaps and hung them on a nail. with his arm around the dark haired girl they started to the house. looking up the moon shined through the clouds and he though; not this time roy, ime not ready to ride that train yeet.
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