Thoughts of a Western Man  

We found this old picture (above) going through some pictures at the Stonewall house. This is my Dad, Bob Cathey, probably in the mid to late 1930s, 

…A tribute to the American Cowboy…Myth or Reality? 

The American cowboy’s humble beginnings started in the cow-rich grasslands of Texas after the Civil War, or the War of Northern Aggression as it is often labeled here in the South. True enough, predecessors of the American cowboy date back to colonial times, yet these early farm lads never became heroes.

In fact, they were undistinguished, illiterate, and unmounted herders trailing their beasts to market. Texas joined the Confederacy in 1861 just 16 years after being annexed by the United States.

The decision to join the Confederacy came as a result of a disagreement over states’ rights, tariffs, and slavery issues. The war effort spirited men, young and old, from the farms and ranches of this newly formed state, Texas.

Here untended cattle roamed and multiplied resulting in vast herds of wild and unclaimed beasts.

In 1866, at wars end, men came home, but often found no home. Cattle were plentiful, but worth nothing.

Then northern markets began to demand beef and the price made it lucrative to supply that beef. Herds were gathered and moved north to the railheads in massive trail drives. Routes such as the Chisholm Trail were developed to feed a growing demand for beef.

Thus, the western cowboy was born, a mythological symbol of the American West. They developed the reputation of being tall in the saddle, a loner, facing danger with a quiet strength.

Dangers such as the elements of nature, wild beasts, outlaws, or Indians tested the grit and faith of this hardy pioneer. They relied on abilities to survive that were learned through the school of “Hard Knocks.” Many came from families that looked to God for His provision and His strength.

As a result, those that survived exhibited resilience and a deep underlying strength that portrayed their character.

The same strength displayed by The Virginian when he softly and quietly advised Trampas, “When you call me that…Smile!” 

This passage was in Owen Wister’s early novel The Virginian. For twenty plus years those characteristics appealed to people and made the cowboy a folk hero.

And today, having been glorified in numerous novels and motion pictures, the American cowboy cannot be separated from myth and reality. He still uses a horse to do his job and still wears the practical garb of the cowboy. He has a love for children, nature, and dogs. He is usually tongue-tied around women, but will probably kiss his horse.

And then, he quietly rides off  into the sunset.

Thoughts of a Western Man  

The call to “roll out” comes early

when the sun is froze to its bed.

Then you kick out of yore soogans,

an’ park yore hat atop yore head.

You stumble ‘crost  gear, in the dark,

use words that are better unsaid,

as you search  fer yore icy  boots.

Puttin’ them on is somethin’ you dread!

Dang it!

You slept in long johns an’ britches,

to help keep you warm through the night.

So now you stoke that stubborn fire,

‘til it is shore ‘nuff  burnin’ bright.

The button had crawled from his roll,

jawin’ an’ frettin’ about his plight.

Pore kid!

Throws his saddle on the night hoss

while he pranced an’ circled an’ shied.

Now he’d wrangle in the ponies,

fer the fellers to ketch an’ ride

They’ll shore be rank this cold mornin’

but the boys will take it in stride.

Tough fellers!

Set the coffeepot on the fire,

then go take care of nature’s call.

Wow! Them stars are jest a-shinin’

an’ you hear a night hunter squall.

 The boys musta smelled that coffee

‘cuz outta their soogans they crawl

 Gotta do it!

Dang, that coffee will shore be good

with beans an’ biscuits fer our chow.

That grub will help us through the day

‘cuz we’ll be a while, I’d allow,

chasin’ them wild ‘uns in that brush.

But we’ll get ‘er done somehow.

I reackon!

We’re all coffeed, fed, an’ mounted,

as we wait fer the break-o-day.

The cow boss scatters the riders,

An’ we each head out on our way.

Yeah, its cold, but we’ll do our job,

tho, we know we work for short pay.

Why do we?

The beauty of the day unfolds,

bringin’ to mind the poems of the bard.

Tho we know we’ll face a tough test,

an’ this day’s work will be dang hard.

We shore love this life that we live,

An’ quietly give thanks to our Lord!

I Thank ye Lord!

© Ol’ Jim Cathey 

God Bless  our American cowboy and God Bless America!