So
there I was in the wilds of the high desert on a cow camp in the early
fall, riding three young horses and checking cows, water tanks and
fence. Pretty tough livin’ out here. My clothes didn’t get washed much.
My razor broke. I tried to wash up at the spring every week or two and
brushed my teeth with bakin’ soda and salt. I didn’t have a toothbrush,
of course, so I never got that tough gristle completely out. I tried to
cut my own hair. Thank goodness I didn’t have a mirror.
A
man gets lonesome sometimes. I tried not to think about it. I pondered a
lot. I had deep discussions with my dogs but they begin to doze off
when I questioned the wisdom of Napoleon invading Italy in 1796 or the
value of Latin as a second language.
While
trying to fix a hole in the baseboard to keep the pack rats out, I
pulled a board loose. There behind it where it must have dropped years
ago, was a book. It was still somewhat readable. The pages were
yellowing around the edges and water stains faded out much of the print.
It was such a surprise. Remember, you must put yourself in my position
at the time. I had not seen another human being for weeks, cell phones
didn’t work there, and there was no mail delivery. I didn’t have a
radio. Things became mundane. Your emotional graph rarely moves off
neutral unless you’re getting bucked off or snakebit. Then out of
nowhere, I found this book. I pondered if there was some profound
meaning that I, a solitary cowboy, was the one to find it. Was it just
circumstance? Would it lead me to greater knowledge and peace of mind?
Would I become famous or rich?
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