Journal Entry 1 An Empty Cot in the Bunkhouse

The Old Trail Boss

Trail Bosses Journal Trail Date February 13th, 1887. Location. Somewhere on the trail. Dear Journal. Well, there's one empty cot in the bunkhouse tonight. Charlie’s gone to be with the Lord - one day he was here and the next day he was gone. Kind of strange, really. Somehow I thought he would live forever. Charlie was here when I signed on at the Triple Cross. Back then, they called him the old man, and to this day, he still called me son. He was a cowboy's cowboy. I mean, a top hand who never had the need to show it. The new hands who hired hired on would sometimes shake their heads and say, Hey, Grandpa, what do you do here? Well, a few days after watching him work with the sure gentle grace, they were seeking him out for teaching. Charlie’s countenance came from his relationship with the Lord. And he made no bones about letting you know that. if he wasn’t a whistling or singing “and he walks with me and talks with me” when he topped off an outlaw bronc, he’d tell you, I can do all things to Christ Jesus who strengthens me. Now, Charlie, like most of us, wasn't seen much on Sundays in churches there in town. But early in the morning, as the sun peeked over the horizon, you could see him off in the distance, sitting on his horse, bible in hand and head bowed. He'd tell you, I'm a whole lot closer to the Lord in the saddle than in a pew. Tonight. There's one empty car in the bunkhouse, but there's no sadness here. All there is is a reminder of what a real cowboy looks like. The boys are all talking about his skills with the horse, his artistry with the rope, and the way he handled cattle. And yet, when they finished, Sleepy Kid, the Wrangler summed it all up when he said, And you should hear him pray.

So you think you're a real cowboy? God knows.