Hopalong Suit

Jeff Richards

The collector tells me
that I can get $3,000
for the Hoppy suit
that Wesley Johnson
is wearing in the photograph.

The suit belongs to me.
Wesley wears it because
Dad wants him to.
The least I can do
considering his family life.

Wesley is an only child,
his parents argue a lot.
They drink old fashions
like my parents, only more.

Jeff Richards

When we visited the Smithsonian
in our cowboy suits,
Wesley Johnson and I
turned in our six-shooters to the policeman
at the front entrance.

The policeman leaned forward, smirking,
and took the guns by the barrel.
Big Mistake, mine was cocked.
Something bad could happen.

Wesley and I wore grave expressions
as if we were real cowboys
worried that the bad thing
that could happen
would happen to us.

 

Little Dick West

Jeff Richards

What made Little Dick West go bad?
He was a homeless waif.
Rolled up his blankets under the stars.
He was a hard working cowboy
when he met Bill Doolin.
Maybe that’s what made him go bad.

Maybe he was uncomfortable in his skin.
He appears porky in his photograph.
barrel chest, fat face,
pig eyes full of cross-eyed anger,
black eyebrows,
that stretched across his forehead,
thick black beard and moustache,
hairy as Sasquatch.

 

Calamity Jane

Jeff Richards

Some might say
that Calamity Jane came
by her tough character
by tough circumstance.

Jane lost her parents
when she was ten
and cared for her siblings
in Fort Bridger, Wyoming.

She worked as a cook, dishwasher,
dance-hall girl, ox-team driver,
then signed on to General Crook
as a scout to chase the Sioux.

She came by her name when the Sioux
cornered a cavalry troop, she cantered
to the rescue of a fallen officer.

 

An Old Soldier’s Prayer

Allen Russell

Evening Lord, pardon me for calling on you so late
But, it’s Christmas Eve and I’m feeling mighty old
Nearly everybody here as gone home to be with family and friends
I’m alone in this room; it’s just too quiet, and my feet are cold

 

Those Five Cowboys

Raymond Maher

Those five cowboys shared the same bunkhouse at Crooked Creek Ranch
But each of them was one of a kind.

Sid was round and gruff and mostly moody.
The kid was thin and tall and suspiciously shy.
Jed was old and wrinkled and bent of back.
Fred was full of fun and laughter.
And Bob was slow to rise and extremely allergic to work.

 

The Legend

Mike Berger

The brunt of a thousand jokes.
With a name like Clyde Ebenezer
Hedman, the jokes flowed like the
mighty Mississippi.

He was surly and flashed his teeth
when somebody made a joke. You
could put his sense of humor in an
old tin can, shake it and it would rattle.

Taking so much heat, he stayed to
himself. If he tried to join the group
around the campfire, it would take
a couple of minutes to chase him off.

 

Six Men Dead

© 2011 (Jim Sularz)
(The true tale of Frank Eaton – "Pistol Pete")

At the headwaters of the Red Woods Branch,
near a gentle slope on a dusty trail.
On an iron gate, at the Twin Mounds cemetery,
a bouquet of dry sunflowers flail.

In a grave, still stirs, is a Father’s heart,
that beats now to avenge his death.
Six times murdered by cold blooded killers,
six men branded for a Son’s revenge ….

 

Boots of Another Me

L.P. Stribling

There they sit, right by the door,
Those boots of mine, don’t fit no more,
Fit the feet of a younger me,
A shorter shade of a younger tree.

Those boots of mine, those leather cases,
They’ve tread with me, past prior faces,
Concrete, mud, rock, snow and rain,
Tempests, breezes, joy and pain.

Those boots of mine, and all these years,
Walked me through my path of fears,
To come out smilin’ on the other end,
Gone through Hell and back again.

 

The Range Of My Home

Neal Lewing

When I signed on for this job

I didn’t know I’d be standing in the rain,

or snow up to my eyeballs.

But it’s a dry cold, right?

I thought the hours would be compatible

to developing some sort of

coherent schedule,

bunk and board provided.

I can do my own laundry,

don’t mind doin’ the windows now and then;

I can cook and clean and make beds,

(cleaning toilets is a job from hell

though I’ve done my share