Chapter 1

Well, not exactly. I tried to be a cowhand on my father's ranch in Central Texas, but it wasn't an astonishing feat. We had dozens of cowhands and in that matter I was only one of many, though I was the only one related to the owner.

It gave me a sort of odd relationship with my father. He'd always been daddy before, but now he was the owner and he insisted I call him Mr. Johnson during the workday. It made me view him as sort of a dandy who liked to puff up his own importance. You see I knew a little about my dear old Dad.

He'd come by the ranch the easy way. He'd bought it. His father had money and after the war land, farms, and ranches were cheap.

It was a nice big ranch though. Two thousand acres in Central Texas and most all of it fine grassland. We raised mostly longhorn crosses. We bought better beef breeds in cows and used Longhorn bulls to make them get along better on the range. They brought good money when we drove them to sell, but they didn't bring top dollar unless there was a shortage.

My birthday was about the only time Dad treated me like a son, but he'd sometimes get a little clingy about then and he always furnished nice presents for the occasion. He was like that with my twin sisters too.

This year he did me up right again. He gave me a three-year-old sorrel stallion he claimed was an own son of Steeldust. He didn't stop there though. He'd commissioned a custom made saddle and it was unique since the leather was finished rough out. It also came with a rough out saddle scabbard containing a brand new Henry repeater. There was a gun belt to match and it had two converted Walker Colts, which would fire the same 44 rim fire cartridges the Henrys used.

Like all Steeldust horses, Red, had early speed and plenty of it. He was the fastest thing around for the first quarter mile and usually for the first half mile, though I never really raced him that far. I was as proud as a peacock with my new horse and things and I rode him every day and also took a little time out every other day to practice with my Henry or my Colts.

Of course my mother had loaded me down with gifts too. I had new clothes, new boots, two new hats and numerous other such things. My mother was the affectionate parent and she doted on me. I found out it was a very good thing not two months after my sixteenth birthday.

My dad was fucking around with some of the rough stock and didn't pay enough attention. One of the bulls gored his horse and sent him to the ground where he did a number on my Dad too. By the time they sent to the house for a buggy, loaded him in it and got him home the doctor, such as he was, was at a loss. He dosed dad up good with laudanum to ease his pain and I'm guessing he gave him a little too much.

Of course Dad was awfully broken up outside and apparently inside too. He didn't last three days and suddenly there was a lot to take care of. The preacher was called and a funeral arranged after the undertaker took care of the body. We buried Dad in a little cemetery we had out at the place and there was a lot of crying, slinging snot, and carrying on for a few days.

The reading of the will came three days later and everything was left to my mother and me. It was the normal thing to do since it made sure the land and property stayed in the family and left no advantage for low lifes to take up with my mother. It did leave an out for one particular low life though, as in me.