The Cowboy

A short story

Perhaps all of us American men have something of the cowboy in us.  We might trade stocks on Wall Street or research molecular biology in a large lab at Harvard University, but the American male is still happiest when he’s alone in nature.   At least that’s what I’ve heard a scholar argue. Campfires are the preferred light for us at night.   Hell, catch us alone at the campfire and you might just hear us blowing on a harmonica to keep the coyotes at bay.

Tom Fillmore could sense something new and old stirring in his bones. Those bones had been around for about thirty-five years now. He was a typical gay guy living the dream in San Francisco, California.  He went to the gym three or four days a week and stood in line at Tartine on Sunday mornings for his favorite banana bread.  Then he’d go shopping furniture or luxury bedding at Crate and Barrel.  In the evenings he had his after-sex talks with his best girlfriend Audrey.  He had a great paying job without working too hard.  Life was good. And something . . . something was stirring.

In the summers, he and his girlfriend loved to road trip.  They had been all around California:  Yosemite, Santa Inez, the Russian River.   On a recent trip, they went to Ashland, Oregon for Shakespeare after hiking Mount Shasta and camping at Lassen Volcanic National Park.  But they were ready for a bigger trip.  They decided on Yellowstone.  He secretly packed his harmonica.

They would spend the first night in Reno eating fish stew at the Golden Nugget.  That was planned.  One cannot go through Reno, Nevada without stopping at the Oyster Bar Restaurant at the Golden Nugget Casino, his girlfriend insisted.    She recommended the Lazy Man’s Cioppino, a white wine and garlic tomato based stew with haddock, shrimp, and crab.  They both had the Bouillabaisse instead.  

Tom and Audrey were several hours into the drive the next day after stew night in Reno when they noticed some kind of rodeo going on next to the freeway. There must have been a hundred horse trailers in the parking lot.  Neither said anything as Tom blinkered right and pulled off at the next exit.  He drove around until they found the arena and parked the car. It turned out they were in Winnemucca, Nevada.  They walked up in to the stands pretending they were the family of some local roper. Being dressed in shorts didn’t help.  It wasn’t until an hour later they discovered there was a seat in the shade.  These were men in hats on horses. 

The truth is that Tom had grown up with cowboys.  He had just forgotten about them.  He now drove an electric car and paid taxes.  But he was remembering.

He’d been on a horse a fair bit in his youth, and he had cousins who went straight home after school to take care of their horses and other ranch animals.  The Ranchhand Rodeo in Winnemucca made him wonder if he’d been overlooking a thing or two.  Audrey wanted to meet up with the cowboys at the bar that night.  They found out that you never ask a cowboy the size of his spread.  And to not squat with your spurs on.

 The next night in Salt Lake City Audrey agreed to accompany Tom to a gay bar on the west side of downtown for “at least an hour.”   It was a peaceful late August evening in Salt Lake.  There had been a thunderstorm that afternoon and just enough clouds were kicking around to play with the sun in a pretty way.     After the one hour Tom found himself at the outside bar talking to the bartender in a tender fashion.   Everything came to a standstill when a cowboy from Duchesne, Utah walked in.  This cowboy—his name was Rob-- he walked up to the bar next and in a low voice that sounded as familiar as a family barbecue in the backyard said, “I’ll have what he’s having.”  The cowboy's boots showed shine on top but still had some of the real stuff caked on the sides.

“On the Range” art print by Jonathan Rice

It surprised Tom how quickly he and Rob fell into an easy banter about anything really. Rob talked in a western drawl that was threatening to bring back Tom’s own. Could he actually be in to a cowboy?  Nah.  He was just enjoying himself on vacation.