The Cowboy's Call

Chapter 1

The chilling wind bit through the dead leaves on a lonely tree. Golden grass shivered at the biting cold. Not a soul stirred across the prairie. Far across the endless sea, one horse could be heard whinnying to the soulless land. The frightened sigh of the land heralded the beginning of another winter.

Stretching like a dark blotch over the golden fields, green woods met the prairie in its onward wave. The cold dark depths of its sunless realm felt no biting wind nor did it feel the heat of the burning sun.

The land withered beneath the cold, unrelenting hand of winter. Soon the snow would come killing the last greenery of summer. Amid the cold, deserted land, one solitary form moved across the windswept plains. A horse and rider leaned forward into the angry swell of the current of air. Old, dusty chaps clung to his legs, outlining them against the painted sides of his stallion. A black coat fell roundly upon his shoulders enfolding him in its woolen embrace. His hat was pulled down well over his head, shielding his face from the oncoming storm. The black hat had seen far too many winters and now it wilted over his head, tattered and worn.

Across the prairie, he traveled. Not a sound but the howling of the wind could be heard. His horse's mane fell low over its dark grey eyes. Its bones jutted from beneath its rough coat. Its shoes had long ago fallen into disrepair from the miles of unforgiving terrain they had already traversed. With each step, his eyes glazed over until the ground melted away into the shimmering sunset.

The cowboy's body rocked with the movement of his horse as he held the reigns loosely in his gloved hands. Crossing over a hill, they stood above a valley, small and surrounded by trees on every side but for the one they themselves watched from as the sun finally slid behind the world, winking one last goodbye. In the light of the moon, the valley below them began to spark. Calm yellow dots arose from the darkness, lighting up the haunting forms of the small wooden buildings creating the minuscule town hidden deep in the heart of the wild lands of Montana.

The cowboy urged his horse on down the rocky hillside and they entered the town just as the jaunty tunes of the tavern began to fill the streets with their loud and boisterous music. His face was illuminated in the darting glances of the flickering street lights. His once handsome face had been carved by the years of hardship and the jutting lines revealed pale blue eyes, a long nose, and a pair of thin lips pressed tightly together. A scar across his forehead tore through his left eyebrow leaving it partially gone. The days of hard work out in the sun had hardened his skin into a leathery brown.

He dismounted his horse in front of a ragged building touched by the hand of time and the unforgiving weather of Montana. An old sign hung wearily upon its weather-beaten face. Barely discernable against the aging wood was a fading coat of paint signifying the word, hotel. Nearby, a boy loitered beside one of the many hitching posts lining the one road leading through the town. In a gravelly voice, the cowboy called out to the young vagrant.

The boy lifted tired grey eyes to the man and met his steely gaze. "Yes, sir," he answered, slowly pushing himself up from his perch beside the wooden trunk he had taken residence by. He was a boy no more than fifteen years old, but he walked with a confident lope. As he stood face to face with the older cowboy, his hands fell upon his slight hips and an assured grin fell across his face. "What can I do for you?"

"Take my horse to the stables." He handed the reins of the tired stallion to the young man and reaching into his pocket he retrieved a coin, dropping it into the boy's outstretched hand.

"Yes, sir," he tipped his hat to the cowboy and rushed off, the docile horse following behind him. The cowboy watched as the boy disappeared into a large stable peaking out from behind the row of buildings. With a weary step, he mounted the rickety stairs leading to the door of the hotel.

As he strode into a small corridor, a bell rung out, a whining, metallic noise. A woven rug adorned the old, wooden floorboards running the length of the hall. The walls traced the sides, unchanged from their natural state. Except for a small table carrying a  candle that sent a dreary light upon the scene the cowboy had just entered, the hall was empty.

He trod the length of the dilapidated carpet, and crossed the threshold of the second door into a much larger room. Here, the light blazed with a quiet fury. Across the walls were hung candles, held in glittering gold candelabra. A sturdy wooden counter stood front and center. Behind it, a man sat. A long, white beard hung low across his chest and his face held the tell-tale signs of a long life.

As the cowboy approached, the man arose from his seated position and a weary smile shone across his face. He was a long, lanky man. "What can I do for you, cowboy?" He questioned.

"I need a room."

"Of course," He had a clean-cut drawl that lasted for a few seconds before petering off into silence. "We are near empty here-abouts, so you have your pick of rooms."

"I'll take your cheapest room."

"That would be twenty five cents per night."

The cowboy nodded and silently tossed a coin onto the counter. The man smiled, and removing a key from the wall behind him, motioned for him to follow. The jingling of the cowboy's spurs followed them down another passageway and up a clean, but rather old set of stairs.

It was in front of the first door alcoved into the  hall at which the man stopped. He pulled a candle from a indentation in the wall before sliding the key easily into the hole. A click sounded from the sliding mechanism, and he pushed the door open, revealing a small, but quaint, well-kept room. A bed graced a good amount of it as well as a small, clean white wash-basin in one corner and some drawers alongside the wall.

"The outhouse is in the back if you should need it. Anything else, me and the misses would happy to supply you with." He placed the flickering light and the key into the gloved hand of the stranger before tipping his hat and retreating back down the stairs.

Pushing the door closed behind him, the cowboy let his weary body fall to the soft feather bed. A starless night peaked in upon him through the shadeless window. The sounds of rowdy excitement below was dim but still could be heard across the windless prairie.

He pulled a book from the inside of his coat and placed it tenderly upon the dresser. With a wisp of a breath, he watched the flame from the candle flicker and die leaving him in complete darkness.

He had travelled long that day and his wearied bones cried out for a rest from his travels. He wondered for only a moment if perhaps someday he might have a fire of his own that he could stare into and watch as the memories of  his past faded into the flames, but his mind was too exhausted for the questions that wracked his ever-wondering head.

So, to the world he bid goodnight, before his eyelids dropped low across his eyes, leaving the world far behind his tired soul.