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Boy you think you know a guy. You spend all day riding the trail with him, trying to keep him from going down the wrong path, keeping him on the move day in and day out all day every day, and what kinda thanks does that get ya? A couple of green apples and a stall out behind the most economically-priced hotel in town. After what I just went through you’d think he’d get me a massage and a nice, cool trough of apple pudding, too.
I shouldn’t complain as much as I do. Brisco’s a really great guy, and he gets me in ways no other owner has. We’ve got a pretty good life rescuing damsels in distress, racing speeding trains, trying to keep the old west as fair and free as we can. And sometimes, when I have to outrace a bad guy, or keep Brisco from drowning in a little hot water, well, that’s when I get to save the day. Me, good old Comet. And then I have to keep everything from going to total horse pucky.
And most of the time it works out perfectly without either of us having to think twice about it. We just operate, moving in perfect, natural harmony together. Brisco calls it synchronicity and gives me all of the credit. He’s kind of awesome that way.
He hasn’t always been so smooth and macho. Don’t let that stubble fool you - the first time I saw him, when I was a little wet-behind-the-snout colt fresh out of my mamma’s paddock, he was only a couple of heads taller than me himself. You see, my first owner took me to a county fair to show me off for sale, and I found myself jumping barrels in an auction ring – quite an undignified display for a worldly little colt like me. That was where Brisco’s daddy spotted me, and I guess he must’ve seen something in me that nobody else did. He brought the kid by my stall the next day and set about acquainting us.
The kid was shy at first, can you can believe that? I was his first horse ever, and at the tender age of nine he’d never ridden solo on a pony’s back before. Well, I’d never been saddle broke. When he was plunked onto my back I plumb near trotted us out to the Pacific Ocean before Brisco’s daddy caught up with us. You can imagine the struggle that went on in ye olde County house that year. There wasn’t a creature that was getting ridden in that place, let me tell you. But Brisco, now even then he was a determined little fella. He got some sweet grass and a little bit of apple and well, before either of us knew it he found a rope and trained me to walk right beside him. The rest of it was all about learning how to speak to each other, and once we had that figured out we were unstoppable.
Can’t say I’ve strayed too far from his side since.
That’s not to say the road’s been easy. Any kid as green as he was is bound to make his share of mistakes, so we kept on learning together. I bucked him a few times, and he’s cussed me out a few more, but in the end it’s always been the two of us riding this big, old dusty range together. Yep, just like I told you – smooth and easy - righting wrongs and saving the downtrodden. I probably would have run away and gotten myself into a heap of trouble, if I hadn’t ended up with those fine County folk.
This is how lucky I am, and how fine a fella Brisco is – sometimes he takes me by my mamma’s place whenever we’re back in town. How many guys would go that far for a friend? I wager most wouldn’t. That’s the sorta stuff that makes him so special – and why he says I don’t think I know I’m a horse.
But even with a fine friend like Brisco it’s not easy being me. Think about riding forty miles down a dusty trail, riding while the sun is high in the sky, just to make sure we get out of town and end up on the high prairie for hours, chasing the sunset til we have to chase the sunrise – that’s my life most days. Like I said, I get fed and watered right, so it’s no big deal. Some horses ain’t made for sterner stuff like this – and to be honest I wish I was one of them.
But I can still run faster than a lightning strike, and I’m more dependable than the nine o’clock to Saint Louis. I was built for speed, and I was built to be a companion. I guess it’s in my blood.
Speaking of my blood, I guess I’m getting to the age where a stallion ought to settle down. Though the whole settling thing ain’t my choice either way; talk to the fella in the hat if you want the big scoop on that. As for romance, well – I’ve flirted with my share of fillies, but I suppose I ain’t found the right one yet. I guess you could say I’m looking for my own Dixie Cousins, some sweet, smart gal who knows her way around a track who doesn’t mind a fella who’s got a few miles on him.
There is this cute little Palomino over in El Passo who’s waiting for me right now. But my first loyalty’s to my friend, and she understands.
As for what he and I talk about during those long trips through the desert, well – if you can imagine. We talk about the case, and his life with Dixie; we talk about my lady friends. We talk about Bowler and Socrates and even Pete Hutter. We gossip and kid like a couple of brothers ought to. We run wild, he and I, as if we were born together.
A lot of me feels as if we really were. A lot of me acts like we were. And so I’m cool with pretending we’ve always been like this, and there’s no effort involved in keeping us together. But I know one day he’s gonna settle down. That Miss Dixie’s a mighty nice temptation, after all. They’ll probably get married, and he’ll practice the law he’s always tried to avoid practicing. Then he’ll have a mess of kids and buy a big house, and he’ll put me to stud. Maybe he’ll ride me every once in awhile. Maybe he’ll still bring me green apples every Sunday. But it won’t be the same as it is now.
Maybe when that time comes I’ll be ready for this change I see coming on us like a big storm. Maybe I’ll want to settle down with a pretty filly of my own. Have a couple of colts and help Brisco keep watch over his own.
But for now, he and I’ll be side-by-side, keeping the law and bringing peace to the whole wide world. Til death do us part.