Cowboy Culture

Cartoon drawn by Reid’s cousin, Ace Reid. Caption reads, “Jake quit showing off...you’re scaring the crowd half to death!” Fitting illustration for Reid’s bronc riding days. (Photo courtesy of Clay Reid)

By Clay Reid

Years ago after I got a divorce from my practice wife, I decided I was no longer going to be a slave to a job that when I woke up every morning I dreaded going to. Brother John Gaither, a man who I knew as a very wise man, told me to find a job you love and you never have to work a day in your life. Boy was he right.

When me and my practice wife split the sheets all I was left with was a two-man dome tent and an old Chevy pickup that had seven bullet holes down the side of it (me and my buddies shot it while frog hunting, then told all the kids in town that the Indians got after us).

Well I thought at the time that was all I needed, but apparently the good Lord above must have thought different because the ex-wife repoed the truck a few weeks later and a sudden thunderstorm took care of the tent after day two.

I, however, was not to be discouraged and soon after ended up getting a lil’ bigger tent and set up camp just west of town on a buddy’s two acres.
It was there that I had decided I was going to cowboy for a living, even if it killed me. So I purchased a lil’ two-year-old filly, I called Suzy, for $700 and a saddle for $25 at Defoors Pawn Shop in Wichita Falls. What kinda saddle can you get for $25 you ask? Not much at all I can assure you. To read more pick up a copy of the August 2016 issue.