Freedom An’ Whisky

By Nikolyn Williams

There have been plenty of times over the past 30 some odd years when I have questioned, screamed, yelled, and yes, even thrown rocks and dented what was a brand-new pickup, new to us anyway. Most of us that live this life without much other income sources never seem to have brand new anything. Once you figure all this out, “the life” never seems to be about the things you accumulate, it is always about the things that touch your heart. That my friends is how these cowboys trap their wives into staying for a lifetime, and consequently over time, become immune to danger. Women are typically creatures of the heart and every cowboy I have ever met knows it.


It started raining again. In fact we got four inches in one night; however, we failed to get a pick-up out to the blacktop road. We live on four miles of dirt, not really much better than a turn row road. These kinds of rains send us back in time a century or so, and Woodrow, the cowboy I have been married to for 34 years, is in hog heaven when he has to saddle two horses so we can ride to the road in a borrowed pick-up someone loaned us and pack “provisions” back in here.

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