The Old Man and the Cowboy

The old man took a few more hesitant steps, squinting at the surreal landscape in front of him. It had a bit of a dream, a bit of a painting – and a bit of the rather outdated scenery of an old Western. Except that it was real. Shaking his head in disbelief, he walked a couple of yards, all the time expecting to wake up from a dream.

The snort of a horse stirred his attention. Turning his head, he saw two saddled, but riderless horses standing near a couple of boulders, and next to them a cowboy, comfortably seated on a rock, chewing on a blade of grass, all clad in black.

“Howdy, oldtimer!” The cowboy flashed him a sparkling smile. “Took you quite a while to show up!”

The old man furrowed his brow as he drew closer, incredulously looking into the strangely familiar face under the black hat.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed. “It took me almost 50 years to get rid of you!”

The cowboy laughed. “And don’t you think that this was just a little your own fault, old man?”

The old man threw up his head, with an air of indignant temper that made him appear years younger. “I never gave you more than ten per cent of my art!”

“Seems to me your ten per cent was worth far more than you thought.” The cowboy rose from his seat and started untethering the horses. “Looks like we’ll be riding together for awhile. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I’d prefer a car!” The old man threw a miffed glance at the horse. A chestnut, of all possible horse’s colors. “With a chauffeur!”

“Sorry, Hoss is underway with the buckboard.”

A deep growl came from the old man’s throat as he mounted the horse without further comment, secretly wondering at how easily it came to him. He had developed one ailment or another during the last few years, but they all seemed to be miraculously gone. Making himself comfortable in the saddle, he caught a glimpse of his own legs, clad in black pants. In sudden haste, his hand probed over his head. Thank heaven, there still was the familiar feeling of soft, bare skin.

“Take your hat off!” he said.

“What?” The cowboy who had just mounted his horse crinkled his brow. “What for?”

“Don’t ask. Take it off!” He drove his horse closer to the cowboy and stretched his hand to heartily pull at the thick black hair over the younger man’s forehead.

“Ouch! What was that for?” The cowboy brushed his hair back with his fingers and put his hat back on.

“Think nothing of it.” The old man scanned the face in front of him, and it was like a look into a long gone past. He thoughtfully shook his head. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy…”

“Hamlet, act 1, scene 5.” The cowboy smiled.

An eyebrow shot up in the old man’s face. “Good. Seems you still got something from me, after all…”

“…beside your ten per cent?”

The old man’s face darkened. “It wasn’t my choice. I would have made more of you if only they would have let me.” It almost sounded like an apology.

“Yeah, I know.” The younger man nudged his horse into a light walk. “But you planted a seed that was strong enough to grow on its own.”

“So it seems…” The old man motioned his horse to keep up. “Tell me, are you still tagging along at…“ He broke off, searching for more polite words. “…living on your father’s ranch?”

“Still trailing after Pa like an overgrown boy?” came the dry retort.

“Uhm…” The older man pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but… yes. That’s what I meant!”

The younger man chuckled. “Well, actually, I’m beginning to stand my own ground just now. Follow my own heart, and live my own dream.”

“Good!” The old man nodded his head, but still shot a cantankerous look at his companion. “Took you awfully long to get there. I wasn’t that slow in my time!”

The cowboy shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well, naturally, things just run a bit slower up here.”

For awhile they rode silently, the cowboy covertly watching his companion, the old man lost in faded memories. The surreal landscape around them slowly began to diverge into two sides, one reaching out into the endless plains of nature never touched by modern times, walled by snow-clad mountains, while the other seemed to dissolve into a silvery shining. 

“One more question,” the old man finally began. “You didn’t happen to marry an Indian girl?”

The younger man laughed. “No, not quite… I got myself an Arab lady.”

“An Arab?” The thoughts began racing behind the high forehead. “Dark-skinned perhaps, very foreign, absolute unheard of in that pertinaciously xenophobic little town of yours?”

“Yah, you could say so…” The cowboy nodded his head, wondering about the sly grin on the old man’s face.

“Good!” The old man chuckled. “Hope you’ll stand your ground! And I sure hope I gave you enough of me to stick to your choices, no matter what!” 

“So that’s where I got my stubborn head from,” the cowboy quipped. “Was already wondering.”

The old man started laughing, funny sparks dancing in hazel eyes that had never grown old. The laughter reflected on the younger man’s face, the same sparks dancing in the same hazel eyes, two pairs of dimples growing in amused cheeks as they looked at each other. 

“Yes, it looks like you didn’t turn out that bad, in the end.” The old man’s eyes had warmed, his look was kind. “Not bad at all.”

“Thanks – I guess I can take that as a compliment.”

The old man chuckled, his eyes sparkled. “Indeed, you can!” He took a deep breath, his gaze wandered to the silver lining at the edge of the landscape. “I’d actually wish I could ride with you a little longer, maybe have a look at how that place looks for real, but… there is someone waiting for me.” He nodded his head. “And I’ve been waiting for this reunion for so long now…”

The cowboy had followed the look. “That’s alright, I understand.” He cocked his head. “It was a great honor to meet you.”

A fine smile played around the older man’s lips. “It was good to meet you. Good luck with your dreams, and your dark-skinned lady – and don’t let the powers that be get in your way!”

A dimple grew in the cowboy’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”

The old man who suddenly didn’t look old at all nudged his horse into a canter, his face brightening in expectation. 

The cowboy stayed back, watched horse and rider approaching the silvery shining, watched them flying over the ground and into the air, watched them becoming one with the silver light.

“I’ll do my best to make you proud, oldtimer…” he softly murmured and turned his horse to ride back into the wide plain.

And deep inside his soul, a warm baritone resounded,

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

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