C. M. Russell Poetry Contest Winner, 2005
 

 Obligations

One cowboy’s head was hangin’ as the other crouched ‘round.
There in a washout was their pard there on the ground.
His horse was just a standin’ with a question in ‘is eyes.
The cowboys starin’ at their friend, just simply wonderin’ why.

One cowboy looked around a bit to try and find the cause.
The dog holes scattered across the ground, they simply gave ‘im pause.
The air was mighty quiet on that bright and sunny day.
The cowboys just a starin’ with out a single word to say.

This cowboy never took a bride, Square Butte he called his home.
But most he worked the cattle, wherever they would roam.
To most he was a gentle man with decency and pride.
Through the snow, mud and dust he’d be ridin’ at your side.

They didn’t know where he was born, some say up off the breaks.
As they laid the rocks upon ‘im it was more then they could take.
Not a stick of wood for miles ‘round or a plank to carve ‘is name.
They just made a cross from sage brush that was scattered ‘cross the plains.

One mustered up a simple prayer that he learnt when he was young.
The other told a story of the good times and the fun.
Now their friend had paid the fiddler, a mistake that cost ‘is life.
Just two ol’ friends form years gone past, just a standin’ by ‘is side.

As they walked away in silence, ‘is horse stared ‘em in the eyes.
The last of ‘is belongin’s was a horse he loved with pride.
A cowboy reached to stroke the pony’s neck, the horse stood nice and calm.
But when the cowboys looked upon that horse, there was somethin’ surely wrong.

The horse’s leg was broken and the pain began again.
See this horse was that dead cowboy’s dear ol’ faithful friend.
The cowboys stood in disbelief and could hardly stand pain.
But they had an obligation they must carry out again.

The shot rang out like lightnin’, the horse could never have been saved.
Now that horse lies by a cowboy in an unmarked cold stone grave.
The cowboys rode away in silence, a day they never will forget.
The day that life was gambled and the fiddler won the bet.


Michael Whitaker
October 3, 2005
 

"Partners" by Charles M. Russell

         
      "Paying The Fiddler "
            by Charles M. Russell        

I live in the foothills of the Cascade Mountain Range which is located in the State of Washington. I have written in one form or another all of my adult life. I enjoy exploring the life styles and the history of people from many lands. How the land forms the methods in which people work and play. My exploring has brought me to write many poems about the State of Montana. The land, people and the history of Montana are simply fascinating. I have many friends in Montana and I have made so many trips there through the years, I feel as though I could call this land my own. The Flat Willow, Stanford, Grass Range, the Judith, Square Butte, and of course old Charlie Russell, are just a few places and people that has filled a portion of this heart of mine. It is so simple to see how Charlie Russell was inspired. The Montana landscape can absorb you, and the people of this land can inspire you in a way that is simply hard to describe. Charlie Russell had a sense of Montana; a way of life that is capture in his paintings. Although he was born a century before I, the land and the people of Montana have change very little.

I have also published a book called The Gathering with Janice Coggin who is the editor of Cowboy Miner Productions. The book is getting a great response. When I first had thoughts of putting a book together, the last thing on my mind was the title. Through the process of the book, I found myself gathering photos, poems, ideas and old stories from my family and friends. During the same time period of gathering such things I was busy heading off to one gathering after another. The Gatherings were full of folks that just finished a long ride, a steak dinner and now were settled in around the campfire to listen to me recite cowboy poetry under the bright summer stars. It really didn't take a long time for the title The Gathering to sink in. Seems I've been gathering all my life.

         For further information contact me by email or check out my web site:
                                       http://www.windyword.com/index.htm

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