The youngest cowboy has to ride what the older ones don’t and that was usually the old piebald horse with an overbite. His top lip hung out over his bottom lip and he slobbered some. All the defects on his physical body couldn’t hold a candle to the fact that he was scared of his own shadow and buggered at bugs and mudholes. Guess who had the pleasure of riding him?

I always dreaded the day when my dear Pappy would have the neighbors over to work cattle. He usually furnished horses for some of the fellers and they liked what Pap trained, so I was left to do what I could on old Pie. Of course, the boys would grin about it and some would ride up close and goose Pie just to see if I could stay in the middle.

We rode a pasture one morning to gather the old cows and separate calves for weaning. It was a cold November day and I was wishing I could have goneon to school but work always came first. My nowsainted mother smiled and gave me a cheek kiss that morning because she knew what the guys were gonna do to me. Sure enough, they did.

I got dumped before the gate to the pens closed. An old man rode up behind Pie and poked him with his quirt and he bucked hard. Pappy frowned on that and the laughter quieted down, someone caught Pie and I got the day gone without any more dumps. But it was a day of intense anxiety and watching with eagle eyes at every step we made. I was worn to a thin strip of boy when I hit the bed that night.

I have said all that to say this. Lessons of life are not one bit nice. The world is full of evil and it doesn’t matter if it is a piebald horse or the folks in Greece. We have to watch where we step and that means to keep our eyes wide open for each and every one.

We can have a nice little wad stuck under the mattress and think we can afford another tractor so we can rake with one and bale with the other. So we buy a used one, a real good one, and get rid of that lump in the bed. Then the folks in Greece go nuts and we wish we had that lump back to buy fuel for the one tractor we already had.

My banker likes me and we visit over coffee. I buy, of course. We talk about the offspring, the weather, calf crops and the preacher. We shake hands and slap each other on the back. We even sit on the same side of the church on Sundays. But you can believe me, when the economy starts bleeding, he can get tight fisted and hard as iron to squeeze a cent out of. Reminds me of old Pie. Gotta watch every step!

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, tomorrow is gonna be better, and one way to guarantee it is to prepare for the bad times by keeping some seed for that wad under the mattress. Never wipe it all out, never give up and try not to be the one who has to ride the leftover horse in the lot.

Bill is a pen name used by the Gravette author of this weekly column.

Opinion, Pages 6 on 02/08/2012