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Annie and the Cowboy ...
A Short Story ... by Lynn H. R. October/98'


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Annie was a high spirited girl with shining hair and hazel eyes. She lived in a large house on the edge of a vast prairie on which tumbleweeds rolled. She spent her days working her garden, clipping back her roses, and looking up at the blue sky. But at night, she would go out to the edge of the prairie, look out across it and wonder what was on the other side. Occasionally she would catch a far away glimpse of thousands of little sparks flying up to the heavens and she would wonder who made them.

Just on the other side of the prairie lived a Cowboy who spent his days riding the range, herding cattle and following the trails. But at night when the stars were out and the cattle were settled for the evening, he would punch his campfire one last time and wander to the edge of the range. He would then look across the dusty prairie and wonder what was on the other side. Occasionally when a cool westerly wind blew, he would catch the faint smell of roses, gaze out onto the prairie and wonder where the smell came from.

One night, when a full October moon was shining brightly in the eastern sky, and the Cowboy caught a breath of sweet roses floating on a westerly wind, he punched his fire once more and mounted his horse.

On this same night, Annie saw millions of dancing sparks flicker up from the horizon. Not too far from the edge of her yard and a quarter mile in the prairie lay a large outcropping of rocks. "Someday," she thought, "I'll walk out to that outcropping." ... perhaps from the rocks she could see where the sparks were coming from. But tonight, this night, she went back inside her house, closed the door, and only gazed longingly out at the dark prairie.

The cowboy began riding out into the dusty, moonlit prairie. He noticed on the horizon a large outcropping of rocks ... perhaps from the rocks he could see where the smell of roses came from. Arriving at the rocks he slid down from his horse, removed his hat and hopped up on the largest of the boulders. Off in the distance he could see a house ... a faint light illuminated one of the windows. For a moment he considered riding up the house, knocking on the door and enquiring about the roses. But this night he could hear the faint sounds of restless cattle in the distance and decided to ride back.

The next morning, while Annie was picking fresh dew-covered roses from her garden, she noticed something unusual on the horizon. There seemed to be something different about the outcropping of rocks ... they looked different to her somehow. So, she began moving towards them ... walking first, then running ... excited to see what it was that had caught her eye.

In the meantime, the cowboy had just stomped out his campfire and began looking around for his hat. Remembering that he had removed it at the rocks the evening before, he quickly mounted his horse and began riding out to the outcropping before the cattle became restless.

Annie approached the rocks and found the cowboy hat stained with dust, sweat, and ashes and resting gently on the boulders surface. Picking it up she noticed only the word "Cowboy" inscribed in the brim. She also noticed hoof marks on the dusty prairie heading west. Climbing up on the tallest rock she looked far off into the distance but saw only the rolling hills and grasses of the prairie. She longed to know the owner of this hat ... "her Cowboy" ... Who was he? What had brought him to the rocks? Did he knew his hat was here?

"Someday," she thought as she tenderly held the hat in her hands ... "Someday. I know it." She lay her handful of roses down inside the hat, placed it gently back down on the rocks and climbed down to head home.

The cowboy rode up the crest of the hill and could see, at last, his hat still resting on the rocks where he had left it. He climbed down off his horse and reached out for his hat. The strong smell of sweet roses wafted over him as his eyes fell to a handful of delicate pink, white, and peach roses tied with a white ribbon nestled inside it. Picking them up, he breathed in the sweet scents left for him by a faceless person. Climbing up on the highest rock, he looked off far to the east, across the prairie, across the dust and tumbleweeds, and saw only the faint outline of the house in the distance. "Another day," he thought, "Another day ..." And once again, he mounted his horse and rode back to the west to tend to his herd.




Cowboy/Annie
"People Exercise an unconscious selection in being influenced." T.S. Eliot

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