It's In My Blood

He eased his tired body into his easy chair. Quietly sippin' his coffee and reminiscing about his past. He was young and strong, his hair was dark and shinny but today it was cotton puff white. Back then he was young and able and today he's old tired and unable. He remembered the day he took the oath and the bright brass star was pined to his vest and he swore no matter what he would always do his best. Through the years he was steadfast and strong but to day he is retired and wonders if it was worth it all.
In someways it had robed him of a wife and family life. There were no grandchildren to sit or bounce upon his knee. No little ears t hear his tales of stagecoach hold ups or the pony express. No one cared for his first hand accounts of the Dalton's, Younger's, Billy the Kid or the James Brothers. No lad to tell of Wyatt Earp or Pat Garrett. What was he to do now with the rest of his life? Do a little fishing? Maybe do a little traveling? There were places he wanted to see. Read a book or two? And then it hit him! He'd write his memoirs in letters for his nieces and nephews who lived so far away. Why they might read it to their children and then there were the children of his ole saddle pards. Softly to the empty room ;"I could tell some stories on them ole boy's too."
Well the letters turned into a book and he's been gone a long, long time. We ride the range together chasing after those wild west days that with out him, I would have never have knowen. I am so glad that he sent the letters to my Dad because it's the only way I had of knowing what he was like and the life of a frontier lawman. Quietly I stand up and lay down the book and I have to smile to myself as I pick up my badge and gun. You see I come from a long line of lawmen and I guess you could even say it is in my blood.