Baxter Black

This is my wife. She does the books.
I do the important stuff,
Like mend the fence and check the cows.
She makes sure the income’s enough

Talk about takin’ a beating.

I stood on the porch at Dale’s horse farm and soaked up the view. It was deep springtime in west Tennessee. The grass was so green it hurt your eyes.

It’s funny how the world goes around. Francisco and I were checking cows, making a big circle early in the morning to beat the heat. It’s peaceful out there.

Let’s put in a good word for the feedlot cowboy. That group of fellers who meet every mornin’ early at the horse barn, saddle up, get their instructions and ride off down the alley.

It was a fairly nice day for Cut Bank in early April. A little breeze blowin’ off the reservation, the sun about the color of skimmed milk and the creek startin’ to show the runoff.

To supplement farm income, some get their wives jobs in town. Others expand their hobbies (i.e., making saddles, braiding horsehair or running for county commissioner). Some, in desperation, get a real estate license.