A breed apart

A breed apart

fiction
edward w pritchard

Arto was one of a very few of that rare breed of Black American cowboys back in the old West. He lived up in the Dakota's near ole Deadwood and rode and roped and slowly chased and followed herds of cows like the other cowboys. He usually was short of money like the other cowboys and sometimes like the other cowboys got real mad. Using the ole cowboy quick draw, Arto might after drinking a bit too much; put a bullet hole through a gent who had insulted him or said something against his home State of Kentucky.

Two things that Arto, the Black American cowboy didn't follow convention on was how he treated the Indians and how he treated that special girl in his life that he had left behind way back there in Kentucky.

Once in a while Arto was discriminated against a little because he was a black American cowboy. If he went far South when riding and riding he might have to high tail it North suddenly for a variety of complicated reasons back in the 1870's. Because of that discrimination he had trouble being just plain ornery with the American Indians. He admired their way of life and sometimes Arto just wanted to drift off into one of their villages before it was all gone for them, and hunt and fish and ride horses and have a daughter or two and a kind wife and sit around the fire at night and watch the stars. Sadly, as he watched how other cowboys and soldiers treated the tribes people he was glad he wasn't one of them.

Arto's other cowboy convention that he had trouble following was he kept forgetting the name of the beautiful, faithful, little woman he had left behind as he had rode off into the Western sunset back in Kentucky, headed for the wide Dakota range. Once when with a lady of the evening in Deadwood, when he was feeling melancholy, waking up on a Sunday morning after a night of revelry, Arto told that fine lady about his problem of often forgetting the girl he left back in Kentucky's name. That Deadwood lady, who was experienced in these type of matters, suggested he carry a picture of his love with her name and look at it once in a while, when riding and riding the ranges alone. Arto took that advice to heart and vowed if he ever gets back to Kentucky he plans on seeing his lost love and getting a good picture of her and having her sign her name and a nice sentiment on the back of the picture.

Arto the Black American cowboy rode the ranges of the old West just like the other cowboys until one Sunday morning he got down off his horse, feeling peculiar that day, and stopped in a town and got a job and then did the same thing over and over; and thereafter disappeared from the historical record.