#5 An Icon...

It is not everyday that you meet an icon... and here I was meeting one. Before me stood a 100%, red-blooded, American cowboy. 

I wasn't impressed.

Little did I know, that five years from now we would be a couple, but for now I thought he was a jerk.

A charming jerk.


He was not a tall man but his compact body was well muscled. Dark haired with brown eyes which once in a while... twinkled. He sported a large moustache... a cowboy tradition which was thick, full and waxed into large curls on each cheek.

His dark hair had once been black but now was streaked with grey. An ancient grey felt hat banded by a dark band of dried sweat capped his head. He looked authentic, an icon of the west and steeped in ranch wisdom and horse lore. 

He pulled out a bit of tobacco, placing it in his cheek. He sucked on it for a moment and then went about doing corral chores. Every few moments he spat... a dark stream of spittle. 

I was intrigued. I was in awe. I was thoroughly disgusted.

He cleaned up well and in the evenings he tended the ranch bar where his cowboy charm was legendary. Old ladies loved him, young girls idolized him, city folk thought him one of a kind. I didn't quite know what to make of him.

Next day we rode together, just the two of us. Few guests were on the ranch at that time so my first rides were very private. My mount was the semi-clean white horse of the day before and no more cleaner today.

The desert was spectacular, it was a world unto itself. I'd never seen such a place. It spoke to me, to some inner soul that I didn't know existed. This land of sharp contrasts, of needles and spikes, of snakes and wild things... this land took hold of my heart and never let go.

My little horse picked a sure footed way along trails which climbed high into the Tucson mountains. All signs of civilization disappeared. The only sounds became the steady plopping of hooves on hardened earth. Finally reaching the crest of a small foothill, we gazed down upon the city of Tucson. The view took my breath away. 

Bird songs serenaded us from a narrow arroyo below, a pack of coyotes sang too. I was re-living every western I'd ever seen. It was a moment that was both an ending and a new beginning... a moment that became life changing... 

My first visit to this desert wonderland had left me imprinted... imprinted with an icon of a man and a land like no other, and like all things imprinted, I was to be tied forever to this place.