His tall proud and sinew body laid straight on his bedroll
under the star-studded night,
This cowboy was half Indian and half white.
They called him Breed,
He would not answer to any other name—where was no need.
His hair was black as a raven’s wing, his blue eyes
Full lips enhanced the dark stern face, a handsomer half-breed,
no one could find---this cowboy--- epitomized a true western
His mother had walked the “Trail of Tears” and his father was
a Marshal---admired by all his peers.
The cowboy never knew his dad,
This often made the dark and moody cowboy very sad.
The Cowboy drifted aimlessly from one trail job to the next,
Shunned by the Whites---ignored by the Indians---sometimes
he felt hexed.
It was on an icy winter’s night when his lucky star did shine---
when he saw his beautiful blond Clementine---but she belonged
But he was a white man---not a brother.
The Breed and Clementine had been soulmates in another
Now, what he wanted even more than breathing----was her
for his wife.
The entire town’s people crowed the walkway in front of the only
They wanted the Breed to win, so all the fighting would
The two men faced each other in the early morning light---shots
rang out---and after the smoke cleared---only the cowboy stood,
Never again was he shunned by the Whites or Indians, he was
now respected and this was good.
He and his Clementine left town the next day,
Where they went no one would say.
if one will listen closely---on the cloudless night, one will hear
lovely flute music riding the gentle breeze down the mountain side,
As the Breed plays his mother’s music for his beautiful bride.
© 2022 Barbara Purvis Hunter