A Cowboy Discovers The Meaning of Life

The cold, a steed, a sheriff, a six-shooter, and a ukulele.

The pre-dawn desert freeze bit his bones. The sun would eventually be upon him and his mount, but that was hours away yet. For now, they were colder than hell.

He secured his rifle holster to his saddle. It once belonged to his grandfather. Not even the cold could harden its supple feel. 

He mounted to the sound of spurs clanging. Loose reins in his left hand moved him there. 

Where am I going today? he asked himself. 

As morning rose, he began to feel sunrise on the back of his neck, which meant they were headed west. That suited him fine. They would be warmed by the setting sun later that day. 

In the far distance, a figure stood motionless with a metal glint that could only be a law badge.

“What can I do you for?” the sheriff asked. 

“Nothing, Sir, I reckon I’m just walking.” 

“What’s your name, son?” 

“Cowboy.” 

“Just Cowboy?” the sheriff wondered. “Well . . . Cowboy, where are you headed?”

“Don’t reckon I know. Just wandering.” 

“Is that so?” 

“That’s a beautiful steed you have,” the sheriff said. 

“Much obliged. He was my dad’s before he passed.” Everything stayed in the family. 

The sheriff thought quietly.

“Can you shoot?” he asked. “I see your rifle there.” 

“I can hit a jackrabbit from a distance if that’s what you mean,” Cowboy replied.

“Watch,” said the sheriff. 

In a flash, the sheriff un-holstered his six-shooter, cocked the hammer, fired, and sent wildly into the air an empty turtle shell no closer than 30 yards away. He reholstered before the shell returned to Earth. 

“Now that’s shootin’,” said Cowboy excitedly. 

They hushed. 

“Can you play?” asked the sheriff. 

“Oh this,” said Cowboy. 

“That’s quite a ukulele,” said the sheriff. “I’d be obliged if you played me a song. Gets awfully quiet around here.” 

Cowboy took the instrument from his shoulder and began to play. Brother Can You Spare A Dime? 

“You should be mighty proud, Cowboy. You done right by that song. I’m in your debt.”

“Not at all.” 

“Say, how often do you play? 

“Almost never, Sheriff. That ukulele plum sits on my shoulder.” 

“Well, what do you do when you dismount? Do you play yourself to sleep? Music warms the soul as good as any fire.” 

“No, Sir. I just sleep with it on my side so it don’t get broke.” 

“I see,” the sheriff said.

“Tell me, Cowboy,” he added. “When do you play?”

“Only when someone asks,” Cowboy said quietly. 

“Tell me one more thing, Cowboy.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Why are you out here? What do you mean to find?” 

“The meaning of life,” Cowboy answered. “Like everyone else.” 

“You’re a damn fool, Cowboy,” the sheriff said. “A damn fool.” 

There was no offense in his tone. 

“How do you figure, Sheriff?” 

“The meaning of life is right there in that ukulele. Life is the sound between the notes.” 

Photo by Taylor Brandon on Unsplash.

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