By Lee Pitts

The difference between a "cowboy" and a "cattleman" is ownership. A cattleman’s poverty is measured by the number of cows he owns whereas a "wealthy cowboy," well, those two words have never been used in the same sentence before now. Being a good cowboy doesn’t really require owning much of anything, which is good because that’s exactly how much most of them have.

If a cowboy ever does accumulate capital he soon joins the ranks of the cattleman by acquiring some cows. Shortly thereafter he is back to being comfortably poor.

Despite the long odds against success I’ve yet to meet a cowboy who didn’t want to complicate his life by acquiring some stock of the four-legged variety. That’s always been a sticky point between a ranch owner and the hired help. Seldom do you find such a benevolent owner who will allow an employee to acquire a few cows and run them on his place. As a former employee myself I remember asking one of my tightwad employers if I could run a cow or two along with his herd. Please keep in mind as I share his long winded answer with you that this guy was so mean he’d shoot an old maid’s chickens. This is how my former employer justified his balky nature:

"I had a good cowboy once, Seth was his name, who was always pestering me to let him run a few cows. He complained he’d worked for me 20 years but had built up no equity and was no longer content with his level of insolvency. He wanted to be recognized as more than a cowboy and wanted a few head he could call his own."

"So you gave Seth some cows?" I asked my former boss.

"Not exactly. Seth was the best cowboy I ever had on the place, present company included. And his wife cooked the best boysenberry pie I ever ate so I sure didn’t want to lose them. So, in a weak moment I agreed that at my next branding I’d give Seth the start to his herd. Before those words were out of my mouth Seth registered his own brand and had a blacksmith shape him up a couple irons."

"Seeing how serious Seth was I had to follow through. So, at the branding I pointed to a leppy calf and told him he could slap his brand on that sorry critter if he wanted. Seth got so excited he failed to consider the fact that as the proud owner of a freshly made steer he would not be experiencing any rapid increase in the size of his herd. He was just proud to finally be able to call himself a ‘cattleman.’ Seth was so enthusiastic he slapped his brand on everything he owned, burning it into his leather hat band, his saddle and monogramming it on the cuffs of his shirts. Keep in mind that this is a guy who had been avoiding prosperity his entire life."

"A couple weeks later Seth and his horse were all decked out, looking like a walking brand book, when we went to help the neighbor work his calves.

You could imagine Seth’s shock and discomfort when he first realized the sum total of his vast cattle operation was sucking a cow belonging to my neighbor. It was not a small brand either but a brand so big you could read it at night. That pitiful creature couldn’t have stood out more if you’d have put a bell around it’s neck."

"Are you referring to Seth or the calf?" I asked.

"Now that you mention it, they were both looking a little bleak," recalled my ex-boss. "Luckily Seth spotted ‘his’ calf before my neighbor did so Seth had time to rip off his hat band, roll up his sleeves over his monogrammed brand and head back to the bunkhouse before the subject of rustling had a chance to come up."