The Steakhouse Cowboys Read online



  STEAKHOUSE COWBOYS

  K.J.Ester

  Copyright 2012

  Introduction

  This story started out as an idea I had for what in my opinion, would be a good commercial for a Steakhouse. As I developed the story in my head, I decided it would still make a decent short story. It is definitely short. I hope you will enjoy it.

  STEAKHOUSE

  COWBOYS

  Brett Hales had been working cattle for over twenty years and was a true cowboy in every sense of the word. As he sat in his saddle, he gave his horse Spirit, an affectionate pat on the side of the neck. His jaw line became even harder than usual as he looked at the two thousand pound steer, buried up to its back in mud.

  Rolling his own cigarette, he wet the end and placed it between his lips as he placed the tobacco pouch in his shirt pocket and pulled out his lighter. It was a simple plain, silver, Zippo. He never liked much adornment on him. His hat was a plain tan color with a slightly darker braid for a band. His shirt was a plain pale blue, and his jeans had no extra stitching on the back pockets.

  “Gonna be a tough job getting it out of that mess.” He said, just before he lit the cigarette and flipped the lid of the lighter closed.

  “Yup.” Was all his partner had for a reply.

  Harry Hemlin was not so plain as Brett, but the man was no flamboyant type either. His blue and yellow plaid shirt still matched well with his plain denim jeans, but the large silver belt buckle set it off nicely. He had a black wide brimmed hat that had seen better days, and his leather chaps were not much better, though they were still a little cleaner than Brett’s.

  Taking a puff of his cigarette, Brett pinched it between his teeth as he drew his lasso around and swung it over the long horns of the beast stuck in the mud. Giving his reins a pull, he turned his horse and started pulling the steer free.

  A moment later, Harry’s rope went across the steer as well, and suddenly they had both of their horses pulling it free. The animal was exhausted from working to get free on its own, and was not bothering to try helping them much. The two horses had to do all the work. The two cowboys yelled words of encouragement, mixed in with a little colorful language, and slowly the large steer came out of the mud. Then it gathered its strength and charged them.

  The steer dipped its head and came full speed at Brett and there was nothing he could do but try to avoid it. He yanked on the reigns but he knew he was too late for that, so he pulled his leg up, trying to save it from getting busted in the inevitable collision. The impact never came.

  Harry’s rope went taught as he pulled his own horse around hard, and the strength of the horse yanked the already weakened steer’s head upward. Its long horn caught Brett under his raised boot and shoved it high, then slipped past the heel and swiped across the inside of the cowboy’s leg. The next thing Brett knew, he was falling over the other side of the horse to land in a heap.

  The ground hit him hard and he felt pain along his leg and in his hand. Jumping up, he never gave the pain a second thought as he jumped up and hopped back into the saddle. He already knew what the beast was going to do.

  Just as he expected, the cagey animal had turned on his partner. As soon as he landed in the saddle, Brett grabbed the reigns and gave them a sharp tug, pulling the lasso, which was still tied around the saddle horn, taught, and suddenly the large steer was caught between the two cowboys with nowhere to move.

  Taking a moment to adjust his seat in the saddle, Brett reached up and pulled his hat off to straighten the brim that had bent from the fall. Harry only gave him a quizzical look. The sparkle in his eyes emphasized the words as he spoke. “Don’t your hat ever fall off?”

  The two cowboys held the ropes tight as they walked the dangerous animal back to the camp where several other cowboys took it from them. Finally free of their burden, Brett climbed out of Spirit’s, saddle and sat on a long log by the wagon and pulled his gloves off to inspect the pain in his left hand.

  “You break it?” Harry asked as he dismounted.

  Brett sat looking at the pinky, where it suddenly turned to a sharp angle in the wrong direction.

  “Yup.” With a wince, Harry grabbed the finger and straightened; ignoring the crackling sound that emitted from the bones being forced into place.

  “Catch.” Harry said.

  Brett looked up just in time to see the roll of tape coming at him. Snagging it out of the air with his good hand, he attached the end of the tape to his injured finger and commenced wrapping it up.

  The finger taken care of, he reached down and untied his chaps, and then he pulled the leg to his jeans up. There was a large jagged slice going up the inside of his leg where the horn had caught him.

  “Catch again.”

  Brett looked up and caught the bottle of whiskey sailing through the air to him, and caught it as clean as he had the tape. Not letting it show, he was exceptionally relieved he hadn’t dropped it. It would have been bad enough if he had dropped the tape, but if he had let the whiskey hit the ground, Harry would never have let him live it down.

  Twisting the cap free, Brett poured the liquid onto his wound to keep it from becoming infected, and was about to close it up again when he stopped. Taking a small swig first, he then capped it off and tossed it back to his partner. His leg felt like it was on fire with the alcohol burning into the wound. It brought a slight tightening of his eyes and no other reaction. Satisfied the wound was only superficial, and would not need stitching. And knowing the wound was disinfected, Brett dropped his trouser leg and retied the chaps.

  “You know what?” Brett asked.

  “Hmm.” Harry responded.

  Brett looked at the sun, slowly drawing closer to the horizon. They had been out on the range too long that day. The evening dinner had come and gone. He let out a long sigh before speaking again. “I’m hungry as hell, right now.”

  Harry answered with his usual response. “Yup.”

  “Steak?”

  “Yup.”

  Climbing back into their saddles, the two cowboys turned away from the campgrounds. There was a great steakhouse right on the main road, and crossing the northern end of the ranch would take them right up to its back door. They didn’t know the name of the place, and never cared. They simply referred to it as “steak”. The two partners had missed more than a few dinner bells and not all by accident. For the most part, it was an uneventful ride. At least until the rabbit sprang from a hole directly in front of Brett’s horse.

  The horse reared up on its hind legs and turned to its left; its right leg setting straight into another hole. The weight of the animal was unbalanced and when it shifted, there was a sickening snap and the horse screamed in pain and rolled to its side.

  Brett slid free of the saddle as the horse fell and just barely got his leg out before the horse could fall on it and crush it. Getting to his feet, Brett looked down at his horse, suffering with its leg snapped in two. He’d been riding Spirit for nearly ten years and the horse was almost as much a partner to him as Harry was.

  Sliding the rifle free from its holster on the saddle, Brett levered a cartridge into the chamber and pointed it at Spirit’s head. He stood there for a short while, remembering some of the times he and Spirit had been through together. The horse had gotten him out of all kinds of messes through the years.

  “I’m real sorry about this, friend.” He spoke the words softly, and then he squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked once, and jumped in his hands. “I really am.” He said just as softly. Unbuckling the saddle, Brett pulled it free, tipped his hat once to his dead horse, and walked over to Harry, where he had been waiting in silence. Taking his partners hand, he climbed into the saddle behind him and they headed off again. br />
  There wasn’t anything that they could do about the dead horse that night. They would have to get the truck with the hoist from the main ranch and get Spirit the next morning. Not to mention they were still hungry as hell.

  “You okay?” Harry asked as they rode along.

  “Yup.” Brett replied.

  “Good.” Harry said. “From the way you made such a scene back there today, I thought maybe you were hurting more than you let on.”

  Scene! He had been raked by a longhorn, broke his finger, poured alcohol on a long slash from that longhorn, and now he had to put his second best friend out of its misery. What scene? “What scene you talkin’ about, Harry?” He asked.

  Harry shrugged slightly before answering. “When you straightened your finger earlier.”

  “Not much of a scene.” Brett replied. “I remember wincing a little.”

  Harry shrugged a little again. “It’s been at least three years since I’d seen you makin’ such a scene. Might as well be crying like a little girl.”

  “I don’t know.” Brett admitted. “Maybe I’m just getting old.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence and finally sat at a table. The smell of steaks cooking caused their stomachs to rumble.

  “Damn, I’m hungry.” Harry said, a short while after they ordered.

  “Yup.” Brett replied. “If they make me wait much longer, I might just up and go feeding on Spirit.”

  When the waitress showed up with their steaks, both men became silent as they dug in. Neither even bothered watching her walk away as they usually did.

  Like most cowboys, they did not talk much while eating. With fork in one hand and knife in the other, they concentrated on shoveling food into their mouths. When food was as good as these steaks were, they focused on it to enjoy the flavor of every bite.

  Brett was cutting a piece of his steak off, when the knife slipped in his hand. He did not have the same feel for the utensil with the tape wrapped around his wounded finger. The knife scraped across the plate, flipping the piece of steak over the edge and off the end of the table. He reached for it, trying to save it, but was too slow. He watched the bite of steak hit the floor and lay there.

  How long he stared at that morsel of meat, he had no idea, and he didn’t care. He just stared! Suddenly he felt a tear run from his eye, and slide down his left cheek. Looking up with wide eyes, he saw Harry looking at him with shock written clearly on his face. Oh God! He thought. Here it comes. He saw me cry over losing a piece of steak. He will never let me live this down.

  Harry stared back at him for a long moment before speaking, and then the words came out with a quiver in his voice. “Oh Brett! I’m really sorry man! Break a finger, get gorged by a steer, or kill your horse; that’s all part of the job. But no man should lose a piece of his steak!”

  The two cowboys shared the moment of understanding until a voice interrupted them.

  “Excuse me pal.”

  Brett looked over to a cowboy from a nearby ranch and the fellow continued to speak. “I- I’m really sorry for the loss, but- well,” He looked at the small piece that was still there on the floor and pointed at it with his fork. “You gonna eat that?”

  **END**

  About the author:

  Kenneth J. Ester

  Born and raised in Michigan, I have struggled to survive in the unstable field of automotive design and have seen my career, as well as my life, start from scratch more often than any man should. I was married in 2003 and that will always be the best day of my life. I have been a life long Detroit Lions fan and I am the owner of the blog Michigan Spiders.

  In 2003, along with getting married, I learned I had a love for writing fantasy, that equaled my love for reading it.

  I have never dealt with writers block and I do not believe I ever will, for I have more trouble shutting my imagination down, to sleep at night, than I have prodding it back to life again.

  Thank you for taking your time to read my book. I truly hope you have enjoyed it, and I hope you will also take a moment to leave a comment about the book at the site from which you downloaded.