THE BELL OF THE BOX T

She hangs above the threshold, At the old headquarters home and sits perched high above the splendor, nestled tightly to her throne.

And I wish I could hear the stories of all the things she’s seen. The floods and droughts, fires and famine - through it all since the early teens.

She saw the change in transportation, from the buggy to the model T. Knows the power of the lightning and survive the blizzard of ‘33.

And I know she’s seen the Cowboys romancin’ girls at night, and knows their solitary life is a lonesome, bitter plight.

She came to know those Cowboys and their every thoughts and moves. Knew where or Slim would hide his whiskey and the sound of Clancy’s hooves.

Countless are the kids who struck her clapper there at noon, to call the Cowboys in for dinner and play that long-awaited tune.

And if she could talk today, she’d surely tell about the time, when Jimmy caused the stampede that killed ol’ Layton Pine.

She’d tell about the Cowboys who came and worked this ranch. Cowboys like blue-eyed Bill, crazy Jack and the Mescun they called Old Sanche.

But, no one loved her more than Oscar, the man who came out west, to cattle-barons country. I know she knew him best.

She heard him and the Missus plan ahead as they swung beneath the moon. And was the first to know about the baby that night in early June.

She stood proudly in the sun clear through the great dust bowl, was never soften by the markets and watched all his children grow.

And at sunrise on the Sabbath, well, he’d ring her for a spell. So the Cowboys, would know what day it was and save the night before from hell.

But….today she stands in silence as a sentinel to the past. She keeps The ranch and all its stories molded tightly to her cast.

And if you listen close enough you’ll often hear her ring. You see, there’s a cowboy lost in purgatory who’s yet to spread his wings.

Copyright © Shad Sullivan