Welcome to True Chili’s Cowboy Literature. As with our other endeavors, it has been a long road. But we hope you enjoy reading these stories and poems as much as we did selecting them. So, kick off your boots and welcome to our campfire.
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Today the cows stared down my car,They took a stand this timeAnd owned the road, that much is true,And so
I’ve gawked at armies’ actions, vast and organized as ants,been taken with a pride, the strut of lions, and the
A promise of gold holds them.Lured by insidious snake tongues,they’ve discovered a bottomless share of days into nights. Drop your
Connie saw him, sitting tall in the saddle two hundred yards from the road shoulder, hat in hand, his face
“Don’t take your guns to town Bill.” “You too Ted. Leave your guns at home son.” But it
Blessed be the outlaw.Lone man lost lingering, on pointy peaks,Too wild and free to be tamed.Like a sad dog wanderingWith
Jabbing the posthole diggers into the ground, I pull the sandy soil from the earth. Digging post holes all
I know you’ve been wanderin’ for many long daysAnd you’re still prone to wander I knowYou’re a hard ramblin’ man
c. 1832-1914Just like the storied cowboys of the plains,Mary finds Montana wild and free.A liberated slave from Tennessee,she’s odd in
Gather ‘round this wood stoveWhile our bellies are full.Let me cram a tall-tale down your gullet.For the steers that we
Rocky Mountain Utah HighOur cowboy boots drinking Wasatch Provo Girl BeerTomorrow we ski in the Best Snow on Earth’s brotherly
This guy was sitting on top of our dog fence looking in at me in my bedroom!I was tying on
It's hot. It's humid. And it's quiet (with no school in session). All in all, it's a good time to
The old farmer's hands hung off sinewy arms, as though they were constantly holding chocks for tractor wheels. Hands trained to clench
It was three years ago, last time I saw Bullfrog Mullins play live. I had to drive an hour and
Dear Caroline, I am in Phoenix now, I hope everything back home is good and that you and the baby
We had no intention of including “the cowgirl” in our schedule to critique each other’s work. That was back in
I watch the drought blitz through ranches, soil so fed upit leaves without giving notice. I stop for gas, scrape
Often, we collectively encouraged him when he was in an inebriated state, because we were all generally in an inebriated
He saddles-up occasionally but a Ram is his ride.Well-worn chaps and rusty spurs hang on a post near the hay,Stetson,
