What Is The One Thing A Cowboy Doesn't Steal
Now, folks, let's mosey on over and have a little chat. We're talkin' cowboys. Big hats, dusty boots, a stoic gaze that could probably melt a cactus. We picture 'em ropin' steer, ridin' herd, maybe even gettin' into a saloon brawl over a poker game gone sideways. They're known for bein' quick on the draw, strong as an ox, and, well, sometimes a little prone to "liberating" things that don't quite belong to 'em. You know, rustlin'. Cattle, horses, maybe even a shiny belt buckle or two if the mood strikes 'em.
But here's a thought that might make you scratch your head. A question that's been buzzin' around my brain like a persistent fly on a hot summer day. What's the one thing a cowboy, bless his heart, wouldn't ever dream of stealin'? Think about it. They'll take your prize bull, sure. They might even "borrow" your best mare for a long ride. But there's something out there, somethin' vital, somethin' precious, that's just off-limits. It’s a mystery, a riddle wrapped in an enigma, tied up with a lasso of pure, unadulterated cowboy code.
We're not talkin' about grand theft auto, though I reckon a cowboy could probably hotwire a tractor if he really needed to. We're talkin' about the everyday, the common, the thing that makes life on the range just a little bit bearable. Picture this: a lonely night under a sky full of stars. The campfire crackles. A cowboy’s gotta eat, right? He’s got his beans, his jerky, his coffee. He's got his trusty six-shooter, his well-worn saddle, his hat that’s seen more miles than most folks see in a lifetime. All good. All cowbo-y.
But what if he's out there, miles from anywhere, and suddenly has an insatiable craving for… a really good story? A tale that’ll make you forget about the coyotes howlin' in the distance or the ache in your bones from a long day in the saddle. What if he's just feeling a little blue, a little lonesome? He needs something to lift his spirits. Something more potent than a shot of whiskey, more comforting than a warm blanket.
And that, my friends, is where our answer lies. The one thing a cowboy absolutely, positively, undeniably will not steal is a good laugh. Nope. Not a chance. You can't lasso a chuckle. You can't rustle up a guffaw. You can't brand a belly laugh. It just doesn't work that way.
Think about it. Imagine a tough old cowboy, weathered face creased with a thousand sunrises. He's seen it all. But when someone tells a joke, a really good joke, and his shoulders start to shake, and a deep, rumbling sound escapes his chest… that's genuine. That's pure. That's not something he'd ever take from someone else. He might inspire a laugh, sure. He might earn a laugh with a witty remark. But he'd never steal it. It's like tryin' to steal someone's sunshine. It's a fool's errand.
A cowboy might borrow your sugar, he might pilfer your pemmican, he might even abscond with your prized Stetson if you're not lookin'. But a chuckle? A snicker? A full-blown, knee-slappin' guffaw? Never. Those are gifts. They’re shared. They’re precious commodities that grow when they’re given away, not when they’re taken by force. He'd rather go hungry than steal a good joke. He'd rather ride bareback through a cactus patch than pilfer a punchline.
It's an unspoken rule, you see. A fundamental tenet of the cowboy creed. Honesty, even in jest, is paramount. A cowboy's reputation is built on his word, his grit, and his ability to face down danger. But it’s also built on his character. And a man who steals laughter… well, he’s just not much of a man, is he?
So the next time you see a cowboy, hat tilted just so, a twinkle in his eye, remember this. He might be a master of the open range, a legend of the Wild West. He might have a few less-than-legal acquisitions to his name. But when it comes to humor, to mirth, to the pure joy of a well-timed jest, he's as honest as a prairie sunset. He'll share in your laughter, he'll contribute to your merriment, but he'll never, ever steal it. Because some things, like a good laugh, are just too valuable to be taken. They’re meant to be earned, shared, and cherished. And that, my friends, is the one thing a cowboy truly understands.
Perhaps it’s because laughter is the ultimate equalizer. It doesn’t matter if you’re the richest rancher or the humblest hired hand; a good laugh brings everyone together. It’s a universal language, spoken by all, understood by all. A cowboy might have a silver tongue for dealin’ with cattle barons, but when it comes to a truly hilarious anecdote, his greatest skill is his ability to appreciate it, to amplify it, and to let it ripple through the camp like a gentle breeze.
Think about the stories they tell around the campfire. The exaggerated tales of bronco-busting, the witty observations about life on the trail. These aren't stolen. They're shared. They're the currency of camaraderie, the glue that binds a group of hardened men together. And if a cowboy were to try and swipe a joke, to claim it as his own without earning it, he'd likely be met with a silence more deafening than a stampede. A silent judgment, a raised eyebrow, a quiet nod that says, "We know what you did, partner, and it ain't honest."
So there you have it. My little theory. An unpopular opinion, perhaps, but one that rings true in my heart. The one thing a cowboy doesn't steal is a good laugh. Because some treasures are simply too grand, too ephemeral, and too darn important to ever be taken. They’re given freely, enjoyed deeply, and that’s just the cowboy way. And who am I to argue with that?