I cannot change, nor would I dare,
        the code that guides us all, out there.
The code that marks men poor or good.
        The measure by which men are stood
to prove themselves as game enough
        to stay and ride the river's bluff.
The way that things are always done.
        The law beyond where lawyers run.
Yet if that code says I must stay
        and watch while others ride away,
Then hear me now, and hear me fair . . .
        for I defy that law out there,
that honored way that things are done.
        For I, a woman, have not come
out here to mind the pots and pans
        when past the door, a great, bold land
has got my heart in mighty grip,
        and all I am yearns after it . . .
When 'cross the plain a siren song
        of coyote voices calls me on
to be there, where the ridges run
        beneath a heartless desert sun.
I've shook with cold and burned with thirst
        that only cared who got there first
to some grey pool or hidden spring.
        But I recall the only thing
that troubled me was, they had juice,
        those fellas that could swalla' snoose.
And I've been kicked and chased and tossed -
        the worst were mostly my own fault.
I've seen the looks of cowboy saints
        who bit their tongues in fine restraint;
- Don't mind her, boys, she's new at this,
        and woman, top of all of it.
I don't blame the shaking heads
        who cannot see why I would shed
the comforts of a hearth and home;
        clean clothes, a bath, no aching bones;
for life of hardship, dirt and pain,
        and in the end, no earthly gain.
They see for fairer souls a place
w        here safely lives hope, love and grace . . .
Then I appear and throw aside
        their fond ideal of woman-kind.
Or so it seems . . . and so may be!
        But there is nothing else for me
to do, but follow. Else my soul
        shall shrivel, 'till it's sick and cold.
My reasons for the things I do,
        now why should I confess to you?
What reason does a young man have
        to cast away the life he had?
And chase a dream of youthful pride,
        of being known as one who rides
where freedom scents the air he breathes,
        and danger strikes with blinding speed.
Where racing hooves and hidden stones
        bring crashing ruin, broken bones.
Or well-thrown loop and - dally quick! -
        and bronco blows in bawling fit.
Time has dimmed romantic glare
        for those whose daily job is there,
where cattle must be moved and fed,
        and found and counted, or roughly led
to branding fire on choking rope.
        But something fuels that young man's hope!
Yet no one asks where comes his right
        to follow his star's vagrant light!
His choice is made. So let be mine!
        I blaze no path for woman-kind.
I cannot change, nor would I dare,
        the code that guides us all, out there.
The code that parks us poor or good,
        the measure by which all are stood
to prove themselves as game enough . . .
        I chose a path I know is rough.
I chose to go where seldom tread
        we makers of the marriage bed.
But see the way his dark eyes shine -
        the Spaniard in this mate of mine -
his hand outstretched and laughter gay . . .?
        Now do you think that I shall stay?
No! I defy the desert law
        in this one thing - but that is all!
And if it's sin, I'll not repent!
        I follow where my heart has went.
For I live by the same stern code.
        I ride the tracks of those who rode
before me, those who led the way.
        And if I fail, I proud can say,
I tried it! I gave blood and bone
        and failed by God's decree, alone.
For all of those who rode here first
        were made, or broke, on their own worth.
Yes, I defy the desert law
        in this one thing - but that is all.
For I'll not change, nor would I dare,
        the code that guides us all, out there.
The code that marks us poor or good.
        The measure by which all are stood
to prove themselves
        as game enough
to stay
        and ride the river's bluff.

TS Ranch
Battle Mountain NV

~ * ~