Worn hands are more a show of character than being polished and refined. You can tell a lot about a man by looking at his hands. They shouldn’t be too broken—a man who can’t be good with his hands will have the scars to prove it—but should reflect someone who works the land and has the confidence and strength to do so. I am proud that I can provide for myself. I am a farmer, a provider, a caregiver. My father worked these fields as long as he could before his heart wouldn’t let him walk the rows of fields like before. He taught me to appreciate the goodness that comes out of a firm handshake and a willing set of hands. I’m grateful that I know these hands have raised and taken up a ranch.

I never leave anything on my plate, if you must know. Food is a passion of mine, it’s the way to my heart. So I know that I have a few extra pounds, but when you work the land and have to lift like I do, it’s good for me. I have tilled land and had to hold down a foal from bucking and kicking. I’ve gotten knocked in the nose and had bad falls. A few bumps on me and a bump on the bridge of the nose are just part of my character. I’ve got experienced etched into my face. That’s what I was always told. I’ve got the marks to prove my rough and tumble-ness.

I’ve got a terrible penchant for walking around without my boots. There’s nothing better for me than feeling the dirt between my toes. It’s unnatural to go too long without walking barefoot. I can’t shake the smell of the earth and the black between my nails. I’m a man of the earth, I guess you could say. A good white shirt, vest, and jeans (to keep from the roughness of riding) are all I need. Nothing fancy. I can’t deal with any of the s—t that is supposed to be fashion. Ridiculous bunch of nancies that put on make-up and fancy clothes is what I think of boys like that. Men are to dress like men. Save the colorful dresses and pearls for the girls, boys.

Sometimes I let myself go a few days without shaving. I get lost in my work if that’s what’s taking up my time. There’s nothing so important as the result—why should I care how I look? I’ve got just what I need at my fingertips. Sure, maybe I’m too tall and have a few extra pounds. But who around here is going to tell me I’m not handsome and get away with it?

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We'll be washed and buried one day my girl
And the time we were given will be left for the world
The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague
So let the memories be good for those who stay
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When I go to accomplishing something, I go all the way. I don’t do anything half-assed. I believe that we should be proud of whatever it is that we’re willing to put forth for the world to see. Why on earth would I want to put so much time and effort into something that seems like a waste. There are too many people on this earth who are willing just to get by. It sickens me. No, if there is work to be done, then do it proudly. There is no use in walking through the day to day as if you’re shuffling toward death. Anyone who presents themselves this way might as well not speak to me. My family has been working for generations to preserve and protect the dignity of the work that we do.

I don’t tolerate when someone disagrees with me. Dissention from my opinion better be backed up by facts. There are ways things have been done for some time, and as they say, what’s not broken doesn’t need to be fixed. I make sure that this is law—it’s easier to control those around me if they can stay on the straight and narrow. This come-as-they-want attitude won’t get very far with me. Rules are in place for a reason, and flexibility in my mind often leads to letting things slide. Give people and inch and they’re going to take a mile. And I don’t intend to give anyone anything.

Weaknesses? I drink too much. I like women too much. I expect too much out of everyone else around me. It’s just that I think they should all live up to the standards I’ve set for myself. I don’t give a d—n if people think that I’m not living up to them. I know when I’ve stepped out of line or something hasn’t been done the way it’s supposed to. I run roughshod over people when I try to get what I want. I’m a bit of a freight train that way. I don’t pay enough attention to what other people want. I suppose that’s why I’m constantly fighting with people. But they know that’s just how I am. I ask a lot out of them and when they can’t live up to that they get the hammer. I don’t yell at anyone if I don’t think it’s worth it. The worst I can do to you is ignore you.

I can be friendly. I can! I can be sweet sometimes. I like to laugh and joke, when I’m off alone and there’s few others around. I can handle that. It takes some shifting—I don’t have much time for games—but I’m not one who doesn’t laugh. It just may not happen too frequently.

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And my head told my heart
"Let love grow"
But my heart told my head
"This time no"
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My father was a rancher. His father was a rancher. His father before him was a rancher. I learned to tie up a horse when I was six. I learned how to round up the horses when I was eleven. I was expected to help till the fields and bring in the harvest when I was a teenager. I helped my father with the farm my whole life. After his... "accident", it was my turn to take over. I learned how to eat, sleep, and breath so that this was all that I ever had to think about. Schooling wasn’t really my thing. What was the purpose of going daily to a place that didn’t teach me the best time to plant corn, or how to deal with a bad pregnancy in stock? No, I never paid attention to schooling. There just wasn’t anything there for someone like me.

My mother and father are salt of the earth people. Henry and Josette have been married nigh on thirty-seven years and I’ve never seen people so in love. My father’s family has had this farm for as far back as anyone can remember. He’s had his whole lifetime to make it better, and just a few summers ago, decided to pass on most of it to me. He’s gotten a little long in the tooth to keep the place up the way he used to. He doesn’t walk or see so good anymore. So my mother, pretty little thing she is now, takes care of him at their house down the road. They moved to a smaller place once they thought it was time for me to take the reins.

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Oh the shame that sent me off from the God that I once loved
Was the same that sent me into your arms
Oh and pestilence is won when you are lost and I am gone
And no hope, no hope will overcome
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They never wanted more than me. At least that’s what my Pa always said.

They reckoned it wasn’t right to bring so many children into this world with what they had to face. Sure, every year of reaping they always fretted I was going to be on the list. They thought there was a chance that I was going to have to be shipped off and sent away, but I always said that even if I did, I’d be coming back to the farm, come hell or high water. There was nothing in this life I loved more than this place, I couldn’t imagine being away from it for one second. I’d do everything in my power to be here.

They had me when they were a little bit older. This was another reason why I felt like they didn’t think another kid was a good idea. I had been a healthy baby, though. I got all the attention I could want. My mother’s family has more than a few cousins, and my father had plenty of brothers and sisters with their own children. But I was the one that had claim to the throne of the farm. I was groomed to be the Decider, to be the one that would take over when the time came. That’s what I was taught. All this was mine.

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And if your strife strikes at your sleep
Remember spring swaps snow for leaves
You'll be happy and wholesome again
When the city clears and sun ascends
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Oh but now it's all mine... all of this. And sometimes it feels too small. Sometimes it feels as though the world just... well it's waiting to be taken. And no one is able to stand in my way. And ripred help them if they do. There's going to be trouble.

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And my head told my heart
"Let love grow"
But my heart told my head
"This time no
This time no"
--------------------------