Ridin’ the Divide – Cowboy Poetry

Ridin’ the Divide by Stephen Bly

I thought I saw a coyote

try to cut across my trail …

A bag of bones, a pointed nose,

a scrawny, matted tail.

Most coyotes ain’t worth rememberin’

or wastin’ too much pity.

But I hadn’t spied a civilized thing

since I left El Paso City.

I was on a trail to Tombstone …

the reason, I’d rather not say.

But I won’t go back to Texas,

at least, not for many a day.

I was ridin’ the Continental Divide,

in New Mexico’s boot heel,

North of the Little Hatchet Mountains

where it has an Apache feel.

The Divide just a desert swell

in that portion of the land.

One spot looks like all the rest,

full of yucca, sage, and sand.

I was gettin’ mighty weary,

when the sun sank out of sight.

Jist lookin’ for a rimrock,

to make camp for the night.

I heard the carbine lever check,

behind greasewood to the west.

I raised my arms, hollered, “Whoa!”

It weren’t a good time to test.

“What direction are you headed?”

came a raspy voice and deep.

“Anywhere but Texas,” I said.

“I’m lookin’ for a place to sleep.”

“We’re not well liked in Texas.”

His smile was as wide as can be.

“You’re welcome to spend the noche

with my tres compadres and me.”

Four travelin’ Mexican merchants

with contraband for the states,

Avoidin’ a visit to the custom house,

and exorbitant tariff rates.

It was early the next mornin’

after coffee and some beans,

I took the less known southern route.

They headed for the Steins.

Call it blind luck or providence

that we went our separate way,

Because those four intrepid traders

would not live another day.

Gunfight at the OK Corral

Bushwhacked in Skeleton Canyon

by Clantons of some renown.

The Old Man, the boys, and Curly Bill

leaded all them traders down.

Some say there ain’t no justice

among thieves, don’t you know?

But them smugglers treated me square

and it’s a gruesome way to go.

There ain’t too much one man can do

to try to even the score.

You’d need a real gunfighter …

maybe two or three or four.

We’ve got some new men come to town

and I’d like to see ‘em try it.

Ain’t none tougher I’ve ever seen

than Virgil, Doc, Morgan and Wyatt.

So it came as no surprise to me,

when the story to my ear was said,

Of a shoot-out near the old corrals,

and the men who now lay dead.

Yep, I rode the Divide years ago,

when it was uncivilized land.

Jist me, a coyote, a smuggler or two

camped out in the desert sand.

“Ridin’ the Divide”

Stephen Bly

Copyright©1998

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Author’s Note: the ambush mentioned in “Ridin’ the Divide” cowboy poem was an historical event. Part of the backstory of the gun fight at the OK Corral.

Classic historical western novels by Stephen Bly, available here: WESTERN NOVELS

For more about legends of the Old West, the divide between heroes and outlaws, check out Bill O’Reilly’s Legends & Lies: The Real West