Two Buckets and a Rope

Roy hadn’t picked a moonless night on purpose, but as he climbed under his blanket and lay his head on his saddle, he was glad for the happy accident. Out on the range—the only place he felt truly at home—no moon meant stars. Thousands, if not millions of them, stared back at him as he contemplated his life choices, especially the one that waited for him at dawn.

A cowpuncher by trade, just as his father and grandfather before him, Roy had spent more nights than he could count far from the lights of the city.  In fact, the quiet lowing of a herd had become almost a necessity for Roy to fall asleep, always with one ear open, as any good hand would. Tonight, however, all he had to keep him company was his faithful steed, Lightning, and the stars. 

I’m at the end of my rope, Ron thought to himself, chuckling at the irony. Whereas others might not be able to pinpoint the moment their lives went wrong, Roy had no such quandary. He was a cowboy, not a rancher, but with a wife and young daughter to think about, he had sold everything, mortgaged what he could, and borrowed the rest to buy the land he had worked on since he was a boy. That was before the drought, the recession and the cancer ruined his plans. In the space of months, he lost his wife, his herd, and his good name, a gift presented to him by his father, just as it had been passed down from his grandfather. Tomorrow was his last day before the bank’s foreclosure, his last day as a rancher, and because of his decision to tie things up neatly, his last day.

The plan was simple. All it required was a rope, a tree, and two buckets. As a lifelong cowboy, Roy never went anywhere without a rope and, as fortune would have it, there was a lone tree far enough from the ranch house to give him the privacy he needed. Two sturdy metal buckets were easy enough to find in the barn to bring with him on his journey.  

The first warming rays of dawn hold special meaning to cowboys. They are a physical reminder of the immutable contact between man and nature. On the range, there is no need for alarm clocks or wake up calls. God, in his infinite wisdom, set in motion the hour glasses for those who lived off the land when he separated day and night with the rising and setting suns. On this day, dawn came both alarmingly quick and painfully slow to Roy, but as soon as the sun peeked its head over the horizon, the lonely cowboy put his plan in motion. 

Fashioning the end of a rope into a noose is an artform most will never master.  It's a knot that only has one purpose, and the history of the same is decidedly unpleasant. Roy, the consummate planner, hadn’t left the task to chance. He had tied and untied the knot more times than he could count, but it was the exact number of times it took to do so perfectly. Now with the end, he easily completed the task before throwing the knotted end of the rope over the sturdiest limb and tightly securing the other end to the trunk. The first bucket was then carefully placed directly under the rope. Exact measurements had been calculated and executed to allow for a man to stand on the pail and just be able to reach the method of his demise. 

After completing his first task, Roy turned his attention to a much more important one, filling the second bucket with water. He had no way of knowing how long it might be before someone might happen upon the scene, but no cowboy worth his salt would leave his horse thirsty. Roy knew that horses, left to their own devices, could find a water hole or stream without too much difficulty, but the bucket and water were his way of showing his friend love even as he prepared to die.

Roy often wondered what went through a man’s mind when he stared down death. He had been present the day his father passed and had held his wife's hand at the exact moment she left him, but this was the first time he had faced the end himself. To his surprise, he had no feelings of anxiousness or regret as he climbed up on the bucket and secured the noose around his neck. In fact as he looked to his left and then his right, Roy was struck by the beauty of the range first thing in the morning. There are worse ways for a cowboy to die, he thought to himself. 

Then, he heard it.

A nicker, the soft low pitched sound a horse makes when he wants your attention. Roy opened his eyes to see Lightning staring back at him. As soon as the horse and man’s eyes locked, Lightning turned his gaze towards the second bucket, the one left specifically for him. In an instant, Lightning kicked the bucket over, spilling its contents into the dirt. As the water soaked into the ground, rendering its contents useless, the horse returned its gaze to Roy. 

A horse and cowboy share a bond unknown to those who spend their lives in cities. They know each other's clues, both verbal and silent. It's a language, as real as any and in a way that only Roy could understand, Lightning told the man that if this was their chosen destination, then the two of them would take the last ride together.

In that moment everything changed. Roy had lost so much in his life, but he hadn’t lost everything. The sun, now fully above the horizon, shone on Roy as he reached up and removed the rope from his neck. He then quickly undid the knot of death and placed it and his saddle back where they belonged.

He left the two buckets exactly where they were, a reminder of the power of hope. Then, the two of them, man and horse, rode back towards the ranch house to fight another day.