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    Tyler wanted to be a cowboy so bad he could taste it. The cowboys he’d seen on television were great and he wanted to be just like them. His mommy and daddy wouldn’t let him have a gun no matter how much he cried and begged. Since he was only six years old he didn’t have much to bargain with. He’d discovered dropping to the floor and screaming was one of the best tools he had. It just didn’t work for the gun. He discovered if he pointed his finger and held his thumb up it almost looked like a gun. By puckering his lips and blowing he could make a sound whenever he wanted the gun to shoot.

    His brother, Billy, was older and knew a lot about cowboys. One day they were talking and Tyler asked his brother all kinds of questions about cowboys.

    “Why do cowboys have guns? Why do they ride those big doggies? Why are those guys with feathers in their hair always trying to hurt them?” Tyler took a breath. “Why do cowboys wear boots? Why are they called cowboys? What’s a saloon?” he took another deep breath and waited for the answers.

    Billy, wise beyond his nine years, answered the questions.

    “Cowboys have guns to shoot bad guys. Those aren’t big doggies they are horses,” he walked to the window. “Those guys with feathers are called Indians. They used to be bad guys but now they’re good. Those Indians lived in tents and used bows and arrows to shoot things. Mr. Patel, down the street, is an Indian but I think he’s different. He wears a turban with no feathers and lives in a house.

    Cowboys wear boots to keep snakes from biting their ankles.  They are called cowboys because they like cows and a saloon is a place the women go to get their hair cut.”

    Tyler thought about all this information for just a second then asked, “If they ride horses why aren’t they called horse boys?”

    “I don’t know,” Billy answered. “You ask too many questions.”

    Armed with the new information, Tyler went to his mother’s closet. He knew she wouldn’t mind because he had some really important stuff to find.  His mom had boots that she wore sometime. He found them in her closet and pulled them on. The boots covered most of his legs. The snakes won’t bite me while I’m wearing these boots, he thought. Just as he was leaving the closet something on the top shelf caught his eye. It was his mother’s hat.

    The hat was one she wore in the garden. It looked very much like a cowboy hat and Tyler was sure it would work just fine. He pulled the desk chair over to the closet and climbed on the chair. Still, the hat was out of reach. An umbrella on the floor of the closet closed the gap. With a bit of maneuvering and balance the hat fell to the floor. Tyler climbed down and claimed his prize. The hat covered most of his face but he found he could push it back on his head and it worked just fine.

    Tyler went over his inventory. He had his gun, boots, and hat. All he needed now was a horse. His dog, Brutus, was too small to ride. The couch looked interesting. Tyler climbed up and straddled the arm but it just wasn’t comfortable. He then saw Billy lying in the floor in front of the television. Without hesitating he walked over and dropped onto Billy’s back.

    “Let’s go horsey,” Tyler said.

    With that Billy rose to his hands and knees began crawling across the floor. For the next two hours Tyler and his faithful horse Billy fought bad guys and Indians. They only stopped when Billy’s knees began to hurt and Tyler’s lips became too dry to make the gun shoot. This was an afternoon both Billy and Tyler would treasure long after Cowboys were no longer their heroes.