Now, I’m by no means a cowboy, but I remember a day when I was one, a day when I led two of my best friends into battle, and into a sweet victory. It was a part of my life when I figured out what type of man I was, and who the type of men I hung out with were. It was the type of day, when we told the story of what happened, no one believed us.  

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It was the Summer of 2018, right after high school graduation, on a long and hot Saturday in El Paso. My friends and I had decided to go to Little Bit of Texas. The plan was to go to my uncle’s place, hangout for a little while, go to the bar, bring back some pretty girls, and enjoy some steaks and drinks underneath the Texas night sky. However, we would soon find out that those plans would change.  

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My uncle’s mobile home which had a horse corral in the back, was the place where my friends and I used to hang out at a lot, which was down in the Montana Vista area. He lived so deep in the desert, that every now and then you’d stumble across a dead horse on the side of a dirt road, and occasionally hear gunshots in the distance. We would often go to his place just to have bonfires, and ride around in his red dune buggy. We hung around there almost every weekend, but stopped after my aunt Rosalinda passed away in 2016 from cancer.

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She was my uncle’s whole world, we would often find them dancing together in the kitchen to El Paso by Marty Robbins, which was their favorite song. She was the type of woman who always wore her black hair up, and would always wear the most beautiful and colorful dresses. She was also the type of aunt that would make sure her nephew and his friends were always well fed, and that they prayed to Jesus and the Virgin Mary before they ate. My aunt was so kind and loving the only time I saw her angry was when, my uncle left me alone on his horse Apache when I was younger, who bucked me to the ground. My aunt was so terrified that I got hurt, that she scolded my uncle in Spanish for leaving me alone with Apache. Since that day, I never rode that damn horse again.

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I had decided to go back to my uncle’s, hoping that him seeing me and my friends, would remind him of the good times we had before my aunt died. So, as I waited for my friends Adrian and Houston to arrive, I helped out my uncle, by doing a few of his chores. I swept the stair case and front porch, which were made of OSB boards. I gave his four horses clean water, and I even gave them some fresh hay. I did all that without messing up my dark brown alligator skin boots. As I was finishing up my uncle’s chores, I saw him put out his most prized possession on his front porch. It was a vase my aunt made him out of clay. It had turquois hand painted tringles all over it, with a ring of real red rubies around the middle part of it, which I thought were fake. She made it for him on their anniversary, a year before she died. He usually kept it safely stored in his closet, but I guess he just wanted to finally use it.

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As my friends pulled in, I saw my uncle plant some yellow flowers in it, water them, and then go back inside the house. Both Houston and Adrian came out of Adrian’s BMW in their boots and hats, with a tin box of steaks. Adrian was wearing a black Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt with cut off sleeves, and Houston with a black long sleeve work shirt. If his size and stature didn’t scare you, the way he looked with his hat on made him look real intimidating, which was funny cause he was the calmest out of all of us. Adrian handed me the steaks, so I went inside to put them in the fridge.

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When I came out, Houston had asked me for a beer, which reminded me that I forgot to buy some. We decided to walk off to the nearest gas station, which we liked walking to, and enjoyed the desert as we passed it. The gas station was only 30 minutes away on foot, which wasn’t too bad of a walk for us. We had to go to that one because the clerk there didn’t card. As we walked and talked to each other, we saw a yellow 1969 Chevrolet Nova speed passed us, going the opposite way.  It belonged to the Sanchezes my uncle’s neighbors, who lived three miles away from him. The three kids they had looked pale and dead, almost as if they were Tim Burton characters. I hated them so much because they beat my uncle’s dog Henry, who was the kindest Cocker Spaniel you’d have ever met. I knew it was them because every time Henry would see them, he’d growl like a hell hound, which he never did to anyone. I tried to turn them into the sheriff for that Nova they had, which was stolen, because I remembered the sheriff asking around for a stolen Nova with Kansas plates. I kid you not it had those plates before they switched them out. Unfortunately, my uncle told me to drop it because he said, “men don’t look into other people’s business.”

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As the three of us walked passed sticker bushes and cacti, the gas station was getting closer and closer. Soon we arrived, and went in and out with a 30 pack of Coors Light. We opened a few on our way back. When we got there, I went in with the guys, but noticed that my uncle’s vase was missing. Houston and Adrian took the beer to the kitchen, and sat down to have a couple while I looked for my uncle. I went to his room, and found him sitting on the edge of his bed with tears in his eyes. He explained to me that the vase had been stolen in the time it took us to get the beer. When he told me that all of hell’s fury came over me, and waited like a coiled rattlesnake for the sorry bastard I was going to release it on. I had a feeling who took it too…the Sanchezes.

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I bursted out to the kitchen and told the guys what happened, I urged them to go ahead and go to the bar and wait for me, because I was going to get the vase back. They didn’t leave though, they wanted to stay and go with me, which made me very grateful of the guys I hung out with. The three of us made it out the house and to Adrian’s car, as we hyped each other up. As we were about to get in, I told them “No.” Adrian and Houston looked confused, as I disappeared into the back of my uncle’s house. I emerged from the back, riding on the white bronco called Apache. Both of them were extremely shocked to see me on him, especially since they knew the story of what happened to me. The only thing I told them was,” saddle up,” and they did. Houston came out on the brown horse we named Thunder, and Adrian eventually came out on the other brown horse we had, named Aarow. The three of us then rode off toward the Sanchez house, as the sun began to set.

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We first started off at a good pace, until Apache had another one of his episodes and rode off as if his hooves were on fire. Adrian and Houston eventually caught up to me, as their horses galloped as fast as they could. At first, I meant to take the horses as a joke, but I’m glad we did because we looked terrifying as hell riding in on horseback. We just needed one more guy to look like the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Also, because the ride was kind of fun even though Apache bolted out of nowhere, I realized that I wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe it was just the anger or the adrenaline, but he didn’t have the effect he had on me when I was younger.

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As we got closer to the Sanchez house, I was able to slow Apache down, so we could slowly make our way to it. I saw Derek Sanchez, the oldest of the three sons smoking on the front porch. When he saw us coming, he bolted to the door, and yelled in the house. We stopped at the edge of their dirt driveway, as the other two brothers came out along with their dad. I wanted to get off and beat them, but I thought back to all those Clint Eastwood movies I saw when I was a kid, and thought about how Eastwood would beat all his enemies. I mean sure he would punch a guy here and there, but he always managed to start off doing it the smart way, which is what I knew I had to do. So, I fought the urge to fight, put on my toughest face, and tried to reason with them.  Houston and Adrian were going to jump off their horses, until I stopped them.

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I tried to talking with their dad hoping he would encourage them to give me the vase back, but he just laughed at us, and asked if we knew for certain they took the vase. I said no but I knew they had it. The four of them laughed again, when Mr. Sanchez told us to leave.

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“Not till I get the vase.” I said.

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“Well if you think you have it in you kid, why don’t you hop off that horse?” Mr. Sanchez said.

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Since reasoning didn’t seem like an option, I did what he said. I went for Mr. Sanchez, because he was the one with the biggest mouth, and Houston and Adrian went after the other three. As the fight went on, the horses got spooked and rode off a short distance from us. Houston took out two of them like nothing, I mean, they got a couple good hits on him but not enough to stop him. Adrian was using some wrestling moves we learned in wrestling, as I saw him deliver a perfect German Suplex and then pound on his opponent’s face. I charged straight for the old man, taking his left and then his right to the ribs. I gave him a good left hook, and then punched his chest, not realizing that his glasses were in his shirt pocket. They shattered when I punched them, lodging a piece of glass in between my knuckles, causing blood to drip out. We went back and forth, until he took me down, and then dragged me off with his belt by my neck. I saw Houston dart for him, but I shooed him off. I wanted to take Mr. Sanchez out myself. Memories of my coach screaming at me from wrestling echoed in my head as I was being dragged. Scramble God dammit Scramble. I managed to slip my hand under the belt, push off and get loose. I spun around, kicked him in the shins, jumped up to my feet, and kicked him again. I let him have a few punches with my left hand, and half of my right hand trying my best not to dig the glass any deeper into my hand. He whipped my thigh with the belt, but I caught it as he drew it back. I kicked, elbowed, and punched him until he let go of the belt. I began to whip him with the buckle side several times, until he laid on the ground. I kept whipping him till I heard, “Stop!” It was the youngest of the Sanchezes, named Gilbert. He had had enough of being whipped and seeing his dad get whipped. He hobbled into his house, which caught us off guard, until we saw him come out with my uncle’s vase. He handed it to me, as I dropped his dad’s belt. We turned around to find our horses, when the dad got up and threatened us.

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“Hurry up and go God dammit, before the sheriff catches up to y’all,” he said.

I looked at him with the toughest look I had, as if I wanted to kill him.

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“You go right ahead God dammit, call him and tell him you stole from my uncle, and that Nova too. Go ahead, do it, I’ll wait!” I said.

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He stared at the ground saying nothing, as if he realized that I was right.

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We turned around, and walked off, before I turned back to make sure they never bothered my uncle again.

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“Oh, and if I so much as smell one of you near my uncle’s house again, I got a 45-70 that will make sure you won’t so much as drop a single foot on his property God dammit, you hear me?!” I said.

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The three of us turned away, and walked to our horses which were only fifty feet away and rode home. We laughed the way home, with Houston having a broken nose, Adrian a messed-up lip, and me a black eye, a bruised neck, and a messed-up hand. When we arrived at my uncle’s, I showed him the vase. He was so happy, until he noticed our faces. He put the vase down, and then went to Houston to pop his nose back into place. As Houston screamed and Adrian laughed, I was in the restroom taking the glass out my hand. I looked at myself in the mirror and realized how horrible I looked, but I was proud of it. I was proud that I fought for my uncle, and looked badass doing it. I patched myself up, before Adrian came out with the steaks, and told me to grill them. We missed out on the pretty girls at the bar, but we didn’t really care. As the guys drank beer and I grilled the steaks, I thought of how I got over the fear I had of Apache, and how in a way I like to think I tamed him even though he still acted wild. As I grilled the steaks, I told myself I would never forget this day and what my friends did for me, and I have the scar on my right knuckle to remind me everyday of it.