Left+Hand+Louie

=**// Welcome to my Journal/Memoir about "The Wild, Wild, West" //**= = =

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=//**__Journal__ __Entries__**//= September 24th 1875- Today, I got in a fight before I could get onto the trail! Another cowboy tried to steal my horse, yal! We nearly got into a gunfight, but I hit him in the face to end it.

September 25th 1875- Wow! Its cold for summer, but the west!? And on top of that, a dust storm's cumin'. Better get my bandanna.

October 1st 1875- Phewee! Things pass **FAST!** I forgot to write for 6 days! Well, things have gone fast.... I'm in 'nother ranch, that cowgirl left, (Didn't mention 'er, did I?) I need to make my brand, AND I need to go check on my cattle. Gotta recount them. I pray no one stole them. Let's pray foods goin' well since I left, too. Before I did, man, It was one meal a DAY!

October 22nd 1875- Things goin' good. I might write again in the afternoon. but let's get to now. That cowgirl who left came back. She thanked me for helping her unpack her stuff. I mounted my horse and did a little 'gallop-by' on some robbers. Heh, the worthiness of dual 45's.

= = =//__The__ __Boss__//= Branding- A design is put on a rod. While other cowboys hold down the young cattle, one presses the rod into the cattle's side. Hard enough that it will last, but gentle enough that it won't be source of infection.The they let it go. Their work is done.

= = = = =//__The__ __Cook__//= = = = = =//__The__ __Cowboy__//= Cowboy Garb- Bandannas, hats, spurs, boots, Chaps, Levis Cowboys rather end fights with fists than guns.

= = = = =//**__The__ __Wrangler__**//=

=//A Tall Tale://=

= Left Hand Louie’s story =

I have hands that were as steady as statues and eyes that are keen enough to spot something while it was behind eight walls! I didn’t, nor did my parents; know about this ability until my dad took me to the gunbuckle range when I was 12 years old. “Now,” my dad was saying “flip this thing out and-” dad was cut off when I plugged my ears and screamed “I know! I know, okay!?” Dad was mad. He said, “Sonny, if yal dun fix up yer attitude I’ll-” He was cut off again as I said “But really dad, I do!” Dad just said “Wont we see… wont we see...” I didn’t know how I already knew, but when he tried to teach me, I got that feeling where it’s like, “Oh, it’s ALL coming back now…” I aimed down this gun’s sights, which my dad said was a 45. Magnum Revolver… whatever THAT means… and…. BOOM! BANG! I shot the haystack. BAN! PWANG! Again, and again! “Give me another one!” I said. “But son, you can’t aim accurately without being able to aim down a sight…” I interrupted Dad again. “Just do it, man!” I said.

“Alright, but you’ll find out…” Dad trailed off.

“Yes?” The armory owner said as we approached. “He wants to bring out the dualies.” Dad said, pointing at me. “Well… Just our average over-interested in the next generation of weapons 12-year old, eh? ”Said the armory owner, “Ah, well, I’ll give him some anyway.” He slid the dual revolver pack over to my side of the table. Unlike the other 12-year olds at gunbuckle range, I took this seriously. BANG BANG! BOOM BANG! I shot with both of them, and NOT aiming down the sights! All four shots were extremely accurate. Dad was surprised and amazed. “I can’t believe it!” He said. After some more weapon trials, we left the range.

It was the morning after the day I went to gunbuckle range. I was milking the cows. “Yer done, sonny!” Dad shouted. He is my father AND the boss of the cattle, so he has a hard job! I slumped down on a pile of hay. “Yo, Curly Fletcher!” I shouted. Curly walked up to me. “What, dude?” “I just wanted to speak to you.” I answered. “Make it quick, it’s nearly time for me to milk the cows.” Curly said. “I had a weird feeling at that range…” “Yes?” “Well, it felt like those weapons had something… I don’t know how to describe it-linked to my life.” TO BE CONTINUED....

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