My Name is America The Journal of Joshua Loper A Black Cowboy

I didn’t want to turn to see if anybody was looking at me, but I couldn’t help it and I saw Mama waving and it just kind of filled me up for a minute.

The back on my saddle was a little high and the whole thing was a little big for me, but I was comfortable as I settled into Thunder’s rolling gait. As the sky lightened there were puffs of white fluffy clouds in the distance.

The longhorns moved easily between the riders. The sounds of their hoofs drifted back to where I rode on the right side. We rode in pairs, one on either side of the herd.

Doom was riding across from me.

By the time the sun had cleared the line of the earth, the dust from the herd had lifted.