The Horseless Vaquero

by Daniella Trujillo

They say you can hear his spurs as he walks through ranches at night. He’s looking for horses. I remember the first time one of my horses went missing, and that’s when I was told the story of this thief spirit.

Long ago, there was a man who had a ranch filled with the most beautiful horses. This man had enemies, and his enemies set fire to his ranch, and everything was destroyed, including his horses whom he loved so dearly. Devas- tated and filled with vengeance, he went after the culprits but was unsuccessful and was never seen again, except for his ghost.

It’s a sad story, and I feel for the guy, but it doesn’t justify stealing horses, my horses. I was finally ready to face him and his thievery once and for all. I had a plan, a solution, an idea.

I waited and waited for the sound of his spurs all throughout the night. Just when I thought he wasn’t coming, I heard them. The way his boots dragged on the floor, his spurs clinking, I knew it was him. I confronted his spirit and there was a minute of silence, a standoff of who would make the first move. My plan didn’t involve violence whatsoever, but instead it was a trade.All my horses back for a pair of keys. He accepted. I knew then that I had not only gotten my horses back but saved many future generations of their horses, too.

No one knows what I sacrificed that night, and no one knows that I am a true hero of horses. That’s okay with me. Horses no longer go missing and the vaquero is no more than an urban legend in my small town. They used to say you could hear his spurs as he crept through the night, but now the story has changed a bit. You can’t hear his spurs anymore, but you can surely hear the loud engine of some rusty ol’Chevrolet truck with squeaky tires driving around in the