"Mexico"

I don't guess I have ever seen him without a pair of spurs, hat, and faded starched jeans. Never questioned whether he had any cowboy in him, that's just the way it is. It's been sixty years now since Joe Bob first sat a saddle seat, and about four in the morning he crawls out of the bunk, heads out to feed the forty five head of horses here at the ranch. Lookin' out across all those horses is one that stands out from all the rest, black as my twenty year old black felt hat, a horse he calls Mexico. When he saddles Mexico crawls up in the saddle it's like one of those old cowboy pictures where the cowboy sits deep down in the seat just like he is a part of that old horse. That's old Mexico and the story of how he found him is just what you would expect out of a far fetched cowboy story.
Since this is just a short blog I guess we'll have to finish this story another time.