Andrew Jackson Scott
© 2010 - William C. Highsmith

The tall and lanky cowboy has not seen a barber in over a year. His long dark hair falls to broad shoulders covered by a threadbare red-plaid shirt. Lately, life has been even tougher than usual but the future looks brighter. He has a new job.

The piercing black eyes gazed across the expanse but without really seeing anything in particular. He was not physically blind. However, his mind was not on the vastness before him; rather, he was thinking about his father - buried in a small cemetery - back in the mountains of Tennessee.

He is known to his friends as Jack, but his given name is Andrew Jackson Scott. The name was bestowed upon him by his father many years ago and included the surname of his mother. His old man was uneducated, but he was a real fan of history and loved the story of the seventh president of the United States. Therefore, he tagged his first born with a name that would cause him to be the object of much teasing by his contemporaries. The kidding, in turn, often ended with a fight. As he grew older he also became tougher and won most of the battles.

Andrew Jackson Scott is a half-breed. His father was a Cherokee, and his mother's family originally hailed from England and Scotland. It was an interesting combination. Although his folks were 'dirt poor', there burned within them a furious pride. It was this trait that moved Jack to leave home at the age of sixteen to seek his fortune. Well, fortune was elusive for an uneducated half-breed. Finally, he decided to head west with the thought that perhaps he would find others of his kind. He hired-on to work on ranches when he could, and learned to live off the land when work was not to be found. Time passed and one day he realized he had been a vagabond for too many years and each winter seemed to be colder than the last. It was time to settle down and maybe find a little house to call his own.

Suddenly, the horse he was riding shied away from some imaginary threat and brought him back to the present. It was time to head back to the bunkhouse. This job is a good one. He likes the elderly couple that owns the ranch. They are kind to him and the pay is good. He thought to himself, "I wonder if Mr. Tillman would consider allowing me to buy that little line shack on the north section of the ranch? I think he will, after a while. It would be a good home for me and Mr. Johnson."

Mr. Johnson is a large dog of the mastiff breed. He is Jack's best friend and traveling companion. Over the years, they have trekked across many miles together.

"Come on, Mr. Johnson. Let's go to the house. It's starting to get chilly out here."

By William C. Highsmith - August 30, 2010