Ah, them Texas skies sure do sing a pretty song – but it's no match for the chorus of memories that come floodin' when I recollect that fateful day when I was conscripted – not by my country but by a raging bull.
I was just a scruffy little cowpoke of 16 drivin' a herd through the prairie. I'd been out there since daybreak, and afternoon was fallin' fast, so I decided to get a move on before dark. Just then, out of nowhere, a huge black bull – a pitch-black beast about five feet heigh – came chargin' towards me.
I was nervous and young and I didn't know what to do. I was frozen in place, but then I heard sound…it was the voice of mama calling out from the other end of the herd. She was bein’ chased by this same bull.
With a determination like I'd never felt before, I galloped towards the bull. I leapt in front of him and gave him a mighty shove with my shoulder, and he slowed down. Before he could leave, mama had reached my side and we galloped away.
That night, I lay in agony, my shoulder crippled and my limbs shaking. I'd saved my mama from a certain doom, but it'd cost me my health. I was conscripted to face the bull, and though it took a toll, I'd conquered the beast.
In the months that followed, I worked hard to heal my injury, but the lingering pain lingers with me till this day. And it serves as a reminder of that awesome power that comes with conscription – the power to take on a challenge and surmount it with strength and courage.