Cowboy Novels & Stories

Besides, he was pretty funny. Corbin was a tall lean guy with copper-colored skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes. He had your typical Wyoming accent and some ordinary cowboy bad habits like tobacco use. He was nice and would help you out if you needed it, but there wasn’t really anything special about him, other than his ability to ride.

Rayka grumbles. “Good evening everyone and welcome to this magnificent event.” Richard begins to speak. “In our life, 8 seconds may mean nothing, but for a cowboy, 8 seconds on the back of a bull is like an eternity, it takes only 8 seconds for a cowboy to be considered a hero, in 8 seconds one will be defined the best. To face those 8 seconds takes an insane courage, a fearless bravery that few men have in this world. With you Sovereign.”

He had to admit this place wasn't as bad as he'd expected. He let his gaze wander around the shop, taking in things he hadn't really noticed yesterday. The artwork on the walls, for instance. Yesterday, they had been blurs of color. Today, he realized they were great examples of contemporary Western art. The style was very distinctive and arresting. Someone had lovingly painted a magnificent stallion, a small herd of horses galloping across a pasture, a tired cowboy at the end of a long day, and other similar scenes. Whoever this was might have come from Montana like he had, because the essence of the cowboy had been captured pe

Enthusiasm and courage are the words Nolan uses to describe Windy. Nolan smiled and nodded, "Then I'll hunt in the northeast." The two split up and ran in the chosen direction. But they never expected Ezra's enemies to have entered the forest long ago. The leader of the assassin group is a Wolf with a pretty special fur. It has a reddish brown coat that is different from the rest of the species. Next to it was a wolf with jet-black fur similar to Ezra. But if you look closely, you will see the difference between the two.

VOLUME SIX: A COWBOY AND HIS SWEET SPOT Carter's ass bounced on the hard seat of his banged-up pickup truck as he drove across the state line into Wyoming. Man, he was tired, and his butt hurt. Riding fourteen hours on the back of a horse was much more comfortable than six on the worn-out seat in the truck.

“My name is Matvey. I am with the Russian team.” Cowboy kept staring at him. “So?” He moved further into the infirmary. “I’m a medic. My boss said you would be needing me.” Rain stared at him. “A medic from Russia?” He nodded. Her interest was obvious and Cowboy felt some pang, like it was almost painful, some unidentifiable anger at the way Rain stared at him. “I would love to talk Russian medicine,” she gushed. Cowboy rolled his eyes as if it were any different than—

He’s very muscular and drool worthy. “Oh, my bad I'm a little buzzed here cowboy,” Kim laughed. “How do you know my name have we met before?” Cowboy asked. “Ah no I just call guys who wear cowboy hats, cowboy, when I don't know their name.” Kim replied. “Well lucky guess. My name is Cowboy, and this here is my friend Smokey,” Cowboy introduced. “Where's the bandit?” Raine asked laughing. “Ha ha good one, like I haven’t heard that before,” Smokey fake laughed.

Mary replied. “You know what, fine I’ll do it! What’s the name of the bar?” Kenzie asked. “Yay! Cowboy up.” Mary shouted. “Cowboy Up? Are you for real?” Kenzie said. “Yep, I’ll pick you up at 6pm.” Mary said. “I have a bad feeling, but okay.” Kenzie explained. “Byeee.” Mary replied. “Bye.” Kenzie repeated. “So cowboy up?” Grant asked. Kenzie jumped because she didn’t know he was behind her.

GABE Gabe Walker swung his big pickup into an empty spot on the main road of Rocky Springs, his stomach twisting over what he had to do. He stepped out and shook his head slowly as he set his black Stetson on his head. People joked he was the billionaire cowboy, and he didn’t mind. He had grown up in Texas, born rich from his father’s oil fortune. Like Brian, his dad also had a cattle ranch. Gabe guessed he was as much a cowboy as anyone, maybe even more than Brian, who was called the cowboy senator because of his ranch. He paused at the door and read the neat writing on the pristine window of the

because regardless of their uniform for the evening, they always have a white cowboy hat, like a hero from an old spaghetti western. And just like characters from westerns, they all have ridiculous sounding nicknames that they use in lieu of their names–like “The Kid” or “Steel Toe Joe” or “Whiplash Jake”, a tip of the hat, so to speak, to Diamond Devine’s country background.