Cowboy Character: Generosity
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Long as I got a biscuit, you got half.
Cowboy Saying
Confucius, the ancient Chinese sage, was no cowboy—at least not in practice or dress. But if he had shown up on the range he would have been welcomed as a hail-fellow-well-met and accepted as one of the hands, not because he could rope or ride but because he had the openhearted and openhanded nature of a cowboy. He was once asked which character traits constituted “perfect virtue.” Confucius listed five qualities: “gravity,” “sincerity,” “earnestness,” “kindness,” and “generosity of soul.”
Of this last one, Confucius said, “If you are generous, you will win all.” He didn’t only mean that you would win over others in friendship and fellowship, but that you would also win in life—that your life would be richer because of your generosity. Jesus agreed. “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” He said (Acts 20:35). You lose nothing but have everything to gain by your generosity.
Another bygone wiseman made a similar claim to the value of generosity. “Cast your bread on the surface of the waters,” Solomon wrote, “for you will find it after many days” (Ecclesiastes 11:1). An Arabic proverb echoes this wisdom: “Do good, throw your bread on the waters, and one day you will be rewarded.”
Your reward may not come in a material manner, though your generosity may have been material. Your reward may be nothing more than the enlargement of your soul and the knowledge that by your generosity you blessed someone who might have missed out on a much needed blessing. And yet, the enlargement of soul and the knowledge that it’s better to go through life openhearted and openhanded than to be closedhearted and closedfisted is reward enough. It is the essence of “perfect virtue”—of a life well lived, as the old mission statement for Georgetown University stated: “Life is only lived well when it is lived generously in the service of others.”
Cowboys, whether old-timers or new-timers, live out the truth that life is better when lived generously.
In an essay I wrote about cowboy gratitude I said, “Cowboys didn’t (and don’t) own a lot of possessions . . . because they didn’t (and don’t) make a lot of money.” And yet, what they did (and do) own they share. Cowboys are greathearted. Or as cowboy historian Ramon Adams put it, “The true cowboy had a ‘heart in his brisket as big as a saddle blanket.’ He was generous to a fault. Nothing he owned was too good to share with a fellow worker if that puncher needed it.”
He would not only give another cowhand the shirt off of his back, he would give the horse from under his saddle.
His generosity didn’t just extend to cowboys, it also extended to anyone in need. Elmer Kelton, in The Good Old Boys, writes,
Hewey Calloway, who had never owned more of the world’s good than he could tie on a horse, gave freely of whatever he had when he had it. Last fall he had given up a well-earned spree in town before it had fairly begun and contributed his only thirty dollars to a collection for a newly widowed nester woman and her four children. No one ever knew of it except Hewey and a half dozen other cowboys who had volunteered in like manner from their own pinched pockets.
For a cowboy, the night is never too dark, the weather is never too raw, the trail is never too long to prevent him from riding to the aid of a fellow cowboy. No job is too humble, too hellish, or too hazardous to keep him from lending a hand to another cowhand. Whether he’s wallowing in velvet or wallowing in russet, he’ll give his last dime to a penniless friend. And hearing of a sick and broke puncher in need of medicine or medical attention every cowboy on the range will empty his pockets. No matter how narrow at the equator he might be with hunger, he’ll offer his last piece of bacon and his last drop of coffee to any famished man. His campfire is open to any cold puncher. No matter how low his supply of makin’s, even if he’s out on the range, far from resupply, he’ll hold back some tobacco for another man who might want a smoke—something he never refuses, unless he wants to issue a direct and intentional insult. And if need be, because of his loyalty in riding for the brand and his generosity of spirit, he’ll take all manner of risk to care for and save the property of his outfit, even going to war for it.
A striking example of cowboy generosity is found in The Searchers, in both the novel written by Alan LeMay (1954) and the movie directed by John Ford (1956). Martin Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter) and Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) are on a desperate search for a family member, Debbie (Natalie Wood), who had been captured by Comanches. They are accompanied by Brad Jorgensen (Harry Carey Jr.), a local cowboy, who dies at the hands of the Comanches. After Brad’s death, and without Debbie, Martin and Ethan return to the Jorgensen ranch. Upon their arrival, Mr. Jorgensen hands Ethan a letter from an Indian trader. It contains a snippet of a dress belonging to Debbie. The next morning, Ethan rides out early and leaves Martin behind. When Martin discovers Ethan gone, he grows frantic. Martin needs to catch Ethan because he fears Ethan will kill Debbie if he’s not there to stop him. But Martin doesn’t own a horse. Laurie Jorgensen (Vera Miles), who’s in love with Martin, tries to persuade him to stay with her. To no avail. “I’ve got to get a hold of a horse. I just got to get a horse,” Martin insists.
“Is that all that’s stopping you? [. . .] You’ve got horses, Martie. [. . .] You’ve got Brad’s horses. Pa said so. He means it, Martie. [. . .] Most of Brad’s ponies are turned out. But the Fort Worth stud is up. He’s coming twelve, but he’ll outgame anything there is. And the good light gelding—the fast one, with the blaze.”
“Why, that’s Sweet-face. [. . .] Laurie, that’s your own good horse.”
“Let’s not get choosey, Bub. . . . Pa held them back for you.”
During a day when everything comes at a cost, generosity seems like a fool’s bargain. It’s looked on with a jaundiced eye. Folks suspect there must be invisible strings attached to such largess. I pity those who reduce life to a profit and loss statement, who live by a return-on-investment philosophy. Those that do are embezzlers, stealing not only the joy of receiving but also the joy of giving.
That’s not the cowboy way. They have hearts as big as all Texas. They’d rather live openhearted and openhanded in the wide open than have a rock hardened heart, always grasping and stockpiling, existing in the darkness and dankness of a tiny closedhearted and closedfisted dugout—even if it’s the size of a mansion.
The cowboy way is the better way.
Ramon F. Adams, The Cowman and His Code of Ethic (Austin: The Encino Press, 1969), 7.
Confucius, The Analects, 17.6, trans. James Legee (East Bridgewater: World Publications Group, 2008), 119.
Elmer Kelton, The Good Old Boys (Fort Worth: Texas Christian University Press, 1985), 12.
Alan LeMay, The Searchers, in The Western: Four Classic Novels of the 1940s & 50s (New York: The Library of America, 2020), 401.
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A good lesson for all of us.