Dear Ben,
Although my hair may not be silver like yours, we've weathered many harrowing experiences together. I've stood by your side as you've watched your sons grow to manhood, seen them through broken hearts and cheerful times. It was on my back that you first set your young children to learn to ride. You always told me I did a good job, and I believe I did. Together we'll grow old until my legs can no longer bear your weight, my golden coat has lost its luster, and the spark has been extinguished from my eyes. But until then I will hold my noble head high as you do yours and take you anywhere you want to go. I will help you guide your sons to make the right decisions, and maybe one day you will set your grandchildren upon my back. In the way you've seen your sons through trying times, I've watched you struggle through grief-filled years. I remember the day you saw me in a stable in a fort along the Oregon Trail. You bartered and bickered for a day until I was finally yours. I carried you and your wife and two sons across the plains until Inger's tragic death at the hands of Indians. Then I stood by you as you cried in the night away from the wagons, not wanting little Adam or baby Hoss to hear you weep. I remember when Marie's horse fell on her, hearing the mare and your wife scream as they tumbled. I carried you to the funeral that week; dark and somber with my head low. I've seen you through those tumultuous storms, and I will continue until death takes the breath from my lungs.
Until then,
Buck