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Yesterday they showed up again. I'll never understand why they want to steal our cows so bad, but Mom said I was old enough to deal with them. She was right. I've always been an excellent marksman, even on horseback. Mom says that I get my talent from father, but I don't much care for a man who left my mother before I was born. Nevertheless, Mom says she loved him, but I honestly don't think he loved her. I wouldn't ever hurt her feelings by telling her that though.
Mother told me that we had company, so I quickly got dressed and watched my grandfather trying to drive another visitor away from our ranch. Unlike others, however, this visitor was determined; he ran circles around Grandpa with his quick tongue, and Mom finally convinced Grandpa to leave the visitor alone. Mom offered to let him stay in the guest room; she said that he reminded her of dad. If that's the case, father must have been some stinky, effeminate sleazebag. I've got a bad feeling about our visitor.
It figures that I found the lay-about freeloader sleeping. Not only did I not want such a filthy man lying in the guest bed, I also can't stand to see such a potential work force go to waste, so I made the little blighter clean the barn! The barn, home to the foulest of the foul would be the only haven this visitor would find under my watch.