Being unfamiliar with Western novels, my knowledge of the code of the cowboy - the credo - has come from cinema. If there was one steadfast pillar of the credo which I learned from John Ford's My Darling Clementine and The Searchers, from Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West and Don Siegel's The Shootist, it was the iron commitment of the cowboy's word.
The word of the cowboy was not too different from that of the soldier, the samurai, or the alpha animal of a pack, and it was a commitment sealed in blood, to be fulfilled by either completion or by death. The cowboy never turned their back on their word, and always, always placed the objective ahead of their personal want.
We get a complete study of credo from Claire Huffaker's western masterpiece The Cowboy and the Cossack. The novel starts with the arrival of a cargo ship on the shores of 19th century Russia, a country being suffocated and trampled underneath the fractured rule of the Imperial Tsar and tribes of skilled and relentless nomadic warriors, the feared Tatars.
Onboard the ship is an unlikely cargo - 500 prime heads of cattle being shipped in by a ragtag but deftly-skilled group of Montana cowhands. The herd was purchased by a town in central Siberia, and the task on hand is for the cowboys to deliver the herd safely to their final destination.
From the outset, it becomes clear that this task is far easier said than done, as the brutal and unforgiving politics and geography of Russia stand to make the journey impossible at best, and fatally dangerous at worst. After facing a seemingly insurmountable blockade to get the cattle ashore, the cowboys are met by a menacingly intimidating band of warriors - a group of fifteen highly-trained Russian soldiers, the Cossacks, who have been sent by the town to provide security for the cowboys. The cowboys and the Cossacks meet face to face, and it becomes no secret that there is a tremendous level of distrust and doubt for each respective camp. Psychological and prejudicial walls are built up on both sides, and the journey into Siberia begins on a tenuous and dangerous balance of ego-driven bravado and prejudicial self-preservation.
The unforgiving landscape of Siberia, fraught with fierce predators both human and non-human alike, come onto the caravan wave after wave, and each assault forces the cowboys and Cossacks to depend on one another not out of choice, but rather necessity. As Shakespeare once wrote, "misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows," and the unforgiving terrain of Russia brings the men closer together in very unexpected ways.
But driving this entire tale is the word of the warrior, the commitment of both the cowboy and the Cossack. Each is willing and prepared to give their lives for the word they made - to deliver the cattle - and nothing, absolutely nothing can break that word. Not weather, not invading tribes, not insurmountable odds of a spectacular scale can drive these men to turn their backs on their word. Their credo is their life, and is an unspoken foundation of each character's existence.
Huffaker spends a considerable amount of time on character development, but he does so in a little more nontraditional way. He focuses on perceived weaknesses of each character and juxtaposes them against their American or Russian counterpart, and in doing so he makes the all-important discovery that either man is not too different from the other, and that the binding tie is the warrior credo. It's a timeless and heartfelt notion, and Huffaker does an amazing job, through dialect and action, of getting this across. His well-studied and simple-but-gorgeous passages of the minutiae of the warriors of the East and West, their habits, their preparation, and how they each cope with adversity all builds up to the universal definition of what it means to be a man of honor. As a reader, it's a humbling joy to absorb the enviable constitutions of these amazing men.
Huffaker further extends the concept of credo by also giving considerable study to the relationship between man and animal, particularly the relationship that a man has with his loyal steed. The partnership, like all partnerships of honor, is one based in mutual respect. The cowboys and the Cossacks alike revere their horses and cattle as they would their own family, and it is both touching and revelatory to experience the relationships that they develop.
The Cowboy and the Cossack is a highly emotional book, one that is based in the formation of eternal relationships and and friendship, a bond of love and affection that is forged on the edge of a steel saber and beneath an iron horseshoe. It is authentic to the relationships of men, the formation of a brotherhood that most men find difficult to explain, but carry out through understated, small, nuanced gestures. Huffaker never lets us forget that these men are as hard as steel, and they are not ones to share their feelings and emotions so readily or openly. But as with any great man of honor, their actions speak far, far louder than words. The story culminates in an epic battle, and the damages of war strike deep and elicit genuine sadness because we finally understand what these men mean to each other and to the code of honor. Every wound is earned, every death a noble one. No life - be it man or animal - is taken without honor and the defiance of the free spirit, and it is this revered and fiery blood that gives this story a beautiful, beating heart.
The Cowboy and the Cossack joins my ranks of my favorite books. I didn't want it to end and I can't wait to read it again. Beyond stoking the nostalgic love of the Western movies I saw as a kid, it purified my heart of the skepticism and cynicism that I many times feel plagues humanity. When a book can make you a better person after reading it, then you know you've stumbled onto something truly special. Highly, highly recommended.