Life in the country is unforgiving. Animals die, labor is unceasing and nature fights back at every turn. We say losing a beloved horse or a loyal farm dog is like losing a member of the family. But while the pain is real, it’s certainly not the same as losing a dear friend.

Our long-time farm hand died late last year. He was not an old man by any means and he had the vigor of a younger man still. By the grace of God, he passed away peacefully at home in the small cottage just down the road from the farm. I’ll call him Cowboy, because in truth, that’s what we called him most of the time. He didn’t like his real name. And he certainly lived up to the moniker.

For more than 20 years, Cowboy never failed to show up at the barn. He was staunchly loyal to my parents, who first hired him as a handyman (we jokingly called him our Shabbos Goy, despite never being that Jewish). He was familiar with horses, an untrained but naturally capable rider, but his horsemanship was just one of his skills. He was a jack of all trades –........

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