22/04/2024
Welcome to Half Broke Truths. A novel about growing up with grit, learning the hard way, being a cowboy and what happens to the stories and legacies when the last cowboy dies.
This page is a behind the scenes look into the characters and inspiration behind the upcoming release of this book!
Joseph Dean-JD
"The memory is as clear and persistent as if it happened just yesterday, though many years have since passed. I was about eight years old when that day unfolded, a day that forever changed my perspective on life."
My dad, Ed Dean, was a horse trader, a tough man who believed in hard work and even harder discipline. He had just gotten his hands on a pony that he was excited would turn a nice profit. Buttercup, he called her, trying to make her sound sweet and gentle. But I am here to tell you, that pony was anything but gentle; it had a wild streak, something I was about to learn the hard way. I had waited for this moment for what seemed like my whole life, the day my dad, with his weathered hat on, smelled like the mixture of sunshine and a freshly rolled cigarette. Finally, he asked me to help him break some horses. I wanted to be a cowboy more than I wanted anything in this world.
I stared ole' Buttercup down as I approached her with a halter, my confidence bigger than my britches. " Easy, whoah, easy...." I gently haltered Buttercup. It was easier than I thought, giving me the illusion that breaking this little pony was going to be a cinch. I threw my right leg over, and before I could get in the middle, this little pony BROKE into me, jumping, snorting, and kicking. I imagined snot blowing out her nose as her front feet hit the ground and my tailbone landed on her spine. Up and down, up and down, the rhythm continued until it didn't. One last swing of her ass and my skinny little body slammed into the dirt. I didn't know what hurt more, my backside or my pride.
"JD, you got 3 days to get that pony at least half broke before I have a family comin' to look at her. They don't buy, you don't eat. You got that?"
For the next 2 days, I got on that butt-busting pony. But then it happened: Buttercup got the best of me; when I thought I would outsmart her with spurs, I snuck off my daddy's boots. I would spur her until she could no longer take it and then ride her around like the cowboy I knew I was. It took one spur to the flank, and ole Buttercup threw me higher, harder, and further than I had ever been. The ground greeted me with a jarring truth, and the sharp pain in my side spoke of more than just bruised ribs – it whispered of a more profound hurt, the sting of a young boy's pride, and the tears of failure that followed. As I lay there, the dust settling around my crumpled form, I wiped away those bitter tears and faced my father. 'She's ready,' I lied, the words tasting of defeat. It was the first and last time I ever lied to my dad.
Later that day, the family arrived to look at Buttercup. They pulled up with a shiny truck and horse trailer like I had never seen. Such luxury was rare in our parts, where most folks juggled pennies for bread, let alone dreamt of such grandeur. A girl who appeared to be my age got out. She was skinny like I was, her brown hair neatly falling from underneath a cowboy hat. I wondered why a girl would wear a hat made for men. Her brown eyes sparkled with a blend of curiosity and defiance. They held a mischievous glimmer, eerily reminiscent of the look in Buttercup's eyes – a look that spoke of untamed spirits and challenges yet to be met. At that moment, I knew she was not someone to be underestimated, a force as unpredictable and potentially as unmanageable as Buttercup herself."
"Hi! My name is Charlette Anne, but you can call me Lottie," the young girl said as she stretched out her hand for a shake. What kind of girl shakes your hand and wears a cowboy hat. All the girls from my school barely even look at me.
" My name is Joseph Dean," I said reluctantly, returning the handshake, and suddenly, very aware of how dirty my hands were.
Then Dad said it, the words I was dreading. "JD, show these nice people how gentle Buttercup is. Take her for a little ride."
My heart sank. I was scared, plain and simple. "No, Daddy, please," I begged, tears already welling up. "I'll get bucked off again."
He didn't care. He just stared at me with those hard eyes, and I knew I had no choice. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't face Buttercup again, not after the last time. I backed away, crying, shaking my head. Looking at Lottie staring wide-eyed, almost with excitement in her eyes, I turned and ran away.
I could hear the sound of the truck and trailer leaving our place in the distance, and I knew I would have to face my father sooner or later. That night, he gave me a whipping I'd never forget. For the next three days, all I had was a slice of bread to eat. He said it was because I cost us the sale, the money that was supposed to buy food.
Lying in my bed, hungry and hurting, I thought a lot about truth and lies. Dad had tried to sell a lie – that Buttercup was gentle. I couldn't go along with it, and it cost us. That's when it hit me: in our world, it's not always the whole truth that gets you by. Sometimes, it's the half-broke truths, the ones that are just true enough to be believable but not so true they scare people away.
As I grew up, I took that lesson with me: the art of balancing truth and reality. I learned when to hold back and when to bend the truth just a little. It's not about being dishonest; it's about understanding how the world works. Like horses, you must sometimes know how to handle the truth – not too tame, but not too wild.
Looking back at that day, I see where it led me. It taught me about life, about survival. It was a hard lesson, but it was mine. And in a way, I'm grateful for it. It showed me that half-broke truths can sometimes carry you further than fully broken horses. That half-broke truths are way better than fully empty stomachs.
Half Broke Truths Novel Releasing 2025, follow along for character intros, short stories and more!
