In the late 1800's a chuck wagon carried the food for cowboys herding cattle from the Texas area north to market.
     One drawing depicted the area behind the wagon seat as being heaped with bagged goods. Coffee, bread, beans, and dried or salted meat were the main foods carried. Some food might be gathered along the route, but it was unlikely that the cowboys had fresh beef unless a cow became injured.

     The latch on the back was turned, and the door opened to make a table. Instead of a cloth going over the curved wood over the wagon, the fabric might be draped from the top back of the wagon to provide an awning to protect the food preparation from rain, if needed.
     The cook was also the closest thing to a doctor on the trip. Considering the area at the time, cowboys from rural areas probably didn't have much different medical treatment even when not on a cattle drive.
     The chuck wagon didn't just hold the medical supplies, it also held the cook's bedroll.
     Imagine living for a month in this mobile home, through rain, wind, heat and cold—with a lot of cows being kept on the move—and having a crew riding along with little more privacy than a wide brimmed hat could provide.

Photos taken at Pawnee Bill's Museum, Oklahoma

      In the late 1800's, several cattlemen might combine herds for a cattle drive from Texas to Kansas. The owners needed a way to differentiate between the animals once they arrived at market. So the longhorns had to be branded.
     Imagine being on a running horse and roping a cow, and then wresting it to the ground so you can stick a hot iron against it. Now imagine the cow has horns which can stretch 6 feet from tip to tip and wants nothing to do with you. Cowboys were as resilient as the Texas longhorns.

Note: These photos don't do justice to the intimidating stare and size of the cattle.

Deadlines... They're not bad when you've finished the book months in advance. Other than that, they're more intense.

For my manuscripts—a book has three completion dates. The first is when the story is written. Next, it needs revised and edited. Last, the process of looking for those typos gets serious.

Designating a date to finish a project creates an opportunity to evaluate how much time it's going to take. It gives a chance to prioritize. Then, mental warning buzzers can start giving out alerts when the date is looming and attention has been diverted to another activity. For instance, looking a photos of deer on the trail cam when a book is due. (See above for example...)

For me, whether it's written in ink and notarized, or just written in my thoughts—once I decide to write a specific book and my fingers go on the keyboard, I plan a realistic completion date. 

Deadlines make the story a serious commitment and not just a fuzzy image of something I might finish someday. Setting an end date makes the journey a little more intense from time to time, but it speeds up the arrival to the finished manuscript.