I follow the rider but never wear spurs. I lengthen at sunset, vanish at noon, and in the high desert, I can outrun you soon. A cowboy trusts me, yet I never speak lose me at night, and the trail grows bleak. What am I?

I am a deep water fish, rarely seen with the same name as a boat instrument

I’m a very relaxed mollusk, that is until I get turned into chowder.

I'm Moby Dic's worst enemy, not Ishmael, but sinister indeed. From the bow, I enter thee, piercing deep, you'll come to me.

Behold the humble hut of yore, where beasts dost bide from tempest's roar. A wooden womb for woolly kin, beneath its roof, calm doth begin.