I’m wielded by hands but not for crafting art. One form tills the soil, while the other may break hearts. What am I?

I wear a cap but have no head, I sleep in earth, my leafy bed. Though small and round, I hold great might one day I'll grow to touch the light.

I have feet, and up you climb, one foot in a line, in perfect time. Lean on me, I’ll lift you high, but take one slip, and down you’ll fly. I'm not a stair, though I compete, guess who I am beneath your feet?

I tell the time, but don’t tick or tock, I use the sun to make my mark. By day I’m helpful, by night I rest, What am I, at nature's behest?

I ride with the sun and sleep under stars, my boots dusty from journeys afar. With a rope in my hand and a hat on my head, I tame the wild where others have fled. I don’t need a saddle to carry my pride, who am I, with the open range as my guide?