Home on the Range
Cowboys Comin' At'cha
| She was a beauty, flaxen mane and tail; with a star, slash and snip; three white socks all rolled up in the prettiest red roan filly you ever saw. It was love at first sight as she ran around that old B.L.M. corral. |
| An hour later after a $100.00 adoption fee was paid, a trailer came round and she came home to live with us. All her life had been wild and free on the high-desert country of eastern Nevada, but over graze and drought had brought disaster to the wild horse herds that roam that area. |
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The wranglers from B.L.M. told wild tales, about mean horses and wild rides; so when I got her home to the farm I don’t know who was the most afraid, me or her. But I knew something she didn’t; I loved her, so that was a place to start. Within a month she had found out that a bucket of “horse and mule” with plenty of water and lots of fresh hay beat the dickens out of high desert. |
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Two weeks later she would sing out to me every time I came into her sight; and a week later I slipped a halter over her head and gave her a good rub. Three months to the day, I put on a saddle and slipped aboard, she looked back and I petted her neck and the rest was history. She lived out her life never knowing a bit, and she was the sure-footed mountain pony I had always dreamed of. She carved out a memory that will last as long as I breathe. So here’s to Wendover’s Fire, and all the cowboys and cowgirls comin' at'cha… |
 ~ © 2002 – David L. Griffith ~
For My Special Lady |
