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.


           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.


           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…


~ © 2002/2010 – David L. Griffith ~
For My Special Lady

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