Enjoy this change of pace with a story from my very sarcastic dad!
Laramie trotted her prized barrel horse Cisco, up to the back of her 40 foot, Double D brand horse trailer and prepared to dismount. She’d just ran an impressive, for her, 28.7 second barrel heat and was sweating something fierce. She’d pulled up alongside her custom made dismount platform. It was basically a waist high platform with a set of stairs off either end, resembling the judging stand at a Eukanuba dog show. She gracefully hucked her right leg up and over the back of the saddle and gracefully landed her barely worn Justin’s onto the stand. In the exertion of effort, a , what I’d refer to as a baby toot eased out of her and mildly resembled the sound of a young fella getting on his diesel engine when trying to black smoke a city slicker. The smell wasn’t too terrible, rotting cabbage with a hint of fermented onions and a shot of pack rat nest. Poor Cisco caught a whiff of it, his eyes crossed, he wheezed a half a dozen times, side stepped, but caught his balance and remained conscious. Laramie finished her graceful dismount and gave praise to Wrangler jeans for having the foresight to add Kevlar and spandex to her women’s size 44 pants. Were it not for the reinforcements to the garment, she’d have surely ripped the crotch clean out of her britches and required an emergency visit to Murdoch’s.
This sorta experience was old hat to Laramie and Cisco, ya see, Laramie was a 5th generation Montana Rancher, and pure grit ran solid as an iron bar through her 95% cholesterol filled veins. In fact it seemed like only yesterday when she first heard the stories her dad and grand pappy Tex had told of the hard times and the struggles. The rough days, when they only had 2 King Ranch Dually power strokes sitting in the driveway, and a rancher’s daughter sometimes had to wait till she was almost outta grade school before getting her first $25,000 barrel pony was brought to her by Santa on Christmas morning. Laramie shed a tear thinking back on them there horror stories.
On her own life’s path was the battles she had faced, competing and winning 4 times in a row, to be crowned, “Cow Punchinist Cattle Queen alive” . That was the title every girl dreamed of earning in her home town. Ya see, her town was known for having what folks far and wide referred to as the Biggest, hootinist, hollerinist, weekend in the whole darn west.
And amazingly enough, Laramie had won the “Cow Punchinist Cattle Queen “ those four times, and some folks who weren’t from around those parts, had the nerve to say that her, mom, aunt, first cousin and Grand Pappy Tex, all being judges had given her that undeserved title all 4 times. Poppycock by golly!
Well Laramie thought to herself, I’d better get Cisco loaded back up and head for home, I’ve got a long week ahead of me, with a new block starting up tomorrow at my college. And this 8 th year red shirt sophomore was gonna be the best student in her field this block. Studying, pre-kindergarten education with minors in elderly equine psychology and animal husbandry.
Well Cisco, load up my trusted steed, and shit, someone parked in front of my 40 foot horse trailer and KingRanch dually. I’m gonna have to call one of our ranch Mexicans to come back this thing up for me.
Can life get any worse for a poor Montana Rodeo athlete/Rancher/Teacher?
Housed and Fed 