CARING AND CURIOUS
Two sunsets I sat-a ponderin’ the Wind River Range. My camp was nothin’ but peaceful. I sat up along a tree-line on the outskirts of Prairie Meadow, a place not known to many.
At the weeks-end I rode north, passin’ through vast country of empty creek bottoms and dust. By mid-day my horse grew weary of further travel. We took a gander ‘cross the range. Just below the horizon a shimmer caught my glance. I’s-a not to fall for a wave of heat for water, so we started forward. Just over a mile ahead laid country I sought for, Thermopolis, Wyoming. An abundance of river channels crossed paths as we walked upon a lake we’d end up restin’ our feet for. “Lunch time it is,” I said whilst carefully dismounting my horse with aching knees. Not soon after a meal of spoiled fruit and a moments rest we continued north. After passing through the high deserts I found myself amongst the canyons. A few passer-byes made known I’s-a getting close to the Montana border. Many-o-miles I’d-a traveled now. I lost track of how many sunsets.
My journey came to a halt as I crept alongside the most southern region of the Crow Reservation near Billings. Ten miles short of the hills, I rode to my destination. Peace Ranch I called it. A packers home where I’d stay with a friend I only met one summer before, but wrote to amongst the time between. Miss Ma’am I liked to call her, better known to others as Miss Laura. She was a nomad too. A pure soul of gold and a smile so contagious she’d-a-have all the cowpokes ‘round town turnin’ heads. She spoke of a greeting like we’d known one another far longer than we did. Kindly opening the door to her home as if it was my own. We sat for rest for hours but with good conversation the time had gone by too soon. Miss Ma’am was a thoughtful person. And I mean by that - she thought before she spoke. And her words were caring and curious. She was like a sure-footed horse, one you can trust in rugged terrain.
Whilst the sun was descending we decided to ride the trails around the property. Tacking two of the packers more well-rested horses instead of my own, we ventured out to the base of the Pryor’s. Miss Ma’am and I spoke a great deal of life and lessons. She was just so easy to converse with and made me feel right at home. We rode down gulleys and ‘cross rock sheets and hell, we were talking so much the horses knew better of our whereabouts than I did. A few hours it must’ve been before we rode into a small shad patch to catch a drink. We packed canteens of whiskey water for a pick-me-up to have just before we oughtta turn back. The ride towards home for the night went quickly. We cantered a great deal back, which I trully enjoyed. It had been so long since I just felt like I’s to have fun and not work for a moment. I had much to thank for because of Miss Ma’am. Truly a pure soul. We ended up back at the packers place just before sundown and untacked. Miss Ma’am kindly made me a mighty-fine dinner whilst we continued our shared stories of growing older. With whiskey water and a homemade dinner full in my stomach, it was time to rest my head.
The next morning we rose with the sun. We tacked the same two horses as the day before along with four pack mules and the packers riding mule. We set out to the hills behind the packers post where we’d ride for only a few hours. This was the first time those mules packed for the season so we took em’ out for a lil’ test run. The sun pressed the days heat down on our shoulders. We rode through herds of cattle, passing a few rattlers here and there. Just before mid-day we rode back down to then post where I’d quickly switch my tack and pack. Although I wish I could’ve stayed there far longer, I had a new adventure waiting of me elsewhere. My goodbye was short but sweet, promising I'd mosey on back their way some time soon.
I disappeared with the sun, heading west.
