Ouch

Swinging loose.

We were coming in from a roundup. The house and barn were in sight, probably a quarter mile ahead. My dad, Silas, 2 or 3 ranch hands and me.

 “Show the meskins how you can ride, Tommy!” Sorry about the language, readers, but that’s the way we talked back then.

 I kicked the sides of my horse, loosened the reins and we were off. Soon, I had grabbed the saddle horn with both hands and was praying for dear life.

 The reins of the horse were swinging loose. That’s a bad thing. If the horse had stepped on the reins, the horse most likely would have fallen.

 Alongside came Silas (there were no better cowboys than Silas), slowing the horse and getting control of the loose reins. Thank God for Silas, such a good, colorful man.

 I’ve wrestled with whether to tell the above story. Recently, Gary Lillibridge told a story about my dad that, with Catherine’s permission, I’m including with my story. During a visit years ago at Dad’s ranch, Dad took Catherine and Gary on a horseback ride. When the barn was in sight, Catherine’s horse took off and she had to be helped off the horse.

That Virgil!