#15 Born To Do It...

The days were long and hard. The life... exhilarating.

My day began at 4 am... when I fed the horses. I let My Cowboy sleep those few extra moments... it was one of those girl things. It was always black outside but the eager nickers always, always greeted me. It was a satisfying moment to know all you loved were cared for.

Summer was always a challenge. Although still dark outside, there was the hint of dawn. Not enough to see anything and seeing is what I wanted to do. Snakes were about... not just docile ones but rattlesnakes and I didn't want to step on one. Tarantula's too... although I was more horrified than afraid... if you know what I mean. It was always a challenge to walk down the path from the little stable cottage to the stable itself.

In the beginning we started with ten horses but quickly the numbers grew, 15, 20, 60. My marketing paid off and our little stable was a thriving one.

We provided trail rides into the desert. A way to show folks, mostly tourists, the beauty of this land and the fun of being on a horse. As we grew, we added stabling for private horses as well.

The official day began at 7 am with our first rides and ended at 5 pm with the last, but many days, my day didn't end until 8 pm. Later as we became involved in cookouts and sunset and breakfast events, my day became longer. The horses were all fed early to give them plenty of time to eat and digest before the work began.

Seven days a week I fed, every holiday I fed. Sun, rain or snow, I fed. I trudged down the path and carted hay and grain to a multitude of hungry mouths. Every evening I fed too but more often than not, I had help.

It wasn't just the horses which grew in numbers, we began to hire employees and with them I learned another lesson on my road to cowgirlhood. There are two kinds of cowboys.

The first, those whom I had idolized in movies, were the good guys. Family men who cherished the land, the horses, the family and the wife. Honest everyday men who just had extraordinary lives.

The second, those whom we seemed to hire, were drifters. Most were cowboy wanna be's. Yes they could ride but seldom did they love the animals and almost never, the land. Their big claim to fame was the art of being phoney. They were not what you thought, hoped or even expected them to be. Most had authority problems, most were loners... misfits who traveled from one place to another, in hopes of finding the perfect score.

The perfect score being getting rich, getting laid and getting out of work.

I had an ongoing battle with them... for the number one trait of them all was that "no woman is going to tell ME what to do!"

My Cowboy, never understood and truthfully wasn't far off from being one of them. My life, although idyllic in many ways was fraught with tension as I tried to deal with this western flotsam. My cowgirl lessons continued as I learned the art of detaunt and that more than six guns can be fired.

The interesting part of all this is that I never noticed. I was so wrapped up in my dream, that the work or the people never got to me. I loved caring for the horses. I loved riding 10 hours a day. I loved the desert. I loved being a cowgirl, even if I had yet to meet a cow.

This WAS my life... I was born to do it.