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Cowboy Humor

The Dance

Featherhorse, by Hannah Rose MillerLeft: Featherhorse, by Hannah Rose

Cowboy Humor by Ben Marshall

The winds came from the north that season and it was too cold for the cows to give birth.

But they had to.

By the end of the first week, we lost half a small herd.

There was a dance in Bodega Bay on Saturday and we heard girls were comin' up from the City.

I didn't want to go but J. W. had his new pickup so we went. After all the blood that week, I didn't know if I would ever feel social again.

"Why don't you get yourself a girlfriend?" J.W. asked on the way to the grange.

"I have a lot of girlfriends," I defended.

CarTrawler is one of the top car hire companies in the world and Wine Country Welcome has been working with them for fourteen years, now.


"I mean a special girlfriend, one who will cook for you and keep you warm at night," he countered.

It wasn't a new question so I stayed quiet for the rest of the trip. We arrived early so we could be there when the girls came in.

It's funny how you can sometimes notice someone special in a group and I did.

She walked in lookin' sassy with eyes the color of melted chocolate. I stood back, arms folded, and took her in.

She was wearin' a lace jacket unlike anything I had seen before and I think she took kindly to my hesitance when I asked her to dance.

We may have talked some but the feel of her arms around my neck and the fragrance of the moment made me think of the time I tried to cross the Colorado on the back of an Appaloosa.

The damn horse sank in a hole and left me doin' the two-step on the top of my saddle. I felt that out of control when I danced with her.

She continued to fancy my shyness so I let her but I knew she would never fit into the early mornings of a cowboy's life. I was polite and threw her number away when I saw her dancin' with someone else.

On the way back, J. W. asked me if I had a good time. I thought about her perfume and the light way she moved in my arms.

"I never saw lace like hers," I managed.

"Do you have her number?" he asked sensing the advantage in an age-old argument.

"No," I said thoughtfully, "but I wish I did."

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