no problem getting the best for the bull-riding and bronc-busting events. In addition, the promise of a good purse for the horse race brought out Denver’s thoroughbred horses.
Patrick finally had to drag me away from the beautiful, sleek, purebred horses in their stalls. “Ada, if you don’t come now, I’ll carry you. The professional rodeo events are starting, and I’m not missing them to keep looking at a horse, no matter how pretty it is.”
As we took our seats and the bull riding events began, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I missed Ma and Lettie. This rodeo was a lot like the ones I had been part of at the ranch. The professional bull riders gave an exciting show. Even I had to admit that their skills were exceptional. After the bull riding it was time for the races and we moved over to the track. I chuckled as I overheard several gentlemen loudly negotiating the odds on the race with a bookmaker.
“I’ll give you three-to-one odds on ‘Midnight Rider,’ the bookie said to one of the men.
“No, I want four-to-one,” the gentleman, countered.
“I’ll take those three-to-one odds,” another man in a suit, interrupted.
Whispering under my breath, I said, “Personally, I’d take ‘Purple Sage’ at five-to-one. ‘Midnight Rider’ looked a little slow at the warm-ups.”
“What was that?” Patrick asked, unaware of the events I was watching unfold.
“Oh nothing, just talking to myself.” I suddenly realized that I would rather not have to explain that comment. The race drew a large crowd and everyone cheered as the horses raced at breakneck speed around the track. In silent testimony to my old learned skills, ‘Purple Sage’ won the race.
The events and horse race activities ran late into the afternoon on Saturday. Pastor Burns realized that many people would be needed to clean up the fairgrounds after such a celebration. In preparation, he offered to cook a pancake breakfast for anyone who would use his or her Sunday Service time to help in this civic duty.
Most of the families brought wagons and built makeshift tents in which to spend the cool October night. The children once tucked in were unusually quiet, as the excitement of the day had proved to be too much for any late night shenanigans. Their parents, appreciative of a rare peaceful evening, drank coffee by the fire and pleasantly socialized with each other.
“Are you as tired as I am?” Patrick whispered softly in my ear. Though warm and snuggled in his embrace, I thought how nice it would be to feel the soft hay and heavy wool blankets we had in the wagon. “Sounds like the cowboys are spending all their winnings at the saloon tonight,” Patrick said. He held me tight as the sounds of honky-tonk piano and raucous laughter wafted into our little camp.
“It hasn’t snowed yet this year,” I said, trying to deflect the negative tone of his conversation. A shiver passed down my spine as I remembered that Grace had told me someone saw professional ladies from Denver at the saloon today. I cuddled closer to Patrick’s body, hoping to draw the sudden chill away from me. I couldn’t be sure they were the ladies from the Silver Dove, but I had worn my cloak with a hood to quickly hide my identity, just in case I might see someone who might recognize me.
Thinking about tomorrow’s plans, I informed Patrick of the day’s itinerary. “Tomorrow, Grace and I plan to start cleaning at the railroad platform before anyone gets there in the morning. Pastor Burns said he had plenty of people to help with the cooking, so we’re planning to start early. I know you need to get home to get the milking done, so Frank said he would bring me home tomorrow afternoon with Grace and the kids, if that is OK with you?”
Patrick yawned deeply, “Sounds good. I’ll miss you, but since it’s only a day I think I can survive. Let’s say our goodnight’s and hit the hay.”
“Good night everyone. We’ve had a big day and want
Patrick finally had to drag me away from the beautiful, sleek, purebred horses in their stalls. “Ada, if you don’t come now, I’ll carry you. The professional rodeo events are starting, and I’m not missing them to keep looking at a horse, no matter how pretty it is.”
As we took our seats and the bull riding events began, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I missed Ma and Lettie. This rodeo was a lot like the ones I had been part of at the ranch. The professional bull riders gave an exciting show. Even I had to admit that their skills were exceptional. After the bull riding it was time for the races and we moved over to the track. I chuckled as I overheard several gentlemen loudly negotiating the odds on the race with a bookmaker.
“I’ll give you three-to-one odds on ‘Midnight Rider,’ the bookie said to one of the men.
“No, I want four-to-one,” the gentleman, countered.
“I’ll take those three-to-one odds,” another man in a suit, interrupted.
Whispering under my breath, I said, “Personally, I’d take ‘Purple Sage’ at five-to-one. ‘Midnight Rider’ looked a little slow at the warm-ups.”
“What was that?” Patrick asked, unaware of the events I was watching unfold.
“Oh nothing, just talking to myself.” I suddenly realized that I would rather not have to explain that comment. The race drew a large crowd and everyone cheered as the horses raced at breakneck speed around the track. In silent testimony to my old learned skills, ‘Purple Sage’ won the race.
The events and horse race activities ran late into the afternoon on Saturday. Pastor Burns realized that many people would be needed to clean up the fairgrounds after such a celebration. In preparation, he offered to cook a pancake breakfast for anyone who would use his or her Sunday Service time to help in this civic duty.
Most of the families brought wagons and built makeshift tents in which to spend the cool October night. The children once tucked in were unusually quiet, as the excitement of the day had proved to be too much for any late night shenanigans. Their parents, appreciative of a rare peaceful evening, drank coffee by the fire and pleasantly socialized with each other.
“Are you as tired as I am?” Patrick whispered softly in my ear. Though warm and snuggled in his embrace, I thought how nice it would be to feel the soft hay and heavy wool blankets we had in the wagon. “Sounds like the cowboys are spending all their winnings at the saloon tonight,” Patrick said. He held me tight as the sounds of honky-tonk piano and raucous laughter wafted into our little camp.
“It hasn’t snowed yet this year,” I said, trying to deflect the negative tone of his conversation. A shiver passed down my spine as I remembered that Grace had told me someone saw professional ladies from Denver at the saloon today. I cuddled closer to Patrick’s body, hoping to draw the sudden chill away from me. I couldn’t be sure they were the ladies from the Silver Dove, but I had worn my cloak with a hood to quickly hide my identity, just in case I might see someone who might recognize me.
Thinking about tomorrow’s plans, I informed Patrick of the day’s itinerary. “Tomorrow, Grace and I plan to start cleaning at the railroad platform before anyone gets there in the morning. Pastor Burns said he had plenty of people to help with the cooking, so we’re planning to start early. I know you need to get home to get the milking done, so Frank said he would bring me home tomorrow afternoon with Grace and the kids, if that is OK with you?”
Patrick yawned deeply, “Sounds good. I’ll miss you, but since it’s only a day I think I can survive. Let’s say our goodnight’s and hit the hay.”
“Good night everyone. We’ve had a big day and want
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