At the
young age of twelve I rode the
barbed wire
fences with my cowboy father,
who taught
me to wear leather chaps for
I was his little
girl, a cowboy’s daughter.
During a
scorching summer’s drought or
during a
rainy season the fences needed repair,
for the
cattle would see their escape and run
through the
open fence without despair.
The ranch hot
and dry with lingering dangers
around the front
porch as rattlers would hide,
Our faithful
cattle dog Judy would bark seeking
them out keeping
us safe from their striking side.
Our horses
Blue and Boy excitedly jumped
and whinnied
as they saw our pickup arrive,
knowing we
would give them alfalfa and oats,
my Father
loved his mounts with a cowboy’s pride.
I shot a
30-30 rifle with precision taught from a man
who made
his own bullets, collecting guns for many years,
I was
taught to walk beside him wearing my cowboy hat
as long as
my hair was tucked behind my girlish ears.
He shot
year round to feed his family fresh meat and
stopped at the
grape and melon fields giving us such joy,
He was a
frontiersman born in a century of modern times
but, his
mind set was that of a rugged bronco busting cowboy.
Then I grew
up having a family of my own with
no cattle
ranch or guns to shoot nor horses for me to ride,
my life
took another turn away from the ranch that I loved
and now
have only a memory I carry with cowgirl pride.
- Rhoda Galgiani
