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Dreams, Hope and Tears (eBook)

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  • 18,280 Words
  • 80 Pages

A journey I will never, until my last breath, forget.Mike was a horseman and game huntin wrangler for High Country Outfitters, based in Joseph Oregon. You couldnt miss Mike. He was your typical six-foot rancher, wearin a white straw hat, sandy brown hair, long sleeved plaid shirt tucked in to his Wranglers, and dark tan colored cowboy work boots. Mike looks real good with a dark brown mustache or even a three or four day growth on his face. The women would actually quiver if he looked their way. Mike wasnt a cowboy; he was a horseman. He said hed rather ride a horse than drive a car. Oh yeah, this guy was probably born one hundred years ago, in another life. I was the wild march hair, and he would be the field of wheat that would only bend when the wind blew. One thing about it, he knew he was the chosen one to calm my patootie! Let er Buck! Mike and I had a specific type animal in mind. We were interested in a strong spirited stallion to enhance our herd. We werent looking for just a Kiger Spanish Mustang. As we walked and observed, we just couldnt put our eye on the One. Pen number ten.H-o-l-y cow! It was like clouds opening up to the heavens. He didnt move, but he turned his head in our direction and looked eye to eye with Mike. It was a very majestic feeling. Mike said, Oh yeah! They split the Band of Mesteno in 1975, and this colt was foaled in 1976. He was Mestenos Ambassador. This stallion was separated from his band, his family, that he had risked his life for, to protect till the age of fifteen. You wouldnt want to rope that son of a gun unless you had a Mack truck on the other end. Mike will touch me ever so gently. I start to weaken at the knees and literally quiver, but he holds me tight with those big strong arms and caresses my body with those hands. Hell be on me like bears on a berry bush. He had my Wranglers to my knees. Oh yeahhhhhhhhhhh, Let er Buck!

A journey I will never, until my last breath, forget.Mike was a horseman and game huntin wrangler for High Country Outfitters, based in Joseph Oregon. You couldnt miss Mike. He was your typical six-foot rancher, wearin a white straw hat, sandy brown hair, long sleeved plaid shirt tucked in to his Wranglers, and dark tan colored cowboy work boots. Mike looks real good with a dark brown mustache or even a three or four day growth on his face. The women would actually quiver if he looked their way. Mike wasnt a cowboy; he was a horseman. He said hed rather ride a horse than drive a car. Oh yeah, this guy was probably born one hundred years ago, in another life. I was the wild march hair, and he would be the field of wheat that would only bend when the wind blew. One thing about it, he knew he was the chosen one to calm my patootie! Let er Buck! Mike and I had a specific type animal in mind. We were interested in a strong spirited stallion to enhance our herd. We werent looking for just a Kiger Spanish Mustang. As we walked and observed, we just couldnt put our eye on the One. Pen number ten.H-o-l-y cow! It was like clouds opening up to the heavens. He didnt move, but he turned his head in our direction and looked eye to eye with Mike. It was a very majestic feeling. Mike said, Oh yeah! They split the Band of Mesteno in 1975, and this colt was foaled in 1976. He was Mestenos Ambassador. This stallion was separated from his band, his family, that he had risked his life for, to protect till the age of fifteen. You wouldnt want to rope that son of a gun unless you had a Mack truck on the other end. Mike will touch me ever so gently. I start to weaken at the knees and literally quiver, but he holds me tight with those big strong arms and caresses my body with those hands. Hell be on me like bears on a berry bush. He had my Wranglers to my knees. Oh yeahhhhhhhhhhh, Let er Buck!


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