Chapter 1 ~ Page 23
"Barry, where are we going to pack the school books?"
"Chuck em."
"Do you want your children to grow up to be idiots?"
"Chuck em all."
"NO."
"Bernice. They are heavy. I have no spare room. Which would you rather have, dead horses, or dumb children?"
"Well then, we are not going."
I whipped out my knife, and to the collective gasp of the onlookers made a rush at my wife, grabbed the hard backed books out of her hands, and with two quick slashes each, cut the covers off.
"There."
Four hours later, the only eyes on our activity were those of our very bored horses, dozing in the late afternoon sun. We mounted up to sneak out the back way of the campground, hoping that everyone there would forget our name, and what we were setting out to try and accomplish.
"Good-by Hauser Creek Canyon," said Colette, feeling a bit nostalgic, and climbing onto Almost by pulling herself up, hand over hand, the latigo saddle strings.
"Canada here we come," echoed Bernice and Bernadette as they moved out to stir the dust in the desert heat.
"What do you say BJ," I asked?
"Well Dad, I remember reading somewhere that Lewis and Clark weren't able to get their expedition moving up the Missouri River their first day, until dusk."
"Thanks son."
Four o'clock, and 14 miles to go. Ten minutes later, arriving at a cattle guard, we had our first problem. Who was going to get off and open the by-pass gate?
No-Name, who must have figured that cattle guards were meant to stop cattle only, didn't wait. He leapt across, and dragged Daisy and Missy along over the wide spaced railroad rails covering the deep pit. Nothing serious happened, but it was our first near tragedy, for any one of the horses could have put a foot through the bars and broken a leg.
Then Skookum's pack slipped. Colette dropped her hat, dismounted, and couldn't get back on again. Bernadette's stirrup fell off her saddle.
"Chuck em."
"Do you want your children to grow up to be idiots?"
"Chuck em all."
"NO."
"Bernice. They are heavy. I have no spare room. Which would you rather have, dead horses, or dumb children?"
"Well then, we are not going."
I whipped out my knife, and to the collective gasp of the onlookers made a rush at my wife, grabbed the hard backed books out of her hands, and with two quick slashes each, cut the covers off."There."
Four hours later, the only eyes on our activity were those of our very bored horses, dozing in the late afternoon sun. We mounted up to sneak out the back way of the campground, hoping that everyone there would forget our name, and what we were setting out to try and accomplish.
"Good-by Hauser Creek Canyon," said Colette, feeling a bit nostalgic, and climbing onto Almost by pulling herself up, hand over hand, the latigo saddle strings.
"Canada here we come," echoed Bernice and Bernadette as they moved out to stir the dust in the desert heat.
"What do you say BJ," I asked?
"Well Dad, I remember reading somewhere that Lewis and Clark weren't able to get their expedition moving up the Missouri River their first day, until dusk."
"Thanks son."
Four o'clock, and 14 miles to go. Ten minutes later, arriving at a cattle guard, we had our first problem. Who was going to get off and open the by-pass gate?
No-Name, who must have figured that cattle guards were meant to stop cattle only, didn't wait. He leapt across, and dragged Daisy and Missy along over the wide spaced railroad rails covering the deep pit. Nothing serious happened, but it was our first near tragedy, for any one of the horses could have put a foot through the bars and broken a leg.
Then Skookum's pack slipped. Colette dropped her hat, dismounted, and couldn't get back on again. Bernadette's stirrup fell off her saddle.
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Text and Photographs © Barry Murray 1971-2007 Mac&Murray Multimedia