Not Your Run Of The Mill Bad Day - Part 2
(If you missed part one please read yesterday's, Nov 14, post first)
Yesterday we left our story just about when the real fun was about to commence ... Here's how the day finished up.
It was about that time, a quarter mile from the ranch house, that I remembered how Hot-Shot hated wagons. Now this ain't just any ordinary hate, no sir. As you know horses can be funny about things they take a dislike to, only his dislike wasn't funny. The reason I happened to remember Hot Shot's wagon phobia at that moment was there, right smack in front of the big house, sat a line of three wagons. Two of them had canvas covers flapping in the breeze.
That's also about the time I noticed all the men resting on the bunkhouse porch. If Hot-Shot put on a show, I'd never live it down. And it was a sure bet once the show started they'd be cheering for Hot-Shot! ... I decided right then I'd have been better off riding up to the house on a quiet mule.
I could see Molly standing on the porch of the big house waving to me. Even a quarter mile away she was the most beautiful girl in the world! Well, I set myself deep in the saddle and talked to Hot-Shot, trying to convince him those wagons were nothing to worry about. He must've been in a hurry to get to the house because he sure picked up the pace. And I think I would have done a fine job of convincing him to forget about those wagons – If one of those big ol' black clouds I'd never noticed hadn't sent down a thunderclap that shook the ground like an earthquake, setting the terrifying wagons to rocking.
About that time the second bolt hit! Hot-Shot spun and kicked the closest wagon with both hind feet. I reckon I could have ridden that out, but above Molly's screams, and the boy's hoots and cheers the clouds sent down another thunderous crack. Suddenly it was dark as night, and the skies dumped buckets of rain along with lightning bolts and thunder so violent it seemed God wanted to tear apart the world. Hot-Shot was certain it was the wagons making all the fuss and he bucked and kicked and spun in a fashion that no man could sit out ... And I didn't.
On about Hot-Shot's tenth launch I went airborne and landed in a heap straddled across the first wagon tongue. Hot-Shot headed for home, Chester hid under a wagon, the boys danced, hooted, and yelled, "Thanks for the show!" Molly ran through the rain and fell down beside me, her pretty blue calico dress getting all soaked and muddy. With a tender kiss and soft words she gently helped me gather myself up.
I didn't suffer any broken bones in the incident but was pretty banged up. Molly steadied my legs and guided me up the steps onto the porch. We spent the day right there, Molly tending to my cuts and bruises, me dining on the finest fried chicken. Along about dark I asked that sweet gal to marry me.
That was a number of years back. Chester's been gone awhile, ol' Hot-Shot's been put out to pasture after giving us a few good sons and daughters. Molly and me, well we've raised a few sons and daughters too ... Yes Sir, I reckon you could say that sometimes when a day starts out going all wrong, it ends up going just fine.
God Bless and here's hoping you have a day as good as this!