I wanted to be a cowgirl. You already knew that. But my time as a cowgirl was, in reality, just dressing like a cowgirl. It was make believe.
You see, I lived in town. Even though Granddaddy bought a couple of old horses and a pony for the grandchildren to ride, there weren’t any bandits or stagecoaches or herds of cattle to drive across the range. We had no tumblin’ tumbleweed. We weren’t cowpokes. We were just kids.
Not so for this young boy….
He is the real deal. An honest-to-goodness cowboy. He grew up on an actual working ranch. With cattle. And horses. With cowboy hats and string ties and boots that were part of the clothing they wore while doing the work of a rancher – not part of a costume.
Here he is sitting with his mother on a real fence on their real ranch. No sitting in front of the black and white television watching Roy Rogers on Saturday mornings for this little guy, pretending to ride the range. No, sir-e-bob! He was actually riding the range.
He still has the saddle he used when he was a little boy. He still has the branding irons they used on the ranch. What treasures.
I’d never met a real cowboy before. (To be honest, he isn’t a cowboy anymore. He is a highly successful businessman, which makes these pictures all the more special.)
His Home on the Range looks like an amazing place to grow up…….. a place I could only imagine.