Yeehaw Where Is Your Mom

If she heard one more yeehaw or giddy up she would croak. Being a greenhorn in Texas horse country is not a funny joke. When she started on this adventure she could do a high kick. She had the grace of a ballerina, and her arms were not thick. They had called her a greenhorn and made fun of her shoes. She had to borrow some boots, and now her calves were all bruised. She had watched another newbie get dragged to the hoosegow. All she had done is make fun of the beans, horrible chow! The ten-cent man came over and yelled aces-high, new recruit. She despised his good humor, and he was handsome to boot! She felt all jiggly and giggly when she was around this handsome lad. “Howdy!” she said. A little voice returned “That is my dad!” The kid was cute, about eight, a little dickens, a dude. He gave her a leering look, it almost looked lewd. Where is your mom? She asked, all cocky and smart. “I am right here,” a woman replied, holding a branding ironed heart. So that little tart got out of there, lickety split. She felt threatened and out of her element, outed by a small chit. Would she ever go back to Texas? Not in these borrowed boots. Maybe never actually, she did not enjoy these types of cahoots.