“I carved my name in the old red barn,
Dreamed big under these small-town stars.
Stole peach Schnapps from the pantry drawer,
Running into trouble outside the broken screen door.”
I wink at the crowd. “You know this next part. Sing it with me!”
“Yeah, I was trouble with a capital T,
Out past curfew by the cottonwood tree.
But they all knew my name, they knew my heart,
From the rodeo queen to the Quick Stop clerk.
Every prayer, every porch light left on,
Built of the backbone of every song.
I’m the girl that Steele, Wyoming raised,
Still walkin’ proud the White Stag way.”
The sound of the crowd singing with me echoes in my mind and does something to my soul. Having a hundred people sing your song with you is a high I never prepared for. I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face before I lose myself in the song, just enjoying what I’m doing. The joy of singing a song you wrote in front of a crowd that’s practically family fills me, and I lay my heart out on that stage.
“I got caught sneakin’ into Sadie Mae’s barn,
Sippin’ cheap beer, strummin’ my first guitar.
Sheriff just laughed, and said, “play me a tune,”
‘Cause everyone here already knew.
Mama’d cry when I played too loud,
But she’d hum along when no one’s around.
She gave me grit, grace, and fire in my heart,
Taught me the climb was the best part.”
My fingers strum my guitar, as I kick up my boots and stomp with the beat of the chorus.
“Yeah, I was lightning in a borrowed truck,
A little too wild, a little too star stuck.
But they all cheered when I found my song,
Like I’ve been theirs all along.
Every fence line and every Friday night,
Gave me this voice, gave me this fight.
I’m the girl that Steele, Wyoming raised,