Page 26 of Colorado Christmas Carol
“Wow,” Mellie exclaimed.
The old man grinned. “Pretty, aren’t they? I had a leather smith working here for a few years. He made me some of the best regalia I’ve ever seen. Got two dress saddles in the barn that I use when we have parades in Benton.”
“Parades?” Mellie was all eyes.
“Of course! We have a spring festival, when we have floats and show off our horses. Then there’s the Christmas parade, with more floats and more horses. You missed that one; it’s just before Thanksgiving.”
“That’s the beauty of small towns,” Duke said with a sigh. “Parades in big cities are a little more lively, and not in a way I like.”
“I get that,” the elderly man said. “Well, they’re all yours for as long as you want to ride them today,” he said, indicating the saddled mounts. “Might not be here much longer. I’m going to talk to a Realtor tomorrow. I’m too old to run this place, and I can’t afford the help I need,” he added. He shook his head. “Lived here all my life. Going to be rough, giving it up. See you later.”
He left them to it.
“That’s so sad,” Essa said as she watched him walk away.
“We used to be a nation defined by agriculture. Now it’s all going to corporate farms and ranches,” Duke said. “That’s not a step up, in my opinion.”
“Mine, either, but they’ve got the money to buy people out. Family farms and ranches are going to be extinct in a few years. I hate to see it,” she said.
He nodded.
* * *
Duke helped Mellie get on the smaller of the three horses and turned to Essa.
“Need a hand?” he offered.
She shrugged. “Thanks for the help,” she said, taking the reins. “But I think I can manage.”
She vaulted into the saddle, patting the horse gently on the neck. “We should have asked their names.”
“Oh, do you think they have names?” Mellie wondered as her dad mounted his own horse.
“Of course they do.” Essa laughed. “Anybody who pays this much attention to his horses surely names them. We’ll have to ask when we get back.”
“You know how to handle a horse,” Duke mentioned as they went through two gates, indicated by signs, one threatening sudden death if the gates weren’t closed after people went through them.
“I used to do rodeo,” Essa said as they rode. “I grew up on a ranch. My parents had horses and a few cattle, lots of cats and dogs,” she recalled, smiling sadly. “It was the most wonderful kind of life. Mom was a great cook. She taught me everything I know. They were good people, both of them. It was hard to lose them both at once.” She said it matter-of-factly, not fishing for sympathy.
“That’s rough.”
“It was. But I have friends here in Benton and around the area, and I know just about everybody.” She laughed. “Small towns are like big families. Everybody knows everything about you, but it’s because they care. They’re not nosey, they’re . . . well . . . family.”
He chuckled. “Exactly.” He felt her eyes and turned his head. There was a long look that made her uncomfortable. She quickly shifted her gaze, feeling her heart go wild in her chest.
“I grew up on a ranch, too,” Duke said, surprisingly. “Down in Texas. I married a local girl who’d been away at university. We dated for two weeks, got married, and nine months later I was a father.”
“Yeah, I was unex . . . unexpected,” Mellie said, laughing.
“Boy, were you ever,” Duke said, wincing.
“Daddy was over the moon, but Mom wasn’t happy about it, not ever,” Mellie said sadly. “She used to call me names and . . .”
“Not cool,” Duke said, glancing at his daughter.
She grimaced. “Sorry.”
“We don’t air our dirty linen in front of guests.”
