Page 62 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“If I’m your cowboy, I need to learn cowboy things like saddling and unsaddling horses.”
“Yes, you do, and I intend to make a horseman out of you.” Wyl grabbed a halter from one of Sarge’s saddlebags.
I eyed the rope Wyl held. “What did you grab?”
“A halter.”
“What’s a halter?”
“We use a halter to tether the horse for the night.”
“Can’t you use the reins?”
Wyl grinned at me. “You said reins like a real cowboy.”
“Hey…we talked about reins earlier. I’m a notch above rank amateur.”
Wyl shook his head. “Okay, cowboy, a lesson to remember.” He held up the bridle he had removed from Sarge. “A bridle has a bit and reins.” He pointed to each object as he talked. “This metal bit goes in the horse’s mouth. The reins are the leather straps we use to guide the horse.”
“Okay. So doesn’t the halter do the same thing?”
“We use the halter when we’re not riding because the halter places nothing in the horse’s mouth. The horse is more comfortable, and the lead keeps the horse from wandering off.” Wyl tied Sarge’s long lead to a tree near the spring.
I helped Wyl unsaddle and unbridle Blanket, groaning with every stretch and bend. Soon, both horses were set for the night.
Wyl grabbed the tent. “I’ll set this up if you’ll gather rocks.”
“How many?”
“Find twelve to fifteen medium-sized rocks. Enough to surround a fire pit about three feet in diameter.”
“What’s medium-sized?”
“About the size of a softball.”
“You’re talking to a non-sportsman, babe. Give me an idea of the size.”
Tossing the folded tent to the ground, Wyl strolled over and took my hand. “Come on, little boy. Daddy will help you find the rocks.”
I groaned and let Wyl tug me along.
Twenty feet away, on a slight rise, we found rocks stacked in a mound. “Someone must have gathered these to keep cattle and horses from stepping on them.” Wyl pointed to the pile. “About this size.” He strode back to set up the tent.
Carrying two rocks, I came up near where Wyl worked. “Where is the fire pit?”
“Did you dig it yet?” Wyl paused from setting up the tent and focused on me with a surprised expression. “Cowboys are excellent fire-pit diggers.”
Two stones thunked to the ground where I stood. “How many fire pits do you think a college professor needs?”
“About the same as the number of lesson plans a cowboy needs.” Wyl’s voice wavered as he tugged to stretch the tent base.
I thought for a moment. “Okay…good analogy. So how do I make a fire pit?”
Wyl stood, removed his hat, and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “First, grab a camp shovel out of your saddlebags.” He motioned with his hat toward where the saddlebags lay on the ground. “Dig a pit about thirty-six inches in diameter and six inches deep, slanted up at the sides like a shallow bowl.” He put his hat back on and used his hands to mimic a bowl shape. “Place the rocks around the outer rim of the pit. When I finish setting up our love chamber, I’ll gather brush for kindling and wood for a fire.” Wyl winked at me.
“Love chamber, huh? Why didn’t you say so…” I rushed to find the camp shovel. After digging the pit, I lined up rocks around the rim and stood back admiring my work.
“You’re doing good, cowboy. I’ll gather wood, and we’ll make a fire.”
