There weren’t a dark cloud in the sky. No hint of rain in sight.
Late morning sun was straight above and shining noonday bright.
We parked the trucks and saddled up then started our ascent.
We gave the horses breathers ‘cuz if not they’d soon be spent.
We’d hoped for cell phone service but when reaching Iron Bog,
our phones were ‘bout as useless as the nose hairs on a frog.
Our first stop was for lunch next to a clear blue mountain lake.
Spam with Town House crackers and a smashed-up chocolate cake.
But time is unforgiving and you never have enough.
We needed to get moving and to pack up all our stuff.
So, our good friend Byron, rode a mare that was skittish from the start.
And when he tried to mount, the bay mare bucked with all her heart.
Byron took to air and landed hard just like a brick.
And the mare gave one more favor with a nasty right leg kick.
Sure enough a broken leg. No way to call for help.
So we set a splint and Byron never even made a yelp.
The strongest of the cowboys put him on a gentle horse.
So with broken leg he had no choice but ride the steepest course.
I swear the hill was steeper as we slid on down the trail.
And prayed the horse that Byron rode could hold and would not fail.
One cowboy yelled, “We made it!” as the trucks came into view.
But the truck had one flat tire and the horse trailer had two.
One thing unexpected but for dang sure to our luck.
Another cowboy showed up late, drove alone in his own truck.
We finally loaded Byron and drove him into town.
I thank our lucky stars that he was face up, not face down.
Was Byron even worried? His face was not disguised.
I’d learned to read a man’s true pain by looking in his eyes.
At times I have to wonder was it luck or was it fate
that we had an extra vehicle and didn’t have to wait.
When looking back we came together as his trusted friends.
Byron’s leg is healing and his body’s on the mend.
