When I was a boy my father had horses, over a hundred of them,
some of them rank, and I sat them well. He believed that horses
were to use and that boys were nothing if not used. He believed
that by putting me with horses he was tending to some obvious
plan of economy. It was his hope that we would redeem one
another. More practically, that we would prove compensative,
the horses and I, of our demands for feed and housing. I went to
work for him when I was eleven. I was paid thirty dollars a
month, had my own bed in the bunkhouse, and three large,
plain meals each day.
from: Where Rivers Change Direction
by: Mark Spragg
some of them rank, and I sat them well. He believed that horses
were to use and that boys were nothing if not used. He believed
that by putting me with horses he was tending to some obvious
plan of economy. It was his hope that we would redeem one
another. More practically, that we would prove compensative,
the horses and I, of our demands for feed and housing. I went to
work for him when I was eleven. I was paid thirty dollars a
month, had my own bed in the bunkhouse, and three large,
plain meals each day.
from: Where Rivers Change Direction
by: Mark Spragg
Wallace Stegner may have to move over an inch or two and share some space on my bookshelves with some worthy competition. My undivided love and loyalty will now encompass another author!!
I spent an hour or so at the library this week, and came upon a display on one of their counters with books of local interest. Most of the 'recommended books' had already been checked out but for one last, lonely copy of this one....
And now Im in love!!!
Beginning with the very first chapter- you will find the most engrossing imagery of the west and life on a 'dude ranch'- seen through Mark's eyes as he was a young boy living in Wyoming.
Get a load of this paragraph-
"I knew the horses as I knew my family. ...We caught them, used them, turned them back into the kidney-warm manure cake of the corrals, into the ridden-to-dust round corral. They rolled and stood and shook and milled. When I was separated from them I felt wrong in the world. When I was separated from them I took no comfort in the sound of the creek. I felt chilled with the heat of them. In the short lulls between rides I leaned against the corrals, watching them roil like some captured pod of smallish whales, multicolored, snorting at their handicapped buoyancy. When I stepped among them they would turn to me, roll their eyes until the whites showed, flick their ears. They were used to the sight and sound of me. I was the boy who straddled their hearts."
I cant wait to finish this book!! But I fully intend to savor and enjoy each and every word and image. I cant wait to read more by Mark Spragg!!
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