We put our thumbs in our pockets and start to do a jig that we’d been practicing for this moment. The laughter and the whistles goad me and him on until we finish our own dance. We take a bow and people toss flowers and hay at us, laughing at our routine.
Even the purdy little miss in her seat. Kelly turns about a hundred shades of red and can’t hide the smile on her face. I wouldn’t trade that moment for any other.
She runs and places her arms around me and Trent, giving us a big hug as the fiddle lays down another tune and the old feller gives cadence:
“Swing your lasso, shout yahoo!
Climb off your horse and dust your shoe!
Hands on your waist flap ‘em around!
Wag those tail feathers to this sound!”
I thank God for what I’ve found.