A last minute decision sent us winding up a mountain road, I packed up the cooler, Kody called our friend Tom and we were off. I love seeing new country. Of course new country with a little bit of history makes my mind wonder into the past where old cow camps sat, loading chutes and an old round pen sat tucked away miles from town. Where mommas gave birth to there babies at home, and Daddy busted broncs outside the kitchen window. Would the happy couple sit out and watch the stars at night after tucking their babies to sleep? When they got into a fight would the young wife storm off on her horse and sit by the creek? This is just some of the history that keeps creative minds wondering.
Kody always talked about the old VR Cow Camp, I wanted to see it, but time never really allowed until our spontaneous Sunday morning. I was so touched when we got there, of course watching for snakes, but I almost felt like I was intruding going into the old homes where families once gathered around the kitchen table and told stories of their days work. I was so touched by the emotion these houses and bunk houses brought to me. I wanted to live there.
This is Jill’s handprint, I don’t know her, but underneath her print in the concrete read that she was 5 years old. She had a brother named Chief who was 8, and Bill must have been her twin brother because he was also 5. Their handprints laid in the concrete, time and weather withering them away.
The cows can get into these buildings, the bears and rock chucks can now call this their home. This beautiful piece of history is frozen in time, memories linger all around, and maybe a flicker of light comes out at night singing a lonesome tune.