It was the time of year when a morning was crisp and clean, like a precursor to the filmy heat that would be ever present later in the day. I could feel the drops of sweat trickling down the back of my neck, coursing along the haphazard hairs that had escaped from my super hold hairspray that day. I could hear the ring of my spur rowels as I walked along the gravel road that curled around the back of the arena that was always a flurry of activity. Both roping boxes were occupied, ropers walked their mounts back and forth, some just sat and visited with one another. Cowboys on foot walked back and forth from pen to pen, looking for their draw for the next round. Some muttered, realizing they'd drawn a kicker, some grinned when they found they'd drawn the "money steer". Kids and puppies frolicked past me, a jumble of dirty smiles and wagging tails, bound for the muddy banks of the creek.



A short line was formed in front of the first window, but I walked around it. I sure wasn't buying any beer, and that's what that first window was for, just for buying beer. The second window was my destination, and that was where I ordered my burger and fresh, hand cut french fries. I still remember the taste of those fries, so hot they blistered the tip of my tongue, covered in salt. I waved the flies away from the top of the ketchup bottle and blobbed a pool in the corner of the red and white cardboard container. "Need some help?" I didn't recognize the voice that offered to come to my aid, so I glanced around just enough to see who it had been, to be met with that same smile from earlier. Something about it, I couldn't resist--I smiled right back.

"Naw, I'm alright thanks, I'm not much on the damsel in distress routine." He laughed, a deep appreciative sound that I could tell was as honest as I'd heard. There was that smile again...