I took my place on horseback, riding next to the old man. He’d wrangled for my father. Everyone called him Old Dan.
His wrangling days were done, yet rode the pack line at the end. My father said, “Stay by his side. He might just be your friend.
“I know it’s hot and dusty, riding back there for a while. But this will do you good and since you’re with him, wear a smile.”
So, Old Dan and I would always take our place there at the rear. Dan did all the talking and I gave a listening ear.
I learned to call him Dan and Dan would call me Mr. Bryce. And every day I’d get a scoop of old cowboy advice.
One morning he was reminiscing of his younger days. He said he missed the gals and all his flirting cowboy ways.
I didn’t know of flirting and was bashful to the core. If a pretty gal would smile, I’d turn the darkest red, for sure.
Dan could see my plight and said, “I’ve been there, Mr. Bryce. Most gals will see your bashfulness and turn from snub to nice.”
He said, “I’ve got some sound advice and use it as your guide. When it comes to gettin’ married, find a farm gal for your bride.”
I’d never even had a date, what’s more a full-time gal. But Dan’s advice came from his heart. By then, my favorite pal.
The summer ended all too soon. My pal moved into town. I’d grab a six-pack, head on in. We’d slam a Pepsi down.
My time went by from boy to man and Dan turned ninety years. He asked me ‘bout a farm-girl bride. Could not believe my ears!
So I introduced my outdoor gal, Montana way upstate. And the twinkle in his eye showed me approval of first rate.
— Bryce Angell
