Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Breathe Deep And Full And Fall Into Your Dreams. . .

Breathe deep and full and let the beautiful things sweep you.
Let the little colt's nicker echo in your ear and let the Christmas lights gleam in your eyes.
Smell hot coffee in the pot and let a shining fresh coat of red nail polish sparkle on your nails.
Let your cheeks glow rosy red and silver rings glimmer on your fingers.
Feel the rush of warm air on your face when you step in from the blowing cold.
Smile big and shamelessly and pull out your favorite wild rag.
Pull your hats down low and flip your collars up to shelter your neck.
Put ornaments on the Christmas tree and don't whine when the pine needles poke you.
Squeeze your hand up beneath your saddle pad and let the heat of your horse thaw it out again.
Listen to horses whinny and snort and let it be the music that it truly is and burrow deep into a denim quilt.
Fall deep into your dreams and let them wisp you away to a land of horses and colts and green grass and ropes. . .

~Gussie Lou

Friday, November 30, 2012

Since The Morning Light

Since The Morning Light
She stands out in the corral, her pretty face silhouetted against the rising sun, hanging her head over the gate as if she's watching over me. 
A little girl with bouncing curls once dangled and hung from the mare's long and tangled mane. 
She nickers me 'good morning'.
Her soft, dark eyes watch and see and take notice to everything and her pent up wisdom of cattle is lingering just behind them. 
She packs a silver moon bit and the little girl assumes she hung it and the stars. 
When branding season rolled around, she drug the soggy calves with ease and stood off in the corner peacefully.
Upon her back, Ol' Glory whipped and flew and she sent chills sneaking down your spine.
She nickers a sweet 'good night'... and I thank God all horses go to heaven, cause she's been buckin and runnin like a colt again, since the morning light. 

For anyone who has ever lost a good ol' horse and everyone who will.
In honor of a great friend, a good horse and a sweet little girl.

- Gussie

Friday, November 23, 2012

B is for: Boots, Braids and Big Loops Blog!!!

A is for: Adrian Buckaroogirl, All The Pretty Horses and Armitas
B is for: Buckaroos, Bits, Bridles, Boots, Books, Braids, Buckaroo Barbie's and Buckin Horses
C is for: Conchos, Chaps, Curls and Cute, Crazy Calves 
D is for: Dave Stamey, Dallies and Dust
E is for: Evanston (closest big town to our FAVORITE place!) and green Eyes
F is for: Fires and Fun (Which by the way, go hand in hand) and Fancy Loops, oh yeah and Flowers
G is for: Gray Horses <3
H is for: Hats and Hotels and Hackamores
I is for: Irons - hot branding irons
J is for: Jingling Spurs and Jesus
K is for: Kicka$$ and Kisses
L is for: Love, Lipstick, Leather and Lonesome Dove
M is for: Mule Hide, Moccasins and Mirrors
N is for: Nylon Ropes and Nevada
O is for: Open Spaces
P is for: Palominos and Pearls!
Q is for: Quarter Horses
R is for: Riatas, Red, Ranches, Ropes and Rotten SOB's
S is for: Santa Barbara Bits, Spurs, Silver, Spook, Spade, Saddles, Sissies and Smiles
T is for: Talking...lots... Tall Tales and Trailers
U is for: Understanding and Unbroke caballos
V is for: Big, Pretty Valleys and old time Vaqueros
W if for: Will James, Wyoming, Wild Rags and White pearl snapped shirts
X is for: "Xquisite" and "Xcellent!"
Y is for: Yellow Sunflowers and the poor Yuppies 
Z is for: Zebra Striped Duns

The Buckaroo Alphabet... Or at least the one Krick and I made up :) and some minor help from little Zane. 

Gussie and Kricket (-yes KRICKET!!!!)

Ooh Ooh and P.S. Funny Quote:
"You have to slay a few dragons to find the prince."
      ~A seemingly wise teenage buckaroo boy.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Up In The Flat Top Country

Up In The Flat Top Country
The night sets over the mountain land.
The grass sways slowly and the stars smile over the hobbled horses.
The breeze shivers, I stand rocking from the ball of my feet to my heels holding a warm coffee cup with icy fingers.
The spring down off the hill bubbles from the ground, I can hear it over the horses cropping up near the rim of the Pines.
The meadow, mellow gold in the dim light waves back and forth then breaks into a clump of Aspens.
It's quiet up on the flats, the night creatures make distant chatter, the fire crackles in camp, the coffee percolates.
I close my eyes and lay my head back in the meadow flowers and grass, my mind pictures pack horses trailing single file up the mountainside, braids unraveling in the wind, sun making skin glow golden in the high flat top meadows.
The sun rises over the peak, the fire still the first light, heating the morning. 
Standing cold, bundled in the dim fire light, I wander down to the high-line, unhobble the horses. 
Set atop a fading gray, bareback, leading pally and sorrel behind down on to the spring and let 'em water. 
Leaned forward, legs wrapped around, merely an extension of the gray, I ride back to camp and hobble the caballos out for the morning and stand leaning against a stripped pine, I watch 'em graze and sip hot coffee.
Hail like rock salt spits from the clouds in a mid morning shower then the sun runs it off the mountain top.
The day passes quiet, I watch the horses, their curiosity leads 'em past the pines and almost out of sight. 
I climb on one, lead 'em back and hobble 'em out again.
The chipmunks chatter, a pointer pup hangs around camp and bums chunks of grouse meat off me. 
Will James tells me about ol' Smokey and my pen etches my own story on wrinkled paper. 
A grouse hen clucks to her chicks, the ponies nicker when they look up to see me, Sage trots at my feet, her pretty masked face lookin up at me and my heart smiles in the flat top country and I could live here forever. 

I wrote this about a place in Colorado. Beautiful. Once you get on top it's just big parks and pretty meadows. I went up with dad a couple years ago for 5 days and stayed in camp watching the horses while he was hunting grouse. Hobbling horses, taking naps, riding anywhere and everywhere with only halters and barebacked caballos. Nothing like it.

A bad picture, taken off a phone. But I don't care how bad of quality it is, I am very thankful I took this picture because, little Sage was a great dog and we all miss her very much!

Where is your dream country? 


Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Caballos Descarados y Vacas Salvajes --- Sassy Horses and Wild Cattle

The ground breathes an aching sigh from its frozen, icy heart and spring awaits.
The sun will come around and greet the new lives with warmth and beauty .
The foals will buck and snort and breathe the cool spring air and the calves will bawl and blow snot when something moves just wrong.
Their bodies, thick, stout and strong from their mammy's milk.
The clouds will float airy and bright and rain showers shoot the grass vibrant green out of the ground.
Branding season eagerly awaited by cowboys and cowboygirls.
Their ropes will be greased and ready, their cowponies fresh and sassy and the world smiles.
Everything new and pristine and full of life.
A warm fire in the brisk air, branding irons steam and the horses get excited and the cowboys' hearts jump.
The calves come bucking into the trap and the young horses watch intently their first branding.
Their eyes big and bright and their nostrils flare as they suck in the smell of burning hair.
Fancy shots and cowboys scoop up heels.
Big bridle horses lean into the pull and they handle the husky, wild calves with precision, care and habit and they are the awe of the branding.
The little ponies try their hand first with the dopy, small calves and their minds reel.
Hackamores, engraved bridle bits and hand braided reins hang over saddle horns and horses graze hobbled in a little meadow...
But, the ground is frozen hard, won't thaw for a couple months.
So close your eyes and let yourself float back to a dream about springtime..the beauty it promises.

For all of you that are dreading winter, spring WILL come around :)
... and for those of you who don't, when the dark skies get you feeling a little down, dream. Dream about fat, sassy caballos and wild vacas ;)

xoxo ~ Gussie Lou

P.S. - Sorry for small bits and pieces of spanish! It just keeps happening! Haha Kricket is about to whack me!

P.P.S. - Dream BIG. Always ;)

Sunday, October 21, 2012

"...the horses out along the high mesas..."

"That night he dreamt of horses in a field on a high plain where the spring rains had brought up the grass and the wildflowers out of the ground and the flowers ran blue and yellow far as the eye could see and in the dream he was among the horses running and in the dream he himself could run with the horses and they coursed with the young mares and fillies over the plain where their rich bay and their rich chestnut colors shone in the sun and the young colts ran with their dams and trampled down the flowers in a haze pollen that hung in the sun like powdered gold and they ran he and the horses out along the high mesas where the ground resounded under their running hooves and they flowed and changed and ran and their manes and tails blew off them like spume and there was nothing else at all in that high world and they moved all of them in a resonance that was like a music among them and they were none of them afraid horse nor colt nor mare and they ran in that resonance which is the world itself and which cannot be spoken but only praised."
  -- All The Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy

Friday, October 19, 2012

Me an' Ol' Smokey My Friend

He was born at "The Sixes" on the west Texas plains, 
A son of Gray Badger and a hard one to tame.
A heart full of willing and a mind full of try.
It's the look of the eagle you see in his eye.

And we'd ride across prairies where nobody's been,
Sleep under the sky where the eagle is king.
And we'd bunch up the dogies that nobody's seen.
Just me and ol' Smokey my friend.

Early each mornin' I'd line out my tack,
Smooth out the hump in old Smokey's back.
We'd bunch up them dogies from dawn until dusk.
Just God an' the prairie an' coyotes an' us.

And we'd ride across prairies where nobody's been,
Sleep under the sky where the eagle is king.
And we'd bunch up the dogies that nobody's seen.
Just me and ol' Smokey my friend.

When his ride is over, I'll dig Smokey's grave.
I own that hill where the Bluebonnets sway.
So he'll be remembered, 
I write with my pen, 
this song about Smokey, 
this cowpuncher's friend.

Now we'd ride across prairies where nobody's been,
Sleep under the sky where the eagle is king.
Now we'd bunch up the dogies that nobody's seen.
Just me and ol' Smokey my friend.
Old Smokey this cowpuncher's friend.

      --Red Steagall 

Well, this song is a little tender to my heart.
The first horse you fall in love with, you won't forget him/her. Ever.
It could have been a borderline worthless, sometimes hotheaded, ill built, almost ugly horse, but it had heart, so it didn't matter because you can't help it.
You just fall in love with the creature. And the creature, he falls in love with you.
Once you've seen it, you understand, if you've lived it then, well, yeah.
Now I'll bet I could make almost any one of you out there reading this cry if I told you to put your favorite horse's name in place of Smokey's and sing the song to yourself.
Well now, I should be fair and do it too. But I don't have to change any names or words.
My horse, his name; Smokey. Same spelling, same heart.
Alive enough to play games, but always watching out for his little girl.
Always remember your horse.
That one that pops out among all the others.
The exceptional one.
The horse that, from other eyes would not be first choice but that you loved dearly.
The one that you clicked with.
Your very own, one and only, other piece to the puzzle.

--Gussie Lou

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Tell her I still remember the smell of sage in her hair...

Her hair was thick and braided,
skin freckled by the sun.
Our eyes deep hat brim shaded.
We'd watch the wild horses run.
In the shadow of the mountain,
On that hot desert floor.
I'd ride those narrow trails
With the girl I adore.
We'd ride along the river bank
Under the cottonwood's shade.
Hold each other while our ponies drank,
And Oh the love we made.
If you ride that wild old desert,
If you find her there,
Tell her I still remember the smell of sage in her hair.

And underneath the pinion pines,
We laid our beds in the cool night,
And her breathe mingling with mine.
We rode the oceans of starlight.
Saddle up in the morning,
She'd reach and touch my hand,
And life was rich and full in that dry and empty land.
We'd ride along the river bank 

Under the cottonwood's shade.
Hold each other while our ponies drank,
And Oh the love we made.
If you ride that wild old desert,
If you find her there,
Tell her I still remember the smell of sage in her hair.

I close my eyes and I see her now.
Just as clear as day.
I wonder why,
I wonder how, 
I could have ever rode away.
I'm a dust blown refugee,
Tumbled by the wind.
And I'd give all I own to find my way back again.

We'd ride along the river bank 

Under the cottonwood's shade.
Hold each other while our ponies drank,
And Oh the love we made.
If you ride that wild old desert,
If you find her there,
Tell her I still remember the smell of sage in her hair.

Tell her I still remember the smell of sage in her hair.

~Sage in Her Hair -- Dave Stamey

I wish he wouldn't have rode away! Then it would be an adorable fairy tale ending...I want THAT fairy tale to be my life ;)
<3 bittersweet little love song!
You should go listen to it! You won't wanna stop!!! :)


Wednesday, September 19, 2012

In a Little Chilly Aired Bunkhouse

Sometimes I just can't wait for the morning when I wake up in a little, chilly aired bunkhouse.
Lean myself up against the old wood frame around a window, gaze out at a sunrise over fields and a little old barn.
Peer out at my string of horses through foggy glass and smile as they nip at each other in a half hearted fight for hay.
Little moccasin slippers on my feet and the floor creaks beneath me.
Steaming coffee in the pot and fresh biscuits out of the oven.
With a little drizzling honey.
Crisp, cold jeans slipped over white legs and a wool sweater pulled over messy tied hair.
Boot heels tap the floor and my spurs ring their morning cry when my foot slips tight into my boot.
Cold hands with painted red nails, an old felt hat setting lightly on top my head while I sip at my coffee, still gazing through that window.
Thinking to myself how nice that colt is coming along, then grab my chaps and head out the door.
A little filly lets out a squeal and I slip a halter on a solid built gray gelding.
He's got a frisky look this morning, just the way I like em;)
And he tosses my a funny look when a pad slaps down on his back, a buckaroo saddle just after it.
The day, bright, hopeful and promising.
The air, crisp and sweet, with a lingering scent of horses.
The day's work smooth, graceful and pleasing, then we ride back to the barn.
Sun setting over distant mountain peaks and I crack an old Will James book open as I rock in an old rockin' chair.
I've read it before but Smoky The Cowhorse has won my heart time and time again.
So I let this day drift into night.
And I let myself be carried off into "The Will James Days" rockin' next to a wood stove.
And my heart smiles and my mind thinks that Smoky is just like that nice little colt in the corral.
And all is well with a little cowboy-girl.

~Gussie Lou Lou

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

On The Gather

Fresh morning air stinging my lungs,
A brisk step in my pony's walk.
Beauty surrounding me in every single direction.
My hand was meant to mold around rawhide reins,
My boots were meant for thick banded spurs.
A whirlpool of thoughts spin through my mind,
We break trot on an old cattle trail through Aspen trees.
Foxy, sorrel ears pin toward a snapping twig up among the pines,
Momma cows line out on a fast trot at the sight of me trotting through the meadow.
Cheerful laughter echoing through the wind,
A colt whistles a snort out into the valley.
A little girl flashes a shivering grin as she sets atop her cowboy pony,
Baby boy sitting in front of his mom on a big yellow gelding.
And everything in the world seems right, right here.
In a little valley on stout ranch mounts, among the trees, the cows and a tumbling creek.


Tuesday, August 28, 2012


I sit in a desk and daydream about wild horses and rank broncs. I dream about green grass waving in the wind, a horse's mane tangled and curly, and a snort from a colt whistling in frosty air. I can hear stirrup leathers flapping while a young filly has her morning fit. I can see chattering teeth smiling despite the bizzardy wind, sheer joy in a man's face, completely content a-horseback. A melancholy feeling surrounds me and my heart aches. And my hands just want my horse's mane through my fingers. Cowboy's voices laugh and shout in my mind and a chilly breeze runs down my spine when I remember the branding season. Dancing ponies and bucking calves trot through my mind, cowboys I'm thinking about along with cowboy horses, gentle and stout. Dreaming, ever dreaming about the cowboy life I want to live. Forever. On the open range. Or in the mountain brush. My mind cannot escape. I can't escape from the want to be surrounded by horses and cattle, cowboys and cowboy-girls, bunkhouses and barns, ranch lands and mountains, rivers and cool canyon creeks. . . but I'm here. In a desk. In a building. In a city. Until the day when I can run free again...

I appreciate school, but I prefer horses :)


Saturday, August 4, 2012

A Hot Cup of Coffee and a Lazy Streak

Evening sun settled just below the mountains leaving and orange glow lighting my view.
I sat on the back porch watching a yellow horse mill around in the arena.
Intrigued I walked out and sat next to the water barrel next to him and we sipped our beverages together.
I sat there from an interesting point of view. Watched his throat move and felt his breath on my face.
I tipped my coffee back and drank my cup dry and set it in the dirt.
I sat thinking about how much I love the feeling of a horse beneath me.
Then the urge to ride pushed me too my feet, but not quite far enough to get a halter.
So with a hand rested on his whither and one on his back I jumped and flopped like a fish until I had a leg on each side, a head in front, a rump in back and not so much as a halter on a refined little head.
And I drove him out.
We walked around and it felt so free yet so sophisticated.
I moved him close to the rail then turned into the middle.
I asked for a trot and played with the mane that wrapped around my fingers.
Then "whoa." and I felt his feet sink and asked him to back. And he did.
Turned him around and trotted again.
It felt so good to be able to control his whole body with no saddle, no bridle. Only trust.
Sitting on his back I watched his ears listening intently and felt him trying to understand each thing my legs and body asked him for.

Who knew that a hot cup of coffee and a lazy streak would lead to one of the best feelings in the world. You didn't know your heart could smile.


Sunday, July 22, 2012

And the day. Starts.

Screeching alarm.
Warm bed evacuated in an "I'm going to be late" attitude.
Dragging a clutzy self to the coffee pot only semiconscious then back to cold jeans.
Late. Late. Going to be late.
Jump into jeans.
Land, digging a spur rowel into a bare heel.
Let out a screech of a not so ladylike term followed by the thud of boots being hucked across the bedroom.
Shirt loosely flapping its tail.
Pants hanging partly over boot tops leaving some white skin to light the morning darkness.
Halter. Where's the halter.
*Trip* "Wow...did not see that rock"
"Whoa bud. Don't run. We gotta get goin."
Mud. Mud caked. Caked all over a once golden hide.
Dust powdering my lips as a curry comb claws at chunks of plastered, muddy hair.
Saddle pad.
Soft thump as my saddle sets into place.
Clanking buckles as the cinches drop.
Tight enough. Loose enough.
Latigo slaps in its hanger.
Breast collar. Too long. Too short. Adjusting. Clock still running.
Hackamore hooked in an elbow.
Lead rope thrown over a shoulder.
Hands. Full. Tingling. Rough. Ungirly except three oval slivers of silver stacked upon each other.
*Toom. Toom. Toom-toom.* The drumbeat of hooves on a trailer floor.
Shivering lips whisper "I love you."
Truck door creaks to a close, engine fires up. And the day. Starts.


Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Faces of Agriculture

Friends! I want you all to get on   http://facesofagriculture.blogspot.com/2012/07/kricket-and-gussie-keetch-utah-ffa.html   and check out that awesome blog! They have awesome stories about awesome agriculture people! Recently they put a thing on about me and Krick so you should check out their blog! :) Give them lots a feed back! :)
Also, a big shout out to Ms. Martin for posting us on there! :) Thank ya much!

Monday, July 2, 2012

Good Morning. Just a Good Morning.

3:17 am. "..could've been a spanish ranch cowboy .. and a california girl..."
Roll out of bed. Dog perks up in nearby chair but is too comfy to move.
Kitchen. I need coffee.
Turn on bathroom sink. Wash my face.
Mascara and at 3:30 am, yes, lips. Dark lipliner and barbie pink lipstick.
Brush a tangled mess, braid the previously tangled mess.
Old jeans, ripped and worn thin.
White shirt tucked in.
The sting on your fingers where to pull loops on Tony's dig in.
Sunbody hat. Will be much appreciated later.
Pull the dog reluctantly off her chair.
Clanking spurs and a pointer dog's thumping tail as you sneak down the hall.
Grab coffee mug mid trip out the door.
Hook a halter over my arm, open a backwards gate.
Palomino horse turns and goes for the far corner. He knows what's going on.
Walk up clutzily, grip a chunk of mane and pally sticks his nose in the halter.
Trailer door squeaks an early morn protest.
First pony in. Tying knot.
Sister and second pony. Duck under sis's arm.
Jump out together. Close double doors. Double check the lock.
Truck doesn't wanna start. Radio turned up.
4:01am. Singing "Put Your Picture Away" with voices still crackling.
Talking quietly about concerns in life. It's too early to recognize reality so there is no shame between us of our worries and wonderings about people, horses, God and life.
Washboardy gravel road. Park.
Unload. Little horse slowly gets out in lazy steps.
Quick brush. Saddle blankets slide into place.
Toss up a saddle in the dark. Leave chinches loose. Buckle breast collar.
Chaps on. Hackamore laid over my arm.
Jump ponies all mingling into boss's trailer.
Unload again.
Hackamore slipped over alert, foxy ears.
Suck up custom cinch made by sissy. Unique. Purply turquoise with a rosy cross.
A prayer to God.
One grip on rope and other on mecate. Foot in stirrup. Leg over.
Trot out collected and brisk.
Smile with teeth chattering.
Good morning. Just a good morning.

<3 Gus

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Lady Bronc Stompers

So I'm on a Lady Bronc Riders kick and I would like to share a few I read about today!
One of mine and Gussie's goals this summer is to ride a stock saddle bronc or two :)

Lulu Bell Parr

Home State: Ohio

Lulu Bell Parr, an independent and spirited wild west performer thrilled audiences all across the world during her reign as the “Champion Lady Bucking Horse Rider of the World.” She rode in some of the most famous Wild West shows of the last century. 

Lulu was born on November 14, 1876 in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Lulu's parents divorced when she was a young girl and her father took her west with him. When Lulu was 16, she returned to Steubenville, OH, to live with her mother. There she married George Barrett in March 1896 but divorced him in May 1902. From there her wild west adventure begins. 

She joined the Pawnee Bill Wild West Show in 1903 and remained with them until 1907. She became famous for her bronc riding skills but demonstrated other talents such as trick riding, sharp shooting and buffalo riding. In 1908, she joined the Col. F.T. Cummings-Brighten Tour for a European trip. While touring in England, she performed for King Edward VII. Back in the United States, she performed with the joint Pawnee Bill/Buffalo Bill Show and stayed with them until 1913. She also performed with the Miller Brothers' 101 Ranch Wild West Show during that time. 

After the 1913 season, Lulu traveled to South America with the 101 Ranch and the Pawnee Bill/Buffalo Bill troupes. Argentina proved quite successful for Lulu. Her performance in Buenos Aires was publicized as highly as an opera singer would be. It is reported that Argentine president Jose Figueroa Alcorta “showered” Lulu with gifts for her outstanding debut. She toured the United States and Europe again with the 101 Ranch troupe but by that time most wild west show performers had died, retired or found new careers in film. 

When most of the larger shows broke up, Lulu found smaller shows that at times could barely pay for traveling expenses. She toured with the Cook Brother's Texas Ranch 99, Vern's Tex-Mex Show, Tantlinger's Wild West and King Brother's Rodeo. She also performed with circuses such as Wortham's World's Greatest Show, Sells-Floto Circus, Barnum-Bailey, Robbins Brothers Circus and Hagenbeck-Wallace Show. Lulu did not retire until she was in her 60s. 

During her reign as “Champion Lady Bucking Horse Rider of the World,” Lulu received top billing for performances and she was known for her flamboyant outfits, often the creations of Lulu herself. She received numerous injuries during her career but kept going. It was once reported her horse made a sharp turn and fell on its side during a show, pinning her to the ground before she was able to get out of the saddle. Knocked unconscious, Lulu's physician said her injuries would prevent her from riding for a few weeks. Thirty minutes later, she was riding in the classic quadrille while fans cheered her on. Her independent nature and thirst for excitement even influenced how she traveled. Upon returning home from a European tour, she rode horse back for approximately 600 miles to Ohio from Pennsylvania to visit relatives. When asked why such a long trip on horseback, she simply said she and her pony were tired of the steam trains. 

Lulu died on January 17, 1955 in Ohio while living with relatives. Among her prized possessions was a 5” barrel, nickel and gold plated 45 Colt revolver engraved “Buffalo Bill Cody to Lulu Parr - 1911.” The Medway Area Historical Society in Medway, Ohio began uncovering Lulu's significant history upon finding out she was buried in an unmarked grave in the Medway Cemetery. With tremendous public and private support, they were able to erect a five-foot monument including Lulu's picture marking her resting place. She possessed great determination and fortitude and is a prime example of a true cowgirl. 
(This story is not mine, credit: http://www.australianwesternhorseshowcase.com.au/Features/stories/usa-hall-of-fame-women.htm)

Ruth Roach Salmon

Ruth ran away from home to join the 101 Ranch Wild West Show as a trick rider. Her contest debut came at the 1917 Fort Worth Roundup, America's first indoor rodeo, as a bronc rider. Dubbed the "soft-spoken, rough-riding golden girl of the West," she wore trademark giant hair bows and boots hand-tooled with hearts. She is remembered for trick riding up the steps, across the lobby and through the dining room of Fort Worth's Texas Hotel.
(Credit: http://www.australianwesternhorseshowcase.com.au/Features/stories/usa-hall-of-fame-women.htm)
Ruth Salmon, world champion rodeo performer, had a 24-year career that began in 1914 and ended in 1938, when she retired from the rodeo and started a ranching business in Nocona, Texas, with her husband, Fred Salmon. She is an inductee in the National Cowgirl Hall of Fame and the National Cowboy Hall of Fame and traveled the world with the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show and The 101 Real Wild West Show. Bronc riding was her favorite event, although she performed and won championship titles in other areas (as Ruth Roach). During her career she won the titles of World's Champion All Around Cowgirl, World's Champion Trick Rider, and World's Champion Girl Bronc Rider.
(Credit: http://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth21045/)

Hope you enjoyed these stories as much as I did, these ladies were truly amazing!!!

Thursday, March 22, 2012

About us Keetch Girls

After some intense facebooking this afternoon and the two of us finding new blogs and reading some friend's awesome blogs, we have been inspired to start our own. So we thought we should share a little about ourselves to start off. We are always outside; roping, riding, taking the horses through the drive through at the gas station, taking the tractor for a spin (or sometimes to the car wash), wrecking wagons, getting the ranger stuck on the mountain, going for drives and CRANKING Adrian so we can sing our little hearts out to "Spanish Ranch Cowboy", and every other song she sings (we have learned that the louder the radio is the better we sound), and riding pens at the feedlot. Those are just a few that came to mind first, but there are many more! In general, Gus claims we are just out of control. 

A little about Gussie: - This is me now, Gussie. Well I go by Gussie but maybe more often than not, I'm called Gus. I've grown up ridin horses, I've been doin' it since before I can remember. So I guess that's a while since I'm 15. Through my life, I've been blessed with good horses and good opportunities. I've gotten to go to a lot of cool brandings and do a lot of cool shtuff. Also, despite the slang you've seen previously, I like to write, I guess I'm good at it or something :) I write cowboy poetry and was featured in the latest issue of the Ranch & Reata magazine. Something you maybe should know. I have a boot fetish. I have green ones, blue ones and pink ones. I wear a different pair depending on my outfit each day. I wear boots or my ropers, actually that's all I own! I'm a freshman at SFJHS, also known as The Cardboard Castle (no joke) and I get growled at by my english teacher pretty much everyday. :) Gotta keep life interesting somehow! - As if it isn't entertaining already! Well, that's a little blurb about me.. back to Kricket.

A little about Kricket: I have lots of nicknames! Most of them I won't share because I don't really want to continue them... but here are a few; Chet-chet, Gussie couldn't say my name for a while so I went by this for a few years but she still calls me that and she is the only one that can! Krick-rat, one of my friends growing up also couldn't say my name so she called me this, but dad liked it so much he has kept it going. Krick, this is what my family calls me most of the time. And there are lots more, I don't really know what it is about me that says "give me a nickname" but I sure end up with a lot! I love being out with the horses and roping and learning new fancy loops. I have a wild rag fetish, I absolutely LOVE them. I like fancy bits, and in order to be able to afford to have all the nice pairs of spurs I like I have started a virtual spur collection. I am a senior in high school and I am the president of my FFA chapter, I am excited to graduate this year, but I will definitely miss FFA! I enjoy making cinches and have made my own little business out of it, it has been really fun and I have learned a lot!

And about our family... We have been blessed with awesome parents who have always been willing to teach us and give us amazing opportunities. Our dad, Mike, is a saddle-maker and part-time machinist and has been the one to teach us everything we know about roping and riding! Our mom, Cindy, makes chaps and is always there to talk to us about boys and everything else we like to talk about!!! And we have a hilarious little bother, we mean brother! He is 9 and is always keeping us entertained with his latest inventions and the next funny thing he has to say!

Well that is probably more than you ever wanted to know about us! Thanks for reading!!!