Good as new

There's the matter of the small bridge to be put back to rights. It washed out in spring and the girls couldn't get across the canal to catch the horses.

John, who owns the 60 acres of land just outside Powell, Wyoming where the horses pasture, has a tractor and wench. We catch the old bridge, which lies upside-down on the bank of the canal under a tangle of Russian olive trees, a victim of the flood, hoist the old bridge upright, attach the chain to it, and John drags the thing through the brush to the place alongside the canal designated as cross able.

It takes four of us to lift the old bridge in place, and another two of us to shimmy two old posts Larry salvaged from an earlier flood under the old bridge for support.

Once the bridge is in place, we take off our work gloves, shake hands, cross the bridge ourselves several times to make sure it's worthy to carry horses and riders, at least until the next flood.

After much discussion, John says it's good, Larry too, and that we won't need the extra posts he brought along for additional support or the roll of brand new barb-wire.

Josie, carrying a pail of oats and two halters, crosses the bridge to catch the horses. She leads both of them across the pasture, over the new bridge, where Lea Ann and she take them for a short ride, bare back.