The Muse is Loose

A marker on the courthouse lawn at the square in Brady, Texas makes a claim that Brady is the center of the vast state of Texas. That claim is disputed, as are most things of such nature. I was in Brady last night. It looked like the center of Texas to me. I was there to explore a hunting lease I plan to enjoy come November 1. The lease is only about three miles from the little town of Richland Springs. How small is Richland Springs? They play six-man football. They are past state champions! There are several old empty buildings in the town. No motels, so we stayed in Brady. At the lease this morning I met a genuine Texas cowboy. His name is Bill. I knew he was a real cowboy because he crossed a barbed-wire fence and didn't get hung up. He wore a black western hat that looked as if it had lost a few scrapes with bulls and bars. He had a handlebar mustache that came down to neat little points, and was stained pretty good with Red Man. He did have a cellphone in his Bull Durham pocket but that's pretty common. I asked him how long he had lived around there and dryly he replied: "All my life. Never had enough money to leave!" His blue eyes twinkled and I could tell Bill wouldn't leave for no amount of money. He was working with a youth rodeo. I thought that was neat. You would like Bill. His languages was cowboy and he had a few words of the life, but I would trust him with most anything but a case of booze which I don't have. He gave us a good deer report. Turkey crosses his yard every day. Seventy-five one morning. His house is across the road from the lease. If you like the outdoors you would love this place, deer or not. November 1 seems a long way off. I miss Bill already. "The stars at night are big and bright........deep in the heart of Texas."