Oh, My goodness! Just look at my mama! She had style and panache, coming out the gate!
It looks like I had riding britches on. Well, I guess the sheriff had not shot my horse yet. That is in reference to a song in the 1950’s. Of course it was the neighbor boys who shot our horse.
As a teenager I worked after school in a restaurant right down the street from Lenorad Heards grocery store where Frances worked. A distant cousin of the Jacksons ran it. What was her name? Edith, that was her, I think.
Anyway this cowboy from a ranch over in Logan, New Mexico came and he told the most hilarious story about getting drunk, then arrested in Amerillo Texas (just 90 miles east of San Jon where we were.
A policeman or sheriff was directing traffic and things got away from him and he hit the payment, at which time his gun shot out of his holster, and our drunk cowboy could not stop himself, as he said, “Shoot low sheriff, she’s riding a Shetland”. Thus the arrest.