GOEN RODEOEN 1

cliff davis stood at the prch of his house watching the approaching horseman. he rode a horse with a bosal hackamore, and was leading another sorrel , stocking legged, bald face horse with a pack rig loaded and his bed roll drapped over the whole and lashed down. the rider was tall and straight sitting ram rod straight in the saddle. cliff stepped down and walked out into the yard to meet the rider. about middle of the yard cliff stopped and stood there. there rider stopped a a little ways back and stepped down from his bronc. " your really gonna go arnt you?"cliff asked. " the prize money is to much to pass up. and since i got no auto i better leave early to get there. i want to thank you for letting me work here. theres no better out fit around." the tall man spoke cliff scrubbed his toe in the dust and shook his head." theres no way i can talk you out of this? i really wish you wouldnt go traipsen off up there." your gonna have to go compete against the best rodeo bums out there. you know they will be there too" "no you cant talk me out of it. that prize money could set a man up. i want my own out fit. if i dont win anything ill be driften back this way, if you will have me. but i rope just as good as those fellas. i know i can beat them." the tall man was determined. "you got a job any time you want it.. wait here ill go get your pay, your going to need it." cliff spun and headed into his house slamming the screen door. in just a few minutes he came back and handed the tall rider a hand full of cash" you better stash some of that to feed your self on the way back home." cliff smilled at him. " good luck cowboy, ill say a prayer for you."cliff stuck out his hand. the cowboy took the hand and firmly gripped it and shook it. " i better roll boss, prescott is a long ways up the road." the cowboy turned to his saddle horse and mounted. "i hope i read the name joe brown in the sunday paper.adios joe." cliff waved a short wave to the tall man as he rode out of the yard headed north. joe brown rode at a northward angle.. he was going to follow the san pedro river to the gila then follow that until he found a way north to prescott. maybe up the bradshaw trail out of pheonix. he was thirty years old, born into a cow family in benson az. but a house fire had taken his folks and little sister. he had been just a litttle over 10 years old. the bank took everything that wasnt nailed down. he was left standing there with the clothes on his back when the widow allen had taken him in. he had worked daily to earn his place at her table. she made sure he got a education teaching him herself. by the time he was 18 years old he was punching cows with the best that southern arizona had to offer.. there was lots of wild cattle in the thickets along the san pedro and it didnt take him long to get fast with a rope. he worked hard but the best he could gain was a couple of good quality horses. he was being impatient , monthly wages added up slow. but the prize money in prescoott was lureing him north.