line on Highway 26 coming up fromrnScottsbluff, I spent mv first night inrnWyoming 23 ears ago, traeling with m-rnpardner Ted Kovaleff of New York Cih.rnTogetlier we burned a couple of thickrnsteaks on a portable grill set up behindrnthe motel and ate them with beefsteakrntomatoes and Beefeater gin, while thernMay-green bluffs along the North PlatternRier turned gold, then purple, withrnecning and nieadowlarks warbled fromrnthe leafing cottonwoods around the tow nrnsquare. At the time, I was thrilled to setrnfoot in the Cowbo’ State. Nearl- a c|uarterrnof a centur’ later, I barch’ recognizedrnthe place as Wyoming, m’ home of 21rnvears: You might as well be in Alliance,rnNebraska, as here.rnAt the rock shop midwa beheen ‘[ orringtonrnand Lingle, we turned left acrossrnthe Union Pacific tracks and followed thernnarrow road oer the Nortli Platte to thernsouth bank of die ricr. The Hathawarnplace was a small frame siuglc-stor’ farmhouse,rnnot quite of the pioneer era, behindrna w indbrcak of tall Cottonwood treesrnlooking as if the might be beginning lornrot out the wa’ old cottonwoods do andrnsurrounded bv hundreds of acres of harrowedrndustv fields not et planted torncrops. I recognized the red 20-ear-oldrnChe” dualh’ parked on the turnaroundrnDawn had said to look for and turned inrnthere. A tow-headed se’en- or eight-vearoldrnwatching from the other side of thernChew introduced himself as Maverick,rnadding that his mother was in the house.rn”Mieaela —get our boots on!” Rhondarnordered.rnFarm wies and ranching ones aren’trnalwavs housekeepers, especialh’ thosernwith enough else to do. Dawn Hathawa,rngreefing ns from a cross-legged positionrnon the floor with a bottle-feedingrnbab in her lap and a couple of toddlersrnhanging around, ob ioush’ had morernthan enough. CTlancing sidewas atrnRhonda, I saw her tuck a loose strand ofrnhair l>chind one ear. “Rt)b will be back inrna moment to take the bab, and then Irncan show ou die horse,” Dawn said.rnRob Hathawa was a tall ouug manrnwearing a farmer’s cap, jeans and workboots,rnand a T-shirt with fishing flics onrnthe chest. A nafixe of Oklalioma, he hadrna job at a slaughterhouse in tow u to supplementrnthe income he made from tenantrnfarming. IDawn took a bridle from arnpeg behind the door and led the way torndie corral, which had three horses standingrnin it. One was a tall. er’ large-bonedrnbuckskin quarterhorse, about 1, liandsrnand weighing mabe 1,300 pounds. Ofrnthe other ho, the larger was a handsomerngra- half-Arab gelding, well-built at 15rnhands, the smaller a ba- mare with delicaternbones and a lean barrel, not over 13rnhands in height and looking more like arn earling colt than a six-vear-old cowponv.rnI like smaller horses mself, but havernfriends larger than me to mount in elkrnseason and for pack expedifions.rnI’hc mare came willingK’ enough.rnDawn fitted the bit. slipped the headstallrnoer the cars, and saddled her with arnlightweight, comfortable-looking rig.rnThe horse was moxing out alreadv as shernstepped up, which can lose ou points orrne’eii disqualify ou in competition, butrnsaes time under working conditions.rnIler spring ankles gae her an eas- trot,rnher canter looked smooth as a rockingrnhorse, and I had to admire her quicknessrnin crossing oer, in file turn and backiqD,rnand changing leads. When Dawn hadrnfinished putting Hie mare through herrnpaces, she slipped doin from the saddlernand handed the reins to me. Slightlvrnbarn-sour from winter, and unused asrnwell to an unfamiliar rider, she steppedrnon my foot before I could get up, but performedrnwell otherwise, except for a bit ofrncrow hopping w hen I tried to back her.rn”Your tuni,” I told Rhonda w hen I wasrnon the ground again.rn”No. I don’t think so. She didn’t seemrnto want ou on her.”rn”Go ahead, now. It’s ou who wants tornbu’ a horse.”rnNo competitixe athlete backs downrnfrom a challenge. Rhonda brushed pastrnme and snatched the reins from mrnhands, turned Hie stirrup as I’d instructedrnher to do monflis before, gripped file canriernwith her right hand, and sprang up tornthe saddle. While fOawn and I watched,rnshe worked Sass through in the corralrnuntil horse and rider appeared to feelrncomfortable w idi one another.rn”Where’s .Iicaela?” I asked Rhondarnw hen she surrendered die mare at last.rn” 0 e r there b the hawstack plaiugrnwith Dawn’s kids.”rn”She’s not interested in the horse?”rn”You can see she’s not interested.”rnThere’s a New Kngland saxing aboutrnwomen haxingfliree stages: Horses, men,rnand religion. In toda’s oxerlicated socieh,rnit’s refreshing to know a seen-vearoldrnwho hasn’t come to the first one vet.rnDawn unsaddled Sassxand turned herrnloose in flic corral xxhile Rhonda calledrnMieaela to her. promising to phonernwhen she’d made a decision about thernhorse. “It’s nice to find someone who’s atrnleast interested in Arabs,” Daxvn remarked,rnxvistfullx’.rnThe light xxas sharply angled in thernspringtime xallex- of die North Platte asrnxxe started west again, through Lingle,rnFort Laramie, Gucrnsex-, and Dxxxer.rn”I took mx’ cue from xon the xvholerntime,” Rhonda said. “I could see fromrnyour face hoxv disappointed von xxerernxx’hen xou first saw diat horse.”rn”She’s prettx’ small. But also strongrnand beautifiillv quick and well trained. Ifrnyon don’t xxant her, niaxbe I’ll bux’ herrnmx’self”rn”Do xou think she’d make a goodrnhorse for me?”rn”Yes, I fliink so. Sassx’s an athlete, absolutelx.rnJust like xou.”rn”1 feel so sad,” Rhonda said. “I don’trnxxant to talk about it anxmore.”rnPast Guernsex’ the road climbed out ofrnthe rix cr bottom onto a xvide tablelandrnfrom xxhere the Laramie Range, backlitrnb- the setting sun, stretched like shark’srnteeth along the xxestern horizon.rn”I’m going to miss Wxoming,” shernxxent on. “I xvish I could haxe seen morernof it before I left.”rn”I nexer thought I’d hear xou sax it.rnYou’xe been bellxaching about Wxomingrnfor the past ten monflis—as long as I’xcrnknown xou.”rn”I xvish I could turn mx- horse in xxiflirnX’ours. We could ride whenex’er xxe xxantedrnand go up in the mountains together.”rn”That would be xvonderful. Butrnxou’re going home to California in twornmonths. You xxon’t gixe Wxoming aiioflierrnthought once vou’re back there.”rn”If I find a horse I like in California,rnxxill Xon come out and look it oxer for niernfirst?”rn”I might. We’ll haxe to see.”rn”Oh,” Rhonda exclaimed, “this is suchrna f—d-up situation!”rn”You’ve decided against buxing thernhorse after all?”rn”I told xou,” she said. “I don’t xxant torntalk about the horse.” ^rnLooking forrna good book?rnCheck out reviews from ourrnback issues online atrnwwAv.chroniclesmagazine.orgrn50/CHRONICLESrnrnrn