And The WINNER Is............

Today I am excited to ANNOUNCE THE WINNERS OF THE CONTEST, Model and Real!!!!!!

Are y'all ready??? Let's do Real Horse first.

The WINNER

Of the REAL HORSE PHOTO CONTEST

is..........................................

BROOKLYNE (Showers of Blessings), Photo 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Congratulations, Brooklyne!!!!!!!!!!!! You did AMAZING!!!

To all other contestants of the Real Horse contest, YOU DID AMAZING AS WELL!!! I loved every single picture. Thank you all for entering!!!

Ok. Now let's do the Model Horse.

The WINNER

Of the MODEL HORSE PHOTO CONTEST

is...............................................

PATIENCE, Photo 5!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Congratulations, Patience!!!!!!!!!! You did AMAZING!!!

To all other contestants of the Model Horse contest, YOU DID AMAZING AS WELL!!! I love every single photo. Thank you all for entering!!!

Brooklyne and Patience, I will email you photos of the prizes so you each can pick.

Thank you again for entering, y'all! I've had so much fun and, I saw in the comments, it looks like you had fun, too! I'm so glad!!!

I'm hoping to host a writing contest, but that will be later after this contest blows over. I'll take a break and give you guys a break from contests(lol), and then we may do a writing contest. Anyway, I've enjoyed this immensely.

Chapter One of Lord I Need You

Today I will start the post of a story about a new character, who I've written of before, just not in his Point of View. Actually, this "short" story will be about two boys, named Brody and Mark! 

The story is set in mid-summer, 1897, on the Sharps old cattle ranch in North Dakota, up in the canyon, rocky parts (I don't even know if there are such parts, lol) just below the prairie. The Sharps' ranch is thousands of acres big.

 The boys are only 13 (Brody) and 12 (Mark). Their sisters, Abby and Maggie, are 15 and 11, respectively. It is two years before Maggie dies in a blizzard, so her life is not at stake in this story. 

This story the "victim" (or rather, in this case, victims) are the brothers, mostly Brody. This story will tie into a later story of Kate, so I am kinda preparing you for the plot of The Outlaw's Wish, a book I've been planning since last year's  (I can say that now LOL! 😂) late-summer, early autumn. 

So . . . I present to you! . . . Lord I Need You; hope you guys like it!!

Thirteen-year-old Brody Sharp reined the buckskin gelding in tightly around the milling cattle. The cowhands circling the bawling, quivering herd paid him no mind until the boy lifted his Stetson hat from his head and waved it around his head, then pointed east. “Head up!” he shouted.

The cowboys each gave him a quick jerk of their heads and spun their horses around, cutting into the herd. Soon men and beasts were moving towards the deep canyon cutting into the earth.

Brody turned his horse and looked back at his younger brother, Mark. At twelve, he was capable of helping in most anything, but Pa still had him on a tight rein. Mark was a reckless ruffian, not as even-tempered and level-headed as his older brother.

Behind Mark Brody caught sight of a horse in the distance. It was trotting towards them. On the back of the horse bounced a little girl with curly brown hair reaching past her shoulders.

“Maggie,” groaned Brody, watching as the rough-looking blue roan mare trotted up to Mark’s bay and touched noses with him. Both horses nickered, while the girl on the back of the roan smiled mischievously and dismounted, cheeks flushed red in the North Dakota heat.

“Howdy, Brody!” the eleven-year-old chirped. She looked around. When seeing no cattle, Maggie’s face fell. “Already cleared them out?”

Mark looked down in disgust at his younger sister. “You silly girl. If you had listened to me an’ Brody you’d never had come out here and been disappointed.”

Brody jabbed his horse in the ribs. The gelding trotted over to Maggie’s wandering roan. He grabbed the reins and led the mare back to his younger sister. “Mags, I told you to stay at home.” He gazed back over the treacherous, rocky climb he’d had to make to get to the grassy plains before the drop-off into the canyon. Steep gullies and cliffs with no hill to them were scattered here and there around the thin trail. He turned back to Maggie and shivered. “You could’ve been killed or seriously hurt.”

“Nah.” Maggie shrugged. “I’d never fall off a cliff.”

“A horse could.”

“Horses ain’t stupid.”

Brody glanced at the jug-headed roan with a critical gaze. It lamely stared at the sun, unblinking until it slowly closed its eyelids and slowly opened them up. Its jaw hug loose. Must be the stupidest horse I’ve ever seen, Brody thought, frowning. He bit his lip. “Um, some horses are.”

Mark snickered.

Brody sighed. “Okay, Mags, if you’d like to help with the cows, you may. But only if you come with us when we head out, not five minutes after.”

“Okay!” Maggie scrambled back onto the roan, who snapped back into reality. It sidestepped violently. The girl clutched its mane and howled.

“Whoa!” Brody, still hanging onto the reins, yanked hard, then grabbed his gelding with his thighs so he wouldn’t fly off. The roan tripped on a rock and fell forward onto its chest.

Once the mare had gathered her footing, Brody handed Maggie the reins and urged his cowpony into a lope. With his younger siblings behind him, Brody safely maneuvered the ground so they’d get home quicker and safer.

I wish they’d quit chattering and focus on the terrain, Brody thought grumpily, hearing Mark and Maggie’s constant chatter as he lead his buckskin wisely around a rock protruding in the trail. This was the worst part of the ride back home; they were in one of the bigger canyons, making their way on the trail on one of the walls. On one side of the trail was the straight drop-off; on the other side there was a dangerous, rocky wall. Brody glanced down at his ankle. A rough scab had formed there in the midst of dried blood and dirt. On the trip to the higher part of the ranch earlier today, he hadn’t been lucky in avoiding this exact cliff.

When the children had safely gotten back to the house, their ma appeared in the doorway. Black haired Bertha Sharp, young and knowledgeable of all things “ranch,” had started this ranch with her husband Dan when they were just married; ages fifteen and twenty-two. She had been young and pregnant with their first child. She and Dan had ridden the terrain with their first heads of cattle until the birth of their first boy, who was born too early and stillborn. Both had been heartbroken. They didn’t want anymore children, for fear of another death. So Bertha had become a true cowgirl instead of a mother, herding cattle, breaking horses, and navigating treacherous canyons. It wasn’t until age twenty that she gave birth to Abigail, who was now fifteen. Then came Brody two years later, and then Mark fifteen months later, and then Maggie. When Maggie was born, Bertha gave up ranching and became a true mother to her children.

Brody dismounted his horse and handed the reins to a cowhand. He scampered up to the house.

“So?” Bertha demanded.

“All cattle accounted for and headed to the canyon for the night,” Brody told her, dodging past his ma and hurrying to the kitchen pump for a glass of water.

Bertha followed him, skirts swishing the floor. “They had their fill of the grass up above the canyon, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Brody replied.

“Good.” Bertha beamed. “Wish I coulda been out there.”

“I was!” Maggie burst in, pigtails flying. Mark was after her, complaining she had his hat, which she did. The Stetson was perched on her brunette curls. She stopped and yee-hawed. “Mama, you shoulda seen me! I was a true cowgirl! Just like you!”

Mark groaned. “You did nothin’, Maggie,” he spat. “You just rode up and then rode back down.”

Brody laughed.

Maggie, for payback, ran farther away from Mark.

“Gimme my hat!” Mark yelled.

“No!” Both children ran out of the kitchen. Bertha turned away from the door and started to prepare her famous rye’n’injun bread. “I don’t like Maggie up there, Brody. Ya know that.”

“I know.” Brody sighed and sat down at the little round kitchen table with his water. He hung his hat on the chair and leaned back, exhausted. “She followed us.”

“Ever since Abby’s accident with those cowhands, I don’t want my daughter millin’ with ruffians.” Bertha’s eyebrow rose. “If she’s up there, ya have whole responsibility fer ’er, ya hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I wan’ my daughters t’ follow their dreams of bein’ cowgirls, but they need t’ be protected.” Bertha shook her head. “I wish yer pa would hire cowhands trustworthy with my kids.”

Brody sighed. “Me too.” If only he didn’t have to be the watchman for his little sister! He jumped up and grabbed his hat, and was just preparing to leave the kitchen with Abby swept in.

“Good evening, Brody,” the young woman greeted. She eyed him carefully. “You look a mite dirty. Why are you in my clean kitchen?”

“Your clean kitchen?” Brody’s mouth twitched. “I thought this kitchen was Ma’s.”

Abby’s cheeks flushed red.

Brody hooted and banged out. He crashed outside once more. The heat swallowed him. He broke out in sweat once more and scurried for the coolness of the barn. Where’s Pa?  He needed his father, because now that he had his water, it was time for the evening ride up to the edge of the ranch: the prairie. Dan and his son would ride up to the prairie where the Mustangs were pastured, herd the Mustangs down towards the ranch and corral them in the coolness of a canyon for the night. Early tomorrow morning, Brody and his father would herd the Mustangs back up into the prairie. Then Dan would ride off to the cattle at the east flat, the one Brody took care of in the evening, and he and the cowboys would herd the cattle out of the canyon and up to the grassy flat where the longhorns grazed. While he did that, Brody would ride to school. When he got home from school, he’d go up to the east flat and tell the cowboys it was time to herd the cows back into the canyons.

It went like this everyday. Everyday was busy, everyday Brody was either at work or in school. And he loved it.

“Pa?” Brody called into the dim interior of the barn. “Pa, where are you?” After herding the cattle back to the flat, Dan would come home and take care of the other herds of cattle at the other flats. By this time in the day, he should’ve been in the barn.

Brody shrugged, thinking most likely his father would appear and they’d hurry up to the Mustangs together. He stepped into his other horse’s stall. His buckskin would be tired after the long ride up to the flat and back, so Brody always rode his other horse, a palomino mare, up to the mustangs. This palomino was the mother of Brody’s buckskin.

Brody saddled the horse quickly and led her out in the stallway. When Pa still hadn’t appeared, he led the palomino outside and threw a rein over the hitching rail. “Pa! Pa?”

Suddenly, Dan’s brown cowpony thundered into the circle of outbuildings and slid to a stop on its hindquarters. Its mud-brown coat was lathered with foamy sweat. Foam puffed from its mouth and its legs shook; its bony sides heaved, but its eyes were wild and white-rimmed. On top of the spent horse was Dan. He jumped off and sharply shouted urgent orders to his men. Brody watched with wide eyes. Dan never pushed a horse to such exhaustion. And he never spoke to the men the way he had, so rudely and bossily. The tone of his voice held a pitching air of anger and urgentness, sending the men scrambling.

“Brody!”

It was almost a snap. Brody, who had turned away to check his mare’s saddle, spun around, dropping the stirrup. His eyes widened as Dan stormed towards him. “Yeah, Pa?”

“Quickly. Take Stomper and unsaddle him. Get me another horse and we’re ridin’ up t’ the Mustangs faster than we’ve ever before.”

“Why?” Brody asked, taking Stomper’s reins. The gelding looked like he could barely stand. Every bit of him went into putting another hoof in front of the other.

“’Cause I’m ’fraid some could be missin’,” Dan wheezed, swiping his Stetson from his head and beating the dust off the felt. “Oh, Brody, seventy head of cattle was just rustled from the west flat. Fifty heifers and twenty calves of my best herd!” He buried his head in his hands and groaned.

Brody’s stomach lurched with a sickening twist. He led Stomper into the barn and carefully took the saddle and bridle off the exhausted animal. He brushed him lovingly, crooning loving words to the poor beast. Then he haltered the horse and led it into his stall. He readied another horse for his father, led it out, and gave it to Dan. Then he walked over to his mare and mounted. “Ready, Sunny?”

Sunny shook her mane and whinnied.

Dan pushed his horse into a breakneck gallop. The trail up to the prairie was all dust and rock. Soon Brody was choking with dust. His nostrils were clogged with the stuff and his airway felt scratchy and dry. He pulled his bandana up and shouted at his pa. “Pa! Slow down!”

Sunny wheezed and tripped on a stone. Brody fell forward and hit his nose on her topline. He groaned and got his seat back, then slowed his mare to a lope. He would be late, but he would not hurt Sunny by pushing her too hard.

By the time Brody and Sunny got to the prairie, Dan had already got the Mustangs together. He motioned Brody over with no scolding. When the boy arrived, Dan’s face was contorted in anger. Brody’s first thought was Oh, no, I’ve gotten myself into big trouble but when Dan’s mouth opened, his infuriated voice wasn’t pointed at him.

“Half of this herd is gone,” Dan fumed. “Half!”

Brody’s heart sank.

“Most were the best broodmares I wanted to use with my new Quarter Horse stallions!” Dan raged. “The rest were prized maiden mares and pregnant fillies!” He slammed his fist against his thigh.

Brody’s jaw clenched. What’ll we do?

Push HERE to read Chapter Two


Before I say bye, I have a prayer request.

Last night, my great aunt Sandy had a heart attack and died in her sleep. She was only about sixty. My great uncle Doug found her dead, which is so traumatic. My mom is heartbroken, and I am, too, and our family is devastated.

Please pray especially for my uncle Doug and his two sons, but also pray for Mom, and the rest of my family on my mother's side, especially uncle Doug's siblings, my grandma and other great aunts and uncles.

Tomorrow my sister Myla is getting baptized, and then this happened, and before this we found out I had cancer. It's been such a tornado of a winter for us and my heart just aches for my uncle Doug and I miss my auntie already so much.

Thank you all for the prayers, they mean so much, and we can feel them and they strengthen us and just, THANK YOU. You're prayers, your encouraging comments, your emails: they all help so much, more than I can say. God has answered your prayers and our prayers already and given us strength when it life isn't going the way we want it to. God is so good, even in times of trouble and you guys have helped minister that to me.

Another big thank you.

Congrats, Brooklyne and Patience, your emails are headed your way!!

~IZZY WEST