By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Most of the characters in my books are people I’ve cooked up on my own. Others sneak up on me when I’m not looking, leaving me with the sense that I’ve met them before and just can’t remember when or where.
I have a character fitting the latter category who appears in Books 4, 5, and 6 of The Cañon City Chronicles—a little cowboy named Kip. He’s the youngest of three brothers, the tag-along. The one who gets left out more often than not.
Recently, I realized where I’d met Kip, though that wasn’t his real name. He was a student from my former life as a sixth-grade teacher—my Dandelion Cowboy.
Each morning he’d line up in front of my classroom with the rest of the first-period students. Except he wasn’t much like the rest of the students.
In his Wranglers and dusty cowboy boots, he didn’t dress like the others. A towhead among dark-haired children, he quietly stuck out in spite of how much he tried not to.
But in the spring when the dandelions sprouted, he was often at the front of the line with a short-stemmed bouquet and a shy smile.
I talked to him about cowboy things and noted the shiny buckle he wore one day—his trophy for winning an event at a weekend junior rodeo. Most of the other kids had no idea what it meant to rope a calf or ride a snorty steer or run a pole-pattern on horseback.
The little cowboy was a loner. A throwback perhaps, from a long line of those who prefer the company of their horse and a good view of the herd.
I saw that heritage in the father who came to parent-teacher conferences, a taller, stouter version of my Dandelion Cowboy in his good palm-leaf hat and square-toed boots.
Creases at his blue eyes were several shades lighter than the rest of his sunbaked face—the badge of a working man who spent his days in the saddle.
His words were few, but they showed his interest. He wanted his young man to tend to business. Hold up his end of the load. Be polite.
Cowboy morals.
Today when I see a patch of what most people call weeds, I smile and wonder about my Dandelion Cowboy, if he stuck to his ways in spite of the crowd. I hope he’s trailing a herd in the California foothills, going to summertime rodeos, and most of all, becoming the fine man I knew he could one day be.
Obviously, I’m not trying to win
the approval of people, but of God.
If pleasing people were my goal,
I would not be Christ’s servant.
Galatians 1:10 NLT
~
Others sneak up on me when I’m not looking. Share on X
“Lord, will I ever fit anywhere?” Grace asked. “Am I supposed to fit in?”
Harley’s ears swiveled at the sound of her voice, and he bobbed his head empathetically.
“You’re right, old man.” She leaned forward and rubbed his neck, tugging the reins a bit so he wouldn’t take it as a sign to run. “We’re an odd pair. Two of a kind, unlike everyone else and no slot to fill.”
It wasn’t being different that bothered Grace. It was being a burden, not able to pay her own way. Hers were not the skills of a homemaker. Maybe spending time with Dorrie Berkshire was exactly what she needed.
Two hours later, Harley ambled into the ranch yard where Kip was swinging in the cottonwood tree. Her youngest nephew reminded her of herself—more pluck than good sense and always left out of the fun his two older brothers concocted as often as their housekeeper made hot coffee.
“Where’ve you been?” Kip dragged his feet to stop the swing and ran her way.
Grace stepped down and caught him in her arms. “Hey there, cowboy. Who showed you that jump-hug trick.”
He squeezed her neck, then slid to the ground. “You did, Aunt Grace.”
The boy could smile the sun right out of the sky. ~Covering Grace, Book 6 of The Cañon City Chronicles
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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