Folks' Poems: Susie Knight Cowboy Poetry at the BAR-D Ranch

Almost every mornin’, she’d rise before the dawn,

mixin’ up the makin’s for the dough.

She’d knead the double recipe and form it in a ball,

then let it rise about an hour or so.

Her kitchen was her office; you could always find her there

fixin’ breakfast, dinner, supper ev’ry day

for her husband and her children and at least four hired men.

This rancher’s wife had little time for play.

The first day that I met her, she was cookin’ for the crew

that was workin’ toward their annual horse sale.

With a dozen extra mouths to feed for ten days in a row,

she kept us fed like kings without fail.

I was almost 21; she was 34,

Her husband (a much older man than she)

had a son from his 1^st marriage, and we chose to tie the knot.

So, this young lass now was mother-in-law to me.

She became my mentor and took me by her side,

and taught me everything that I should know:

How to read a recipe, fry chicken, and bake bread,

can vegetables, make jam, and learn to sew.

It was at her kitchen table that she told me ‘bout the Lord

after gathering mares and colts one day in May.

She opened up the Bible; I saw Jesus in her eyes.

She held my hand as I bowed my head to pray.

I often paused to notice the collection on display

on the old upright piano in the den.

Several trophy buckles from bareback broncs to bulls

awarded to her husband way back when.

Among all those honors was the focus of them all;

a single trophy buckle lay between.

Engraved around a golden crown was “1961

Hot Springs, South Dakota Rodeo Queen”.

She’d rarely talk about it; said the Past was in the past.

Daily chores were always high demand.

But one snowy day in winter, we shared a pot of tea.

She opened up and helped me understand.

“I was raised the daughter of a cattle ranchin’ man,

and my older brothers calf-roped in their teens.

I rode horseback every day helpin’ Daddy out,

and held my own at barrel racin’ scenes.

But the day I won that buckle, I was certain that I’d lose.

The competition there was mighty tough.

When they called my name and crowned me Queen, I couldn’t even breathe!

But I was beamin’ as my horse and I loped off.

That was just so long ago; I was very young.

I’ve children of my own to care for now.

‘Sides, ranchin’ keeps me hoppin’ from the dawn till way past dark.

There’s no time for lookin’ backwards anyhow.”

Then, one day in the summer on a quiet Sunday morn,

she left a note for all of us to find

on the empty kitchen table: Help yourself to toast and jam…

I’m takin’ time today to clear my mind.

One by one, the others in the family woke up.

“Where’s Mom?” All insisted that they know.

“She’s always in the kitchen. I’m hungry for some eggs!

Where would she, so early, have to go?”

I peaked out of the window and there beyond the hills,

she urged her sorrel gelding ‘cross the wheat,

pursuing all those memories that whispered in her soul.

Determination blurred her horse’s feet.

Silently, I smiled cuz I knew she needed this,

to feel her horse’s power in his stride.

She was still a cowgirl, and a good one, there’s no doubt!

And if nothing else…a cowgirl’s gotta ride!

A little while later, she trotted Sorrelly home.

Unsaddled him and turned him out to rest.

Then, returnin’ to her kitchen, she started fixin’ lunch

whistlin’ while she did what she did best.

That’s how I remember her and prob’ly always will.

She’s like no other woman that I saw.

A rancher’s wife, equestrienne, a lovely rodeo queen,

so much more than just my mother-in-law.

Cuz I arrived a greenhorn, but she loved me anyway.

She overlooked my ignorance and flaw.

Though my marriage to her stepson didn’t last, and I moved on,

I’m forever friends with the World’s Best Former-In-Law!