Dancing in the Oaks

Cowboy

Let me first start to introduce myself. My name is Norah Jean and I live in the countryside of Oak Ridge, Tennessee. My family and I moved out to the countryside about two years ago. I was quite worried about the whole ordeal, but that ain't a problem now. The bond between my animals is the greatest thing a girl can ask for. If you ain't never seen a cow, you ain't never seen a true bundle of joy.

I have two brothers: Jake and Harlem. I'm the oldest of the three of us. My parents' names are Logaan and Patty. To be honest, in the two years of being here I still don't have any friends besides my animals. My horse Stryd is there for me though. I am originally from a little known town in California called Bakersfield. In my honest opinion, it has been such a blessing to get out of that place. I find freedom in Oak Ridge. There is just something so different, yet nice about the quiet countryside living. Watching the horses graze out in the meadow while sipping tea on the porch is what I live for.

My parents just recently got hurt, so I was responsible for heading to the department store to pick up animal food. I drove the farm truck down -the manual farm truck- to the department store. I noticed something odd; there was no chicken food. The bags of chicken food usually get shipped in from far away because Oak Ridge is such a small town. There was none of the kind we usually buy and use for our chickens. I politely just stood there until I could see someone who could help. I kept myself busy by observing every detail in the store. A young man, probably my age, asked if I needed help. He was taller than me -about 5 foot 8 inches. His plaid shirt stuck out against his black felt cowboy hat. Of course I said yes I did need help. There was something different about him that was good, but nice at the same time. His voice sounded deep, but nice at the same time.

As he got closer to me he said, "We don't have that kind anymore ma'am and it doesn't look like we're getting anymore anytime soon. I've never seen you before."

My cheeks blushed pink, "I'm Norah Jean. We just moved here two years ago. I live in a brick house with a big red barn." I looked at my boots that touched the concrete floor. This shop reminded me of my grandfather's old tool shop. It was basic, yet very inviting. There were not too many accents on the walls, but just enough to make a nice country statement.

I could feel his eyes beating down on me. "Oh, do you mean the Merchant's old house?" He gazed into my eyes as he hung onto my shopping cart. "The Merchants sold horses. It was a hundred year old business that fell through on its 100th year. They rebuilt that barn twice because of a barn fire."

"Oh!" I didn't know exactly what he was talking about. "Why did their barn burn down?" I asked very quietly. This statement really surprised me because the realtor never told my family about this event. Why is it that people always seem to hide things? I guess that is just what happens these days.

"Miss, lightning strike." He responded very slowly.

"No! Don't call me miss... don't do that." I have always hated when people call me miss, especially guys. It has been something that I have had to get used too for sure. That is just how these southern living cowboys are.

He laughed at me. "So... you can use this chicken feed. It's for raising meat chickens, but the protein content is still high enough for egg layers. This will work even though it's a finer grain." His southern cowboy accent was barely there to pick out. "How many chickens y'all got?"

It took me a moment to contemplate what to say. "That's fine. I think it'll work. We've got about 20 chickens and we're gonna get more. I got horses too!"

"I got a horse too. Do you ride an equestrian?" He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. It looked so soft like butter, but I had to focus on the conversation.