An’ how did I know them were cowboys? Because them smelled like cowboys, They smelled like steers. An’ they were drivin’ a huge truck with a goose neck trailer, an’ live horses ‘nside. An I’d just read a poster advertisin’ Monday’s Labor Day rodeo in White Sulphur Springs, an’ offerin’ $8 000 prize. An’ I wuz headin’ to White Sulphur Springs.

Now if they hadn’t put White Sulphur Springs at a T junction, you’d go on straight through it.

Mind you if, if they weren’t putting out things for the rodeo at the junction you’d still have gone straight through it and woken up to it a mile into the prairie before discovering you’d left the road, the prairie is that darn flat.

Anyway I were mighty ‘cited about th’ rodeo, till I discovered it was only Saturday, and the town was booked full for the next two days. Perhaps I’d go on to Glacier Park and head back. "Hell, no," says the very uncountry dude behind the motel counter. "Labor Day, there’ll be rodeos everywhere." He was from out East. Stranger in these part. Not ‘cited by them rodeo.

Come Monday, I’m in Polson. "Rodeos? There ain’t no rodeos. They’s finished for th’ yeer. White Sulphur City? Don’ know ’bout that. That be good three hours from ‘ere."

Stranger. Should’ve known. He was readin’ them newspapers.