I rolled out of my sleeping bag. ‘Twas dang near eight o’clock. My tent was by the campfire and I’d slept hard, like a rock.

I threw the horses hay, and then I headed for the john. A rickety old outhouse, just one hole to sit upon.

But then my memory told me, “There’s a restroom down the road.” So, I grabbed two cowboys, couldn’t wait to feel the warm commode.

But then a danged old ranger dude came walking out the door. He said, “The restrooms aren’t for free. Don’t use them anymore.”

I didn’t want to make a scene. He had authority. But the parking lot was empty just as far as I could see.

We didn’t have a pass to get into the park that day. Just wanted nice warm bathrooms, but we didn’t want to pay.

So, we drove off irritated. Oh, we vowed to come back soon. That ranger was a marshmallow. We’d show the big buffoon.

That afternoon at four o’clock we climbed into the truck. Then drove down to the restrooms. We were bound to have some luck.

We pulled up to the gate. Now there were six of us in all. We were mighty, fearsome cowboys, prob’ly felt like ten feet tall.

But then one pretty, little gal walked up to our truck door. She winked at me and then she smiled. My jaw ‘bout hit the floor.

She said, “We’d like it if you’d pay and hope you weren’t misled.” I didn’t have a word to say. My brain had left my head.

We tipped our hats and did I mention egg on every face. The cutest little ranger gal had put us in our place.

That night while sitting ‘round the fire the men all tried to boast. ‘Cuz every cowboy seemed to think she’d smiled at him the most.

And then the night got quiet. Not one person made a noise. That day one pretty, little gal made mush of six cowboys.

Bryce Angell has lived around horses all his entire life and is a retired registered nurse who still works part time at Ashton Living Center.