Quaid, he came up from west Texas
the summer of eighty-two,
lookin’ to ride broncs on the rodeo circuit.
It was the one thing he knew how to do.
And Quaid had aspirations
of makin’ his life somethin’ great.
He wasn’t sure what but he sure wanted more
than the usual West-Tex cowboy fate.
And when Quaid made the big finals
the summer of eighty-seven.
from a flea-bitten town on a rabbit brush flat
it was like goin’ to rodeo heaven.
Couple of buckles, a handful of green,
and he started to walk pretty tall.
He was startin to live the cowboy dream,
and he thought he could have it all.
See, Quaid was makin’ fast money,
the most he had ever known
It seemed to come easy and it seemed to buy most
things his pa’d never hoped to own.
And Quaid was payin’ for women
and clothes, fancy cars and all,
But then he got into that gamblin’ scene.
It were the beginnins of his downfall.
Weren’t exactly like he were bettin to lose,
but folks sort of seen it that way.
Like the rodeo king had quit payin’ his dues,
had feet that were made of clay.
'Cause Quaid he fell in with a bad crowd,
and times he couldn’t make the purse
They’d search out some sucker who’d bet against Quaid,
then lose. Which in some way was worse
than just losin the first time by not makin the cut
Or by gettin’ thrown off ‘fore the bell.
And ‘fore Quaid’d gone down in too many towns
Rodeo heaven had turned into hell.
Sometimes those late at night parties
would end ugly, turn into a rout
and once Quaid woke up on a back alley grate
with his pockets turned inside-out.
When Quaid’d come up from West-Texas
his future’d seemed strong and sweet.
But he’d sold himself short, lost his father’s good name
and he was facin’ a bitter defeat.
The crowds all started to boo him,
even the times when he’d win
and the pleasures of livin’ the good life
was startin’ to wear pretty thin.
And then Quaid began to figure
that the things he’d thought were so grand
was a wrong way of livin, a hard row to hoe
and his life wasn’t goin’ as planned.
And he found himself caught in a quandary,
forced to face up to his ways.
And he started rememberin’ the goals that he’d set
way back in his West-Texas days.
But it never is really that easy
to pick yourself up when you’re down
And Quaid was fightin’ ‘gainst his baser half
to turn his life back around.
He steered away from the high times,
quit stayin’ in fancy hotels
and focused on gatherin’ a little grub stake
honest, by beatin’ the bells.
Then the crowds, when he’d win, started cheerin’
And they’d smile when they mentioned his name.
And Quaid by then knew he’d come full circle ‘round
And he’d beaten that slick money game.
And folks, after ‘while, they forgave him
tho’ his story would come up time to time
When a younger bronc-buster would win a big purse
and enter into his prime.
But you can find Quaid now in West Texas
says it got into his bones,
and no matter how long he stayed away
West Texas was always his home.
And the rodeo wins served their purpose.
The earnin’s went into the brand.
And now Quaid and his pa are raisin’ ponies, they say,
out there on that West Texas land.
Jo Lynne Kirkwood was born in Kanab, Utah, and grew up in the small farming/ranching community of Fredonia, Arizona. Her great-grandfather was one of the original settlers of the area, and her family lived the traditional alfalfa and cattle lifestyle of the area. She attended Southern Utah University, Brigham Young and Utah State University. She is now an English and Art teacher in Sevier School District, Utah. She lives with her husband and four children on a farm in the county outside Sigurd, Utah, where they raise calves and alfalfa.
She has had poems published in The Wyoming Companion, American Cowboy Magazine, and has received the "Robert Service Award" from Bette Wolfe Duncan’s "The Rancher’s Wife." She was named one of "Eight Seconds" by CowboyPoetry.com, and is a "Lariat Laureate" at cowboypoetry.com.
High Country Communications