My youngest boy and I have had some definite adventures together. I picked him up from the 3rd grade with our horses saddled and ready at 3:30. We trailered to the top of the pasture and rode down 8 miles to gather cows that elected to take a walk about. I had seen several bear tracks in the area so I put a rifle in the scabbard for the trip (as well as his '92 on his saddle). We gathered our wayward pairs and got our giddy up on to take them back. We arrived at the spring where they were supposed to be right at sunset thirty where a mama and her cubs were waiting. I hopped off my horse and told my boy to hustle back to the truck. Pulled out the rifle and politely asked mama bear to exit, shot one in the dirt to put an explanation point on my request. She gathered her brood and left. I was just putting my rifle back in the scabbard and saw my son, about 100 yards distant - with his carbine out and resting on a rock. I was torn between being furious and proud when he exclaimed that he didn't want that bear to get his dad. After getting back to the truck, I noticed the ring was missing from my 1895 src and really didn't think much about it. Every time I used that rifle I would think about our time together that evening.
Fast forward 2 years. I had attended a friend's funeral who left behind one of that son's best friends. I decided to do a little tack repair to clear my mind when lo and behold - the ring and mount tumbles from the bottom of the scabbard that I had used that day. I cannot count how many times I have used it since that evening.
I can't help but think the big guy put that there for a reminder that the little things in life are a reminder that our family and memories that we create together are all that really matter.
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Originally Posted by cwtebay
