Four cowboys lit out on the road, just out to have some fun. Their old and weathered faces showed the years from summer’s sun.
But on that day each cowboy didn’t take a horse to ride. They chose the F150 and the trail boss for their guide.
They drove for hours, then made their stop. Each cowboy longed to see, the Birch Creek Stagecoach Station, now a part of history.
Each building had a character. The cowboys understood. They saw where men and horses lived, but now all gone for good.
The cowboys stood and pondered, now a part of this great show. ‘Cuz in their minds they visioned ‘bout this station long ago.
The old Hotel and Eatery was sure a welcome sight. The passengers and drivers would find rest throughout the night.
The bar-keep poured his liquor and the first one had a bite. The stairs climbed to the second floor. A drunkard’s fateful plight.
The old ice house, down by Birch Creek, was then a luxury. Fresh meat could last for weeks and city dwellers drank ice tea.
The livery had eight horse stalls with the loft filled up with hay. The cowboys knew haying back then was nothing like today.
Last of all the cowboys walked out to the blacksmith shop. Each cowboy soon identified his role at this stage stop.
They heard the pounding of the hammer on a red-hot shoe. And watched the blacksmith roll a wheel to keep it sound and true.
That day four cowboys realized to live back then was tough. Each wondered if they’d have the grit. Would they be up to snuff?
But one thing ‘bout a cowboy, he is where he wants to be. And just like Birch Creek Station they’ll be part of history.