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I’d Bought Two Left Hand Spurs: A City Slicker in Love Valley

Published July 29, 2004

I, Bernie Harberts, did not use generative AI to write or illustrate this article. Spell check and grammar check, yes. AI, no.

Love Valley, NC is the Cowboy Capital. It says so right there on the sign.

There are other signs there too that read to the effect of “No Cars on Main Street” and “No Horses on the Board Walk.”

That’s what prompted me to get the spurs. Woody took exception to all that fine lettering and spooked and shied each time he passed one.

I’d trundled into Love Valley on Woody looking like the city slicker in one of those nacho dip ads. “New York City.”

Now you have to know. Love Valley’s Main Street is paved with dirt and lined with board walks. There are honest to God hitching rails that run down either side of the street.

Andy Barker wanted it that way. Fifty years of time and rain have left their grey marks on the circle-sawn boards.

So Woody and Maggie and I clip clop down Main Street past all the cowboys sitting under the overhangs. Lord, they’re wearing belt buckles the size of coffee can lids and they’ve got on the nice big hats and the faded bulge on their back pocket that says “Skoal lives here.”

Me, I’m the guy on the mule wearing the orange hunting vest, my old jockey helmet, sunscreen and chinos and those guys are looking at me like “Whoa back fellows! What trailer’s this joker from.”

Maggie the pony doesn’t help things by squealing and taking a swipe at a nice bay quarter horse gelding tied to a hitching post. She’s coming into heat.

I squeeze up to the tie rail in front of the general store, step out of the tack like I imagine John Wayne would’ve and twitch and jerk my mounts tight to the rail.

“Where d’ja come from,” a guy asks from under a hat and I tell them and from there on the hospitality never quit pouring in.

The fellow at the tack store gave me a wool girth cover for Maggie’s girth and sold me a pair of spurs real cheap.

They didn’t come with spur straps, those strips of leather that hold them to your boot. But I found a piece of sash cord down at the rodeo arena. It was lying there in a clump by the catch pen where they chase the bulls after they’ve bucked off their riders. I cut myself a few pieces and used that to tie my spurs on.

We had a pleasant stay in Love Valley and Andy Barker showed us a fine time.

The next day, up on Pores Knob my ankles started hurting. I stripped off the spurs for a closer look.

I’d bought two left hand spurs.

I gave them a good whack on a rock and those fifteen dollar pokers never gave me another lick of trouble.

(Thanks Andy, Eleanora, and the fine folks in Love Valley for taking us in! We’ll be back.)

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