Challenge me - the story.

Here it is - just under 500 words, incorporating as per 'challenge me', a cowboy hat, a zimmer frame and a rocking horse! Now off to write one just for Sarah with a snowman, flying elephant and kiwi. D'you think she meant the bird or the fruit?

Enjoy...

The Ride to Heaven Retirement Ranch, by Katherine Hetzel.

‘I ain’t leavin’!’ Hank Snr exploded. ‘I bin here since I was born – and the on’y way I’m leavin’s in a box, feet first!’

‘Dad, you can’t live here on your own anymore – not since…you know.’ The eyes of both men were drawn towards the elephant in the room: a silver zimmer frame parked beside his father’s favourite armchair. ‘This place is closer to me, Dinah and the kids – we’d be able to see you more often.’ 

Hank Snr grunted and turned away.

‘Here’s the brochure.’ Hank Jnr slapped it down on the arm of his dad’s chair. ‘Take a look – I’m gonna make us some coffee.’

            *

A week later, Hank Snr arrived at the ‘Ride to Heaven Retirement Ranch’ for a three-day trial.

            *

‘Hank Calchick?’ Hank Jnr enquired of the young woman dressed in gingham. Like an extra from 

Oklahoma.

‘Oh yes – you’ll find him in the Rodeo Room.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Hank Jnr thought he’d heard her say –

‘The Rodeo Room. Just down the corridor on the left.’

Bemused, Hank followed the direction of her finger. Inside the Rodeo Room were a dozen elderly gentlemen, whooping and hollering at the figure sat astride a sturdy rocking horse, riding as though he were being chased by the devil. With a start, Hank Jnr recognised his father in the saddle.

Hank Snr spotted him and grinned broadly. ‘Whoa, whoa!’ he shouted. Once the rocking horse had slowed to a halt, two burly orderlies stepped forward to assist in the dismount and ease Hank Snr into a wheelchair.

‘Dad – what the heck?’ Hank Jnr looked in amazement at his Dad’s twinkling eyes.

‘Damn fine filly…’ Hank Snr watched another octogenarian being hoisted into the saddle.

As the horse picked up speed, accompanied by shouts of encouragement, Hank Junior leaned close to his dad’s ear. ‘Can we go somewhere quieter?’

‘Sure. How about the garden?’

Hank Jnr rolled his father into the corridor.  

‘Don’t forget this if you’re going outside!’ Another extra from the musical plonked a cowboy hat on Hank Snr’s head and patted his arm before, presumably, heading off to sing to the residents.

Hank Jnr found a quiet spot with a bench, and the two men sat in silence, watching horses grazing in the field beyond.

‘So…how’s the food?’ Hank Jnr ventured.

‘The chow? Great.’

‘Mmm-hmm. And you’ve kept busy?’

His father nodded. ‘There’s a rodeo every afternoon, a Western on the cine screen Tuesday and Thursday mornin’s, and banjo lessons on a Sunday. They do a sausage and bean bake on a Friday night round the campfire, and Saturday, they open the saloon. D’you know,’ Hank Snr’s eyes lit up, ‘the gals here put on a show? The can-can…I’ll be sorry to miss that. I reckon I’d like to see them gals kicking highsteps…’

Hank Jnr suppressed a grin. ‘I’ll sign the papers, shall I?’