Labor Day weekend has long held special significance for me. It’s the 3-day weekend I attended an organized trail ride at Robber’s Cave State Park for many, many years. Nestled within the beautiful San Bois mountains of southeastern Oklahoma, Robber’s Cave is likely where my love of the great outdoors began. It’s also a place so ingrained in my heart that it would inspire the setting of two of my books–my very first one, The Traveler (which you may know I recently came back to; if not, read here!), as well as my latest completed book, The Devil in Us All.
I have a difficult time putting into words what Robber’s Cave and this particular part of my home state mean to me; yes, it’s a lovely and scenic area, but the memories infused with this place are what make it so special to me.
I’ll start by giving you a little history: I began attending the Labor Day trail ride at Robber’s Cave when I was around ten-years-old, riding my very first horse, Lady. I would continue to attend this ride until my early 30s, taking both of my children with me the last time I went.
For me, the Labor Day ride at Robber’s Cave ride was the equivalent and had all the nostalgia of attending a yearly summer camp; I looked forward to it every year. I would often see the same people and take part in the same traditions. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention there were a few boys I developed a crush on while at this ride. Many, I never saw again.
Camping at Robber’s Cave sometimes consisted of an actual camper, but more often than not, it meant sleeping in the front of our horse trailer, listening to the hum of cicadas, and peeking out the window to check on our horses, tied to a line outside, multiple times throughout the night.
Each morning, we would ride for miles over the hilly, rocky terrain, but the trail ride, itself, wasn’t my favorite part of the weekend. Saturday afternoon meant swimming at Lake Carlton and Saturday night was the potluck dinner and dance, complete with a local band. It’s where I first learned to two-step. On Sunday afternoon, we would often drive into the nearby town of Wilburton for a hot lunch at Pizza Hut and then head back to camp to compete in the beloved bareback games.
Monday morning’s ride was followed by campsite clean-up and the hardest part of all–the goodbyes.
As a teenager, my best friends, Summer and Teresa often accompanied my mom and me on this ride, and though we often called it our a “girls weekend”, there was one boy we always allowed in our circle: Anthony.
A year my junior, I met Anthony the very first year I attended the ride and after that, we were pretty much inseparable. One year, instead of going on the group ride, Summer, Teresa, Anthony, and I decided to venture out on our own. While offering our horses a drink from a small lake out on the trail, Summer’s horse became bogged down and couldn’t get out of the water. Ever the cunning cowboy, Anthony helped to get her out, and he and Summer were soaked and muddy by the time they did. It was terrifying, but we all had an exciting tale to tell afterward. I would recapture this particular experience in a scene in The Devil in Us All.
Another special connection between Anthony’s family and my own–we bought a horse from them: our sweet Kady, whom we lost a few years ago.
Just this year, I also learned of Anthony’s passing, and it hit me hard. Even though we usually only saw each other that one weekend each year, reading his obituary reminded me how fleeting life really is.
For me, Labor Day will always be synonymous with the ride at Robber’s Cave. As far as I know, they still have it, but I’m at a different place in my life now. More of a writer than a rider these days. However, I find it quite fitting that I finished up intensive revisions of The Traveler just as Labor Day weekend arrived this year. Through this story, I’ve relived some of my days at Robber’s Cave. You see, Jaden and Chance go on a trail ride of their own at “Tipping Rock State Park”, a place very much inspired by Robber’s Cave. The hidden levee they run across on the horses? It’s real, and I tried to capture it here:
Only the hint of a trail leads through the thick, yellow-green grass covering the top of the levee, but I soon see why Chance brought me up here. The view is stunning: a shimmering, crystal blue lake to one side, the deep green of cascading pines on the other.
“Wow,” I gasp.
Chance twists around to look at me. “I know. I have to come up here every time I’m here. Chris found it first.” He gives a sly smile. “Are you ready?”
My stomach turns a full somersault. He’s obviously got something up his sleeve. “Ready for what?”
“Remember how I said we’d try loping next time? Well, it’s next time.” He winks before turning back around and making a clucking noise. Dusty trots a few beats before breaking into a slow run.
Without any guidance from me, Robber speeds to the same pace from nearly a standstill. “Whoa!” I grasp the saddle horn and hold on for dear life. As the wind whips my hair back and the scenery rushes past in my periphery, a squeal of pure delight escapes my throat. I think this must be what flying feels like. The fear I felt moments ago disintegrates, replaced by an elation that rivals what I’d felt the first time I sat on Robber’s back. Once again, I’m reminded of how absolutely incredible it is to be on a horse. And how equally incredible it is that they allow us to ride them.
The horses in this book, Robber and Dusty, are also inspired by very real horses: Lady and Hershey, who happen to be the first and last horse I rode at Robber’s Cave. Both were my heart horses.
You see, a writer plants many pieces of themselves and their experiences in every story they write, and The Traveler is very much an example of this for me. No matter what happens with this book, I will always consider it a labor of love. And it will always, always take me back to my teenage days at Robber’s Cave on Labor Day weekend.
- Blog header image photo credit: J. Stephen Conn