One of these days, I might just switch to writing westerns, because I love the American West (and the cowboys, of course). My family does too, so we recently spent a week on a ranch in Wyoming.

I was lucky to go horseback riding every day. We saw a lot of wildlife on each ride, mostly deer and pronghorn antelope. But I also came upon an elk about 20 feet away (they are huge!) and my horse and I startled a baby elk (awww!). Rode by bison, too. We rode by a wolf on the first day—I did not like the way she was checking us out, and I was glad we took the long way around. Rumor is that she was guarding two little pups. The highlight of the whole trip was galloping through the sagebrush fields and riding through Snake River.

When I wasn’t riding (or watching my baby sister so my parents could go riding), I was learning skeet shooting. I had visions of being like one of those heroines with a gift for weaponry and exceptional aim. Alas, I am not. Wes and Renee, my teachers, said that “if I were any more off, I’d be on,” meaning that I was consistently thisclose to hitting the pigeon. Just need more practice, I guess.

A trip out west wouldn’t be complete without a night at the rodeo. There is calf roping, barrel racing, the bucking broncos and, of course, bull riding. One of the wranglers at the ranch used to be in the rodeo and he told me a great phrase about it—“it’s not if or when you get hurt, it’s when and how bad.” There were no injuries at the rodeo we attended, thank goodness. I tried to take pictures of the cowboys and livestock, particularly the horses galloping around the ring. The one that says it all is a trail of dust after a horse sprinted past. (I would post this, and other pictures, if I had the one cord I need to upload photos, instead of four that I don’t need.)

But even though I love it out west, I’m still sticking with Regency romances for now. I’ll be in London next week, and blogging about all the regency romance related sites I can get to. Bond Street, Rotten Row, Number 5 Bruton Street…