I fell in love with Wyoming’s dramatic skies and jumped right in to running the Albany County Public Library. It felt like my castle, the best job I’d ever had, even better than my English teaching jobs at Bryn Mawr School for Girls, Baltimore Junior College night school, and Eastern Nigeria University, or even my Chicago library jobs.

Suddenly, not only could I hire and fire staff, order and catalog books, and deal with the budget, I also was allowed to spruce up the tired old Carnegie building. I painted the ends of the dark blue stacks with shades of yellow and orange, going on to transform the equally dull woodwork in the reading rooms. I made and hung curtains in the first floor windows. The patron and boards, startled by the brightness, soon began cheering.

Encouraged, I commissioned a bright Alphabet playhouse for the lobby. Kay Sermon, a local artist, filled the top of all four walls of the upstairs children’s room with playful murals—children reading in fun positions. I hired a children’s librarian. I often worked at the heavy oak front desk, checking out books and talking to patrons. Having wheedled a larger new budget from startled Albany County Commissioners (all men, mostly ranchers), I ordered large numbers of delectable new books, including any and all patron requests, and shelved them on bright bookcases near the checkout desk. It was fun. People loved it. The musty old place was suddenly bright and fresh.

Unlike my years of pre-class lesson plans and papers, I now had free nights and weekends. In addition to exploring the mountains, Dan and I began to make friends. We met our near neighbors, Lee and Pat Schick (who eventually bought and rented out our first house). Lee was a physics professor at the University of Wyoming, just up the street from the library, and Pat was a tiny, high energy Attorney who loved horses. Two Doberman Pinschers flanked her office chair. Pat and Lee became a devoted library supporters and good friends.

I often miss Dan, who would remember how we met Tracy and Louis Beard. I had adopted a collie named Polly, who became my dog. This inspired Louie to ask us to adopt Truck, his vehicle-and horse-chasing collie. (Apparently, Truck had not endeared himself on the thoroughbred horse farm, where Louie worked.) Truck was a ringer for Lassie and soon became Dan’s dog. Rooney, our calico cat, soon adopted Truck, curling up in his lap on our big brown faux-velvet chair. Dan and I often passed by the Schicks’ large house in the evenings as we walked our unleashed dogs (those were the days) around the neighborhood park, Roonie darting from tree to tree.

One Sunday Louie invited us to his ranch to watch a thoroughbred mare in heat bred by a large stallion. It was dramatic, both horses excited and agitated, but I was surprised how managed it was—a careful barn mating controlled by a crew of experienced ranch hands. No pasture passion for thoroughbred horses. Sorry.

Louie Beard’s Shrimp Sauce
Until we met the Beards, I’d found seafood intimidating. Turns out, you can’t get simpler than boiled shrimp and Louie Beard’s shrimp sauce, a frequent Beard family Sunday morning treat. The secret ingredient is horseradish. I’d never heard of horseradish, but since I ate Louie’s shrimp, it’s always in my refrigerator.

The recipe: Buy some big cooked shrimp or boil some up yourself (drop defrosted shrimp into boiling well-salted water and cook until they turn pink, maybe 5 minutes), then cool, peel (if necessary). In a small dish, mix 1/4 cup mayonnaise with 2 TB ketchup and 1 tsp. horseradish. That’s it. I don’t measure—I just dump and squirt—so adjust to taste. Dip in the shrimp. Mmmmmmm. (Note: Tracy and Louie eventually split and, sadly, I lost track of them.)