Check in time at Mustang Monument is 3:00, so we were in no rush to head to Nevada. After a late breakfast, a stop at Target, a fabulous lunch at Kneaders (new to all of us but Pat), we headed out of town. The three hour drive took us through the desert past the Great Salt Lakes and the Bonneville Flats. For the most part it was quite desolate until we got into Nevada and gained a little altitude.

We drove through the gate of Mustang Monument and the charm of the understated resort began to unfold slowly. We had booked two tipis for the sheer bragging rights of saying we slept in one, but our reservation got confused and two cabins were prepared for us. They are more than a small upgrade and we decided to go with the flow and take the cabins (at no extra cost). They are charming times two! A snack basket with fresh fruit, drinks, and candy along with ice water were laid out to welcome us.

After getting the lay of the land we were taken, with the other two guests here this week, to meet the horses we would be riding. We walked in the corral amongst them. They are beautiful! All but a couple are Mustangs that have been taken from wild herds and sent to one of the Mustang Makeovers around the West/Southwest. Once trained, they were purchased and relocated here. Some of them were curious about us and came right over to say hello. Or maybe they were looking for treats.

Cocktails and hor’deuvres were on the deck/dance floor outside the saloon anytime after 5:00. A young, Bulgarian, classically trained pianist, Viktor, provided cocktail music on his guitar. Dinner, prepared by Chef David, who was just on the Cutthroat Kitchen by the way, was served at a large table in a tipi! It was delicious and my portions alone would have fed three. Homemade bread and corn soup were followed by a 2″ thick filet … the biggest piece of meat I’ve ever tackled. Creme brûlée, fresh fruit, and coffee topped off our first meal. The noise of a soft rain made on the tipi was perfect. At Cleone’s request Victor and Ira, a young cowboy born and raised in Montana, came in to play guitar for us. They met at the beginning of this season and played together like they’d been at it a long time. So enjoyable.

Like this was not enough for the first six hours of our stay, we relocated to the deck off the saloon where Joe Locklear, a member of the Lumbee tribe, the largest tribe east of the Mississippi, sang and danced for us in full regalia. A fire was roaring in a cast iron caldron and we were draped with small lap blankets. When Joe was done he joined Ira and Victor for more music. They did traditional cowboy ballads, blues, and soft rock.

We called it a night after that. Turn down service included a chocolate on the pillows plus a small dish of chocolate covered nuts and fruit. I don’t know if we can stand three more days of this.