One of our favorite places is a little cafe called Angela’s which also happens to be within walking distance of our house. Not that we travel there by that method very often, you understand. Angela’s serves lunch and dinner but the Mexican-style breakfasts are the real draw.

We became regulars immediately after it opened in a little hole in the wall and served only breakfasts. It was named after the owner’s daughter, who used to sit behind the cash register and color or read her schoolbooks. She’s a little older now and I hardly ever see her there any more. The cafe has changed too - triple the number of tables they first had and a waiting line in the morning.

That’s where we were sitting Sunday morning when I noticed Tricia’s eyes fixed over my right shoulder. I followed her gaze to the waiting area where I saw a tall man with a neatly-trimmed full beard. He was wearing a full-length fur coat and a brown western-style hat. A lot of men in these parts wear western-style hats but something about the shape of his seemed different.

A few minutes later the hostess led his party to a table behind my back. As he passed I heard a jangle and glanced down to see silver spurs on his boots. Boots and hats are one thing but spurs and calf-length fur coats at breakfast are something to catch my attention.

I didn’t want to turn around and stare, but Tricia told me that when he removed his coat he was wearing dark pants with a stripe down the side and a military style sweater. Was he a Mounty who had tracked his man all the way to Texas? More likely he was on his way to or from some kind of horse show. He had the air of a performer. The other man and the two ladies in his party offered no clues. They could have been on their way to the Methodist church.

I searched for his horse in the parking lot when I left. It wasn’t there.