Cody Kelly

Cody Kelly passed away at OU Medical Center, Oklahoma City, OK on June 7, 2024. She was born in Conrad, MT on July 14, 1961 to Sandra Curl Kelly and Calvin Kelly, Jr. She grew up in Champion, NE and attended Champion Grade School and graduated from Chase County High School.

Her life evolved around horses. Cody won many awards in 4-H, High School, College, and amateur rodeos with her barrel racing horse “Porky”.

Cody attended college at Eastern Wyoming College, Torrington, WY and Montana State University, Bozeman, MT due to rodeo scholarships. She was a member of their winning women’s rodeo teams. She competed at the College National Finals Rodeo four times.

After college she had a career as an exercise rider and ponied horses at various racetracks. She owned C and J Racing Supply.

Cody married A.L. “Jonesy” Jones and they were together 31 years. He preceded her in death in December 2016.

At the time of her death, she lived at Jones, OK where she enjoyed her dogs, (Thor, Zena and Abby) animals, vegetable and flower gardens and had a beautiful yard. She created many handmade crafts and did lovely work. These were shared, along with her cooking skills with her friends.

She is survived by her mother, Sandra Kelly, Ontario, OR; brother, Pat Kelly (Sonia Craig), Payette, ID; sister, Kathy Kelly, Ontario, OR; sister, Nancy Jane Maier (Jay), nieces, Sydney and Savannah, Hartford, WI; aunt, Laura Lou Kelly, Champion, NE; and her many friends across her travels. She was preceded in death by her father Calvin Kelly, Jr., grandparents, Ada and Calvin Kelly, Roma and Cecil Curl, and uncle, Jesse Kelly.

The Music Of The Morn

by Fran Cleland

While most of us are fast asleep


As the moon begins its fall,

And drifts it’s gentle light

Across the clock upon the wall;


There’s others who have left their beds

There’s hoof beats in the dawn,

And out upon the training track

The music of the morn.

The frost lays thick upon the ground

And shines upon the roofs,

And all around, the lovely sound

A thousand steel shod hoofs,

A scraping here, a snorting there

A jockey’s curse, a whinny;

A trainer feeling tender legs

“Damn, that colt’s gone shinny.”

The flaring nostrils show soft red,

A roll, hose, scrape and lead,

The rug thrown on, and off back home

To munch the morning feed

And as they leave, some more come in

While the sun turns red at dawn

To the clatter of a thousand hoofs,

The music of the morn.

So when I die I hope that I

Can chat with old Saint Peter,

And that dear chap would understand

That nothing could be sweeter

For me, to go where the horses run

Down a track that’s long and worn,

To hear once more, the glorious sound;

The music of the morn.