The Cowboy Summer Begins #1

I need to add a couple author notes going forward.

First, I made a total mess of my story page when I first started this series of short stores. So I am starting a new series of short stories that I will number going forward so readers will know where to begin and which stories they have already read.

Also, I am adding a fiction category to these stories going forward as not to defame anyone. Any possible similarity to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. I am the Sergeant Schultz of the range. I saw nothing. I know nothing.

The Summer Begins #1

Well let’s see here. This was only my fourth day cowboying for Ted for the fourth summer. And the day before I about got both legs broken by a wool blind ram. And then the next morning had Slinters fall and roll over the top of me wrangling the horses in the dark.

I was thinking about that while hobbling up to the ranch house for breakfast admitting to myself things were not starting off well. And hoping it wasn’t a bad omen for how the rest of summer would go because at the rate I was going I wouldn’t even survive it.

When I did hit the ranch house door I did have at least one thing going for me. Ted was cooking breakfast and it was even bacon eggs and fried potatoes instead of pancakes or worse oatmeal. And the only reason I had that going for me is I think Ted considered it a form of self defense.Because even though he couldn’t cook worth a damn I was God awful terrible at it. And it was just to two of us.

I was also hoping I might get kind of a day off to let my legs heal up a little more from where the ram rammed me. Thinking me and Ted or maybe just me would be driving up to the P-Bench summer camp to get the wool blind ram Monte and I had put in their corral the day before.

But Ted said I didn’t need to worry about that and instead worry about doing the dishes in a hurry because we had things to do. I had no idea what those things might be but did remind Ted Monte and I had told the P-Bench owner someone would be up there today to get the ram out of his corral. Which did have to be done because Ted couldn’t expect the P-Bench outfit to care and feed his ram in their corral.

Ted just grunted at that still sitting at the table smoking a cigarette while I finished doing the dishes. And then headed off walking down to the barn and corrals without a word when I was done. And of course I just followed Ted because that was an unspoken order he figured he should never have to explain.

Then once we got to the corral Ted caught Hawk. And I grabbed Y-E which was the next best horse in my string after Friday who I had rode the day before.

I always had six or more horses in my string of Ted’s saddle horses. Usually including a couple Morgan two-year olds I was breaking. I usually rode a different horse every day. And each of Ted’s cowboys had their own string of horses they rode exclusively.

Except I did not ride the colts I was breaking if there was work to be done. Or "Grulla" who was a mostly grey color with markings that looked like a cross between a donkey and a zebra. Grulla was one of the most stiff legged horses I had ever ridden. He would just pound you to death with every step all day long riding him.

But I kept Grulla in my string because I could catch him anywhere including open country. I mostly just used Grulla to wrangle on or for other short rides. And because if Ted had other cowboys none of them wanted Grulla.

Y-E on the other hand was a horse of clouded origins. He was a fairly tall shiny bay color with a slender build. No one ever could or at least would tell me where Y-E came from or even who owned him. Except it wasn’t really Ted. Y-E seemed to be on loan but from whom no one could or would say. Just that he wasn’t a stolen horse.

Which I guess didn’t matter to me because Y-E was one hell of a good horse. Smooth riding, quick on his feet, willing to do any kind of work, and could damn sure run fast if I needed him to.

Which is why I would grab Y-E on a day when Ted wouldn’t tell me what we would be doing. Because I had learned I couldn’t trust Ted to not have something up his sleeve. And I wanted to have a horse for all occasions just in case.

The sun was barely cracking over the eastern horizon by the time we got saddled up and Ted mounted up without a word and took off riding into the sun. So of course I did the same riding beside Ted and Hawk not following them. Because that was considered Natime American style as if it was still the mythological cowboy and Indian days.

In all the time I had worked for Ted I had only very rarely ridden into the pasture on the east side of the road between Badwater Creek and the railroad track. For a very good reason. There was usually nothing down there. The saddle horses almost always preferred going down the creek on the west side of the road. And that was usually the only livestock Ted kept abound the ranch house. But this time I did see a few cattle.

Ted just kept riding until he got past all of them. And then I could see Ted was rounding them up to move them and just automatically started doing the same on the other side of the pasture.

By the time we got them all gathered up we had 14 of Ted’s cows. Heifers actually. And symbolic of a great defeat because they didn’t “take” meaning they didn’t get pregnant and have a calf that spring. Which amounts to a big money loss.

And one more. A spotted Herford cow that was being called the “cow of the Immaculate Conception.” And that was because everyone including the woman who owned the cow and Ted believed she was far too old to have a calf.

The old spotted cow was actually part of a lease agreement Ted had struck with the owner of the Moranville Place. It was one of the most beautiful places on Copper Mountain for both its log cabin and view from it where you could see about 100 miles.

Which is why the owner didn’t usually want to lease it to anyone. But the owner had acquired it in her divorce. And Ted really wanted to lease it. So she agreed on one condition.

Ted also had to take her one and only cow. And it was really a pretty remarkable cow. It actually was her cow. And it was a Hereford but instead of having the usual Hereford markings she was spotted with red and white dots.

The cow had come to have a lot of sentimental value to the owner and when she sold off all her other cattle she didn’t have the heart to send her spotted cow off to slaughter. So Ted could lease her place if he also took her spotted cow and took care of her until she died of natural causes.

Ted really wanted to lease the Moranville Place and no one expected her to live much longer anyway so he agreed to what was otherwise a pretty crazy deal.

And the only thing that seemed crazier than that was after a year or two the old spotted cow had a calf that spring. Kind of a miracle if you will. Or “Immaculate Conception.”

I was trying to joke with Ted about that as we were moving the cows along but he was already pissed off about something and not even in a mood to talk let alone get a laugh out of him.

We had kind of angled along the pasture towards the road and ended up at the gates where the road crossed the railroad tracks. And Ted did not have to tell me to open the gates it was obvious that’s what he wanted. But still a mystery where he wanted to go with the cows.

And the mystery only deepened when we just pushed the cows across the county road and were headed kind of north west. I had been out in that country a few times when Ted stuck me out in the rain to watch sheep. Or when we were taking a short cut to the Bridger Creek Road. But all I knew was it was what I would call “big country.” Just wide open mostly flat country I think was government owned that Ted had a lease for. But no fences that I knew of.

Eventually though a fence line did come into view and we rode up on a gate. That’s when Ted stopped and looked at me saying, “you need to get these cows to the Berger Place. I’ve got a sheep wagon up there for you to stay in because I’ve got to go get that ram.

Then Ted asked, “do you know where the Berger Place is”? Which of course I couldn’t see because there were bluffs blocking where I thought it was and I told Ted that.

Which of course just pissed him off even more. “You don’t have to see it damn it. You can see D Pass can’t you?” Ted demanded.

I told him yes and added I had just been there the day before. “Well then you know the Berger Place is just to the west of that so you need to ride in that direction. You have two more gates you’ll have to go through. But you can find them when you get to the fence lines.”

Now I knew that was a set up. You can spend the better part of a day riding up and down a fence line looking for a gate. And Ted might have been setting me up to spend the night out on the range. But I didn’t let on I had kind of an ace in the hole.

I was looking at that country towards the mountain and thinking it looked very familiar from the time Joe Aerea showed me how to find the gates a couple summers before.

I could see bluffs I knew we didn’t need to go over in front of me. And the first gate would be on the west side at the bottom of the nearest bluff. And if that was right the next gate would be at the bottom of the next bluff. And from there I would be able to see where the Berger Place was.

I didn’t let on to Ted I thought I knew where I had to go. That would spoil his fun. And instead just said I thought I could make it to the Berger Place and spend the night.

And with that Ted dismounted to open the gate which I think was his way of telling me I was on my own. I drove the cows and miracle calf through the gate but before Ted closed the gate he asked me, “Do you have plenty of cigarettes”?

Now I thought he wanted to bum some off me and told him I had about half a pack. But not revealing I had a full pack stashed in my coat pocked tied behind my saddle. Because I had no idea when Ted might pick me up the next day and didn’t want to give hm cigarettes and then run out myself.

But instead Ted reached in his pockets and pulled out a couple packs of his nasty menthol Salem cigarettes and handed them to me saying, “Here you better take these just in case.” And I knew right then Ted would not be picking me up the next day or maybe any day as far as I knew.

But I only had two choices. Quit and probably walk since I was on one of the Battle Ax’s horses. Or shut up and ride and see what comes. And I decided to ride telling myself I wasn’t afraid of what might come.

I was telling myself that trailing the heifers and spotted cow and her calf in the general direction of the first bluff. And even if there wasn’t a sheep wagon the Berger house was still pretty much livable with a bed and stove at least. And it was only 12 miles from my family’s ranch so I could ride in there if I really needed something.

But if there was sheep wagon it would be a palace compared to what Ted called his bunkhouse. Just as long as there was some kind of food I could make it. But some kind of gun would have made it a lot better to get meat of some kind from rabbits to deer. But of course I didn’t have a gun and was pretty sure there wouldn’t be one just laying around up there.

There was something else I was thinking though; take it easy, take it easy, take it easy. I needed to keep telling myself that because I always tended to be impatient and get in a hurry. And I couldn’t afford to do that.

It was probably close to 10 miles to the Berger Place. And while that might not be too far for a cow and heifers it was for that poor little miracle calf. It would be about all it could travel in a day and that was even if I took it very easy on him.

I decided to just take my time and let the cow and calf go at their own pace. Which was slow enough for the heifers even stopping to graze now and then.

I checked my watch and it wasn’t even 10 am yet. And all I really had to do was make it to the Berger Place before dark. I literally had all day. And it was a beautiful spring day with lots of flowers like all colors of Indian Paint Brush and green grass so I decided to smoke a cigarette and enjoy the ride.

Which only lasted until I figured out I had more than three packs of cigarettes and only two matches. That took all the enjoyment out of it and I started going into psychosomatic nicotine withdrawal at just the thought of having cigarettes but no matches.

Which made me start saying take it easy, take it easy, take it easy out loud. Which the cattle probably thought I was doing just to move them along instead of trying to calm myself down.

I decided I would have to ration my matches one cigarette per gate or hopefully a little more to make it to the Berger Place. I smoked the first one which seemed to go way too fast.

And then instead of enjoying the ride I became preoccupied with a battle royale fighting my urge to smoke another cigarette. Just because I only had one match left. And also try not to hurry.

And that was actually a damn shame.It wasn’t even the first of June yet. The prairie was almost lush. Or as lush as you can get in a semi-desert. There were antelope and we even jumped a deer out of its hiding place. Sage Chickens. Picket Pins, which is wat we call prairie dogs. A stray chipmunk. And various Horned Toads and Blue Belly lizards.

And by the way don’t call them “horny toads” because some cowboy might ask you how you know they are horny. “Did it try to hump your leg or something”?

And of course I saw all those things but failed to appreciate them. Like letting the experience bring me a little joy and wonder. That was a total waste. Just because I had cigarettes but only one match which made me want a cigarette worse than ever.

But while I don’t recommend it what the hell it seemed to work almost as well as looking at flowers and grass and little prairie critters. Because the next thing I knew I rode right up to the first gate. Almost hoping Joe Aerea would ride up on me unseen out of nowhere like he could do sometimes. Because I knew he would have extra matches.

I opened the gate and all the cattle pretty much just walked through it on their own following the “Immaculate Conception” and her calf. I don’t think the heifers were old enough to know where they were going but the old spotted cow sure knew she was headed back to the mountain. She was leading the way with that swinging gate cattle can walk sometimes that is almost as fast as a horse.

Things were going good. I didn’t even have much of a fight getting the gate closed again. And I was in the second allotment before the Berger allotment which meant according to my rationing plan I could use my last match and smoke a cigarette.

But things were going so good I decided to wait a little bit on the cigarette which would make the no matches ride even shorter. I even picked out a draw with a high bank where I could hide from any gust of wind to light my cigarette.

Which is where the good times ended. Once I got off Y-E and up against the bank I noticed I had not looked at that match very carefully. Because it only had a tiny spot of white on the tip that you strike and actually makes the match light.

This would take more careful planning because if you knock the white tip off before the red part of the match lights the match is useless.

So to make sure my last match lit I needed to first find just about the perfect rock to strike it on. A sand rock with very fine grains as close as possible to the fine grained strip on the side of a box of matches or a match book.

Hell, I was even standing under a pretty big outcropping of sand rock with pieces of it laying everywhere. But still couldn’t come up with one even close to perfect. And I finally had to pick up a piece that was closer to medium grained.

Then I positioned myself hugging the high bank, cigarette in my mouth at the ready, rock in my left hand and match in my right, and very gently strike the match on the rock.

And what the hell? The damn match just broke with only about an eighth of an inch of wood sticking out of the red head. My heart just sank but then when I looked a little closer thee was still part of the tiny white tip on the match.

I was feeling desperate and decided I would go with a desperation red plan. Which would be to sill try and strike what was left of the match with the tip of my cigarette on the red part. That would burn my fingers and make the cigarette taste like sulfur but better than nothing if it worked.

Which of course it didn’t. There wasn’t enough white tip left to strike even though I kept trying until it was down to just wood. And a sense of panic was setting in.

Not from actual physical nicotine withdrawal. I still had an hour or two since my last cigarette before I would start feeling the effects of that. But just from the idea of knowing it was coming because I still had a couple hours at least of riding to even get to the Berger Place land. Such is the nature of addiction with something as stupid as cigarette smoking.

But crying and panicking over it wasn’t going to do any good. Although screaming every cuss word I knew while pulverizing that cigarette was at least some momentary satisfaction.

My only choice was to swing aboard Y-E and at least keep moving. The heifers had scattered on me by then so I had to round them up again.

But the old spotted cow was lined out still moving towards the mountain and the other cattle fell in behind her. While I was just more less riding behind them fighting with nicotine withdrawal. And thinking don’t hurry. Don’t push them too hard or that poor little calf won’t make it.

But a better cowboy might have noticed two things. One, I wasn’t pushing that little calf too hard. His mommy was. She was lined out with her swinging gate covering a lot of ground not even looking back. A better cowboy would have noticed that, got in front of the spotted cow to stop her. Let her calf rest and maybe even nurse a little bit and then move on again.

And speaking of ground when the next fence line came into view it suddenly dawned on me I didn’t even know what ground I was on. Because the gate was nowhere to be seen.

I guess I had assumed since the old spotted cow seemed to know where she was going she would also know where the gate was. But instead when she came to the fence line she just stopped and was looking back at me like what do you want me to do now with your assumption? Because I can’t be an ass. I’m a cow.

And I’m sitting there thinking where the hell am i? I knew the gate was at the bottom of a bluff. But which bluff. Because from where I was sitting I had several to choose from.

Now I remembered the day Joe Aerea saved me the first gate was at the bottom of a bluff to the east. But when I looked to the east the first bluff I saw looked a long, LONG, way off. I thought we were generally headed north but could me and the cows have been drifting west instead?

Of course this was one of those dilemmas where I would usually smoke a cigarette to calm down and think. But instead I was sitting there with my chest feeling tight, my nerves frayed, and my mind bouncing like a pin ball from the nicotine withdrawal.

I looked west and could see a closer bluff. Could that be the one where the gate was at? I was hoping it was because it was closer. But hoping is wishful thinking and my wishes almost never came true.

I decided my best bet was to just leave the cows where they were at and ride east down the fence line first. If I found the gate to the east I could come back and get the cows and drive them up to it. But if that turned out to be wrong come back and drive the cows west.

So Y-E and I took off headed west with only one nagging thought. Why did Joe tell me not to get turned around in this country? Oh yeah I remember. Because this allotment amounted to about 20 square miles of mostly flat open country. Which panicked me enough to break Y-E out in a trot.

But not for too far because that bluff didn’t just look like it was a long way off. It was a long way off. I bet like a mile.

Far enough I was just about to give up hope and head back east again when I finally saw the fence line was making a slight turn to the northeast. And remembered the gate was at the turn. Which wasn’t good enough. I had a strong tendency to remember things that weren’t true. Especially when it came to directions.

So I kept riding until a saw the actual gate. Then turned Y-E around and we walked and trotted back to the 14 heifers. Which had scattered in 14 different directions while the old spotted cow and her calf were just laying down just about where I had left them.

And since the cow and calf were the only ones I was worried about not hurrying me and Y-E did a little loping to get the heifers rounded up again and put them in a trot back to the spotted cow and her calf.

But when we got back to them the spotted cow got back up but her calf didn’t. Not at first anyway. I had to ride Y-E right up on the calf before it finally got back up. Which is a bad sign fatigue is starting to set in.

And that poor little calf was really showing it. He was only taking short little steps and stopping often. With it getting to the point Y-E would sometimes almost nip him on the tail to get him moving again.

And by that time I was using cussing Ted to keep the whole little herd moving. Screaming and yelling every filthy name and obscenity I knew at Ted and I had a really vast and vociferous cuss word vocabulary.

All of it though only came down to one thing. Going from the Battle Ax to the Berger Place was just too far for that little guy to go. And it was a little calf and young to boot. Maybe not even a month old. It was at least 10 or 12 miles (and now 13 because of my mistake) and fucking Ted knew that. But did it anyway because he liked setting me up for misery and it wasn’t his calf. But it was still cruel.

Once we got through the gate at the base of the bluff we were in the Berger allotment and I could actually see where the Berger Place was.

That was the good news. But the bad news was it looked to be about four miles from where we were. And that poor little calf was all but played out.

Even with my nerves jumping and my chest feeling like I had a python squeezing it I decided I had to rest that calf at least a little bit. And that’s the way we progressed from there. Go just a little ways and let the calf rest. Go a little further and let him rest some more.

But a few things seemed to be happening. One it was going on 3 pm and me and those cattle weren’t really going anywhere. And while we had probably passed the hottest part of the day there was something about the Berger allotment that always made it seem hotter.

And that was actually because when the glaciers passed through that country millions of years before there had to be giant formations of gypsum. And they ground the gypsum to dust. You couldn’t hardly even see it because all the ground was covered with small rocks. But you could feel it because the sun reflected off the gypsum back into your face and body. And a cowboy hat was no protection from it.

All those factors were piling up as well as my nerves feeling like they were on a cheese grater by then. Until we had passed the point of diminished returns and that poor little calf was so hot and exhausted it couldn’t even get back up.

That only left two alternatives. Either carry the calf. Or spend the night out there with him and the heifers. And believe me spending the night on the range with not even having a blanket and no matches was actually an attractive option.

Because all alone range rodeos could go wrong about a half dozen ways with no one to help. And that could leave me out there spending the night with no blanket, no matches, and no horse.

I had Y-E in my string of horses for at least two summers and had ridden him a few times before that. He was about as solid of a saddle horse as they come. In fact way better than most saddle horses.

He always seemed interested in what was going on around him and worked as a partner. He didn’t seem to have a bottom meaning he didn’t seem to get tired. He was fairly tall and I would say sleek, quick on his feet and could really run if he had to.

But I had no idea about how Y-E would feel and react to me trying to put a calf on him. And then let me get in the saddle with the calf.

I did know just because a saddle horse is broke and had been a working saddle horse all its life you can’t assume you can ride double on them. I learned that myself through painful experience when me and another kid tried to double up on a horse that exploded and threw both of us. And I didn’t have any idea how Y-E would feel about any of that.

But we were fixin’ to find out because that seemed like my only option at the time. I got off Y-E and started walking to the calf on the ground. And that poor little calf was in pretty bad shape. He was panting with his tongue hanging out and didn’t even move when I walked up on him. Which is not normal.

So I picked the little guy up and tried to ease him into the saddle. Suddenly finding he was apparently not that little. Because it was all I could do to even lift him up high enough to get his front legs over the saddle. Which is where the calf got at least enough energy to struggle which made Y-E step sideways.

Ok so that didn’t work and I had to take a little rest with the calf when I put him back down on the ground. After catching my breath the next attempt was the hee yaa theory which works sometimes.

That’s when you grab something heavy, scream hee yaa, and try to throw it up in the air all at once with a little adrenaline behind it.

Which actually only accomplished scaring the crap out of Y-E making him spin to see what the hell was going on. And I had to put the calf down again.

I finally had to face a few things. I was too short. Y-E was too tall. And the dead weight of the calf was too heavy. Leaving me to reach for a cigarette even though I had no matches. But it was the only way I knew to try and calm myself down and survey my situation. And I think it might have helped a little at least.

Instead of losing my temper and/or panicking once I got the cigarette in my hands and mouth I calmed down enough to look around again.

Some things had not changed. The gate to the Berger Place still looked very far off.The sun was still glaring off the ground. But getting lower towards touching the top of the mountain. And I was still in a bind. But saw something I had not noticed before.

We just happened to be next to a small draw that was narrow and only about a foot or two deep. But that was about all I was short of getting the calf across my saddle. And if I could lead Y-E into that little draw and get him to stand for it that might be enough to get the calf up on my saddle.

That was a plan but I would need Y-E’s help or at least tolerance. So I didn’t’ put my unlit cigarette back in my pack or throw it away. Instead I walked Y-E into the draw, broke the filter off the cigarette and fed the cigarette to Y-E. Because horses actually like tobacco. All the while talking to him telling him what a good horse he was and asking him to please let me do this.

I threw the right bridal rein over Y-E’s neck and just kind of wrapped the left one around a little sage brush. Then I walked over to the calf again, picked him up and carried him over to Y-E.

I actually needed a rest myself by then.And after I caught my breath again I grabbed the calf and started to lift him over my saddle.

Which is when the calf started to struggle again and I started falling off the edge of the draw’s bank. And Y-E side stepped again. But this time right into me and the calf. Which was exactly what I needed to get the calf across my saddle.

I held the calf with one hand and got my other bridal rein saying out loud “Thank you Y-E.” And Y-E looked back at me saying, “You’re welcome. Now are you going to ride or walk”? And he just stood there and let me get into the saddle behind the calf.

Then me, Y-E, and the calf just took off walking towards the gate to the Berger Place. I didn’t even look to see what the heifers and spotted cow were doing. I just needed to get that calf to the gate. And we made it in good time and without incidence

And by the time I got off Y-E and put the calf on the ground to open the gate the old spotted cow was coming for her calf. And the calf could at least stand on its own by then so I just pushed him through the gate and left it open.

Figuring they would unite and wouldn’t go far while I gathered and drove the heifers through the gate. Never considering there might be 500 sheep on the other side of that gate that could escape on me. But I lucked out.

Me and the spotted cow passed like ships in the night without paying much attention to each other because I was headed to another spot. It was a little spring that Joe Aerea had shown me the day he saved me on the range. It was one of the very few springs in that part of the country. And if I was thirsty I figured Y-E was too.

I got the first drink and then dug out a little hole to make it easier for Y-E to drink. And he drank and then drank some more. I was petting and talking to him all the time too. Just to let him know how much I appreciated him and I knew he had helped me.

Then once we were refreshed it was back down to where I had left the heifers at a pretty good pace. Thinking I would meet them on the way like I did with the old spotted cow.

But of course me and Y-E didn’t meet them on the way. What was I thinking? I’d already gotten one big lucky break that day with Y-E helping me load the calf. And that was one more lucky break than I usually got.

If anything some of those heifers had actually back tracked a little down country again. And the others were scattered to the east and west. Like they didn’t even like each other they were so far apart.

But me and Y-E got them all gathered up again. And this time I knew I had all 14 of them. Because I only had to count to 14 and cattle are bigger and easier to count than sheep.

And then it was just a good thing nobody, and especially not Ted, were watching because I was driving the pounds off them. Not literally but just an expression for moving cattle at too fast a pace.

But by then the sun was slipping behind the mountain top and making dark fall faster. Nicotine withdrawal was still pounding and raging. I was still really pissed off at Ted. And me and Y-E needed to find a sheep wagon and an end to the day. So I felt I needed to push those heifers at a fast walk at the very least. And Ted could pay for the pounds.

It didn’t seem to take very long at that pace for the gate to come into view. But when it did the spotted cow and her calf didn’t come into view with it. The last time I saw them as Y-E and I were leaving the spring the cow had caught up to her calf. They were both on the other side of the gate with the calf nursing.

But they weren’t even in sight when I got the other heifers nearly to the gate. And that could be bad if the cow and calf doubled back on me. But the country was flat and empty and I would have thought I would have seen them. I figured at best they had kept moving north. And at worst if they hadn’t I would have to come back and look for them the next day.

But right then I just need to keep riding because I still had a mile or more to ride to the actual Berger house where the sheep wagon was supposed to be.

Once I got those heifers through the gate I was done for the day and all of them were on their own. The only thing Ted had told me was get them to the Berger Place and technically the other side of the gate was it.

I still had somewhere between a mile or two to get to the actual Berger Place meaning the house and corrals and allegedly a sheep wagon. But I also had a little two track road that would take me to the main road to the house. And only one gate.

And when I got to that one gate there was the spotted cow and her calf waiting for me. And it dawned on me the Moranville Place was just a little northeast of the Berger Place higher up on the mountain. And the old spotted cow probably thought she was going home.

I got the last gate closed and mounted up again and the old cow and her calf were walking down the road in front of me. I wasn’t driving her but she had that long swinging gate going again so she wasn’t really slowing me and Y-E down either.

Then just before we all hit the last ridge we parted company with the cow breaking for the wooded creek bottom and old hay fields taking her calf with her. And Y-E and I went up the last hill where I knew the Berger Place and hopefully a sheep wagon would come into view.

And it did but it wasn’t the view I expected. The sheep wagon was there alright but so was a stock truck and a saddled horse tied to it. With smoke coming out of the stove pipe of the wagon. Someone had to be there but I had no idea who or what to expect.

We had to cross a creek before we got to the actual house. And even dying for a cigarette I decided to stop and let Y-E get I drink if he wanted to. It was kind of stalling for time a little bit because I didn’t know who or what I was riding into.

Y-E did want a drink and while he was kind of shuffling his feet around to get a better one just to the left of us a rattlesnake cut loose. And it sounded like a big one.

It wasn’t close to us and I couldn’t see it. The sound was coming from a little spot about ten yards away from us with tall green grass and some juniper trees right next to the creek.

And for the first time in my life I decided not to go after it. I had been raised to kill every rattlesnake I saw. It was almost a law with no exceptions. But I was tired, in full fledged nicotine withdrawal, and technically I couldn’t see it. The snake was somewhere in that grass that would come up to my knees. And for all those reasons I had no inclination at all to walk in there and try to kill it.

I mounted up again and approached the wagon. And I saw a cowboy hollering welcome and waving almost like he knew who I was.

But I had no idea who he was until I got close enough to recognize him. It was Robbie. Someone I knew and had actually gone to school with before he graduated. And someone I had worked with a time or two before.

Robbie said Ted told him I would be up there and we would be staying together for a while. He was also saying dinner was just about ready.

And I was greeting Robbing saying hello to him as well. When I really just wanted to scream get the hell out of my way. Because if there was smoke there was fire. And if there was fire there had to be a match. And I had to get me one even if it meant running over the top of Robbie to do it.

But since Robbie was actually standing in the wagon with only the top door of the Dutch doors open I just asked him to hand me the matchs.

“Why?You got a tick”? Robbie wanted to know. Meaning using a match to light and then blow it out sticking he still hot match on a wood tick to make it back out without leaving its fangs in you. Which is more like an old wives’ tale that might work once in every 10,000 times.

“No, I just need a cigarette and ran out of matches earlier today,” I told him.

“Well you ought to quit those damned things anyway. They ain’t anything but cancer sticks. My dad quit years ago. And I’ve never even smoked a single one,” Robbie lectured making me reconsider just running over the top of him again.

But eventually Robbie leaned out the door and handed me a single wooden match instead of the box of matches. And I couldn’t help but think so this is how it’s going to go? If we were going to be staying together some things were community property and matches were one of them.

But that was not the hill I was going to die on right then. All I needed was a cigarette. Not an argument or turf war. Just a cigarette which actually reminded me of what Mark Twain once said. The best thing about quitting smoking is how good that first one tastes when you start again. And that one tasted and felt wonderful.

Robbie was actually at the stove cooking something and informed me we were having hamburgers for dinner. And we had everything. Ketchup, mustard, pickles, even potato chips and Tang to drink. A veritable feast.

Robbie asked me to get the ketchup and mustard out of the cooler next to the wagon and come on in. And as I did and slipped past Robbie he was pointing down to a frying pan saying, “Would you look at those hamburgers. When I put them in there they took up the whole pan. And now look at them tiny things. Ted uses more suet than beef in his hamburger.”

And I took one look at them and thought it’s the curse of the Brahma steer again. Will I never escape that foul beast. Ted must be palming that nasty meat off on everyone on the mountain just to try and get rid of it.

Dinner also included lima beans which I hated instead of the traditional pork and beans. But I would soon find out that was one of Robbie’s best meals.

After dinner I wanted to smoke another cigarette while Robbie took a shot of Karo syrup with a couple spoonfuls of sugar.

But when I grabbed the box of wooden matches I saw why Robbie only gave me one. The box was close to empty and Robbie said that was all we had until he got resupplied.

Instead Robbie said there were some “Go Fer” matches meaning book matches. Which were called Go Fer matches as in try to light one and then just go fer another one because they barely worked outside.

And then when Robbie handed me a book of them I immediately recognized them as classics. As in matches that had been laying around in that sheep wagon for God only knows how many years if not decades. Which made them even less reliable to light.

It took me three of those matches to even light my cigarette inside the sheep wagon and then I stepped outside to smoke it. And since I was already out there Robbie handed me two buckets.

Robbie didn’t have to tell me what to do with the buckets or where to go to fill them with water. One thing the Berger Place had was a pretty big, deep, and fast running spring nearly covered with willows.

So fetching water was no problem. And if you have two people in a sheep wagon they have to share everything including food, chores, and the bed. That is just cowboy etiquette

Once I got the buckets of water into the sheep wagon Robbie filled a big tea kettle with water and put it on the stove to heat. But the next chore was to take care of our horses which were still tied to the truck.

And normally I think both of us would have done that before dinner but since Robbie was already cooking it we ate first. Then we needed to unsaddle them and take our horses down to the creek to drink.

Where Robbie said he had been keeping his horse in the corral at night so he had a horse in the morning. But now that I was there we could take turns meaning for me to put Y-E in the corral with some hay. And also insuring I would have to saddle up first thing in the morning and wrangle Robbie’s horse into the corral.

Robbie just turned his horse loose at the creek to graze all night in what were hay meadows at one time. And as I headed the other way towards the corral Robbie reminded me we still had dishes to do and the water was probably hot so make it snappy.

You know I was kind of snapped out. I had been rammed by a wool blind ram, rolled on by Splinters, in the saddle all day long and even sharing it with a calf for a few miles after me and Y-E wrestled him into the saddle.

I didn’t stall but I didn’t hurry either. I was sure Robbie and the dishes would still be there when I got back down to the wagon. I gave y-E hay and even fed him some oats out of my hand and scratched him behind the ears. Just to let him know what a great horse I thought he was. And I even smoked another cigarette along the way back to the wagon.

And I was right Robbie was still there eating spoons of sugar and waiting patiently. He had even lit the gas lantern even though it wasn’t dark yet but it was getting there.

With the two of us we kind of set up an assembly line. Robbie would wash and rinse the dishes in two plastic tubs. And I would grab them, dry them and put them away.

It was all kind of self explanatory as to where the dishes and silverware went if you had ever been in a sheep wagon. The cupboard for the dishes and silverware drawer were always the same places. Although when I opened this silverware drawer there was an orange pill bottle with white powder in it laying on top of the forks.

I just looked at Robbie and he said “Oh yeah, that’s mine. Just throw it in the back of the drawer.”

Which turned out to be the same thing I would have to do every time we did the dishes because the piece of wood that was supposed to separate the silverware draw from the back of the drawer was broken and every time we opened, shut, or even bumped the silverware drawer the bottle would roll out onto the silverware again.

Then it was time for bed except of course I had to have a cigarette first. But just smoked that one in the wagon. Which Robbie didn’t seem to object to. Even though he didn’t smoke but couldn’t help it because my cigarette smoke filled the whole wagon.

And then when I pulled down my pants I still had the remnants of Joe’s bandages on my legs and Robbie wanted to know what had happened. And I told him the same lie I told Ted. That I had slipped on a rock ledge trying to get one of Ted’s rams off it. It wasn’t like I wanted to get famous for getting in front of a wool blind ram.

But when Robbie took off his pants I didn’t’ ask him why the insides of both his legs were blue. It was obvious. It was a combination of callouses and wearing blue jeans while spending almost every day in the saddle. And probably more like all day every day since he was a little kid working for his dad.

I had to take the inside of the bed of course because Robbie was bigger and was there first. Robbie turned off the lamp and then got in bed with me.

Which might seem kind of weird but wasn’t at all to me. It was just a part of cowboy life when you had to make do as far as beds and bedding. I could not even count the number of times I slept with other males, some of which were complete strangers to me. There was nothing strange about it and this was no exception.

All ll I wanted by then was to rest my body and get some sleep. All cowboy days are long. But this one seemed longer than most.

Copyright 2026 Steve Holmquist