A neighbor claimed seeing our cattle walking around like zombies, many dying and quite possibly Bigfoot hosting BBQs. My hot-headed boss, in typical knee-jerk reaction, jumped my ass that the ranch that I was suppose to be helping manage was falling apart. Hence, our visit up top to view the Apocalypse.
Mt. Sneffels was majestic, towering above us to the south, and I always gave thanks to the beauty of the country. We waded through sporadic clusters of cattle and all looked fat and happy. But, one old Hereford cow had pinkeye. After cussing Hugo too many times and jerking Amber around, we somehow managed to cut her from the group and lock her in a decrepit corral made of decaying logs.
With not even a cough drop, we headed back down for supplies and I called Andy, a cowboy from a neighboring ranch, for help. A syringe loaded with medicine, eye powder and an eye patch and off we went in the ranch truck. After dropping off the highway and going through barbed wire gates, I bounced the old Ford along the barely used tracks to the corral.
Ol' Whiteface was pacing in the corral, looking for its weakness, as we clambered up on the railings. Andy tossed a loop and it fell around her neck. He jerked up the slack to snub her to a post, but as it tightened, she headed out. Logs exploded and off she went through the sagebrush with the rope trailing behind her, like a huge red dog escaping the animal shelter and dragging its leash.
"Are you @#$%ing kidding me!!! Now what?" I barked at Andy.
"Hell, I don't know...but we can't leave her that rope around her neck," he drawled.
We jumped in the truck and took off after her. Heads hit the roof as various supplies bounced out of the bed of the truck in our pursuit across the treacherous sagebrush flat. I was shifting gears, braking, steering hard and punching the gas like a seasoned off-road racer. While gaining ground, I questioned what to do when I caught up to her? At least Amber was nimble to get her corraled, this truck was a chunk of cumbersome metal. Plus, Ol' Whiteface demo'd the corral.
Although we had no plan, chasing her seemed right. As I gained on the tail of the rope, we experienced Divine Intervention. The rope wrapped around the front axle as the driver's front tire stopped on it. The cow jerked to a sudden stop and we jumped out.
"Now what?" asked Andy.
It was my turn, "Hell, I don't know..." I replied.
We had no time to think as Ol' Whiteface determined she had had enough and charged us with purpose. We jumped in the bed of the truck as she charged past. Remarkably, as the rope tightened, it curled her around the back of the truck causing her to look right at us since there was no tailgate. Possessed with fury, she bellered and began to climb in the truck after us! Eyes were red, snot and saliva slung off her leathery nose and her front hooves clambered clumsily at the back bumper. Her breathing was labored while mine and Andy's raced like terrified children. Suddenly, her breathing stopped. She slumped and fell out onto the ground!
Ol' Whiteface had choked herself out. We jumped on the opportunity to doctor her. I jabbed the syringe in her butt while Andy applied eyepowder and glued on the eye patch.
The rope was tight and we needed slack to take it off. We couldn't move the truck and she was far too big for us to muscle around.
"Shit! Now what, Andy?" I was beginning to panic since she needed air.
Now it was his turn. "Hell, I don't know..." he replied.
Again, we experienced Divine Intervention. The rope I brought along was probably the only one in the valley that was rigged with a quick release hondo. This gadget is metal and the rope runs through it to make the lariat loop. The beauty is that the gadget has a small internal trigger that, when tripped, splits the gadget in half, breaking the lariat loop back into a single strand of rope. (REAL cowboys don't mess with such nonsense...)
Tension on the rope was so great that I couldn't release the internal trigger!
We had to cut throught the rope, but both our pocketknives couldn't chop through warm butter! Time was running out!
I attacked the metal hondo again with gusto. C'mon! C'mon!
POP!
It split apart and Ol' Whiteface inflated with an unbelieveable breath. Andy and I took cover fearing she would wake up and really be on the war path!
She stood, looked at us and simply walked away to rejoin the herd.
Andy and I went on a scavenger hunt to gatther all the gear strewn through the sagebrush during our high speed pursuit.
Divine Intervention is a wonderful thing.
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