The Next Generation

I stand at the side of the arena, holding the baby and watching my two small boys play tag on their ponies. A cowboy is all they want to be.

My oldest rides his sometimes cantankerous pony, moving some cows. She's not cooperating with him and pitches forward, head down and feet splayed, unseating my little boy, who is all of 40 inches tall. He rolls into the dirt, promptly jumps up, and yells, "What has gotten into you!" Gets back on, and away they go.

I watch my 5 year old son, bareback on a big, tall gelding as he trots around and rides like he was born on the back of a horse. 

I ride with my boys, a baby strapped to my back, as we move our cows up the road to a new summer pasture. 

They proudly proclaim to anyone who will listen,

"We're cowboys! We're not afraid of anything!"

They're brave, strong, determined, and full of fire. They're kind, soft, thoughtful, loving, and willing. Their horses are their mirrors and it's a beautiful thing to see. 

My baby girl giggles as the whiskers of her pony tickle her face. I watch her sigh and breathe deep when the horse blows on her, trying to catch her scent. She rides along on our big roan gelding with me, grabbing his mane in two chubby fists and kicking her feet, squealing with delight. This is what it's all about, watching them fill their souls with the life we're building them. Cowboys aren't a dying breed. We're raising the next generation. 

Watch That Branch

I was with my Grandpa on the Bar J Ranch, a place that will always have a special hold on my heart. 

I was riding his old, cantankerous gelding who was fast on his feet and heavy on the bit. We had ridden up to the top of the road above the ranch house and behind the barn to get some strays out the gate. This gate was not in a great location. Twice I'd been bucked off Grandpa's palomino colt up there because of a bog you had to cross to get to the gate, and today we had to chase the neighbor's cows through the thick oak brush on the other side. Well old Norman knew his job, but didn't much care to listen to his rider when she happened to be a 14 year old girl. He dashed through the oak brush having no care for himself or for me, only for the cows. He ducked and dodged, and one branch hit me squarely on the side of my eye and nearly unseated me. The old boy didn't slow down, and Grandpa was hollering at me to get around the cows before they made a break for it. I'll tell you, cowboying will toughen you up from a young age.

Happy Anniversary

On our third anniversary, Ty told me there were 4 or 5 pair that had come off the mountain and we needed to trailer load them and haul them off. We got down the road and set up the trailer next to the fence with a couple panels. We had our 2 year old boy, 5 month old baby, and a couple horses in the trailer. It was supposed to be a "real quick" operation (they never turn out that way with a rancher) and so I loaded Tell on our Sunny mare with me. Castle was asleep and it was a cool day, so we left him napping safely in the truck. Ty was on a 4 wheeler and Tell and I zipped down the fence and started trailing the cows up to the gate. They were maybe only 50 yards from the truck, so it really should've been a quick job. But there's always that one cow. 

She was red, of course. It's always a red cow or a brockle that will give you trouble. She took off in the opposite direction and we played hell chasing her down. We barely got it done, even with a good cowhorse and a 4 wheeler. My tough little guy bounced on the saddle in front of me as we chased her down. It took a few tries but we finally got the old biddy and got them all loaded in the trailer after some shouting and maybe a lot of cursing. Afterwards, my husband remarked that we should've just trailed the b*tches. We finished off our special night with Mo Bettas, eaten in the truck in the parking lot since it was the middle of the pandemic. 

Not Quite Bucked Down

I watched my husband rope a few big steers from the comfort of my nice little red gelding. He was riding our new blue horse who was known to get a little broncy at times. We had been gathering a mountain pasture all day, and finally made it back to the corral. The boss wanted a few steers roped to trailer load them and Ty and a few other guys got to the task. The blue gelding did fairly well for the first couple of steers, but the third one did him in. It took off running behind him after he got it necked, and it hit the end of the rope hard. Well that ole blue horse decided enough was enough and cracked in half. I heard someone yell "pitch your coils!" 

But my husband being who he is, that is about as stubborn and hard headed as the blue horse and the steer put together, kept his dallies and rode the bucks out of that horse still tied off to that big steer. When the horse was done pitching a fit, he got short on his rope, drug that steer so someone else could heel him, and they got done what they needed to. 

To this day, I've never seen someone else be able (or willing) to ride the bucks out of a horse while keeping their dallies. But I've seen Ty do it quite a few times.

Black Out

We'd had a long day, and at the end still had to go push some cows through a gate and around the hill because they'd gotten onto the neighbor's piece. I rode my great, big grey mare. She was so tall I had to teach her to pick me up on whatever I could find. A truck bed, trailer fender, rock, hill, gate brace, you name it. It was getting dark and there was no moon. Not even a star twinkled in the black sky. I knew Triston and Tyrell were somewhere nearby, but I couldn't see them. I couldn't even see the cows, just hear their heavy breathing and feel their warm bodies as they passed me. I wasn't even sure if we were going the right way. The only reason I could see my horse's ears was because they were white. We were moving along a fence line next to a county dirt road, rarely traveled but occasionally a car would pass and then I could know for a few seconds where on earth I was. I knew when we made it to the gate because the cows stopped, and I could hear Triston singing somewhere nearby. We got all the girls through the gate, jumped our horses in the trailer, and went back to camp. It was quite a night, though Ty claims he doesn't remember it now. 

Bandit Moon

We had to push some heifers from a far off pasture one day and clear to the corral above camp. They were going to be preg-checked by the vet. By the time we got them to the pasture closest to the corral, it was dark. The moon was full, intense, and bright. Usually when you're moving cows, there is a LOT of noise. The cows bellering, the dogs barking, horses whinnying. This night, we moved heifers under the bandit's moon. All was quiet and you could hear the clicking of hooves as they trailed towards camp. It was so surreal. There was something in the air that night, and even the dogs were quiet. Tucker was a mustang gelding I was riding that night, young and with only about 10 rides on him. He could feel it too, and not a whinny escaped him. That's a night I wish I could relive and one I don't believe I'll ever forget. 

Grounded

Tyrell and Stetson went to find a cow and calf pair one day that weren't where they were supposed to be. They came upon them in the creek bottom and commenced to pushing them out. They ended up having to rope the cow, and Stetson got a line on her. He was riding our big dun mustang mare called Sunny. I guess his saddle wasn't tight, and the ornery old cow was giving him hell. Sunny ducked her head and the saddle came over her head and forelegs with and ended with Stetson sitting in the saddle on the ground with his rope still dallied and the cow on the other end. I didn't get to see all this happen, but I had to clean up Stetson's face that night and give it some bandage sutures from where the cow kicked him.