Last Laugh

Johnny's round up crew consisted of 3 boys and Wally, Johnny's son who hadn't grown out too big (he preferred town life, which made me have a low opinion of him). Walter Cobb, 12 years old, was Johnny's grandson from the city. Eldon Snyder was 13 and I was 14 and we were good cowboys, we thought. Really though, Johnny himself was the only real cowhand in the bunch and at this time he was 83 years old. He rode in the saddle from before sun up till after dark, then usually did the cooking for us hungry fellers. He was quiet spoken and always had a grin for a kid who made a blunder. He never complained about anything. When working a bunch of cattle in the corral, he did the roping and us cowboys did the wrestling, branding and ear carving under his direction.

Johnny had owned this Grassy Mountain Ranch since he first filed on the spring water many years before. When a young man he had worked as foreman for the Preston Nutter cow outfit for more than 25 years. Nutter owned about 2.000 head at that time. Johnny was liked by everyone who knew him.

Grassy Mountain must have been named by some humorous cowpuncher because of the scarcity of grass on it. All I ever noticed that grew there was brush and cedar trees. It was an old round topped volcano with a spring of water running out from its west side. This water was its one redeeming feature, giving to it notability in a dry, rough land.

The cattle range extended east of the mountain to Mule Canyon and south to where it dropped 15 hundred or 2 thousand feet to a lower level that was good winter range. This was high mesa land, rough and brushy with patches of cedar trees scattered along the many ridges and draws. It lay at the very edge of that vast land that breaks away to the Colorado River. Canyons and long downward descents create a natural livestock barrier, except on the north where an old drift fence runs its course.

Johnny's ramuda consisted of 12 to 14 head of mostly old saddle horses, wise in the ways of the cattle they worked with. Johnny assigned three head for me to use, one of which was a white horse and when he got after a cow you better be ready for a wild ride because he would take you to her no matter how brushy or rough the way. He was a real wild cow catching horse.

Wally liked to take care of the holding bunch while the rest of us rode circle. Walter tagged along behind me because I was more compassionate of his city ways than Eldon, who figured himself to be a real wild west cowboy, and so he was and is. "As a man thinketh, so he shall become." All his life has been centered on living that image. He would do some of the craziest things horseback and get on the meanest horses that lived, but would do no work if it couldn't be done on a horse. He failed to find God in his life because of his narrow interests.

Back to my story: Walter and I were riding along looking for bovine critters when a yellow Brahama cow and calf ran out of a thicket and headed for the mesa rim, rough country where she could get away from us. I headed her off but she kept trying to run out around me. I finally lost my patience, shook out a loop and dropped it over her head. As she ran for the rim of Whitey turned away to hit the end of that rope with 1100 pounds of horse flesh. The momentum picked Yellow Cow up off the ground about 3 feet and slammed her down hard.

I told Walter to dismount and take the rope off while she still had the air knocked out of her. About the time he got to the cow I moved Whitey forward to give the rope some slack. Yellow Cow jumped up, let out a big mad bellow, shook her head and blew her nose as she eyeballed Walter.

He must have figured it would be best to go elsewhere so he started high stepping over the sage brush at a rapid rate. Old Yellow Cow put her face against the seat of his pants and kept it there, bellowing and snorting as she helped him run a half circle around me, her head all the time boosting him along the way. I was enjoying the action so much that I didn't think about pulling the cow away from him. Finally he ran out of rope radius where she couldn't follow.

Walter was shook up about the experience. He didn't think it was funny at all to be chased and bunted by that mad cow, but as we continued along our way looking for other bovine critters my mind would turn back to those choice moments with great pleasure and joy as I re-ran that action by my thinker. Walter said bad things to me when he caught me grinning or laughing to myself.

There was a holding pasture near to Grassy Mountain Spring where the cattle were put that were to be trailed to market, also a corral at Tungsten Spring where stock was sometimes held overnight. In the afternoon, if we had some cattle Johnny wanted to sell we would cut them out of the bunch and trail them around the base of Grassy Mountain to the pasture. The rest we would turn back toward the country from where they had been gathered. One morning we were a little late getting out of camp. Johnny and Wally were still doing dishes and other camp chores so I put Johnny's saddle on his favorite horse, a big black with an easy gait. Eldon threw my saddle on a young 3 year old that Johnny had traded for and told me to ride. He was a good horse but hadn't been used much.

The trail from the spring and corrals climbs up through some thick malapi rock before heading south around the mountain. As the brown gelding climbed up this steep section, my saddle slid back to his butt. He whirled around, made a high jump downhill and in 2 or 3 jumps dumped me and the saddle in front of him then bucked over the top. I watched hooves, legs and light brown belly go overhead. Eldon had failed to tighten the cinch and I forgot to check it.

Johnny, Eldon and Wally caught my horse for me but Walter just sat on his horse and laughed. Turn about is the fortunes of life and Walter got the last laugh, but we all laughed with him because it was a funny event that brightened our day and gave enjoyment to our work.