Mike rode out of the yard and down the dirt road leading to the
state highway, accompanied by his dog, Steel.
The dog liked to follow the old rancher on his rounds, usually
"following" him by staying about 50 feet in front of Mike.
This always upset Mike--he didn't like to believe that he was
so predictable and set in his ways that even the damn ranch mutt knew what he
was going to do, so every few minutes he would turn the horse sharply to the
left or right and force the to dog race to catch up. It was a short-lived victory however, since
the old rancher was about as impulsive as a stalagmite. About the time Steel had caught up with the
horse and rider, Mike would turn the horse back to the original course and the
dog would rocket back to his original position in front.
Mike caught up with the dog at the fence line as he carefully
guided his horse over the the wide planks laid over the cattle guard. Steel wouldn't get anywhere near the cattle
guard, but would elect to crawl under the barbed wire fence. Ten years earlier, while just a puppy, he had
attempted to run across the cattle guard and his legs had fallen between the
pipes, leaving the poor dog to painfully fall on his stomach and bang his
nose. Even after all these years, you
could not have forced that dog to cross over the cattle guard if you had pulled
him behind a tow truck.
At his age, the old rancher had few regular chores on the
ranch. He would go out daily and check
on the cattle, ride along a section of the fence, check the water level in the
stock tanks, and then do whatever odd jobs needed his attention that day. Some days, he thought the only really useful
things he did were count the cattle and exercise the dog.
As the old rancher was riding along the fence line, he had to
stop while Steel measured the depth of the stock tank by going for his daily
swim. While Mike was waiting, a car
coming down the road slowed and pulled over to the easement. The door of the sedan opened and a woman
stepped over to the fence and called to the rancher.
"Hello," she said.
"Is that pretty barn down the road yours?"
Mike noticed that the car had Illinois license plates. Ever since some damn travel magazine had
published an article about the "picturesque ranches along the Brazos
River" there had been a steady stream of camera-toting tourists. The rancher could tell from the direction the
woman was pointing that the building in question wasn't even a barn, but a
galvanized metal building the county road crew used to store heavy equipment.
The old rancher got off his horse, turning his head to hide a
smile. Reins in hand, he walked over to
the fence. If there was a chance to pull
the leg of a Yankee tourist, Mike would postpone all other forms of
entertainment.
"Yes'm," he said.
"This is my ranch." So
far, Mike thought, that's the truth, even if it is not really an answer.
"Are you a cattle rancher?" she asked.
"Oh, yes mam," he answered truthfully. "And I have the empty bank account to
prove it."
"It is so pretty here.
Does your ranch have one of those cute western names?" the tourist
asked.
All at once, Mike remembered a joke so old that his father had
told it to him. The only question in
Mike's mind was whether he could keep a straight face while he repeated it.
"Yes mam," he said as he took his hat off with his
other hand. "It took my family a
long time to agree on a name. My wife
Barbara wanted to call it the Bar-B, but I thought that was a serious case of
the cutes. I liked the Lazy-M, my son
Andy wanted to call it the Rocking A, my son, Matt lobbied for the Double-T,
and my daughter Megan demanded we call it the Flying G. Eventually, we all compromised and just
called it the Bar-B-Lazy-M-Rocking-A-Double-T-Flying-G Ranch."
"My goodness," said the woman. "And where are your cattle? I don't see
any."
"No ma'm," said the rancher. "So far, none have survived the
branding."
Having paddled the Brazos and known a couple of Brazos River ranchers growing up, I remember that story, told by dozens of gifted cowboy storytellers. Told it myself a couple of times. So far, this is one of the best versions yet.
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