I went over to Blue Ridge to have lunch at the Ranchman's cafe and meditate on what I was going to do about the cow I had tried my best not to buy. The Ranchman's had great hamburgers and a big crock of sweet tea at the back of the dining room. I drank a lot of tea and would always sit at the back so I could just swing around and fill my tea glass whenever I wanted. I was sitting there feeling sorry for myself and there were about six cowboys at the next table. One guy, Slick Williams, was talking loud like he always did and he was bragging on his famous cow pony. “There is not a cow in Collin County that horse can’t catch,” he bragged. My ears pricked up and I listened to each of them tell about how his horse was the better horse.
Finally I leaned over and said that I had a cow that none of them could catch. Slick said, “I’ll just take you up on that and I guarantee you one thing. My horse will have her caught in no time.” I said that I wanted him to catch her, load her up, take her to the sale barn, and asked how much was he going to charge me if he could do it. He said he would take care of her in an hour or so, and it would cost me $50.00. I said, “Deal!” and gave him $50.00 cash.
Slick and four of his cowboy buddies met me at the gate of my place. I pointed out the cattle and said, “You won’t have any trouble picking her out. She’s the high headed one with the XL brand.” They unloaded their horses and were walking around with their spurs a-jingling, twirling their ropes. The five of them were riding together down into the pasture when I left. I drove over to the sale barn. I sat inside watching the cows go through the sale ring for a while and then drove around to the back and parked my pickup along the back fence.
I saw my friend Keith Godugle, the vet, who was pregnancy checking a bunch of cows. I sat on the top fence rail and shot the bull with Keith for quite a while until a great commotion began up at the unloading pen. We heard a lot of noise and yelling and in a minute a big 300-pound guy comes racing down the center passageway, running as fast as he could and right behind him was my high-headed cow. As he rounded the corner by us he hollered,” Watch her boys, she’s snaky!” He climbed up on the fence and as he finally caught his breath he said, "She done tore up Slick's trailer and busted down the fence at the unloading pen! She put everyone over the fence.”
I just quietly climbed down off the fence, got into my pick-up and drove away. I was not about to volunteer that she was my cow. That evening I had a call from Slick. “You owe me some more money. Your cow tore my trailer up and damaged my new saddle. She may have hurt my horse when she almost pulled me down.” As soon he demanded more money, I made up my mind he was not getting another dime from me. If he had called and told me what had happened without demanding I pay him more money, I probably would have volunteered to help with his expenses. I said that we had shook on a deal and I had paid him what he had asked for. I did not owe him any money. He hung up on me and was not a happy camper.
Photo of Ranchman's cafe found here.
Photo of working cow pony found here.
Photo of corral sitting found here.