Horse Mavericks

Lanny West slipped the bit into Gambler’s mouth and passed the leather strap over the Missouri Foxtrotter’s ears.  While Gambler chewed the bit, Lanny checked the saddlebag.  Six leather sleeves, three on each side, carried bottles of medicine, ointments and syringes.  A small pocket held gauze and Q-tips.  Everything looked fine.

Gambler lowered his head to graze.  Lanny reached over and yanked the reins.  The horse shot his head up. 

Lanny gathered the reins and a clump of mane in his left hand and placed the toe of his boot in the stirrup.  The horse stood still as he eased his body into the saddle. 

Lanny took a deep breath and the air chilled his lungs.  The leather of the reins felt cold and stiff between his fingers.  He reached in his pocket and got a pair of gloves.  The cotton stretched over his hands and a small hole appeared over the bottom knuckle of his thumb.

The sun beat down on his back, warming his jacket.  He pulled the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes.  He liked the feeling of clear cool mornings after a rainy day.  The air smelled of fresh grass.  The sky was bluer than usual. 

He surveyed the rolling green hills of the ranch.  Steers populated the knolls grazing over 900 acres.  His eyes passed over the fence line and he marveled at the crystalline colors refracting from droplets on the barbwire.  Diagonal rays of light made the dew on the grass twinkle. 

Lanny touched the horse’s ribs with his spurs.  He felt Gambler gather energy in his muscles before taking the first step, a feeling as familiar to him as coffee sliding down his throat.  The horse’s gate lulled him into a deep sense of contentment. 

He rode west down an easy grade.  A creek rushed in the bottom of the shallow valley.  Blades of grass bent beneath its flow.  Lanny loosened Gambler’s reins to let him drink.  The ole boy lowered his head, but instead of dipping his nose in the water, he reached for the grass on the edge of the creek.  Lanny yanked the reins.  Gambler threw his head up and pointed his ears forward.  Then he twisted the right ear back at Lanny.

Lanny directed his attention up a slope and tensed his legs.  Gambler must have sensed Lanny’s intentions because he splashed through the creek and up the hill on the other side. 

As he approached a small cluster of steers, he took note of the length and color of the grass to make sure the herd was getting proper nutrition and the range wasn’t being over-grazed.  He observed the bovines’ behavior.  One by one, each of them raised their heads and paused in the middle of chewing.  They glared at Lanny and Gambler.  Lanny just kept right on riding, daring them to a game of chicken.  The steers stood their ground for as long as they could until the pressure of Lanny’s approach became too uncomfortable.  Then they leapt out of the way as if something had bitten them on the rump.  They seemed healthy enough.

Lanny kept Gambler’s pace steady while they descended the hill.  He took special care to look for steers in the valleys.  Sick bovines usually drifted to lower ground close to water.  And that was exactly what Lanny found.  The eyes of this particular steer were cloudy and oozing. 

Lanny sat back in his saddle and the horse stopped.  He untied the leather strips that held his lariat.  He shifted the coils in his left hand.  With his right hand, he created a large circle.  He touched Gambler’s ribs with his spurs and swung the loop over his head causing a rhythmic rush of air across his cheek.

The steer took a couple of laborious steps up the knoll.  Gambler followed him for a few yards before Lanny delivered the loop catching the steer’s back hooves.  He dismounted, wrapped the rope around the steer and dallied around the saddle horn.   Gambler leaned into the pressure.    

Without letting go of Gambler’s long rein, Lanny removed his cotton gloves and stuffed them into his pocket.  He pulled a bottle of antibiotics from a sleeve in his saddlebag and drew 10cc’s into a syringe.  He inserted the needle into the steer’s hide and pushed the plunger.  He repeated the process three more times, giving the shot in four different spots.  He was happy with the way Gambler worked the bovine’s rope. 

When he was finished, he stood and looked over his shoulder at the horse.  The ole boy had his head down and was grazing.  Lanny yanked the reins and in a loud authoritative voice he said, “Hey.”  Gambler shot his head up and pointed his ears at Lanny. 

Lanny turned his back, shook his head and squelched the urge to chuckle.  The ole boy would do almost anything Lanny asked.  But by Jove, he was going to sneak a snack whenever the hell he could. 

Lanny removed the rope from the steer and stepped away.  The bovine tucked his legs under him and pushed first his rump, then his front end into a standing position and ran off.  Lanny coiled his rope, satisfied with his work.