An Accidental Cowboy by Jameson Parker
By Jameson Parker
Not lengthy after Simon & Simon went off the air, the writer was once shot two times and left for lifeless on a highway in l. a.. bodily, he recovered quite quick. Psychologically, even if, the consequences have been way more critical and long-lasting, sending him right into a spiral of post-traumatic tension illness and melancholy. accordingly, nearly accidentally, he ended up in an international of horses and livestock and ranching that helped him live on
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Dismounted. The rear offside shoe had been torn loose, hanging by a single nail, but try as I might I could neither break the nail nor pull the shoe off. Nothing for it but to walk. We kept moving slowly westward, clop, clop, clop, clack; clop, clop, clop, clack. We were just cresting a low rise when I saw cattle two hundred yards ahead in the trees just off the trail. The wind was in my face and they were oblivious. I backed Flirt out of sight and tied her to a tree. There were at least ten head that I could see and just beyond them, to the south, was the road we had trailered in on, which meant I had to be somewhere near the holding pasture.
I turned Flirt and drew her up and the two of us stood, trembling and blowing, listening to the sound of breaking brush heading downhill toward the valley. A small victory, but I felt good. I let Flirt breathe for a minute, then turned her back uphill. When I finally found Dal, about a mile away, he was coming back down the road with the red calf bawling at the end of his rope. The brindle, he explained, had headed down into the draw just as he roped the calf. Where she was now he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter, for the calf was hers and as long as we had the calf she wouldn’t go far.
In short order they were scattered again, bawling and lowing and shitting. Again I gathered them into a herd, only now they were agitated—as was I—and difficult to handle. This time I got them roughly in the center of the pasture and drove them directly at the gate. This involved frantic galloping from side to side to keep them in a herd, but they moved forward until, at the gate, they divided like water around a rock, left and right, as if it were the entrance to hell itself. Not one damn cow went through.