Cattle Drive Installment No. 3

For a Once-in-a-Lifetime Experience – Part III
By Mark Brickman

When we left off, I was watching as the dust cloud magically revealed Sam and a truck full of Asian people. Who were these people? Okay…I’ll tell you. They were a Japanese language film crew arriving to document a cattle drive and why a bunch of crazy Americans would do one, I suppose. What a sight! I was so relieved to see Sam. I wanted to hug him so bad. I almost forgot myself and got off my horse.

Once back on his horse, Sam joined me in the rear of the herd and we rode off once again. It was a clear day of about 50 degrees, and the ride and scenery were beautiful. It became apparent to me that my horse, Tank (remember him?) wasn’t content to walk calmly like the rest of the horses. He walked like he had an appointment up ahead with an imaginary mare. I literally had to either stop or turn around and walk backwards just to keep him behind the 400 head of cattle.

At one point, after talking over my options with Sam, I decided to just allow Tank to walk at his pace to see where it would take us. Even though the cows were spread out single file over a mile in length, I soon found myself up at the front just behind the Trail Boss. After contemplating what to do next, I decided to ride up to him and ask his advice. I explained that my horse wouldn’t walk slowly like everyone else’s horse, and after telling him what I’d done to remedy the situation, he suggested I just let Tank gallop as fast as he wanted to and let it get out of his system.

I thought he was joking. Remember, I was already told not to run the horses. After looking closely at him to size up whether he was serious or not, I kicked Tank in the mid-section and off we went. Horses don’t have a speedometer, but I know he broke some of Nevada’s speed limits. It was scary, but exhilarating.

It wasn’t long before the expansive flat plain we had been on narrowed into a dirt trail just wide enough for the cows and riders to group together once again, as had been done in the beginning of our journey. It would be a while until I saw a cow, or human for that matter, again.

After galloping what seemed like fifteen minutes, but was probably only five, I attempted to slow Tank down, but with no luck. I had been taught that when pulling on the reigns didn’t work, to pull the horse’s head dramatically to one side, which would cause the horse to promptly stop. Tank would have none of it. He fought me with all his might, and I barely won the battle. He finally stopped so that I could jump off.

Once off my horse and standing quietly and listening to the stillness of the trees and trail, I realized immediately that I heard nothing. Nada! How could 400 head of cattle and about forty riders not make a sound? Had I gone that far in such a short amount of time? I was truly frightened! My immediate thought was that they’d either made a right or left and I chose to go straight. What should I do? I can’t go back, can I?
I chose to walk my horse for a while and listen for any sound that was familiar and comforting. It took forever for the first cow to appear, and boy, was I relieved! Tank and I climbed up on the side of the trail to watch the throngs of animals and dust go by. I caught the eye of the Trail Boss for a moment, but he said nothing; just smirked at me with a knowing glance.

For what seemed like forever, the rear of the herd reappeared and, having already selected a perfect rock for mounting my horse, rejoined Sam and the gang. Tank did seem to be satisfied that he could still run like the wind, and I was satisfied that I hadn’t died yet.

The trail over the next few miles became a canyon and began a gentle upward climb in elevation as the day wore on. We rode for a couple more hours, and when we suddenly entered a gigantic clearing with no trees and room to spread out, the news filtered back that it was lunchtime. I was starving, but I was convinced that I would stay on my horse. Sam, having felt embarrassed about needing to be rescued earlier that day, volunteered to corral the horses while everyone ate. I also don’t think he wanted to needlessly dismount for fear of having a repeat performance.

I rode over to grab a sandwich from the cook at the chuck wagon, which had driven miles to join us this afternoon, and quietly ate my food atop my horse. Soon I began fighting the urge to go to the bathroom. The really cool thing, and probably the most frequently asked question that I get, is where was the bathroom. The answer, of course, is anywhere you want. But I couldn’t fight it any longer, and I had to jump off. I didn’t realize how tired my legs had become in the past hours, and as I brought my right leg over Tank’s massive body to jump down, my legs buckled and I collapsed to the ground, to the amusement of everyone who had witnessed this unsettling event. I really just needed to go!

Once back on my horse, we rode and rode and rode. I think we must have gotten behind schedule somewhere along the line, because it was beginning to get dark. I don’t need to remind you that the street lights didn’t come on. It was so dark. I remember a partial moon, but it was not enough to illuminate the trail. Thank God for my horse, Tank. He was my eyes that night.

We eventually arrived at a large clearing where I saw the chuck wagon, the tents set up and the light of the truck that had been pulling the chuck wagon. In the darkness, someone of authority told me to stop here and they’d take it from there. I assumed that meant that the wranglers would escort the herd to their resting spot for the night.

As I rode into camp, I happily dismounted my horse, and knowing that I couldn’t tie him up to the picket line with the rest of the horses, I found a huge tree and tied him to it. I dutifully found the feedbag, filled it with oats, grabbed some hay and water and headed over to my new best friend. And yes, while everyone was milling around laughing, sharing stories and relaxing, I was standing there hand-feeding my horse. This just was not fun. He was an appreciative guy, though. I’ll give him that.
Once my horse responsibilities were complete for the night, I proceeded to find a tent. I hadn’t seen Sam since I arrived at this final resting spot, but I thought it wise to find a tent that we could share. We had been told that some tents would have two people and some would have three. I approached the first three tents and found them already spoken for, and the fourth had a lone woman in it, Helen. Not wanting to risk losing another spot, I asked Helen if she was all alone or if anyone else has claimed the rest of the tent. She said she was alone. I quickly introduced myself.

I told Helen I’d be right back, and I left the tent to go retrieve my bag, which contained my clothes and toiletries. They were lying on a canvas material that was spread on the ground. I quickly found my bag and headed back for my tent. Helen, who was a short woman from Palm Springs, welcomed my presence in the tent, and I was happy. Once Sam arrived, there’d be plenty of room for the three of us. The only problem was I couldn’t find Sam anywhere.

Helen and I heard the chow call and headed out to get in line for grub. Wow!! These women knew how to cook. Great food, but the only problem was once leaving the food line, I couldn’t see my plate or my food. I had a flashlight, but if I held it in one hand, I couldn’t cut my meat. I soon learned to hold it in my mouth so I can see what’s going on. Yes…I took it out of my mouth before I put the food in. I know I went on this trip, but I’m not that dumb.

People were turning in right after dinner, as was Helen, but I waited by the fire for Sam to appear. I was really getting worried at this point, but who should I ask? My horse? I don’t think he’d know where Sam was. I soon learned that there were always a few stragglers who, like me, didn’t like to go to bed early. Some of the late-night company I had and would have every night for the duration of this trip was five Orthodox Jews from New York, and I’ll have more about them in my future installments. In the meantime, I knew why I didn’t want to go to the tent early…I wouldn’t be sleeping. I finally gave up waiting for Sam, though, and went to bed.

After literally a few minutes, the flap to the tent opened and there was Sam. He said, “Ah, there you are. You won’t believe where I’ve been. Got room for one more?” And before I could open my mouth, Helen says, “Nope, sorry!! All full up.” And without any fanfare, Sam is gone. I wanted to go get him, but at the same time I was uncharacteristically selfish. This might be the only chance I had to actually get some sleep. I already knew that Sam snores, and I also knew he wouldn’t have any difficulty sleeping all night, every night.

Sleeping in a huge tent with plenty of room, a diminutive Helen and total quiet meant absolutely nothing. I lay awake the entire night without sleep. I was freezing cold, and with the combination of not sleeping, freezing and trying not to think about going to the bathroom, you guessed it…about every hour, I had to go to the bathroom. It was so awful. In my stocking feet, I was stepping out into the openness and trying to find a spot where I wouldn’t disturb anyone. I can’t believe that I had to do that many times this night and every night for the next eight nights, by far the worst experience of my life.

Where was Sam? What did five Jews who keep kosher eat? Was I stuck with Tank for the whole cattle drive? Did I ask the Trail Boss if he had a catheter? For this and much more information, stay tuned to our next installment. (If you’d like a copy of the first two installments of this article, you may email me at markbrickman2002@yahoo.com and I’ll get it to you)

To be continued…