Drive - A Memoir 107th Installment
Russ
had closed the gate, and I had rushed up to help get the chain looped
around the pole and the clamp hooked. The bull then ran around and
around the perimeter fence burning up excess anger. My heart was
still pounding as we finished the milking and the other chores. When
we headed to the house, we could still see and hear the monster
circling in the pen.
“The
bull was out again,” Russ told the Old Man. “We got it in the
holding pen by the barn.”
“Good
work,” Vern said. “That’s our best corral, and it should hold
him until morning. Then we can figure out something more permanent.
I’ve been thinking that wild-eyed bull is more trouble than he’s
worth, and I should sell it or kill it.”
“Yeah,
it’s either him or us you have to sell!” I added. We slept hard
that night and got up groggy in the morning, ate our bacon and eggs,
and trudged out to do chores. The bull was gone! One side of the
holding pen was destroyed. The Old Man had come out, and he was
fuming.
“Son
of a…”he started then looked at us. “I’m going to teach that
devil who’s boss.”
“I
got a call from Amber,” Edith yelled from the house. “The bull is
over there, and you need to go help them!” By the time we got
there, Ted and his hired men had roped the bull from their horses and
had hog tied the beast to a power pole. The usual neat and well-kept
white panel fences of Ted’s corrals looked like a war zone.
Ted
told us, “During the early morning your bull picked a fight with my
bull. When we got out here your Holstein had a twenty foot metal gate
on his neck bucking and twisting in circles. The gate panel was
knocking down all my corrals, and what the gate didn’t damage, the
bull trampled what was left. My bull has run off somewhere. Alfred
and I got our horses saddled and after working us to death and the
horses to exhaustion, we got the bull tied.”
“Can
we leave the bull tied up for a few hours while we do milking and
repair a suitable enclosure for him?” Vernon asked Ted. “Then,
this coming Saturday, the boys and I’ll come and help you put your
place back together.”
Crap!
The jack rabbit drive was on Saturday. I hardly dared ask--well,
maybe I would dare. “The rabbit drive is on Saturday – we wanted
to go.”
“No,”
The Old Man’s one word answer was final.
Ted
to the rescue, “Saturday isn’t good for helping me. How about
Sunday?”
After
the Old Man agreed, all was right with the world. Over the next few
hours, we finished the mega–corral we were building with the eight
inch poles that came from the log barn
500 more words tomorrow
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