Every Fourth of July, the small
town of Toppinish would hold a rodeo. My cousin Shorty and myself,
signed up for the wild cow-milking contest. The prize for this event
was $100, we were 16 and seasoned cowboys. If we won, Shorty and I
could afford to purchase new Saturday night dress shirts and jeans
before the big dance.
The wild cow-milking contest is a timed event. Two cowboys are
mounted on horseback, one has a rope and the other has a coke bottle.
A cow is released from the opposite end of the arena, the two cowboys
ride fast towards the cow, one ropes it, the other cowboys with the
coke bottle dismounts, runs up behind the cow, gets hold of the udder
and tires to get a couple of squirts of milk into the bottle. Then the
cowboy with the bottle has to run across the arena to the judge, and
pour the milk out on to the ground, and then the judge stops the
clock.
The promoters of this event ride out into the horse haven
hills, to find the biggest, nastiest range cow they can find. A range
cow, is not a happy animal. A range cow has to fight off coyotes,
flies, rattlesnakes and other beast that happens to like beef. The
survival rate is not very high, but the cows that make it from one
season to the next, are very tough, big and have an altitude towards
anything that does not look like them.
I had the rope and Shorty had the coke bottle. There had been
three other teams ahead of us, and none of them had very good time.
Shorty and I were very confident, we had a good chance to win this
event. The cow came out into the arena, and the flag went down, off we
went.
The old range cow had been roped and dragged around by three
other teams, and now she wanted to get some payback, she ran straight
at us. I peel off to the right and Shorty to the left, and the cow ran
right up between us, we turned, she turned and we did the whole thing
over again.
"Get the rope on her, John!" Shorty yelled. I threw a big loop,
and since Shorty yelled at me, the cows head was turned towards him,
she struck her head right into it, I got her stopped. Shorty jumps off
his horse and runs up to the cow, and took hold of her tail, but slips
and falls downs to his knees, then as he falls forward, the cow kicks
him in the head. I turn my horse to the inside to look at Shorty, a
big mistake.
The rope was tied off to my saddle horn, the rope was around my
left hip and the small of my back, and the cow saw her opportunity. I
took my eyes off the cow, to look at Shorty, so when the cow took off
running I did not notice. When the rope went tight, my saddle and I
left the horse, and went airborne. When I hit the ground, the saddle
went one way, bouncing behind the cow, and I went skipping and plowing
through the dirt and cow dung of the arena.
"Wake up John!" I could hear Shortys voice, but he sounded like
he was far away. I did not want to open my eyes, but some one was
pitching my leg. Dam! I sat up. I was in an ambulance just outside of
the arena, a medic was cleaning up my face. "How is my horse?" I asked
Shorty. "Your horse is all right, but we are got some work to do on
your saddle."
After I got a bandage placed around my head, Shorty and I were
released. As we walked back to the pickup truck, we did not say much.
We did not win the prize and we did not go to the dance, and we did
not get new shirts, and we never entered in a rodeo event again.
Cowboy John
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