The Genius Cowboy

(It is amazing what ChatGPT can create, isn't it?)

THE GENIUS

 

         Just about every boy in our family, seven in total, worked on the ranch at one time or another.  To some it was fun, to others it was much like punishment or indentured servitude.  The one brother who I never thought I’d see on the ranch was Brennan. 

         Brennan was the genius of the family.  He was taking calculus as a freshman in high school.  He broke state records in Academic Decathlon tournaments which still stand today.  He got full ride scholarships for both his undergrad degree and his doctoral degree.  He is currently a professor of economics at BYU.

         It seemed an oddity to have someone so intelligent working on a ranch with cowboys who hadn’t made it through eighth grade.  Then again, Earl was a retired lawyer and two-time state senator.

         Brennan and I worked together one summer and had a really enjoyable time.  Brennan is about six years younger that me and our summer working together allowed us some time to bond a little better.

         We were working the Garcia Blanco pasture one week.  The “real” cowboys were riding horses and driving cattle while Brennan and I remained behind to fix some sections of the fence and corral which were in major need of an overhaul.  I had an aversion to horses, mainly because of my ability to fall off of them.  I might have done much better if the horse had seatbelts and an auto pilot.  Consequently I was the fence maintainer.

         The cowboys brought a large herd into the tank trap around lunch.  They stopped for lunch before heading out the opposite direction for another sweep of the huge pasture for stragglers.  Our foreman always brought a quart mason jar with frozen milk inside.  By lunch he was drinking ice cold slushy milk.  A little added sugar and it became a heavenly milkshake.  Another cowboy produced his dessert of homemade cherry pie while Brennan and I snacked on Little Debbie crumb cakes and Twinkies.  I was always teased about bringing enough food to feed an army battalion but I was a growing six foot seven inch behemoth.  I needed the energy, especially working 12 hour days in the blazing sun. 

         By noon, the temperature had hit the hundreds and just continued to climb higher.  We arrived home dusty, sunburned, and exhausted.  I took a shower, prepared my next day’s lunch and relaxed in front of the TV before I went to sleep.  Brennan and I headed out the door at 5 a.m. the next morning.  Today’s job would be to brand the 120 head of calves rounded up the day before.  Branding is a hot, dusty, exhausting job. 

         After bringing the cattle in from the tank trap and sorting out most of the cows, the real fun started.  Dick, our foreman, would rope a calf and drag it to the branding fire.  One person would flank (toss) the calf to the ground and kneel on its front shoulders while another would undo the rope and grab its hind legs.  The branding, earmarking and vaccinations, and castration of bulls would happen like clockwork.  The calf was then let go to run off and complain to momma about its recent injustice.

         We worked until we were done. At about two in the afternoon we released the cattle back to pasture and hankered down in any small patch of shade we could find.  Lunch was a casual affair, usually ending with a small siesta.  All six of us, Brennan, me, and four cowboys sat in the shade of the horse trailer and began to chow down. The sandwiches, fruit, snack cakes and two cans of soda were gone instantly.  It was silent, except for the bawling of calves and their mommas, during the eating stage of lunch.  Then we began to review the day’s many experiences and I listened to the stories of wild cattle and dangerous chases on horseback.  I lived vicariously through these stories wishing I could stay on horses like these guys could.  I just wasn’t talented enough.

         Brennan went back to the truck and put our lunchboxes up.  When he returned he was carrying another lunch box.  The cowboys began teasing him about eating like me.  The names horse and pig came up.  But Brennan let them slide right off.  He opened the box and inverted it onto the lid.  After a few rough taps, he lifted the box to reveal a large block of cloudy ice.

         We all watched, silently, as this teenaged kid began to demolish the ice with a hammer.  The ice chips flew to the ground and immediately melted due to the extreme heat of the day.  When the chipping stopped, he nonchalantly pulled a Ziplock bag from the large ice cube, opened it up, and removed two still frozen fudgesicles.  He handed one to me and we began torturing the other four cowboys as we ate the delicious, frozen confections.  Brennan was almost finished when a flash of human reached over and stole the last bite.  I spent the next few minutes running from crazed cowboys and trying to eat the fudgesicle at the same time.  We weren’t treated quite the same after that, but we were never forgotten either.

         On the long drive home, I reflected on all the people I had worked with over the years and decided that Brennan was the brightest, most easy going and by far the most devious of them all.