by Kim Smart
“He’s back there.” Stella motioned to the cargo bed.
“Ha! That mutt’s your hand? Bet you’re glad I came by, aren’t you?” Jesse knew his sister was tough, but this was ridiculous.
“You don’t always work alone, do you?” Now he was getting worried about her mental health.
“Well, I had a fella helping me but we didn’t see eye to eye about my jeans so I ran him off.” Stella was a beautiful woman with long dark hair and tanned face. Her physique showed the hard work she did every day. She was strong and Jesse admired that. In so many ways she was becoming a role model for him.
“Um, he didn’t like your jeans?” Jesse wasn’t sure where this was going. Fearing he might intrude on her personal space, he hesitated to ask for clarification. Jesse also assumed Stella cherished the silence on these trail rides of hers. He wasn’t there to bend her habits.
“He liked ‘em just fine, but only when they were not covering my body. I sent his grabby hands to New Mexico to a buddy down there. He’ll make sure he leaves my jeans alone.” Stella likes her solitary life. Well, not completely solitary. She had her cows. Her scrappy friends living off the spotty greens of the high desert.
“Geez Stella. You probably shouldn’t be out here alone.” Jesse wondered how she managed out here alone. There must be coyotes and wolves, and apparently men with a fetish for jeans, or is that a non-jeans fetish? Anyway, what if her horse came up lame?
“I’m not alone. You’re here. Now, drink your coffee. I hope you like it black. I don’t carry the Frou Frou stuff to put in it. There’s a breakfast burrito in that bag there for you too. I’m about ready for my second breakfast. Hand me one too, will ya?” Stella handed him a thermos and pointed to the bag. When she got her burrito, she ripped off a piece and fed it to Gus through the back window.
“Here you go, boy. Warm your blood up so we are ready to move those cows when we get there.” Gus grabbed the snack with gusto and gulped it down. He kept watch over them as they moved through the dry grass and hills.
“This is a lot different from what I thought it would be.” Jesse noticed the trees amongst the huge boulders. Much like the Badlands of home, parts of the high desert appear to be a forgotten land of long ago with untamed stone structures whittled by water and ice from long ago. Snow had fallen and melted everywhere but the tops of the highest peaks. There were still carpets of green grass where the moisture from the melted snow stood. On the journey, Stella pointed out small cliffs and clefts where, with adequate rain and snowfall, small waterfalls flowed.
“I bet you were expecting sand and cactus, weren’t you? Well, here in the high desert we have seasons. Not as dramatic as those you have in South Dakota but we get snow in the winter. Unfortunately, in the past year we have had too little snow and rain so we are a tinderbox here.” Stella pointed out the dry creek beds and patches of dry grass that usually were plenty green. She explained how she had to move the cattle more frequently now because the land wouldn’t sustain them for longer periods. Charred marks scuffed the ground and splintered trees where lightening reached out of the sky and scorched the earth and its ornaments.
“Global warming at its finest, I guess.” Jesse wasn’t exactly sure where he stood on the Global warming debate. Being a cattle rancher and one of the supposed culprits put him in a precarious position. One thing he knew for sure; the weather patterns were changing, even in his relatively short lifetime, and to hear his parents’ stories, it has transformed in theirs.
“Yeah, not sure how much longer my boss will take these risks. When these cattle can’t graze on the federal land anymore, he’s done.” Stella seemed to know a lot about this business.
“Why’s that?” Jesse’s family owned their land outright, having passed it from generation to generation, with the taking generation growing the land mass when possible. He was not familiar with the federal lease program. She explained how the ranch helped the federal lands by regularly grazing. The fire was not on grazed land. It was on land that was not being used. It was close enough to dry trees that it could hop its way to where they were now, consuming the fuel used for the cattle along the way.
“It’s like if the buffalo in the Badlands were under private ownership but the national park still wanted them to graze there. They would charge the livestock owner a nominal fee and require them to follow a grazing rotation to protect the national grasslands. The owner would have to maintain the fencing and carry liability insurance in case one of those burly creatures stepped in front of a tourist’s car and smashed it.” Stella had not forgotten where she came from: a beautiful bluff overlooking the colorful formations of the Badlands that tourists came far and wide to see in the summer.
“Gotcha. How many cattle are there?” The land before them was so vast that he expected Stella to say a thousand head or more.
“There’s 300 head somewhere out there in about 4,500 acres of land. We’ve got it sectioned off into five pastures and we move them around depending on how the grazing land is holding up. We work hard not to overgraze any pasture.” Stella seemed to be a master with what she was doing.
“I can’t believe this!” Stella said as a shiny red Cadillac Escalade approached them on the road. “That fool!” Seeing this displaced vehicle in pristine condition, without even a gravel nick in the windshield, caused Stella to become slightly apoplectic Jesse noticed. She looked in her rearview mirror and under her breath told Gus to take a seat. He had already started barking at the other vehicle. She stomped on the clutch and downshifted, causing the truck to whine and slow abruptly.
“Brandon Cage, as I live and breathe, out here getting dusty with the hired hands.” Stella shouted out her mostly open window to the man in the Escalade.
“Nice to see you Stella. Looks like the fire’s gonna cause some damage up there. Hope you got all your cattle in.” Brandon didn’t take his blue eyes off Stella and she glared right back at him. She would not let this city slicker push her buttons. Not today. She had work to do and cattle to rescue.
“We’ve got it under control. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Now get yourself back to the city where the rest of the suits live. Let us manage our herd.” Stella started rolling her window up.
“I could sure use that spicy attitude of yours on my board Ms. Stella. You sure you don’t want to come work for me?” Brandon Cage had not stopped smiling since pulling up. Clearly there was some history here that Stella had not shared with Jesse. The tension between the two was nearly visible in a belted cloud that encircled their torsos.
“I have no interest in schmoozing with the likes of you, Mr. Cage, and your special interest groups who want to destroy this land. Get on out with you now.” Stella showed a real dislike for this guy. Real, or feigned, Jesse couldn’t tell.
As the vehicles parted ways, Jesse started to ask his sister for an explanation. All he got was, “That Brandon Cage is a snake and you need to stay far away from him.” Jesse sensed there was more to the tension between the two of them but he let the matter drop. He had just arrived. It was too soon to pry.
They crossed the last cattle guard into the national forest land, went a few miles deeper into the forest and came upon a clearing. A two-sided, roofed open shed stood on a patch of worn dirt enclosed in a sorting pen. The cattle motel, Stella called it.
A small building sat nestled in the juniper trees and sagebrush. Stella explained that this was the tack house and bunkroom. “Nothing fancy but it almost keeps the rain off ya.”
Jesse pulled a half-dozen five-gallon buckets of supplies from the truck and hauled them to storage. Talking sweetly to them and patting them gently, Stella untied the halter ropes and lovingly backed the horses out of the trailer. These beautiful horses were more than her work partners; they were her trusted confidants. Reassuring them and managing their comfort, she saddled and outfitted the horses for their days on the trail. Supplies were tucked in the well-worn tooled leather saddlebags. A coiled rope was hung on each saddle horn.
Stella threw a pair of leather chaps to Jesse. His brows furrowed, a question forming in his mind. Anticipating the explanation, she told him that many trees and bushes on the trail were thorny. The chaps, which he rarely wore on the plains, would protect him. She had also insisted he wear a long-sleeved shirt, a hat and bandana.
With the truck secured next to the tack house, they mounted their rides. The horses were tall and sturdy. They easily managed the loads they carried. Stella guided them to an opening in the sage. A livestock trail, hidden amongst the brush, came into view as they approached. The horses moved with precision and confidence on this familiar trail.
“This is like no other riding you have done.” Stella warned him. “The land is very rocky and we will move slowly and uphill. I actually moved most of the cows last week so we will collect the stragglers on this ride.”
“How long will we be out here? That’s a lot of land.” Jesse didn’t have a bedroll or a tarp for a shelter or anything with him if they would be out here overnight.
“I imagine it will take two, three days. What’s the matter, you have a date I don’t know about?” Stella shot back.
“Ha! What do you know about dates hiding out here in no-man's-land? I think you just insulted your last prospect down there on the road.”
“Brandon Cage is a competitor. He wants this land for his own demonic reasons and I’m here to see that he doesn’t get it.” Stella was adamant about her position and her disdain for the city slicker was obvious.
With that they fell into silence and started up the trail. They rode through dense, dry brush, ambling uphill for about an hour and a half before they crested a hill and Jesse got a view of the canyon below. It was rugged with granite boulders and a more rigid and sturdy version of the spires seen in the Badlands. Juniper forests dotted the sloping hills forming the canyon walls.
“You have cattle out there?” Jesse motioned toward the millions of acres of land that comprised the basin they rode in. He was in disbelief that the unlikely, inhospitable rangeland before them could sustain a herd of cattle.
“That’s right. Like I said, these are just the stragglers. According to my count, there are twenty-one of them out there now. Gus will scare ‘em out of the crevices and brush and get them headed in the right direction. We have a couple more hours to go though, before we start seeing them. They rode in silence for nearly an hour. The horses were sure-footed and instinctively knew where to go.
Jesse found himself lost in thought. His horse, Rowdy, did all the work. The slow and steady stride lulled Jesse, and he had flashes of rides shared with Kerry. In a time that seemed long ago and a place far away they rode the Badlands’ hills and plains. Unlike here, their horses were free to open the throttle and run in the open grasslands. At the end of the ride, they dismounted and embraced. Jesse looked down into Kerry’s eyes, dancing with excitement. He found her mouth with his and they kissed there, amongst the wild grass, in the open plains. The rare tree may give them shade. They walked hand-in-hand across the crusted clay floor while their horses cooled down.
Jesse’s horse stopped as the foursome, horses and riders, came upon a fallen tree blocking the trail. Jesse was jarred back to the present. He looked around and registered the reason for the abrupt stop. Jesse was in awe of the contrasting terrain, the colors, the singing birds and his sister’s natural fit into this wilderness. “This is really amazing country. So wild and rugged.”
“I know. I love it. Twelve years I’ve been working up here and not one day have I regretted it. Well, maybe that day I was staring down a rattler sitting at the foot of my bedroll.” Stella’s eyes grew. She sat up stiffly and clutched her shirt, as if she could still see the rattler at her feet now.
“Seriously? I would have freaked out I think. We have rattlers but I sleep in a bed, off the floor, in a house, and they don’t come in.” Jesse shook his head as he imagined his sister staring down that snake and thinking how frightened he would be. Damn, she’s brave, he thought.
“This is all my bedroom. I have three camps set up out there.” Stella wove her hand across the horizon.
“I was wondering why we were traveling so light if this would take some time. Guess I have a lot to learn about this land of yours.” Jesse was in awe of the life Stella was leading. She was a real cowboy, living close to the land, playing hide-and-seek with coyotes and holding standoffs with rattlers.
Chapter 8
For two days the pair scrubbed the brush and rounded up the stray cattle. Smoke blew in and the sky glowed a brilliant orange at night. During the day a dark cloud of dust and ash hung over the canyon. They stopped frequently to rinse the bandanas they used over their mouths to filter the air. Some places were worse than others. They rode through pockets where a cloud of smoke clung to the crevices and other areas, and other areas where the breeze pushed the air around so they barely notice the dense air.
These cattle were not like any Jesse had ever seen before. Gentle, slow, lower to the ground and smaller than the herds he was used to wrangling. Stella explained how the cows were specially bred to manage this vegetation and the terrain. She shared the history of Barzona Angus and Brangus bulls and how breeding over several generations improved the cattle’s ability to thrive in this difficult environment. Jesse wondered if Kerry was familiar with the breed and what she would think of this country. He may have ended their dating life but he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Jesse and Stella walked their horses about as much as they rode, dismounting to reach the highest and lowest places in the canyon. Gus, a blue heeler Labrador rescue dog, occasionally got distracted flushing quail from the shrubs, but overall he was a terrific herder.
The second night, as the sun started to reflect pink on the canyon walls, they rode up on one of the ranch’s campsites. There was a wall tent and some gear sheds. Stella went to work putting together some dinner. Jesse unsaddled the horses and settled them for the night. After dinner they sat around the campfire, reflecting on the rugged beauty surrounding them. Stella pointed out various ridgelines on the horizon and shared some history of this ranching operation and how she came to be the foreman.
At one point she reached out to pet Gus, stretched out next to the fire. “One of the hands I worked with was kinda sweet on me.”
Stella told many colorful stories from her years on the ranch. She started to explain and suddenly busted out with a poem:
“A cowboy came a callin’
on the eve of Christmas Day.
Said he was a haulin’
just to pass the time away.
He stayed a spell to work the trail
and watch the sun set pink.
In the end his breath was stale
from all the snus and drink.”
Jesse leaned in; a big grin grew across his face as she continued.
“Atop the cold stone boulder
the cowboy held a present.
A sack slung from his shoulder
the size of a pheasant.
John Marshall was a simple man
he didn’t care for fuss.
Before he saddled up his van
he gifted me with Gus.”
“Woah, I didn’t know you wrote poetry!” A warm feeling spread through him as he realized he had witnessed yet another of his sister’s talents. She was coloring with his crayons. Curious now, he hoped she would share more.
“Ha! That’s lame but I have a lot of time on my hands out here. Sitting alone around the fire, keeping company with cattle and squirrels, I sometimes get a little ditty playing in my head. I have about a dozen notebooks with crazy things in them, like this one.” Stella pulled a tattered notepad from the inside pocket of her Carhartt jacket and waved it toward him.
“I write a little too but it’s nothing as structured as that. Just a bunch of musings on paper.” Jesse thought back to the book he shared with Kerry and wondered what had ever happened to it. Someday maybe he would have the nerve to ask her if she
ever read it.
The sweet smell of Italian sausage and rice stuffed green peppers filled the air as Stella pulled the Dutch oven from the fire grate. Steam clouds flew as she lifted the heavy cast iron lid. She had become a competent camp chef and was thrilled to have Jesse to cook for. When she traveled alone, she often ate gorp or raw food. Stocking her freezer with trail foods she could pack out and heat had, for her, became culinary art. Out here under the stars in the cool air, it felt good to get something warm in the belly to sleep on. Trail mix and jerky were fine for lunch but didn’t help them get a good night’s sleep.
The dishes were done. Stars danced overhead in the dark sky, preserved from city lights. Thoughts, rhymes and stories were penned in her notebook. She thumbed through the small book. Pages topped by a wire coil; shreds of paper evident from discarded pages. As she thumbed through the pages, her face alternated between smiling, rolling of the eyes, and a gentle shaking of the head; she marked a handful of pages.
Stella penned satires of stories she heard, captured images from places she visited, and painted humorous images of people and events. She told of some colorful characters she had shared the trail with and some mystical, magical places she captured in her gritty, grounded way. Jesse was captivated. Her words amused and entertained him. He found his toe tapping the meter of the lines as she read them. A portion of his brain made an unseen list of rhyming words. His creative mind envisioned the wise but unfortunate cowboys she spoke of, the wild horse in the canyon and the thundering sky. He was filled with pride and was grateful to be with a kindred spirit.
“Tell you what. There’s a cowboy poet’s gathering coming up. Let’s go get us some culture.” The two chuckled and made a plan.
By the time Friday evening rolled around, they were safely back in town and the cattle roundup was a success. All twenty-one head were safely relocated away from the fire. They would restock supplies, wash the soot from their hair, and take some time to play. Stella kept a watchful eye on the sky and an ear to the network of communication about the fire. Silent prayers for rain infused the night air as they lay in reflection before sleep.
