Cowgirl Thrillers
Page 7
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Riding the wild country is a fantastic escape from all the hustle and bustle of our modern world. No traffic, no worries, just you and your mount a’moseyin’ down the trail.
A cow horse requires just enough concentration to keep you from getting bogged down in all the Troubles you left at home this morning. A good horse runs on autopilot, but Murphy and his inescapable Law are always waiting right around the bend with a surprise, just like the gunshots. There’s no guessing which way your mount will jump if things go haywire.
Bogey and I could be just loafing along, minding our own business, keepin’ a sharp eye on those cattle. Even if they had walked enough miles they had decided pretty much to stay together and stay ahead of us and we hadn’t had a herd quitter for an hour or so, you dasn’t fall asleep. Tired cows can get spooked even easier, bein’ half asleep on the job theirselves. Late in the day this makes for a sleepy naptime combination ‘specially after a long hard morning of runnin’ those quitters in out of the brush.
Even if I was alert to the unexpected, as any horseman must, and Bogey was maybe idling along with eyes barely open, don’t let it fool you. A top notch cow horse like Bogey? When he has a job to do like moving cows, he don’t shirk it. One ear is always cocked toward his bovine charges, even when he’s loafin’.
The unexpected, that’s what gets you killed. A flock of quail flushing from under a bush at your horse’s feet, a sudden sound, a snake, a runnin’ animal; any of those and a thousand things you never thought of can set a horse to buckin’ or runnin’. Now a seasoned mountain horse like Bogey or Spike is pretty used to birds flushing and wild game, but a paper blowing across their trail or a flash of white, the spookiest color, and ‘Woo Hoo,’ it might be a rodeo. Which he will pick to spook at depends on the horse and the instance. Horses hate the unexpected. Flight kicks in first. Thoughts of fight? Not so much. The Chaos Theory is in full effect in the world of horses.
I was lucky Bogie had been so steady in the face of bullets that were loud, scary, and lethal all rolled into one. Hell of a horse.
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I have been forced into idleness by circumstance. Moving or making noise may shorten my lifespan and my concussed brain? Damn fuzzy.
Thank the gods that some words have been declared expletives. They are but innocent words. Their synonyms are allowed. Funny, really, how one word which means exactly what another means is not allowed in ‘mixed’ company and, in some circles, not allowed at all if there is any other person present.
In my younger years, I resented the fact that some words were considered by polite society to be, well, bad. Bad words! It’s like reprimanding a recalcitrant dog. Bad, bad words! Stop entering my mind. Why were these innocent combinations of letters so irredeemably scorned? Plus as all kids know, there is the double standard of Adult Language. Adults can say it, you second class child citizens better not.
I have finally matured enough to realize that these expletives, however innocent, serve as a relief valve for both the explosive personality and the not so explosive, which I believe includes the most of us. And you can also shock the socks off of well-bred town folks. What, me? Would I do that?
I certainly do love my expletives. Were they not to exist I would have killed many a man, woman, dog, cow, horse...you know what I mean, for you, after all, are only human too.
Let us honor the prophet George Carlin and his famous seven sacred words. Funny, them are seven of my favorites!
All hail the men who invented such a fabulous relief valve! Where would we be without them? And who among ye would throw the first stone?