Page 50 of My Cowboy Freedom
Chapter 13
Sky
As soon as we mounted up, Foster took me under his wing. I rode at his side, kind of like a trainee. Together, we chased down strays, and he showed me how to relax and let Ogre do his job. Ogre was fast and agile, and all I had to do was get used to his rhythm. I learned to tell him what I needed by trial and error, and after that, we made a pretty good team.
All of the hands took turns riding drag like Rainey said, and I was grateful for the protection of the hat and bandanna. All day, it was about keeping the herd moving, and watching the boys work together, waving their arms and hats and rounding up strays.
The country was beautiful, the sky wide. It was a massive blue gemstone flawed with streaky mare’s-tail clouds. The blistering sun beat down on us but a warm breeze dried the sweat from our skin just as quickly as it formed.
The first cowboys—the men who’d tamed this land—never worried about slathering on sunscreen, but we did. Foz kept after me, especially, I guess, because I was new to the job.
“You reapply?”
I nodded. Off and on, he’d ride over with more bits of advice.
“Just let Ogre pivot,” or “Give him a nudge with your knees,” or “Don’t rein him in like that. You’ll only confuse him.”
“Got it.” I practiced letting myself merge with Ogre’s body. Letting him know which way we were heading by using my weight and guiding with my knees. My quads, my back, my abs. Every muscle screamed with pain. I’d be lucky to drag my ass to the bunkhouse from the truck and I doubted I’d be walking upright tomorrow.
By late afternoon I was concentrating so hard on keeping up with the rest of the crew, I’d missed Foz coming up alongside me. “Let’s drop out for a minute so you can catch your breath.”
“I’m fine.”
“I hear you,” he shot me a stubborn look. “But we have a long day to go still. We take turns.”
We took off to the side and let the herd scramble along without us for a bit. The cattle kept on—a rust-red, velvet river of muscle and meat, with Tad and Robbie and James and Julio to keep it moving. Cows are oddly trusting critters. They have no plans to speak of. They mostly just follow along blindly.
Once we got those cattle moving, there was no way to stop them. We could only shape them. Guide them. Use fences to channel and squeeze and sort them and hope for the best.
You could probably see the ball of dust we were kicking up all the way to the ranch house.
“Look at ’em go.” Foz led his horse to a cluster of cedar elms to dismount. Once he got down, he stomped his feet and stretched his legs. “Would you look at that? Ain’t those beasts a pretty sight?”
“Makes me feel real small,” I admitted. I got down and stretched out my cramped muscles.
“Me too.” He led his horse to a tasty-looking clump of something and regarded me narrowly. “How you doing? Okay physically?”
“I’ll be sore.” Hell of an understatement, that. “There’s no guarantee I’ll be able to get back on my horse.”
“You’re awful young to be so decrepit.”
“It ain’t the miles, it’s the wear and tear.”
He laughed, “Okay, well, I ain’t carrying your ass back, so you’d best figure out how to mount that horse again, then.”
“I used to be a pretty hot-shit rider. Even did some rodeo in high school, but—”
“But you ain’t been on a horse in at least eight years. I know. I’ll tell Boss to cut you some slack until the weekend, if you want.”
“I don’t want special treatment.” God, how would that make me look to the other hands? “I can do what any man here does. I’ll just be sore while I build up to it again.”
“All right. But don’t be no hero.” He pulled his canteen out and took a swig. “Hydrate and take breaks and don’t get hurt ’cause of misplaced pride. Working cattle is grueling. We’re playing a long game out here, so easing up where you can is the way to go.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Call me Foz.” He eyed me. “I saw you last night. Out on the porch with Rocky.”
“Yeah.” Christ. Another warning? Why not just build a big fat wall around the kid?
