Rod Miller: New Faces Around The Ol’ Campfire

Straggling in to take their places around the campfire, looking rode hard and put up wet, our cowboy crew griped about the day they just had. Breaking in a new trailhand is never easy, but today was the first day riding herd for a dozen or so tenderfooted newbies.

“Why’d the Big Boss have to go an’ hire so many rookies?” asked Panhandle. “We was gettin’ along jes fine with them ol’ hands.”

“A bunch o’ them o’ hands got fired.” Cookie reminded the tuckered cowboys as he stirred the beans. “An’ all he could find to replace ‘em is this wet-behind-the-ears buncha drugstore wannabes an’ dudes.”

Latigo Lou brushed a thick layer of dust from his chaps and exclaimed, “I worked harder herdin’ them dudes today than I did herdin’ cattle.”

Glendo Gus chimed in. “It started at daybreak when we wrangled the horses. I told the new guys to pick out a horse fer the day an’ they jes wandered around the corral like tourists, sayin ‘here horsey, here horsey’. I had to rope ever’ damn horse for ‘em.”

Stetsons shook in disbelief in the firelight.

“I tried to teach ‘em to throw a hoolihan, but they jes kept knocking each other’s hats off with the rope.”, Gus said. “Sorry excuses for cowboys.”

“Then,” Joe the Wrangler interjected, “they didn’t know how to mount up. Half of ‘em tried to climb up the wrong side of the horse an’ ended up facin’ backwards. Damnedest thing I ever seen.”

“I spent the whole damn day fixin’ wrecks them greenhorns caused.” Sourdough joined the circle and expressed his disgust. “We caught up with the herd down along the creek, an’ I told them new guys to jes ease ‘em along gentle-like. They bailed into the bunch whippin’ an’ spurrin’ and hollerin’ yee haw. They fired their six-guns like they seen in the movies.”

Sourdough spat a stream of Copenhagen juice into the fire. “They scattered them cattle from hell to breakfast, an’ it took me ‘til sundown to get things sorted again.”

Rawhide Ricky from Rawlins chuckled at this news. “I had a couple of ‘em with me an’ I spent all day pickin’ ‘em up outa cactus patches after buck-offs. They looked like pincushions. One of ‘em bawled like a baby.”

Sweetwater Slim stretched and said, “The ones I had with me need spectacles or somethin’. They kept thinkin’ they saw cows when it was jes rocks or bushes. They wore their horses out tryin’ to gather rocks! I think one of ‘em’s still out there somewheres. I’ll ride out in the mornin’ to see if I can locate the dumb bastid.”

The Trail Boss sauntered up to the campfire. “It’s tougher wranglin’ dudes than it is yearlin’s, ain’t it boys?” Sweat-stained Stetsons nodded agreement. “But they gotta learn, an’ ain’t nobody around but y’all to teach ‘em. So, get a good night’s sleep an’ we’ll give it hell again mañana.”

This was unwelcome news to the hardened trail hands who would rather irrigate, fix fence or put up hay... anything instead of having to deal with naïve townies uneducated in the subtle ways of the trail. But they understood the wisdom in what the Trail Boss said, and resigned themselves to another day of grief.

“Might as well suck it up get it done, pards.”, advised Panhandle. “Ain’t nobody around to teach ‘em but us. Hell, it all pays the same.”

Just then, Cookie banged on his skillet and hollered, “Come an’ get it. These frijoles ain’t gonna eat themselves.”

Rod Miller can be reached at: RodsMillerWyo@yahoo.com