Cowgirl Sass & Savvy

It costs a lot of money to be broke

Julie Carter

Superstition suggests bad luck comes in threes and for Rob, the third had just hit. Actually, it was the fourth, but the rules say after three, quit counting.

Rob and his wife had been subsidizing their cattle ranching in the usual sweaty, working ways. Lately, those hadn't been too successful. Perpetually looking for a way to keep the wolf from the door, Rob had a plan.

The cutting horse reject colt he had bought to make a heeling horse to sell was working out fairly well. That is, until a steer came out of the roping chute, cut hard to the right and the colt, true to his training, did the same.

Rob had not cleared the end of the roping box when everybody went "hard right" and his boot caught on the corner. The sickening sound told the story before anyone had to look. The bone was broke and the shin was split. This didn't bode well for any money-making activity in the near future.

Later, with a walking cast in place, Rob decided he would cut a few cedar stays out of the brush pastures to sell, but his chainsaw was on the blink.

His wife Sue recalled an ad in the paper where a chainsaw was offered at a weekend garage sale.

When Rob returned with his treasure, his plan was to show it off to his bride. He pulled the rope and got the usual chainsaw resistance to starting.

He pulled it again. Nothing. After about a dozen tries with no luck, Sue remembered something she had to do in the house, knowing it was a good time to remove herself from the premises.

When she went back a couple hours later, Rob was nowhere around. The bar and chain were lying to one side and a thousand pieces of orange plastic were scattered throughout the area.

The sledgehammer was leaning up against the barn door.
Next, Rob decided that since their ranch had some good coastal Bermuda, he'd sell some of the upcoming hay crop. He laid down a good-sized field of it in anticipation of the income that it would bring.

Of course, it had not rained in that part of the world in anybody's distant memory, but that night it poured down three inches.

He also had some farm ground and decided a crop of peanuts would be just the thing. He worked the ground, planted his peanuts, and went to bed that night counting his millions.

The next morning he found that every peanut had been rooted up. Feral hogs had never been a problem on his place, that is, until the peanuts were in the ground. He did reflect with some gratitude that the pigs hadn't helped themselves to his beer stash in the barn to wash down the peanuts.

As soon as he could find someone to tell him what pigs wouldn't eat, he'd consider replanting.

The next accounting issue came when Sue announced that their son needed braces.

Rob asked how many sets of teeth the kid had because they'd just put him in braces a year or so ago. Sue informed him there were a couple of kids and this was a different one.

Rob was a good hand at roping but had put the sport on hold while he married, had a family and set up his ranching enterprise to seek his fortune.

However, there was a big team roping coming to town. He had many bills to pay, but uncannily, he had just enough money to pay entry fees. He called a former roping buddy and they entered up.

It worked out better than anything had so far. They won the roping, got their names called, new trophy buckles and a big payout.

On the way home, Rob bought new tires for Sue's pickup and an extra case of ropers' aiming fluid (beer).

The logic was clearly before him. He could ride in a cast and had proven he could still catch his share at the ropings. Subsidizing the ranch in this manner was going to be a whole lot more fun than riding colts, chainsaws, hay or peanuts.

Some cowboys have to work a little harder to get to the same result; heeding the call of the roping arena.

Julie can be reached for comment at www.julie-carter.com