Making a new
friend
Julie
Carter
A cowboy’s life
is as much about the stops made as the road traveled. The same applies for the
cowgirl.
A cowgirl I know
had her own cowboy who for all his life had been restless and ambitious. As a
couple, they had cowboyed in every corner of their home state of Texas.
Twenty-some-odd years into the partnership, they landed on a big ranch they
bought in New Mexico. They looked at it as their just- rewards for the
thousands of long hours in the saddle during their formative years.
She had made at
least one very good friend at every stop on this Western road of life. And each
new place taught her that in every hundred miles across the country, the
customs and the cowboys changed.
She learned,
sometimes the hard way, that you can't out-native the natives. She discovered
that the best way for survival in a new place with new folks was to find a
seemingly responsible local person and listen to his stories.
Now, once again,
she was a mighty far-piece from home, so was on the lookout for such a
candidate.
She learned that
her nearest neighbor was quite familiar with their new ranch. He had worked
there as a button and been the foreman for a number of years. When moving to
their new ranch, she had noticed the neighbor's ranch entrance sign with his
name and brand on it.
As she gradually
got settled in and unpacked, she had planned to go meet this new neighbor.
However, it happened a little quicker than expected. Her good cowdog Heidi,
also a Texan, had discovered the local porcupines in an up-close and most
serious way.
The cowgirl
needed help for her Heidi and her head cowboy was out of state at the time. She
loaded Heidi in the pickup and headed to the neighbors.
Over needle-nose
pliers and with everybody that happened to be there helping to hold the dog,
the acquaintance was made.
Like all
ranchers, they had to establish a couple of things of common ground.
First, it isn't
ever a good idea to look in the old cistern. You never can predict what might
be in there looking back at you. And second, with the drought, the government
and the cattle market, they would all be lucky to still be alive by the end of
the year.
Those requisites
safely handled, the cowgirl and the neighbor got down to some regular
neighborly visiting.
The neighbor
allowed that he knew their place pretty well from working there and would be
happy to show her a few things. They drove over to her outfit, saddled up, and
rode to a picturesque canyon where he related the history of the area and the
fact there were remnants of Indian artifacts and petroglyphs.
She studied the
ancient signs that translated to fending off witchcraft, the sign for water, hunting,
directions, water carrier, danger, snakes and many of the other special
graphics that the Indians had embellished on rocks around their encampments.
Finally she got
to one that looked obviously newer than some of the ancient symbols carved in
the stone. This resembled a diamond-bar-diamond. She thought about it a minute
until it finally came to her that she was looking at her neighbor's ranch
brand.
With a grin that
matched his when he saw the recognition in her eyes, she knew things were going
to be better now. Knowing cowboys and the ornery nature that often qualifies a
friendship, she knew she had a new friend.
No words were
needed. It was carved in stone.
Julie treasures
friends, even if they don't have their own petroglyphs, although some of them
are that old. Reach her for comment at jcarternm@gmail.com.
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