By Julie Carter
Cowboys are generally good ol' boys but they are also fairly set in their notions about certain things. They pride themselves in being able to read cattle and read each other when it comes to quality and skill.
Dan had seen twelve summers and was spending his school vacation working for his grandpa on the Matador Ranch in northwest Texas. His grandpa was a top hand and had worked on the historic, sprawling, short-grass ranch since he was a kid himself.
Grandpa had two sons who were "going down the road" trying to make their living in the rodeo arena. They were good enough to win their entry fee money back and a fair amount of walking around money with fast times in the calf roping events around Texas.
These pretty-fair ropers were Dan's uncles and they were coming home July 4 to enter the big calf roping at Post.
Dan was doing a man's work and had a man's string of horses assigned to him. However, since he was the last "man" hired, he hadn't gotten the best pick of ranch horses from the herd.
In his string was a big, tall rawboned gelding - heavy-made indicating some Percheron blood somewhere not too far back in his lineage. Dan decided he would make the perfect calf roping horse.
Every day after evening chores, Dan would practice his calf roping. He and his new good horse had gotten adequately quick and accurate. Dan was ready for his pro-rodeo uncles to come home.
When the uncles were getting ready to head to the rodeo, they invited Dan to tag along. He'd been waiting for that very moment.
He appeared that morning in a sparkling white T-shirt, some well-experienced Wranglers and his work boots. Topping off this glory was a brand new straw hat he'd bought with his last paycheck. The hat was not your typical George Strait model but more along the lines of a Farmer Brown version.
The pro-rodeo uncles looked him over and said, "Good grief, boy, we're goin' to a roping - not to hoe cotton."
Dan smiled. He had a plan and thought he looked just right for it.
In the usual behind-the-chutes competition assessment, the calf ropers looked each other over and began estimating what kind of a fast time it would take to win the event judging by the look of those entered up.
Dan ambled by in his long-legged, double-jointed style with his new hat pulled down tight and leading his extra-large feather-legged horse. The serious ropers didn't even give him a passing glance.
Every roper, except Dan, had made their run - giving it their best shot. Those that did well were already mentally spending the prize money. But there was one more cowboy to go.
Dan settled his big horse in the roping box, shot out as the barrier snapped back, threw a deadly loop, flew off his horse like a cat, flanked the calf and applied a lightning-quick wrap and hooey. Throwing his hands in the air, the clock stopped and the crowd went wild.
When the dust settled and the crowd quieted down, the announcer gave Dan's time. He not only won the event, he had set an arena record.
There wasn't a whole lot of talk about cotton farming on the way home that evening.
Marty Robbins made the "Cowboy in the Continental Suit" famous, but to this day when ropers gather for a cool one at the Chute One watering hole in Post, Texas, there is still talk about the kid in the Farmer Brown hat.
© Julie Carter 2006
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