By Julie Carter
He wore a hat that should have had a burial five years ago, but the turkey feather stuck in the hatband was in fair shape.
The lean, wiry puncher, with his britches in his boots, was a reputation kind of cowboy - reputed for his abilities to handle cattle and horses -- and for doing things "Darrell's way."
Everybody that worked around Darrell knew there was the easy way, the hard way and Darrell's way. Darrell's way made the hard way look easy. Legend has it, Darrell wasn't afraid to make his point, if needed, with his fists.
One time Darrell had the neighbors gathered up to put a couple truckloads of fresh cattle out on wheat. The first job was to get the calves to stop running after they bailed from the back of the truck. Finally, the critters were convinced they were surrounded with Darrell riding point, a few hands on both sides and a particularly aggravating cowboy riding drag at the back
This cowboy, out of pure meanness, kept pushing the cattle up over the top of Darrell in the front in an attempt to make the cattle start running again. Darrell would ride back and give him the "what for" and then the cowboy's wife would bail into the argument. While the "discussion" often ended in a fistfight, everyone else had to stop the cattle from running off.
For all Darrell's poor ways with handling some of his help, he was better than a good hand with cattle, had a strong work ethic and made an excellent ranch foreman. While he probably could have had his choice of ranch jobs, the one that suited him best was on a ranch with rugged, rough terrain.
You see, Darrell had a weakness. He liked to ride colts. He liked it even better if they would buck before he could get them gentled down.
Horse whisperer techniques didn't interest him. His training methods included lots of miles and slow, quiet work around cattle. Darrell could get more work done on a colt than most seasoned hands on a broke horse.
One year, late in the fall, everyone who was friends enough to come help Darrell ship yearlings gathered at the Rough Ranch. It was threatening to snow but after breakfast, still in the dark, he got the entire crew horseback and headed for the backside of the outfit in a long trot.
Once there, he began dropping off hands, telling them to gather the cattle to the hilltop in the middle of the three-section brush-covered pasture. The hands knew the weather would likely catch them but also knew these cattle would cross the scales for a payday when they hit the pens, so needed to be handled slow.
The cowboys straggled to the hill top with small bunches of cattle, everyone accounted for. Darrell strung the cattle out, counted them and then counted them again.
Then he told half the crew to hold the herd and sent the rest back to the pasture to pick up strays. The weather continued to threaten and after a time, the cowboys all came back but no one had found any more cattle.
They drove the herd to the pens, weighed and put them on the waiting trucks. Darrell reported to the Rough Ranch owner that every head had been accounted for.
Later in the day, someone asked Darrell why he had sent the crew looking for strays if he already had the right count. He didn't answer, but anyone that knew Darrell knew what the deal was. He simply wanted to put a few more miles on his colt before the day was over.
There is the easy way, the hard way and Darrell's way.
© Julie Carter 2007
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