Tall Tale: The Bronc

Catron Courier - - Opinions & Editorials - By Ralph John­son

When the dust fi­nally set­tled, there I lay on the ground.

A part­ing ges­ture from a Bronc, Whence he came un­wound.

And so I lay there like I was in a dream more dead than alive with­out a doubt

Then I heard some­one yell at me, “get up, get up” I heard them shout.

Sure enough that Dam Bronc was a Bar­relin’ down on me to fin­ish me off.

But the cob­webs in my brain just wouldn’t turn on the lights,

I knew it was fixin’ to get mighty rough.

Some­how he missed me by a hair, as I felt him go by.

Sud­denly I came to just in the nick of time as I rolled to the fence As he gave me an­other try. But again I nar­rowly es­caped the wrath of that four legged beast.

That cayuse was plum loco to say the least.

I be­gan to doubt if and that Bronc could be rode

But there’s more than one way to skin a coon, so as I’d been told.

Tom and Bill came run­ning to my aid

While I was shakin’ the cob­webs out of my head, un­der­neath the fence Where I laid. “Gosh O Fri­day,” Tom said, “For a minute there we thought you was done for.

That dang hoss is plum mean to his core.”

“Ya, be­fore you know it,” I said, “He’ll be eatin’ out of my hand.

You just hide and watch he’ll be a meek as a lamb.”

“I don’t know,” Bill said, “That cayuse is a lot worse that ole Big Red or even that

Widow maker or but­ter­cup over to the S lazy 6 Ranch.

“Ya,” I says, “he’s a hand­ful, but don’t you fret none, Bill,

There ain’t never been a hoss that couldn’t be rode or

Cow­boy that couldn’t be throwed.

And I’m willin’ to take that chance.

He ain’t the first out­law cabayo that’s made me eat dirt.”

But he’s the only one that ever rang my bell and that hurt.

“Well, boys,” I say, “all the bull hocky aside, its high time we set and strate­gizes.

That hoss has sided with the devil and you can see it in his eyes.

That hoss could cause a good Cow­boy a lot of grief

when it comes to count­ing sticks and stones.

He’s a live wire and he ain’t afeared to try and break your bones.”

So we con­tem­plated the mat­ter of this wild cayuse.

There were sev­eral meth­ods we could try but they came to no use.

So we roped him and snubbed him to a post,

While we tossed the mat­ter over some more.

I told Tom and Bill we’ve had knot-headed Bronc’s like this be­fore.

We fi­nally de­cided the plan of ac­tion we was to take be that as it may

Snub­bin’ him short to Ole Big Red that Bronc

was a fixin’ to learn a new trick that day.

Then we duck taped his nose so he wouldn’t bite Bill,

while he pulled me around the pen.

Then we put the blind on and I mounted him again.

“Let’s go, Bill” I said and he put Ole Big Red in com­pound and away we went.

It didn’t take long to find out who paid the rent.

Around and around we went and the more he fought,

The harder Ole Big Red pulled I seen what Ole Big Red could do to two thou­sand pound bull.

Round and round we went, I felt we were win­ning the fight.

When of a sud­den the lead rope broke, once again he took flight

Like a shot from a can­non he went for the sky.

This is it I thought come do or die I had to give this Bronc a try.

For a sec­ond there I thought I seen him a snortin’ red fire from his nose.

We come down from heaven a headed for hell,

He shook me to the core plumb down to my toes.

He had more ducks and dives and turns than a snake with wings

But I had a spur to his hide and I was ready for any­thing.

But I had my doubts you might say, whether or not I could stay With this whirl­wind Bronc But af­ter about what seemed like an eter­nity I was still aboard this three-year-old punk. Much to my sur­prise I felt him giv­ing up the fight.

“This ain’t over with yet,” I said to him, “Not by a long sight.”

But he bucked a few more times a last ditch ef­fort to set me on the ground Like he done be­fore. Then he come down to a trot but I knew he was full of tricks, so I waited for more.

Tom and Bill were a hoopin’ and a hal­lerin’ plum out of con­trol.

As I put him to a high lope around the pen we went just as fast as he would go

He quickly lost the will to fight as he gave to my hand

I knew there’d be a few more bat­tles be­twist me and this Blue Cay­oose

Who would be the type of hoss not just for any man.

But I liked him well, for I liked the moves he had.

Quick and smooth to the hand or leg, I was sure glad.

That was more than a year ago to the day.

Ole Blue will still buck you off in a sport­ing sort of way.

It’s his way of telling you he’s still got a lit­tle devil in him Cause he likes to play. Es­pe­cially if Tom and Bill ride him. Ya, he’s a one man kind of horse.

What can I say.

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