And Only One Came
Jesse called the ranch today. “One of your big gray drafts is missing,” he said. An awkward silence followed. A spring snow storm blew outside, causing the telephone line to rasp. My gut cinched tight and I sat up in my desk chair, the conversation winning my full attention. I’d been scribbling something on a notepad – I don’t remember what – figuring that Jesse was just calling to chew the fat, or perhaps to give a light-hearted report on how my horses were doing at winter pasture. Such a call was like tradition this time of year, with spring roundup a couple weeks away. It wasn’t the case. Jesse’s tone of voice was braced to deliver bad news.
“I moved your bunch to fresh pasture yesterday, and when the herd came in, the count was short. I expected to see the Percheron team lagging behind, like they usually do. But only one came. I went looking and found the other draft dead by the river.”
For 4 summers worth of roundups, I’ve wrangled my herd at dawn. The backsides of Ben and Barry, the two Percherons, were a constant vision. How many times I’ve affectionately slapped one of them on the butt to get them through the gate. Laughed at the giant scale of their bodies, and thought how they were born too large for a fenced-in world. Those two horses – two brothers – were the highlight of more summer days than any two horses combined. And the thought of one of them, a lone gray Percheron draft, jogging into the corral solo, it makes my gut feel like I’ve been pitched onto the sawbuck corner of a jack-leg fence. Worst of all, Jesse can’t tell the near-identical grays apart, so he isn’t sure which of the two has perished. I’ll make the mourner’s journey this week to find out, and to get my sadness set straight about which of the two I’m missing.
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Check out what others are saying...[...] year was different. The winter ranch manager informed me that a percheron had died, but he wasn’t sure which one. They look near-identical. I’ve been preoccupied about spring roundup, wondering which one had [...]