Hidden Mountain Ranch

She had learned everything about wrangling cows through movies. The handsome cowboys, atop massive brave horses, simply shouted and whistled, threw their lassoes about their heads in a sexy inviting way, and the herd moved magically in the right direction, staying in a tight organized formation.

As it was, she found herself very mistaken. Cows tended to go in whichever direction they pleased, the herd was confused and ignorant, massive sweaty half ton bodies careening into each other and the cowboys. It was a dangerous game they played. Jessi sat atop her trotting horse, watching the other four finesse their way through the angry and frightened herd. She kept her eye on Sarah, who looked at home, all hundred and ten pounds of feminine female flesh glued fluidly to the eight hundred pound steam engine of pure horse muscle beneath her. Together, woman and horse a magnificent picture as she cat called and whistled, keeping her portion of the fifty head of cow in line. Jessi could nearly see the unspoken, unheard lines of communication between Sarah and her horse Artax, between Sarah and the other three cowboys. Each knew where to be and when to be there, guiding the cows through the wide plains. Jessi wished she had a camera; wished she could remember this moment, keep it fresh in her mind. The power of the herd, the grace of human and horse as they rode hard and fast in the midst of so much confusion. She wished she could participate, knowing she would only bring more disorder.

As she watched, a young calf broke from the herd, bearing directly towards the deadly crevice they had been traveling parallel to. The calf was certainly small enough to fall through and Jessi gave a panicked shout to Sarah. Her words were eaten by the thunderous echo of heavy hooves. Even if Sarah had heard her, she would never make it in time to save the yet scrambling calf from falling into the terrible fracture. Beneath her, Jacks, pulled at the reigns, kicked his feet.

“Oh no, no no.” She shook her head. “No way, Jacks. We’ll get ourselves killed.” She watched in horror as the calf continued it harried journey towards certain death. “Oh shit. I can’t do this. I can’t watch this.” She made to turn Jacks away from the terrible scene, but the horse refused, prancing, half bucking, muscle bunching angrily between her knees. She knew what she wanted to do, knew what she should do, knew that if she stood by, the calf would die a horrifying death. She would never be able to leave the memory behind, never rid herself the knowledge that her inaction caused the death of an innocent animal. Tears stung her eyes as her mind refused to allow her to give in.

“If you get us killed, I’ll never forgive you.” Jessi whispered to the anxious horse and nudged her heels into Jacks sides. The horse took off like a shot and she clung with her knees and heels, letting her control go, forcing herself to trust the racing horse. She slung herself low over Jacks neck, intertwined her fingers into his mane, the reigns loose in her hands, giving him his own lead as they thundered across the dry land. She felt the excitement of so much muscle and strength and power, sank deep into the fury, allowed herself to become a part of that mighty force as they raced towards the young frightened calf and the deep cleft.