Published: January 29, 2008 11:17 am            

Making good on a bet

Lisa Hood, Democrat Columnist

Old timers love to tell you how much a dollar would buy “back in the day.” An older, father-figure friend of mine told me about an experience he had when he was about eight years old. Some men and teenage ranch hands were working cows in a corral along with his father who was the ranch manager. Before the days of pour-on Ivomec and other modern veterinary medicines, cowboys had to run the stock through dipping vats to get the ticks and other parasites off of the animals.

It was a long, hot, messy business. Although the cowhands were tired, they still had enough energy to contrive some mischief. One overly confident boy boasted that he could ride a wild cow that they had just worked. She had ripped and snorted, bucked and pawed at them and even offered to launch a few of those skinny kids over the rail fence. They all thought the boy was crazy for making such an outlandish offer.

Before long, all the boys started betting against him until there was a kitty that contained a whopping $3.75. That was a lot of money back in those days, according to my friend. He should know. His father worked from daylight until dark on that ranch for $1.25 a day. “With $3.75, you could fill up the back end of a pick up truck with groceries,” my friend explained, trying to put the dollars in perspective for today.

My friend, who was a little boy back then, was just trying to stay out of the way. He stood shyly off to the side, watching all the action and listening to all the coarse talk and boyish bragging. He wondered how it would all end. Would the teenage cowboy get bucked off and tramped to death trying to prove his manliness to his buddies?

After the last coin had been scrounged from dirty pockets, saddle bags and truck seats, the boy agreed to help them saddle the cow and take whatever whipping she could muster. It took most of the kids to rope the antsy cow. A couple of the bigger boys grabbed her by the head out in the middle of the corral. Another two or three boys proceeded to lay a blanket and saddle on her boney back and cinch it up.

The bragging teenager didn’t seem so bold now that it was time to make good on his bet, but he didn’t dare back down. The teenage boys and the other cowhands gathered around to watch the cocky youngster get his comeuppance. While they held the cow in a headlock, he nervously climbed up on her back. She flared her damp nostrils and breathed heavily. He gripped the saddle horn with his sweaty hands and wrapped his legs around her belly. All at once, the kids stepped away from the killer cow and waited anxiously for the wild rumpus to start. Nothing happened.

That old cow just sulled up and wouldn’t take a step. All the boys got behind her yelling and slapping her with their caps. They goaded her with cattle prods, whistling and hollering hoping to see their friend take a tumble in the dust. They had spent most of their hard earned wages for this little rodeo and they didn’t want to be disappointed. But the more they antagonized the cow, the more sullen she became. She bowed up her back, bent her head low to the ground and snorted but refused to budge. After a few minutes, they gave up all hope of any real entertainment.

Finally, the young braggart unceremoniously stepped off the pouting cow, greatly relieved. Amid much cussing and bitter protests of injustice, that brave boy collected the unbelievable fortune and stuffed it into his pockets before they changed their minds.

Some gambles are worth taking. That boy would be rich for a month, but he’d have some serious bragging rights from then on.

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Lisa Hood lives with her husband and three children near Priddy, Texas, where she teaches Spanish, English and Art. You may reach her with comments at larkhood@centex.net.

        

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