I got a call from my pard in Billings. He told me that another bud of ours, J.B., was living down here in Texas and wanted a place to team rope. Maybe even win a few bucks for fuel and a sandwich.
Tyler told me that J.B. was living behind a sale barn, watching out for the cattle after the owners left for the evening, and that helped pay for his room and board. The sale barn was about two and a half hours north of me, and the drive wouldn't be a problem for someone who had driven in from Montana just a couple weeks ago. J. B. wanted to meet a few people and see the Lone Star State in all its glory.
He might also find a gal to spend some time with.
I told Tyler to give J.B. my number and get him to call me. There was a roping around here almost every night, and we could find somewhere to run his ol' horse and spook a few steers in the process.
About four or five days later, J.B. called. He said he was headed my way and to find a place to run. I told him I had a place for him to stay and a barn to keep his pony in.
J.B. stopped at the truck stop near the interstate to have breakfast. You see, he never misses a meal, and a pretty good meal they have at the truck stop.
As J.B. was leaving, there was a fellow standing at his trailer. The fellow appeared to be waiting more than looking at J.B.'s gray gelding. As J.B. approached, the fellow stuck out his hand and introduced himself. He said he saw the horse and wondered if J.B. was in the horse-hauling business.
J.B. said, "No. I'm not. I'm headed to Brazoria, Texas, down on the coast, to rope a little bit."
The fellow continued on, saying he had a horse he needed to get to Columbus, about 40 miles down the road, and he had other things he needed to get done today. Offered to pay J.B. for the trip and his time.
J.B. figured that a 30-minute trip wouldn't mess up his schedule too bad, and he needed the dough, and we wouldn't be roping for many hours to come.
"Yeah," J.B. said, "I'll haul yer horse fer ya. Just jump him up in the trailer, and I'll scat down the road. You got directions to the delivery place?"
The directions were explained, the horse was loaded, J.B. was paid, and he headed west. I live south from there.
So J.B. was headed west with an extra horse in the trailer and a few bucks fer the entry fee at tonight's team roping. He and the ol' Ford he was driving reached the delivery place in just a few minutes. The man who ran the ranch was waiting for him, so it didn't take long for them both to unload the horse and for J.B. to git his mind on heading south and into Brazoria County.
As J.B. made the last final steps to the driver's-side door, the ranch manager asked if J.B. hauled horses for a living.
"No, not really."
The ranch manager said, "That's too bad. I have a couple horses that I need hauled, and I just don't have the time to get them to where they need to go."
J.B. rolled his eyes and asked where they need to go.
"San Antone," the ranch manager said. "Just west of town there. It's easy to find, and I'll pay ya, of course."
J.B. decided that a few extra dollars in the kitty wouldn't hurt, and he didn't really think I would mind putting off the roping for one night. He decided he could call and explain and it would be all right. No problem.
Two sleek, fast-looking horses were loaded up, one bay and a sorrel. The directions were written down, and J.B. was again headed west.
Past Luling, through Seguin, and San Antonio came into view. Around the loop of San Antonio, head west as per the directions, and soon the object stables were in sight. The stable hands were all expecting these two horses, and they were unloaded quickly.
As J.B. opened the door to his truck, a new voice opened up.
"You haul horses for a living? I'm the trainer here, and I have a couple horses we need to get to the track, but I still have a couple days of work to get done before I can really leave here."
The trainer told him the directions to the track, and, in less than an hour, J.B. was on the road, this time headed west to Ruidoso, New Mexico.
As J.B. pulled onto the interstate he was thinking, "I'll just call Cowboy and tell him I'll be there for the weekend and find a couple jackpots to enter up in."
Just about noon that next day, the race track came into view. J.B. had seen some races on television that had been broadcast from there, but being there in person impressed him a lot more. Anyway, he got both running ponies unloaded, still had his roping gelding in the front stall, and was headed back to my town. Or so he thought.
"Hold up there," said the track manager. "You haul horses for a living?"
J.B. thought real quick this time. "Sure do. What do you have and where do they go?"
It was just one horse this time, and the directions ended with "stay on Interstate 25, and, about five miles north of Denver"
J.B. was on his way to Denver... COLORADO!!
The trip didn't take as long as he thought it would, and the training facility was easy to find north of Denver on the right, green barns and roomy pastures. A high-spirited horse that unloaded easily soon found a new home with fresh-cut hay and a few cans of grain to welcome him.
J.B. hadn't made it to the truck yet, when he heard, "You haul horses for a living?"
My pard turned around to see the stable manager standing with a questioning look on his face.
"Yes, sir, I do. And I'm making a pretty good living at it, too."
"Well," said the feller, "I have two, and they need to be on the other side of Cheyenne, Wyoming this afternoon."
"No problem," said J.B. "Let's get them loaded."
The place where these two horses needed to be was the other side of Cheyenne, all right. Actually closer to Casper. But they all arrived in due time and on schedule.
While J.B. and one of the ranch hands were unloading the two horses, J.B. happened to ask, "Do you have any horses on the place that might need to be transported anywhere?"
"No, sir, not that I know of. And the boss won't be back for a few days."
So J.B. was close to Casper, Wyoming, had a pocket full of cash, and was still hankering to rope steers. Since he was too far away to make the ones I had scheduled, he asked if there were any jackpots in the area that he might be able to rope in.
"Sure," said the cowboy. "Plenty. There's one in Greybull and one in Thermopolis, just off the top of my head."
"Those'll do just fine," replied J.B. "Thank you kindly."
J.B. headed out the gate and turned north!
J.B. caught a few steers and made off with a little bit of the local guys' hard-earned cash. He placed first in one jackpot and was even invited back again to rope next week. He said he didn't know if he would be able to make it or not, but, if he was in the area, he might just be there.
After looking at the atlas while sitting in a roadside park, J.B. decided he might not be able to make it to Brazoria County, Texas. After all, he was just a few hours from his own original home ranch in Montana. He headed for Custer.
The ranch hadn't changed much in the three months he had been gone. His mom was sure proud to see him.
He still hasn't made it to Brazoria, and he still hasn't called to tell me to withdraw him from the jackpots. But I'll see him the next time I'm in that Big Sky Country.
