It took almost an hour just to reach the five on the east bank. We sat there with all seven for a moment to catch our breath.
“We’ve got to keep them out of the woods,” she said. “I want you to keep the rear here and prevent them from turning around. I’ll flank their left and prevent them from scaring off. We’ll use the lake to our advantage. They’ll avoid the deeper water.”
I nodded.
My job was fairly easy, pulling left or right to prevent them from turning but Cricket? Cricket was like flipping Houdini. One second she was casually setting a single heifer back into line, the next she was corralling all seven with what seemed like a single surge of her horse. Every single movement was calculated with not a single waste of energy, and she did it all flawlessly. She made it look effortless, when I know for a fact it was an orchestrated and anticipated dance. She was incredible. She was impressive. She was undeniably the most fascinating creature I’d ever known.
When we drew close to the herd, Cricket ran the strays toward the mass, and they seemed happy to be back. She turned around and met me.
“Is that Emmett on a horse?” I asked.
“Yeah, he always helps with the drives. No one save for Jonah has his instincts, and Jonah’s are premature. He can practically draw out the herd’s reactions on a piece of paper before we even set out.”
As if he knew we were talking about him, Emmett came riding up, whistling at a stubborn cow. “How’d you do, greenhorn?”
“Ask your granddaughter,” I answered with a smile.
The herd mooed, spooked and were altogether ridiculously noisy. That, coupled with the “ha’s” and whistles from the ranch hands, and we had to raise our voices to hear one another.
“He didn’t do too badly,” Cricket told him, winking at me. I almost fell off my horse. “Is everyone in?”
“Ethan’s still wrangling up five head pretty far from here. Somehow they got around that fence on the north side of the property.”
“How many in all?” she asked.
“About ninety-three. We’ve got most of them though. Should be on our way soon.”
Cricket nodded as Emmett headed back into the herd, then pulled her scarf over her mouth, making her look like an old-fashioned bandit. I did the same. The warmth from my breath was a nice reprieve.
“Bonnie,” I called to her.
“Yeah, Clyde,” she deftly responded, making me laugh.
“How long will it take to drive the herd?” I yelled.
“It takes about four hours. There’s a bit of road we have to cross to get to the main ranch. That’s always a pain in the ass as the cattle spook easily by passing cars. They get confused.”
“Why is there a public road running through the middle of your property?”
“It’s thousands of acres, Spencer, and when the city comes knocking on your door with a paper stating ‘eminent domain,’ you don’t really have a choice but to comply.”
I nodded.
“Did they at least pay you for it?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.”
“Exactly.”
A sharp whistle caught our attention. Emmett made a loop signal with his arm and everyone fell into place. Emmett up front, Jonah and a ranch hand I couldn’t remember the name of to his left and right, Ethan and his dad behind them, ranch hands Pete and Drew behind them, and Cricket and me in the back. All the dogs were scattered around except for Eugie, and they were like little well-oiled machines, checking unruly cattle and keeping them in line. I was fascinated watching them work in sync with such incredible efficiency.
“Hope you feed those dogs well,” I said.
“Oh, they eat like kings,” Cricket laughed.
Suddenly, I saw Ellie ride up and join Jonah’s side.
“Your grandma is helping?” I asked in disbelief.
“She’s a tough old bird. Nothing could keep her from this. Driving is her favorite part of the ranch. Grandma strives for adventure. She always rides point right behind Pop Pop.”
“Point,” I said.
“Yeah, if this were, say, a hundred years ago and we were driving the cattle for weeks, Pop Pop’s position would be called ‘trail boss,’ Jonah and Joe would be ‘point,’ Ethan and Huck would be ‘swing,’ Pete and Drew would be ‘flank’ and you and I would be the ‘drag.’”
“Cool,” I said, interested in what she was talking about, possibly because I sat at the rear of five thousand cattle, or more possibly because it was Cricket talking and anything she said fascinated me. “How do you know all this?”
“I used to read my great-great-grandfather’s journals. He used to ride the trails as a hired hand before he settled here.”
We began the drive about an hour after sunrise, which was welcome, because it had already begun to warm us through. Halfway there, I was starting to sweat because I was working so hard to keep my section of cattle from going renegade. I would look over at Cricket and just the slightest movements on her horse would influence her cattle. I found myself studying her, learning how she anticipated their actions and trying to emulate her. About an hour into it and I thought I’d gotten the knack of it until one cow shot out of the herd like someone had smacked her. All the dogs were occupied, so it was left up to me to get her back.
I banked my horse left and chased after her but every time she would shoot right, I would overcorrect and miss her. She kept slipping out from my control, and I was starting to get frustrated. I heard Cricket come galloping behind me. I turned around to gesture for her to return to the herd, that come hell or high water, I was going to get this troublesome cow back to the group, but I was stunned silent when she pulled out her rope and started swinging it over her head. In one try, she roped the cow’s neck. She turned to return to the group and I watched her slack-jawed, my gaping mouth refusing to close. Damn.