PRESSED BETWEEN THE PAGES
DeAnn (Wolkow) Kruempel
Donald Saves the Drive
“Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, keep them dogies rollin’...” The theme song from Rawhide lured Delmer and me into our living room on Friday nights. The 1960s TV series spotlighted trail boss Gil Favor and ramrod Rowdy Yates as they led cattle drives from Texas to Missouri. The drovers had to wrangle stampedes, raging rivers, treacherous mountain passes, anthrax and bandits on the dusty trail.
On our South Dakota farm, we had a couple cattle drives every year. Though our drives were nothing to sing about around the campfire, (Gil and Rowdy would have branded us tenderfeet.) almost every year we rounded up an adventure to remember. Pressed between the pages of my brother Delmer’s mind is one particular drive when Donald saved the day.
Our herd, consisting mostly of Herefords, spent the summer at the south pasture grazing on lush prairie grasses while the young calves grew sleek and strong. In the fall, the bovines needed to come back to the farm, close to hay stacks, the water tank and the barnyard where they would be safe in the winter.
Dad lassoed the whole family into becoming drovers for the day. Though the distance was less than a mile, there were plenty of places a cow or calf could get off track. Mom and one of the older girls took the car to the place where two gravel roads crossed.
They rounded up a couple of branches from the ditch and stood on both sides trying to look scary so the cows didn’t turn the wrong way. One of the other girls waited in the neighbor’s driveway to prevent the critters from grazing their garden. Delmer and I covered the open gate to the oat field as well as the unfenced area beyond. Dad and Donald rounded up the cattle with the pickup and got them started on the dirt road that led home. Donald rode in the back, quick to hop out to open and shut gates and be on the lookout for trouble.
This particular fall, all was going well. (Wishbone was ready to park the chuckwagon in the yard and celebrate with good old salt pork and beans!) The lead cow remembered the way home. Her friends hoofed it right behind her. She turned into the yard and headed for the barn.
Every one of us heaved a sigh of relief when the cattle passed our station. Maybe this year would go on record as the perfect drive. But, as most wranglers know, life is never perfect.
Seems one lonesome calf decided the grass was greener on the other side of the ditch. He veered off into the field, teenage rebellion kicking in.
Dad spotted the wayward calf right away. He checked to make sure his older son wouldn’t be bucked off the pickup and steered into the field. As the rest of the family looked on, we were probably thinking of handy horses and lariats. What would Rowdy do? At last Dad maneuvered around right next to that ornery calf. Suddenly, quicker than you can say “bronc-buster,” my brother leaped off the pickup onto the back of the dogged dogie, bulldogging him and pinning him to the ground.
With the thrill of victory, Don lifted his head and brandished his signature smirk. Yep, I reckon even Rowdy would have been proud!
Read another of Kruempel’s cattle drive stories in “Once Upon a Midwest Sunset,” her sixth book. Available at Amazon. Signed copies available at Harrison County Welcome Center.
