Darrell J. Wiens is Professor Emeritus of Biology at the University of Northern Iowa, now living and writing short stories in Kansas City, Missouri.  He grew up on a farm near Inman, Kansas.  An award-winning teacher, researcher, and mentor, he is author of 27 scientific papers and 53 research presentations, most co-authored with students from his laboratory.  He has previously published six short stories.  Judy Bryant is a retired bank officer living in Monte Vista, Colorado. She also grew up on a farm near Inman, Kansas.  She contributed to Cowgirls Tough.

Cowgirls Tough

By Darrell J. Wiens and Judy Bryant

Julie lodged the rake under her arm and leaned back against a fencepost…a quick break would ease the foot pain.  Purple crocuses and bright yellow daffodils glimmered in the Colorado sun along her property boundary, their early spring audacity evoking enough delight in her to gradually ease the pain.  Not an injury, her left foot was deformed by polio early in childhood, and she had made her way ably through into this, her seventh decade, without excess impediment or anguish.  But it seemed the foot was trying to match strides with her now, registering its complaints a little more forcefully.  I can tough this out, she vowed, her habit.  Looking across her greening yard she thought of her dad, a real Kansas cowboy.  He would tell her that foot was a long way from her heart.  The man wouldn’t even see a doctor when he got bucked off a horse, sometimes breaking a rib or two.  He used to go to the horse sale in South Hutch to pick up unbroken horses, break them, and then take them back as “green broke” to sell.  Cowboy, clear to the bone.  But not so much in his later years…  Must toughness fade?

As she returned to her raking, an old workhorse pickup bounced into her alley and rattled to a stop in her driveway.  It was Annie, a friend she had known since her divorce thirty-some years ago.  Annie had helped her cope with things back then, often taking in her five-year-old son to watch while Julie worked at the bank or ran errands.  They were about the same age and Annie was always home with her own five-year-old, along with a toddler, both boys.  Back then they thought of themselves as sisters raising three little boys who played together well.  They shared a lot then as close friends, almost neighbors when she lived in the country not far from Annie and Tom’s ranch.  But she resided in town now, and somewhere along the way they had gradually lost touch without intending it.

Julie straightened up.  “Annie!  What a great surprise to see you!  It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”  Annie climbed out of her truck, and they hugged.

“Well dang it Julie, it’s good to see you again!  It’s not like I haven’t thought aboutcha.  I  bin wantin’ to get together.  And now you’re all retired and workin’ to keep your yard lookin’ good on this fine spring day.  Good for you!”

“Well I do my best here, but my bum foot gets mad at me after a while.  How are you doing these days?  You look good!”

“Oh, I’m doin’ alright.  I’ve got that damned prediabetes, which has me watchin’ my diet, but otherwise I’m fine.  Heck, we’re gettin’ along pretty good for being old ladies on our own, ain’t we?”

“Yep, we are, and we’re not so very old yet.  Hey, you got time for a cup of tea inside…without sugar, I know.”

“I do, an’ you are sugar enough for me.  It’s time we caught up with each another.”

Well yes, it is!  C’mon in.  I’ll heat some water on the stove, and we can sit and visit.”  Julie propped her rake against the fence.  They turned toward the back door and went into Julie’s red brick two-story talking.  At the kitchen table they visited earnestly, catching up and remembering what great friends they were.  Eventually the expressions on Annie’s face began to show slight distractions.  She drained her mug of tea and set it down abruptly, looking across at her old friend thoughtfully.

“Julie, I’ve got somethin’ on my mind I wanted to talk over with ya.  It’s business.  That all right?”

“Absolutely, what’s on your mind?”

“Okay.” Her face became more serious, and she leaned forward, right hand down on the table.  “Well it’s got to do with my ranch.  After Tom died fifteen years ago, I wanted to stay out there.  You know, the place has been in my family for three generations and I’m the only one left in mine.  I grew up there, I own it, an’ it’s part of me.  So far, I’ve managed to keep a-goin’.  But there came a time the Angus herd Tom and I started with was just not makin’ it financially, and I didn’t have the means to get bigger, prob’ly the only way forward.  So I made the decision to do somethin’ different.  I sold the red Angus––I did get a good price––and I bought fifty head of Texas Longhorns.  Then I hired my son-in-law Diego to watch and manage the herd, the fencing, and the irrigated hay fields.  My sons didn’t want no future in farmin’, but my girl Sandi and her husband did.  Diego’s real good, loves the Longhorns.  Later I hired their oldest boy, my grandson Juan, to work with him.  He’s twenty-one now.  They’ve been an asset and I respect their work a lot.”

“Wow, Annie, Longhorns?  Why’d you decide on that?”  Julie poured to replenish their tea.

“That’s a real good question, Julie.  I’m still ponderin’ it.  But I did it and I’m of a mind to think I was right.  I believed I needed a more specialized product that would be of interest beyond just beef…just meat, ya know?  I had no control over what the buyers would pay, and I really couldn’t jest get bigger, which is what most ranchers were doin’.

“Let me tell you about Longhorns.  My cattle are registered with West Texas Longhorn Breeders Association.  These cows have a reputation as good milk producers and easy calving.  They are resilient and docile––downright friendly I’d say––so they don’t need so much attention.  Bodies are long and lean, so their meat is lean and flavorful, better than most breeds, plus it’s lower in cholesterol and calories than even white meat.  It’s healthy, an’ I don’t treat ‘em with any hormones or antibiotics.  You get the idea.

“They carry a calf about 280 days and live into their twenties.  With their horns they kin defend against coyotes or wolves, and they kin thrive in ‘most any environment from Texas heat to harsh cold like we’ve got here with our long winters.  They might look aggressive––I’d say they’re not.  They don’t like fences, but Diego and Juan can manage that.

“And here’s what tipped the scales for me:  their horns, hides, even skulls and mounted heads are marketable as décor for businesses, museums, and homes…it’s not a big market, but you don’t see no mounted Angus heads on display in restaurants and bars.  You’ll sure as heck see them long horns though!  So I went with my gut and took the leap.”

“You have a herd of Texas Longhorn cattle?  I had no idea, Annie!  That’s so interesting.  You really thought things through.  I love those cattle…how they look, and their history here in the West.  In my time down at the bank I wrote a few loans for ranchers, but I never ran across one for a Longhorn investment, or anything specialized like that.” Julie felt a hunch growing about why her friend was paying her a visit.

Annie took a sip of tea and sat back in her chair.  “It was a gamble, but I had to do somethin’.  I couldn’t make a small ranch work the way things were.  I was at the mercy of the market for beef, an’ when the prices went down, I couldn’t make ends meet.  Plus… you know, I just cain’t get interested in chickens, rabbits, or goats…

“Now listen to me:  I love my ancestral ranch, and I love these cows––I was right about them Julie.  I’ll tell you things was okay for a while.  Diego an’ Juan an’ me, and the Longhorns, we’ve been a good team, and we were making it work for several years.  Then, during the covid times, beef prices were up, almost nine percent.  Things were looking pretty good.  I even sold some carcasses to slaughterhouses for décor buyers, and then I was cultivatin’ some of them meat buyers for health food restaurants.”

“I’m impressed, Annie.  It sounds like a pretty smart business venture.  So now, what?  Are you going to tell me you’re running into trouble?”  Julie looked her in the eyes.

Annie paused, looking around thinking, and then level straight at her friend.  “Julie, kin we just drive out there…I mean right now?  I’d sure love to show you my cows.  Bet you’ve never seen Longhorns at home on the range!”

Julie laughed.  Then a warm smile broke for her old friend.  “Well sure!  I’ve got time.  And I do have a pair of boots––just let me put ‘em on and I’ll be ready.  I’ll follow you in my Ford Escape.”  Julie felt a thrill run up and down her spine like a girl on the way to a rodeo as she pulled on her Justins.  Her bum foot slid in slick as cream gravy. 

The drive out north of town brought back memories for Julie, especially as she passed the house she had lived in long ago.  She had a red-haired little boy then and that porch was where they had played on spring days like this.  Annie’s place was just a little farther on, and it looked much like it had before, homey and western with spring flowers around the house.  Annie had parked in the yard toward the barn and had a gate open to a pasture.  She motioned for Julie to park and get into the truck with her.

“You hold on now.  We’re gonna go down a rough trail into my west pasture over to where they’ll be grazing near a stock tank if I ain’t wrong.  It’ll be bumpier than you’re prob’ly used to.  She put the truck in a low gear so that they just crept along, but deep ruts and numerous rocks threw their bodies back and forth.  After several minutes, they emerged from the trail and up onto level ground near the tank.  Annie turned the truck to face back around and then shut off the engine.  Julie opened her door with a loud creak and stepped down admiring the way her Westins looked on the pasture grass but feeling slight motion sickness.  She saw that Annie was pulling down the tailgate to sit, so she walked around and plopped down next to her.

 She looked up and there they were:  Annie’s cattle were grazing on abundant short grass, their majestic horns looking thicker, longer, and more fearsome than Julie remembered.  The distant ranges of the San Juan mountains perfected the scene.  In that pasture the herd could have been in a painting by Frederick Remington or Charles Marion Russell, lacking only mounted cowhands with hats and lariats.  She gazed at the peaceful cattle, taking in their poise and majesty.

Annie pulled out a small cigar and lit it. “They’re sumthin’ special, ain’t they?” 

“They really are…I see why you love them.”

Annie blew out a stream of smoke.  Its aroma mixed with that of the cattle, and it took Julie back to the times her dad took her along to the sale barns in Kansas when she was a girl.

* * *

Annie turned to her friend and sighed.  “You were a loan agent down at Farmers and Merchants before you retired.  I’m not surprised if you might be wonderin’ why I came to see you.  Course I just wanted to connect with you again, that’s first, Julie.  But I do have a problem and I wanted to ask what you think about it, see if you have any advice.  Her eyes narrowed and her brow creased.  “Truth is, Longhorn cattle ain’t no different from any other investment.  Prices fluctuate.  Spending more than you can afford on anything hoping that it gains you some decent profits is a gamble.  Sometimes it pays off, but most times it don’t.  I’m pretty deep in debt to the other bank in town, an’ prices are down again.”

Julie looked at her friend.  She reached over and took the cigar from her hand, drew in a drag, and gave it back.  She shared a warm smile.  “I’d dearly like to help you, Annie, but I don’t know…I’d have to look at the numbers…and it’s been a while now.”

“There’s somethin’ else to tell, Julie.  I got two offers on this place this past winter.  One of ‘em is from Sam Simpson, one of my neighbors, and he wants to buy me out.  An’ then the Coors beer company––they’ve been buying up land around here an’ plantin’ barley in it fence to fence.  So if I take one offer, my pretty pastures get converted into big barley fields.  An’ if take the other, which ain’t as much, it stays as ranch land, but it’ll be Sam’s, that old fart.  Either way my Longhorns are gone.”

Julie felt deep sympathy for her friend.  She had dealt with good people in financial stress, and it always triggered sad feelings, but this was her old friend, a close old friend.  She realized that one must face realities, and that Annie had always been a feisty woman, probably tougher now than she had been as the young mother she knew many years ago.  The picturesque cattle herd before her deepened her reverie––one cow had its head up, turned looking at her.  She searched her mind for ideas, ignoring a twinge of pain from her foot.

“Have you thought about looking into applying to the U.S. Department of the Interior for Historic Preservation, or maybe to the Nature Conservancy?  That’s a nonprofit organization based in Kansas City.”

“As a matter of fact, I have.  I talked with a fella at the Nature Conservancy on the phone back in January.  He was sympathetic, but he thought the interests of their organization lie more toward preserving whole ecosystems, threatened species, and natural resources.  A small ranch like mine probably wouldn’t qualify.  He thought I might look into Colorado organizations like Centennial Farms & Ranches.  So I did.  I called their office in Denver.  They sounded interested and they sent me a link to their application form.  I have started to work on it––it’s darned long and asks for pictures and a whole lot of information.  I’m gonna finish it, but he also told me it’ll take time.  I ain’t got a lotta that, Julie.  Bank’s been makin’ noises at me for months now.  Pretty sure that federal gov historic outfit sure wouldn’t work any faster, if ya catch my drift.”

Julie nodded.  She scratched her head and then mooched another drag from the cigar.  “Okay Annie.  I’ve got one other idea.

“My son Matt designs websites.  He’s a loner and a wanderer, and he lives in a van he drives around from place to place in the west.  His company lets him send in his work from his amazing computer.  And he kind of owes me ‘cause I’ve helped him out with finances a few times.  What if I could coax him to build a nice, attractive website for your ranch with lots of charming pictures and persuasive information?  And then too, if we could maybe consult with an ad agency about the best ways to promote your products professionally.  You know, really put your Longhorns and your place on the map local––and more widely too.  I’ll bet some of the restaurants in the small towns around here would be interested in your products if they knew.  Colorado’s full of tourists.

“And I know most of the people who work at First Southwest Bank in town.  I think I still have some cred with them.  I’d be willing to talk to them, vouch for you.  We’d go in together and lay out your plans.  See if we can get an extension.  I’d sure give it a try…”

Annie was interested.  She stared at her cattle, thinking hard.  Her face looked calm and open as she drew the last puffs from her cigar.  But then, before she could speak, the two heard a rumble coming from the rugged pasture trail.  They turned to see a big, black, King Ranch F-250 trailing a cloud of dust as it swayed its way along the pasture trail.  “Oh hell, Julie, it’s Insatiable Sam, my greedy neighbor.  Prob’ly saw us drive out here and he’ll be wantin’ to know if I’m ready to sell.  Think I’ll tell him what Coors is offerin’ cuz he don’t know nuthin’ yet.”  The posh truck pitched up the trail and came to a stop a few yards away, diesel motor rattling.  A surprisingly attractive man in a broad tan hat stepped out of the big black truck.  He looked a little like James Arness in his seventies.  But when he spoke, that first impression melted down into something more like Festus.

“How’re you ladies doin’ this fine April mornin’?”

“Howdy Sam.  We’re good, just settin’ here enjoying my Longhorns.  This here’s an old friend of mine, Julie Brentwood.  What’s on your mind?”

He tipped his hat toward Julie.  “Pleased to meetcha.  Think maybe I’ve seen you at the Farmers and Merchants.  You work there, right?”

“Nice to meet you Sam.  I’m retired now, but yes, I did.”  She looked toward the cattle which were beginning to smell diesel fumes and walking away.  ‘What do you think of Annie’s Longhorns…pretty as a painting, aren’t they?”

“Well now,” he said, nudging his hat up and turning to look.  “They’s definitely fine-lookin’ animals an’ they might could thrive here on land like this.  They’re real natural, and I know they’s cattlemen who do a pretty good business with ‘em.  But they ain’t no doubt they cain’t put on weight as fast as your beef breeds can.  You take a breed like Brangus or Simmental, which I deal in… you kin sure get ‘em to market weight a lot quicker.  An’ with a big herd, well that’ jest pure profit.”  He turned to Annie.  “You had enough time to think over what we was talkin’ bout back in February?”

“Yeah, I have, Sam, but I’m not in the mood to argue cattle breeds jest now.  I got somethin’ to tell you though, since you seem to want to talk business.

“I ain’t decided to sell my ranch, but if I did, Molson-Coors has made me an offer…it beats yours by some.  I believe you’d have to allow they have accountants that understands profits.  You’d have barley fields as neighbors.  We both know they ain’t as pretty as these pastures an’ these here Longhorns––to a rancher’s eyes.”

            Sam’s face stayed poker, but his throat showed a swallow.  “Dang it Annie, we don’t want that.  It ain’t right.”  He cut loose a long but clumsy stream of profanities and then he kicked a dry cowpie and pulled on his suspenders, looking like a rooster.

            Annie watched his antics and smiled.  “Sam, I’ve got a daughter, a son-in-law, an’ a grandson who love this ranch as much as I do.”  She reached into her pocket and pulled out another cigar.  “They know my cattle and this land.  They stand to take it over when I hang up my spurs.  So it ought to be clear to you I don’t like the idea of sellin’ it.  But I’ve got a little cash problem I’ve got to get solved.”  She lit the cigar.  “What’s more, I think I will.  You can get in your smelly Tonka toy truck and go cuss at your Simmentals––I don’t think my longhorns like it.”  She looked at the cattle which were drifting farther away.  Sam turned back toward his truck pouting, climbed in, and drove away shaking his head and spinning his big wheels.

            “He’s a piece of work,” Julie said to her friend when the dust settled.  “He always like that?”

            “Oh, not always.  He kin be a good neighbor when things go the way he wants.  But this ain’t goin’ that way…  I’d like to buy him for he’s worth and sell him for what he thinks he’s worth.”

            “I think you just did, Annie.”  Julie took the cigar from her for another drag.  “Now, before that rude interruption, I laid out an idea.  I’d like to hear what you think.”

            “I think it’s a downright great idea.  Why don’t you see if your son would be willin’ to design that website like you was sayin’, an’ if he’ll do it, I’ll see if I kin take a batch of good pichurs.  Heck, I need those anyways for my application to that Centennial Farms outfit.  I’m ready to get to work serious.  If it suits you Julie, let’s get ourselves all dressed up like professional business ladies and pay the First Southwest Bankers a visit tomorrow.  Let’s get-er-done!

And then two tough cowgirls pulled out their cell phones, walked up to the herd, and started taking pictures.  One of the sweetest, brown-and-white spotted cows slowly walked up to Annie, who rubbed its head between two of the most enormous horns Julie had ever seen.  She stepped back and snapped a perfect picture, Annie’s smiling face glowing between two distant peaks of the Rockies.