We Were Finally Going to Do It

“Hey, Phil, you got the chute ready yet?” I said.
“Yeah. Let’s go get Andy” Phil said.
On the way to Andy’s Phil and I sat in the back seat, each of us imagining how much fun this was going to be. We had thought the process through so many times: trying to be big shots, walking around the corral, and making sure there wouldn’t be any places for them to get out or crawl under. We couldn’t wait to show Andy our masterpiece.

“Hey, Andy. How’s it going,” we each said.
Andy responded, “Not a lot, what’ve you guys done today?”
Each of us smiled at Andy. A wink explained it all. None of us had to say anything more.

Back at our house, we ran out to the corral. Before we even got there, Andy was asking us about everything, “When? How? Which ones? ”

We filled him with so much information, all he could do was smile and say, “When does your mom leave?”

Our mom had a wild hair about leaving us boys home and going to town. While she was going down the driveway Phil, Andy, and I gave her an official send off by standing in the middle of the yard and waving at her. Each of us was smiling from ear to ear. She had to know there was something going on! We stood in the yard waving until we saw our mom’s car get onto the highway and head for town.

Immediately, we ran into the house, picked up our ropes, bells, and gloves, and threw them into a bag. We put on our hats and headed for the corral. We were finally going to do it.

We threw the bag next to the chute and ran to the livestock. They weren’t anything special; each was about four hundred to four hundred fifty pounds. One was a gray steer with a mousy tail and the other was a tan heifer. But they were our animal athletes. We had been bottle feeding them through the winter but now we were giving them some pellets at night.

We got them into the arena where all the action was about to take place. When it was time, we would file them into the chute one at a time. Any other day we would have thought of them as hamburger on four hooves, but today they were our entertainment, they were the main tool to achieve the thing we had wanted to do for so long. By now we were so anxious we couldn’t stand still.

We decided that Andy would go first, me second, and Phil last. As Phil and I got Andy’s heifer into the chute, I noticed Andy didn’t have a shirt on. I knew it was hot, but I thought to myself that it would be better to be safe than sorry. We got the rope onto the heifer nice and tight. When he was ready Andy stuck his hand underneath the rope and nodded his head to go. The heifer took two steps out of the chute and he fell off right onto a pile of bricks. Phil and I immediately went to him, like flies on stink, and picked him up. We looked at his back in astonishment, then we brushed away the dirt and rocks from the wound.

Next, I stood outside the chute with my glove on and rope in hand. I was thinking about the wound on Andy’s back. It was actually bleeding. I wondered, “Is this something that I really want to do?

Everything was brought back to reality by my brother’s disgruntled voice telling me, “Get on with the show!”

There was a moment of hesitation before I took the steps up the side of the chute. As I hovered over the steer in the chute I dangled one end of my rope under the calf, holding the other end tightly in my hand. I was thankful that Phil and Andy were there to retrieve it for me.

With both ends in my hands now I tied them together making it tight around the steer. I slid my hand underneath the rope and held on tight. I nodded my head.

The steer took off. In about fifteen feet we were face to face with our first obstacle, a fence. The steer turned on a dime and headed in the opposite direction.

I was so shook that the momentum flung me into the fence.

By the time I stood up, Phil and Andy were by my side laughing and congratulating me at the same time. I didn’t care though. All I wanted at the time was a place to sit down and something to drink. I found a grassy spot next to the chute and sank to the ground gratefully but only for a moment. Mom was coming down the road.

We picked things up and put them away as fast, if not faster than, we had gotten them out. Before we said one word to her, each of us vouched that we would stay calm, and collected, and not say a word about what had just happened. Much to our surprise, it actually worked!

Somehow Mom did find out soon afterwards, but for some reason she wasn’t mad. She understood in a weird way that it was something we had to do.

Every time we tell this story, it gets a little bigger and a little more stretched out. That’s not my main concern though. The best part is that we are still good friend today.

Preston Kafka