Wisdom & Grace: Growing up in the saddle - Part 3

To my beloved grandchildren,

For now, this is the third and last letter that I am going to be writing to you about my life growing up riding horses. It was a great life and I will always, always be grateful for the childhood I had here on the beautiful prairies of northern Montana. I wish I could ride Roxie, and you ride Rosie, and still another one of you ride Midge, our treasured Shetland pony. We would go west through the pasture and search for teepee rings. We'd ride through the coulees and search for deer antlers. And if it was spring runoff time (my favorite time of the year) we would watch and hear the water as it cascaded down the coulees to fill the reservoirs, bringing needed water to area ranches.

I would show you how we rode one mile north and then turned east a mile to our country school: Staton Coulee. If our friend Sharon Johnson was riding her horse Midnight, we would go one mile east and meet her before turning and going one mile north.

But most of all I would like us to go south to Red Rock Coulee. We would check the cows and see how they were doing with their new calves. I would show you where we used to have bond fires in the deep part of the coulee on hayrides with our church youth group.

We would view across the coulee where an old homestead shack (the Rhodes place) stood until it collapsed only in recent years. I would love to show you the wild rose bushes and the cactus flowers. One of my two favorite places is on the north side of Red Rock, pretty much in the center of the school section. I can still see my dad standing by his old Chevy pickup surrounded by our herd of horses, mostly Shetlands. A lump swells in my throat as I remember that warm summer evening.

But my most unforgettable memory was on a hot summer day in 1966. Dad was gone. Mom and I were home by ourselves. A neighbor to the south, Valentine Getz, came driving his pickup into our yard. "I've got two bulls in your Red Rock pasture. They're with your cows and I need to get them out and into my pasture next to yours. Can you help me with horses? I've tried with my pickup and just can't get them."

Mom explained that she would really like to help him but my dad, Wesley, was gone. Then I spoke up, "I can help!" BIG mistake!

One horse. One 14-year-old girl. A hot summer's day. Two bulls in a herd of in-heat cows that were VERY happy to stay with those cows. BIG, BIG mistake!!

But I wanted to help. "I'll saddle Roxie and follow you down to Red Rock. I'll help you, Mr. Getz."

To which Mr. Getz gave a trepidatious reply, "Okay."

I'm sure mom didn't think much of the idea either but she relented and let me go. I went to the nearby pasture and caught Roxie with a bucket of oats. Leading her to the barn I soon had her saddled and ready to go. I told Mr. Getz "I'll cut across through the pasture. You go down the section line and I'll meet you at the northeast gate."

I made two, no three, mistakes that I hope you will never will. #1 - I went without taking water in a canteen. #2 - It was hot and I rolled up my- shirt sleeves to expose my upper arms that rarely had seen the scorching sun. And third, I went by myself to do a job that would take two cowboys or cowgirls and their horses. Even then it would be hard to get those two bulls away from the cows that were ready to be bred.

Well, I met Mr. Getz at the gate like we'd planned. We found his two bulls with about sixty of our cows. Over and over and over I tried to cut those bulls out of the herd. As soon as I got one going in the southeast direction and would add the other one, one or both would turn back to the herd of cows. Mr. Getz gunned his pickup and flew over the prairie trying to help. But it was useless. Nothing seem to work.

I'm not sure how long we tried ... like hours, it seemed. Finally, Mr. Getz stopped me, "This is not going to work. We need more 'horsepower'. Go home ... and thank you for trying." He handed me a $20 bill. I about fell off my horse. I couldn't believe he would pay me, especially for a failed job. $20 seemed and was a lot of money!

Thanking him for the money and apologizing for my failed effort, I turned for home. I was so thirsty I would have given anything, even my $20, for a drink of water. Both Roxie and I were exhausted. I walked her most of the way home. My arms and face were sunburned and blisters soon appeared. Finally, we made it home. At the barn, I unsaddled Roxie and turned her out into the pasture. I'm sure she headed to the reservoir for a long cool drink.

I almost fell into the house searching for a cool drink. After resting for a while, I told mom my story, "I tried. We tried everything. We just couldn't get those bulls to leave the cows! And he even gave me $20!"

"It's okay. You tried your best. Dad will be home soon. He'll know what to do," mom sympathized.

And she was right. Dad came home later in the day and heard my story. "Are you okay? Let's saddle up. You ride Rosie this time and I'll ride Roxie." In the cool of the evening, we set off. The two of us on great saddle horses were able to separate the bulls from the cows and head them south east to Mr. Getz's pasture. We let down the fence and herded the bulls back to their own "girls." When we got home, mom called Mr. Getz to let him know what we had accomplished.

That day your Grandma Ila learned some pretty valuable life lessons:

#1 - Take water on a hot day.

#2 - Wear sunscreen.

#3 - One horse and rider can't get two bulls away from a herd of in-heat cows.

#4 - My dad was a better cowboy than I would ever think of being.

Most of the time when I share my childhood memories with you, your reaction is "That couldn't be true" or "So what, no big deal." You've been trained well not to say something like that out loud but I can sense it. I am writing this letter so that in 20, 30 or 40 years you just might like to know what your Grandma Ila's childhood really was like.

I grew up in the saddle. I'm so thankful to live where I was raised. Let's saddle up and go for a ride. What do you say?

"Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary, and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 41:2

--

Ila McClenahan is a retired chaplain and activity director, living in the Amos area north of Havre. She spends her time writing, speaking at various events and trying very hard to be a good grandmother to her 12 grandchildren.