When all the cows were gathered, worked, and penned
The cowboys drew their pay and went to town
But one old cowboy stayed behind and said
Let’s take a ride and have a look around.
So out we headed for the farthest range
Some cows were winterin’ there on sun-cured grass
We paused to look across the distant hills
Figuring this ride just might be our last.
We turned away to ride the north fence line
The rancher softly mumbling now and then
Each hoof fall seemed to ring within our ears
With echoes of past rides we’d shared as friends.
Once this rancher rode a new-broke colt
And in those early days the times were tough
But neither rain nor drought, hail nor blizzard
Could make him say, “That’s it. I’ve had enough.”
At first there weren’t so very many cattle
The roundup wasn’t such an awful chore
But each new spring more baby calves were added
Each roundup gathered more cows than before.
Over time the rancher learned which ways
Were best to finish work that needed doing
Without using excess fret or sweat
Sparing both the man and mount from ruin.
With sure and steady steps we faced each hill
However steep the way that led us on
And now it seemed we could see them all
Gazing back o’er trails and days long gone.
Shadows stretched long upon the land
As ranch house and barn at last drew near
It seemed the rancher took some extra time
Brushing and feeding the horse he held so dear.
Now, beyond the pasture fence I watch
As on the porch, upon a rocking chair,
The old man finds a new, harder trail
To a place beyond all toil and care.
Garry Breland 