Me and the Big K

"I shouldn't be doing this."

Sonita was blowing hard after a tough work-out on the cattle. She had been fugly aggressive and had either snapped hide off the cattle or reared to strike every time we went into the catch pen to bring a cow in to work. The cattle were pretty used up and she had become a one-horse tent revival, determined to inspire every cow she was put on to give her some action or see Jesus. It made for a tough go.

"Shouldn't what, work these sour cattle?," K said, "The princess needs to work whatever cow she's given. It makes the fresh ones feel so-o-o-o easy."

"I know and so does she," I gave Sonita a half-hearted slap on the neck.

She pinned her ears and ground her teeth. Sonita made it clear if I wanted a fight she was ready to bring it.

"I'm talking about the World Show. I'm not good enough for this and neither is Sonita."

I looked K straight in the eye, I needed him to understand I wasn't whining, I was serious.

"What brought this on?" He asked.

The Big K was truly puzzled. The World Show was a month away and I hadn't flinched. I had been working my horse with deadly intent. My usual touchiness was put aside and I had taken every blast of his temper, every shouted instruction and every sarcastic comment in stride.

I had taken giant steps forward in the last few months and my mare was was tuned past any horse I had ever ridden, much less owned. I had found the entry fees for both me and the kidlet and paid them with barely a whimper.

I had become so focused even the Big K suggested I step back and take a breath. The only time I was working Sonita was twice a week with him. The rest of the time I put her in a snaffle and loped or went on a trail ride.

"Have you looked at who's going to be at this thing?" I asked.

"Of course I have," K's slow, easy grin spread across his face,"I do believe I'm the one who showed you."

"I mean, c'mon, Teddy Robinson, Bob Avila, Tod Bergen...I'm freaking out!"

"Why? They aren't competing with you, they have their own worries. They more than likely won't even see you go. I thought you were excited to get a chance to meet them." K was looking a little concerned now.

"I guess I am, but what if Sonita gears up like she is today?" I asked.

"I can guarantee she will if you keep talking like this. No wonder she's all over the place, it's not the cattle, it's you."

I sat back in my saddle and slung my leg over the saddle horn. Sonita craned her neck in the air and stamped a hind foot. She hated it when my weight was off-center. I poked her in the neck with the toe of my boot and she quieted into a sullen stand-off. Sonita wasn't ready to go to work yet and she knew we'd be at it if she didn't settle.

Normally the Big K would be quick to come up behind and lay his romel across Sonita's butt. He hated it when I sat a horse like that and was always ready to show me how much trouble I could get in if my horse bolted while I had my leg slung over her neck. On this day my belligerent glare stopped him.

I didn't want to tell him what was really bothering me.

Twice a month at my facility I ran a Cow Night. It was open to the public. Each rider was given 2 goes at four minutes for $25. I would help if requested and keep my mouth shut if not. I was protective of the cattle and made sure nobody got hurt.

I had a good crowd show up most nights. We had a lot of fun, tipped a few beers, got into some great discussions and for the most part learned quite a bit.

There was a couple who came to most of the Cow Nights. They were of the "keep my mouth shut" variety. The wife, Becky, had put a couple of nice horses in training with the Big K. She herself had not gotten much done in the show pen and was quick to inform us it was because of her bad back. She was proud of her horses and felt she could be a big help on Cow Night. To everybody. Including the folks who were there to work with me. As soon as Becky let off shouting non-stop instruction at her poor, green-rider husband she was quick to dive into everyone else.

I, on the other hand, was mildly resentful and extremely intimidated by her. She had been around cowhorse quite a while longer than I had and was extremely good at pointing out my inadequacies.

To be fair, my first years in the show pen had been pretty disastrous. My mare did not have a good reputation and I was affectionately treated by the trainers I competed with like their favorite mascot, Festus, or Roofus, or Blue Belle, you get my drift.

But I had slowly started to get a handle on my horse and the sport I was so wild to learn. I had begun to place, I had earned a little money and my students were becoming competitive. Most of the folks I rode with were happy for me and had quit treating me like the comedic relief for the day.

Except for Becky, who kept showing up at my Cow Night, every single time, full of advice.

I was able to ignore her for the most part, but she had really zinged one home the last time I had seen her.

I was having a rough night with Sonita. She didn't want to frame up, she didn't want to stand still, she didn't want to do anything. She was anxious and angry, lunging at the other horses in the warm-up and loping her circles with her head slung high in the air, her nose poked to the outside and her boogery eyes rolling every which way.

I knew this wasn't a night to work cattle and I was trying to honor the Big K's wish for me to lay off her.

So I pulled her down and walked her to the side of the arena and let her stand. I figured I could let her air up and just sit on her while I coached the other riders.

"I can't believe you're taking that mess to the World Show," my good friend Becky said as she climbed up the fence and made herself comfortable on the top rail.

I sighed.

"We'll do the best we can. It will be a good experience," I answered.

"Nobody around here understands why you haven't sold that thing," Becky said helpfully, "and to think you're wasting all that money to take her to a World Show."

"I'm honored to have earned enough points to qualify. I guess it will be all right," I was feeling bad and angry all mixed together.

Sonita shook her head and rattled her bit. I knew she was picking up my agitation.

Becky laughed. "You did have a lucky season. You know you're going against the Peters. There's no way you could touch either one of them in this lifetime, especially on that mare of yours."

Sonita squealed and struck the fence with a forefoot. The resounding clang made my little buddy Becky jump in the air and scramble to hang on to the rail.

I rode off and scratched Sonita's favorite spot under her mane. She was a good little Doberman sometimes.

I tried to act like Becky hadn't gotten to me, but here I was, two days later, riding with the Big K and working myself up into a complete panic. I also didn't think he needed to hear me bitch about one of his clients.

"Look K," I said, "Pure luck got us qualified. I can't hold my own with these people."

The Big K looked at me for a minute or two. I tried to hold his gaze but ended up staring at my saddle horn.

"You worked your way to the World Show," he said, "I would have told you if I didn't think you were ready.

"I'm not going to keep trying to talk you up," he went on,"all that ever does is make you disappear on me."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I was starting to cry. Which immediately pissed me off. I could feel Sonita starting to tense again.

"When we first got the buffalo Little k (his wife) was afraid to work them," he said.

"I told her to pull herself together and work the buffs. She wasn't having anything to do with it."

"I don't blame her," I answered, "those things are pretty freaky."

He ignored me and continued on.

"She finally started bawling and just sat on her horse, not looking at me, no matter what I said. I told her it was fine and to put her horse up.

"After I had finished riding I headed into the house. It smelled wonderful in there. Little k had baked some cookies. I knew she was feeling bad and trying to say she was sorry. I grabbed one and told her, 'Honey, these are just great. I appreciate it. But I have a question for you. Do you want to ride and win cowhorse or do you want to bake cookies? 'Cause we don't have time for both.'"

"What did she say?" I asked.

Little k had a ferocious temper and an unreasonable love for her husband. I couldn't imagine how she'd respond to that one.

"What she said doesn't really matter," K told me, "I just want ask you something. Do you want to ride cowhorse or do you want to bake cookies?"

I looked back up at him. He sat there looking back at me, dead serious, waiting for an answer.

"I guess I want to ride cowhorse."

"Then go git you a cow."

I rode Sonita to the arena door and pulled it open. I ignored her when she skittered at the drag of a sliding door she had heard hundreds of times before. When I rode her into the catch pen she lunged at the first heifer she saw. I spurred her in the belly and cracked her hard on the butt with my romel.

She settled immediately and waited for direction.

I cut the ugliest, rankest, smelliest old cow out of the herd.

"C'mon Becky," I said to the heifer, " we got a show to get ready for."

Sonita shoved Becky into the arena and we settled down to work.