It was 4am and I heard my mother whisper, “Are you awake?  Do you still want to go?”  I was not used to getting up early and didn’t get much sleep due to anticipation and excitement.  Even at the tender age of seven, I knew not to complain or even frown, as I would be left behind, written off at the slightest excuse for being too young and not ready for the challenge.  My feet hit the floor quietly not to disturb my younger sister soundly sleeping across the room.

Slipping out of the house and into the barnyard, I heard the early morning sounds of the horses neighing as they begged for breakfast.  Hearing the gate latch drop was their cue that I was on my way to feed.  Dropping the hay into the manger and telling my horse I would be back in a few minutes to load him into the horse trailer, I was off for a bite of breakfast and to pick up large sack lunches packed by my mother for my father and me.

Soon we were on our way headed down the freeway.  It was only about an hour drive but seemed like an endless journey.  I knew better than to ask, “Are we there yet?” We would get there when we got there and it would only be childish to ask silly questions.  My father made some small talk on our way.  He reminded me to mind my manners, use common sense, and not to get lost because time spent looking for a lost child would be wasted time and would put the crew behind.            

This was my first cattle drive; I would be expected to do my part.  I fully understood the expectations and responsibilities.  Upon arrival the horses were unloaded; we each saddled up our own horse, tied our lariat ropes on, and packed our saddle bags with those huge lunches mom had prepared for us.  At the crack of dawn we needed to be mounted and headed down the trail.  I knew that turning back would not be an option, no matter what: rain, shine, or bee stings.

Of course, I was the only female and only kid.  This was not new to me; I was happily filling the shoes of the son my father had always wanted.  Not exactly a tomboy, I didn’t like to climb trees, scuffle, or run wild, yet I had inherited my father’s love for horses and cattle.  We spent every waking moment together taking care of our horses, practicing our riding and roping skills, or enjoying a trail ride.      

Our task this weekend would be to ride from sun-up to sundown and gather all (or most) of the cattle raised by a very large ranch.  The cows are turned out to free range all year; they are gathered only twice a year: once in the spring to brand, mark, and castrate the calves and then again in the fall to sell the calves. 

This weekend was the spring gathering, so the second day would be roping and branding at the ranch.  Ranching is not a huge money-making venue, so it is common to invite your friends over on branding weekend to help out with the work.  Since, this was an invitational branding the pressure was on to do our best so we could be invited back. 

The interstate highway, I-5, had cut the ranch in half.  We first needed to ride north and ride under the freeway through an underpass made into a tunnel.  We gathered cattle from the north and drove them south.  The herd continued to grow larger as we went.  I had a couple of solo assignments.  One was to ride into a scrub oak patch and drive out any hiders.  Another was to block the old schoolhouse area off so the cattle could not double back and escape.  However, most of the time we worked as a team.       

A successful day of riding and gathering the cattle ended back at the ranch corrals.  I was quite sure that I had never seen so many cattle in my life.  The calves varied in size: some were small and very cute.  One calf was very young, perhaps only hours old.  It was unable to walk the long distance, so one of the wranglers had to pick it up.  He laid the calf carefully across his saddle as he mounted up with it in his lap for the long ride back.   We made it back to the ranch before dark with nearly empty saddlebags.  After tending our horses, which were always fed and watered before feeding ourselves, we were ready to sit down for a ranch style dinner on the front lawn of the ranch house.  Meals are the rancher’s way of thanking all of the cowhands.  Baked beans never tasted so good as after a full day‘s work!

After eating, we rolled out our bedrolls and laid ourselves down to a good night’s sleep.  The second day was different but just as grueling.  The cows were bawling all night and all day as they were separated and reunited with their offspring.  The branding produced a stench beyond compare.  Soon the day was done and the cattle were guided back to pasture.  My dad and I were both invited back for the next roundup.  Smiling, we loaded our horses into the horse trailer for the drive home.