Slow Joe
Joe was never in a hurry to go anywhere or do anything.
He took his time and let you know he'd work at his own pace. He
never got irritated when you wanted him to speed up, he just kept
plugging along at his slow speed. He didn't have any bad vices
except being the last one to finish a job. You had to have a lot
of patience to work with Joe.
Joe was a 15 hand bay gelding.
His hooves were all black like his mane and tail. There was a
long, ugly black scar that ran from the base of his neck down his left
shoulder. It didn't do much for his looks, in fact, old Joe wasn't
much to look at. He was kind of scraggly looking and that big scar made
him look like a reject from the sale barn.
He hated worm medicine with a passion.
If he saw you coming with a needle and syringe in your hand, you could
bet there was gonna be a battle before you sunk that needle in his
hide.
He never kicked or bit anybody and would
always come when you called him whether you had a halter in your hand or
not. Joe was a pretty sociable horse and got along with everybody
whether it was a newcomer or an old pasture mate. He'd put up with
most anything as long as it wasn't worm medicine or needles.
He'd share his pile of hay or grain with
other horses and even let the calves get their share of his feed.
Joe stood like a statue when you trimmed his feet and nailed shoes on.
He never leaned on you and made your job as easy as he could. He was
just so darn slow.
There were certain jobs Joe was good at;
like fixing fence or roping calves to brand or doctor them. He was
good to ride fence because when you found a stretch that needed fixin',
you could wrap his reins around a post a couple times and he'd stand
there without pawing or dancing around pulling on the reins. He'd
stand stock still until you finished the job whether it was ten minutes
or several hours. He took great pleasure roping and doctoring calves.
He kept the rope tight until you had the critter flanked and pinned to
the ground. Then he stepped forward to give you some slack.
This was his favorite time because he could stand there and rest until
you finished the job.
Now, there were only certain jobs that Slow
Joe was called on to perform. You never saddled Joe if you had a
long way to travel or a hard drive to make in heavy brush. He just
didn't like to move very fast on a long trail and he'd take forever to
get anywhere. He'd pick his way so carefully through brush popping
cattle out of their hiding places that it would take all day to get the
job done.
People wondered why Joe was kept on the
ranch since he was only good for a few slow jobs and feed was getting
expensive. Selling Joe and picking up a good ranch horse at one of
the sales seemed like a smart thing to do.
Then one day Joe paid his dues
and earned his tenure on the ranch. He showed his love for the
cowboy he worked with and earned the right to graze the fertile pastures
of the ranch for the rest of his days.
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They rode out late one Spring morning to ride herd and
look for any problems. They would have left earlier but Joe's
rider had to wait around while Joe took his old sweet time munching his
grain. It seemed like Joe had to savor each speck of grain as he
slowly consumed his feed.
The sun was well on its way to mid-morning
when they opened the last gate to the calving pasture and rode amongst
the white faced cows and calves. This was Joe's favorite kind of
work. His slow pace was just right for looking the animals over.
He poked along through the herd with his ears at attention as if he was
looking for a problem.
They spotted a calf that needed help. Joe
knew what was expected of him when the rider shook out a loop. The
calf showed signs of scours. He looked dehydrated and his flanks
were caved in. Diarrhea was evident. The rider roped the
calf and Slow Joe kept the rope tight while a balling gun and a scours
bolus was found in the saddle bags. Joe was in his glory as he
held the rope tight till the calf was secured and the medicine was
administered down the calf's throat. The rope was released from
the calf and Joe stood stock still waiting for the cowboy to get back in
the saddle.
That good rider gave the calf a shove
trying to get him to move away, letting him know he was free. The
calf bawled and took a step backwards. The rider shoved him again.
That was more than the calf's mother could take and she charged the
rider to protect her baby from more abuse from the human.
She lowered her head and smashed into him
hurling him into the air and breaking his ribs. She began rooting
her head into him when he hit the ground causing more
injury. Joe looked on in horror as the rider tried to get away
from the frenzied cow.
Joe jumped into action moving faster than anyone
had ever seen him move. He slammed into the cow throwing her
sideways and giving the rider a chance to escape. The cow started
for the rider again but she had to go through Slow Joe first. Joe
danced sideways to the cow and hit her again with his shoulder giving
the rider more time to get clear.
Joe's luck ran out when the cow smashed
into his shoulder with her horns and raked them the full length of his
shoulder, all the way to the base of his neck, laying Joe's hide open
and gushing blood. The calf bawled again and the cow turned her
attention to her baby leaving Joe and the rider licking their wounds.
Joe was in pain from his great wound but he
made his way to where the injured rider had stopped and witnessed Slow
Joe's heroic effort to save his life. Tears came to his eyes when
he saw Joe's bloody shoulder.
?Joe, you are faster than you ever let on.
You saved my bacon with that giant burst of speed to stop that cow from
killing me. I'll do everything humanly possible to ease your pain.
We are partners forever.
And so, unconcerned with his own injuries,
that grateful cowboy led Slow Joe the long miles back to the ranch,
nursing Joe's wound the whole way.
The story of Joe's burst of speed saving
the injured cowboy spread across the country and Slow Joe earned the
right to spend the rest of his life poking around the pastures of his
home ranch, at his own pace, with that long black scar standing
out as a badge of honor.
All Contents Copyright,
2008 Horseman's Press
All Rights Reserved
Contact Ralph Galeano at
horseman@horsemanspress.com
or www.horsemanspress.com
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