A Pair of Second Chances (Ben Jensen Series Book 1) by Brian Gore Page A
Authors: Brian Gore
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if she didn't! That next morning, when he crawled out of his range tipi, he was greeted by the sight of the six missing mares, and 4 with colts, grazing in the meadow outside of his corral.
He pushed the herd into the back pen and closed the middle gate. That allowed him to open the front gate, and push the late comers in on foot. With them caught, he opened the center gate back up to let the herd spread back out into the whole set up.
With all his horses accounted for in one easy day of looking, and no new losses to predators, he was feeling pretty fine. For the first time in a long time he felt, almost, glad to be alive.
That afternoon, he threw the remainder of the baled hay to the herd. He'd hauled it up by truck late in the spring, on the rough old logging road that found its way to the camp. More of a two track; it took half a day for a hay loaded pickup to make the climb.
Ben had cached the bales here, in a rough slabwood lean-to that sided the corral. He'd hauled the hay up knowing he'd need to feed his horses when he rode up to check horses and cows during the summer. To be honest, he'd not done a good job of that, as shown by the amount of hay, still in the shed, this late in the season.
Damn! He could get used to things going right for a change. Even if that didn't allow things to get Western!
In the morning he'd start the drive down off the mountain. He foaled his colts in the barn down at the ranch, rough as it was, in late winter. That put 'em at nearly six months old now. They were tough, mountain bred colts, but it still wouldn't do to push 'em too hard, this young. In the spring, he'd made the drive up in three days. He could make that easy in one day, just riding. Going back down, he'd push 'em in two days. He needed healthy horses and colts to sell, not busted up cripples 'cause he'd got in a hurry. They should still be able to make the ride easy in that time.
He'd make his overnight camp in a grassy park, a couple of miles above the Forest Service campground on Lodgepole creek. That'd make a pretty good drive the first day, and an easy trail going into the ranch the day after.
He should make the run across the Lodgepole just after breakfast time and be at the ranch by noon.
As bleak as his future had seemed when he'd stomped out of the bank, Ben had the growing feeling that maybe, just maybe he could succeed at getting things turned around. He felt like he could actually see a little sunshine trying to break through the clouds. He'd never been much of a quitter. The last few years he'd lived, if poorly, on sheer force of will alone. If Miss Lady Luck would just keep on cutting him a little slack, he'd find a way to make it work. If she'd grant him, just a little bit more. Just let him take a breath.
Nothing changed that next day. Good luck or bad, he drove his small herd into the park above Lodgepole creek an hour or two before sunset. He'd pushed easy, allowing the herd to graze their way along, as much as possible, and still get where he needed to go. The colts were still young enough though that even with that days easy drive, those youngsters would be tired and not wanting to move much. That would go a long way toward holding their Mommas close.
Ben pitched his tipi on the uphill side of the park, to act as a small deterrent to the horses trying to go back up. He hobbled and belled his pack horses, along with the lead mare of the herd and built a small fire to boil some coffee before sitting, back to a log, chewing jerky for supper while the coffee brewed.
Sitting there, watching the shadows of the advancing sunset, he wished once again, as he often had, that he'd been born a century earlier. He seemed, as many cowboys thought of themselves, born out of season. His dreams and values, his basic personality seemingly tailor made for that earlier time; and out of place in this one.
But, just like all those other cowboys, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Just Cowboy up and do the
He pushed the herd into the back pen and closed the middle gate. That allowed him to open the front gate, and push the late comers in on foot. With them caught, he opened the center gate back up to let the herd spread back out into the whole set up.
With all his horses accounted for in one easy day of looking, and no new losses to predators, he was feeling pretty fine. For the first time in a long time he felt, almost, glad to be alive.
That afternoon, he threw the remainder of the baled hay to the herd. He'd hauled it up by truck late in the spring, on the rough old logging road that found its way to the camp. More of a two track; it took half a day for a hay loaded pickup to make the climb.
Ben had cached the bales here, in a rough slabwood lean-to that sided the corral. He'd hauled the hay up knowing he'd need to feed his horses when he rode up to check horses and cows during the summer. To be honest, he'd not done a good job of that, as shown by the amount of hay, still in the shed, this late in the season.
Damn! He could get used to things going right for a change. Even if that didn't allow things to get Western!
In the morning he'd start the drive down off the mountain. He foaled his colts in the barn down at the ranch, rough as it was, in late winter. That put 'em at nearly six months old now. They were tough, mountain bred colts, but it still wouldn't do to push 'em too hard, this young. In the spring, he'd made the drive up in three days. He could make that easy in one day, just riding. Going back down, he'd push 'em in two days. He needed healthy horses and colts to sell, not busted up cripples 'cause he'd got in a hurry. They should still be able to make the ride easy in that time.
He'd make his overnight camp in a grassy park, a couple of miles above the Forest Service campground on Lodgepole creek. That'd make a pretty good drive the first day, and an easy trail going into the ranch the day after.
He should make the run across the Lodgepole just after breakfast time and be at the ranch by noon.
As bleak as his future had seemed when he'd stomped out of the bank, Ben had the growing feeling that maybe, just maybe he could succeed at getting things turned around. He felt like he could actually see a little sunshine trying to break through the clouds. He'd never been much of a quitter. The last few years he'd lived, if poorly, on sheer force of will alone. If Miss Lady Luck would just keep on cutting him a little slack, he'd find a way to make it work. If she'd grant him, just a little bit more. Just let him take a breath.
Nothing changed that next day. Good luck or bad, he drove his small herd into the park above Lodgepole creek an hour or two before sunset. He'd pushed easy, allowing the herd to graze their way along, as much as possible, and still get where he needed to go. The colts were still young enough though that even with that days easy drive, those youngsters would be tired and not wanting to move much. That would go a long way toward holding their Mommas close.
Ben pitched his tipi on the uphill side of the park, to act as a small deterrent to the horses trying to go back up. He hobbled and belled his pack horses, along with the lead mare of the herd and built a small fire to boil some coffee before sitting, back to a log, chewing jerky for supper while the coffee brewed.
Sitting there, watching the shadows of the advancing sunset, he wished once again, as he often had, that he'd been born a century earlier. He seemed, as many cowboys thought of themselves, born out of season. His dreams and values, his basic personality seemingly tailor made for that earlier time; and out of place in this one.
But, just like all those other cowboys, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Just Cowboy up and do the
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