In Open Spaces by Russell Rowland Read Free Book Online Page A

itself. The sound was coming from behind us, so I turned Ahab around and stalked, still cautious, toward the noise.
    At a sharp bend, the ground pulled at my boots, and I led Ahab away from the water, around a stand of willows. Behind the willows, a cow held her head just above the mud, where she had sunk to the base of her neck. I approached, leaving Ahab behind. The cow’s head dropped to the ground, weak from the strain of her cry. Her tonguehung loose and dry. Her eyes were wild. The thick gumbo behind her was stirred up and thrown around in a way that indicated she had escaped one trap, only to find herself closer to the water, in still softer mire.
    I didn’t even think for a moment that I had any option about what to do with this cow. I knew it would take several hours to free her. But the value of every single head of livestock to the operation of a ranch like ours was immeasurable. It meant a source of calves for the next several years. It wasn’t just one cow.
    So I filled my sheepskin flask in the creek. The cow rolled her head away from me as I came closer. Although she fought, she was weak, and I cradled the weary skull in my lap and poured water into her mouth. But this made her choke, a deep hollow wheeze that shook the ground around her. I realized that if I didn’t keep her head upright, I could drown her.
    I tried pouring water into my cupped hands, but it leaked through my fingers faster than I could get it to her. I tried my hat, holding my hands underneath, but the water also seeped through the straw. Finally, I swung the saddlebags from Ahab’s back, emptied them, and laid one in front of the cow’s broad, panting nose. I placed my fists in the center of the bag and leaned into it, forming a hollow, which I filled from the flask. The cow pushed her nose into the water, and emptied it in seconds. I trotted back and forth, wearing myself out trying to keep the leather bowl filled. The cow sucked it dry faster than any man could run.
    After many trips, I decided she’d had enough. I rested for a few minutes.
    The cow faced the creek, so I positioned Ahab on the opposite bank. She didn’t have any horns, so I had to tie a rope around her neck. I tied the other end to Ahab’s saddlehorn.
    “Okay, old girl. Get ready.” The cow gazed up at me, her eyes startled, her breath racing. I smacked Ahab’s flank and yelled. He plunged forward, the rope twanged, and the cow squeezed out a strangled“Maaaaaaw.” She rose like a mythical creature, the black mud flying, her bawl climbing. But she managed only a few feet of progress before she was exhausted. And she sank back to her chest.
    Ahab was spooked, and straining at the rope, so I grabbed his reins to calm him, talking softly in his ear. “Easy, boy. Whoa. Easy. Easy.” I stroked his neck, holding the reins taut a foot below his nose.
    When a person can see for miles around them, it’s not often that something unexpected happens. And because you tend to feel as if you can’t be surprised out in the middle of nowhere, the unexpected scares you ten times more than it would if you were in an enclosed space, or in the woods, where you might be on the lookout.
    So when a gunshot rang out from behind, my heart felt as if it would beat right through my ribs and dive into the creek. Ahab reared to full height, and I dropped to the ground, trying to make myself small. Ahab wanted to run, but the rope held him back, so he bucked from one side to the other, his hooves stabbing the earth in frustration each time he came down. On one lunge, I rolled to one side just before his front hoof plunked me in the hip.
    I jumped up and groped for the reins, managing to catch one of them. But another shot sounded, and Ahab reared again, whinnying, trying to bolt, throwing his head from side to side. The rope jerked like a fish line, and I could hear the cow choking. I ran to Ahab’s flank, pulling the single rein as hard as I could to twist his head to one side. I