The Ride

After the morning chores were done, I met Coon for a brief dip in shallow Clear Creek to cool off from the oppressive summer swamp like heat. We got to talking about this, that and the other. We speculated and wondered a lot. Coon claimed I couldn’t last more than two, maybe three seconds at most sitting on top of Triste Noche.

Shoot, the way I figure it, Coon knew me better than anyone else but often sold me short on the account of my red-haired temper and smallish stature as I barely weighed over a 90 pounds on a good day. But I figured him wrong on this one. I even bet him I could for a full 10-seconds, which is what I heard was how long some cowboys out West determined the ride needed to last for bull riding. Decades later after I learnt it became a bonafide rodeo sport, I heard they lowered it to eight-seconds. Sissies!

20 marbles was the wager and we shook on it sealing the deal with spit on our palms. No going back now.

Come to think of it, Coon and me, well, we’ve been best buds since I can remember — at least since we were four, I think. His family lives on Wheeler’s Ranch just shy more than a mile north off the red dirt road we share on the far side of the lost maples. He’s usually right when it comes to what I can and can’t do and I’ll admit it when I’m wrong. But, two out of three times, I come out on top of his best speculatin’.

I’ve spied on that damned ol’ ornery bull over the past few years watching it’s rather beastly gracefulness from afar. I bet I could do it if I set my mind to it. Really, how hard could it be? I don’t need my legs to be the same height to sit on top of beef. That just don’t make no sense to me. I’d simply bounce around for a short spell while holding on to my rope and avoid his nasty horns. Shoot, if I did the 10-seconds on this notorious bull, I’d become a legend. All of Shelby County would know about the day Nathen Buckner bested Noche and I’d go down in history as the bravest sumbitch that ever lived.

I mean, I did 10-seconds on a couple of dad’s cattle before. Though, to think of it, one was a rather mild-mannered Charolais heifer dad named Sally and the other was a Holstein bull he named Booger. Not exactly beastly slabs of buckin’ bulls. But I remember Booger was pissed off enough that when I finally fell off him, he kicked me right in the berries leaving me black and blue for a couple of weeks! The way I saw it, that had to count for something.

Ever’ one in these parts heard how Noche was known to terrorize homesteaders back in the day. No one could ever tame him after he escaped from old man Johnson’s farm years ago running right over him knocking him all the way to New York City when he opened a gate.

I heard tale from Coon that Noche once trampled his mama’s clothes knocking over the clothesline, poles and all. I swear she seemed to always have them clothes set out drying in the wind anytime I happened by. Never been there when they weren’t. That’s how I got to know ladies’ bloomers so well I reckon.

Anyways, Noche made Coon’s daddy so mad one day that he shot that ol’ bull from afar, perhaps at 75 yards with his scattergun and the blast peppered him on his hind parts. That didn’t stop Noche though. That only pissed him off. And that was a bad idea.

Noche come a calling about ever’ once a week or so ever since that happened. But for a dumb ol’ piece of livestock, he seemed to be one smart bull. From that point on, he only came around after dark when everyone turned in for the night and would eat and trample up their little garden of cabbage, turnips and other green such crop, rip the clothes off the line including all the bloomers shredding them into ribbons, scratched up the old man’s freshly painted wagon, and other messy shenanigans.

Old man Wheeler was madder than a pack of feral dogs on a three-legged cat. He tried to get close enough to shoot Noche one afternoon after spotting him in the lower 20. He set out on Jessie, his paint horse. We watched from afar as he slowly got closer, within about 35 yards or so, and quietly. Noche turned his head towards him so he grabbed his gun aiming at his head. Before he knew what happened, Jessie reared back bucking him off and ran back to the stables.

He turned his head just in time to see nothing more than the underside of the biggest bull he’d ever seen before. He raised his arms to cover his face and then blacked out almost at the same time. Well, me and Coon screamed out to his maw as we weren’t strong enough to pull him to the house. She hitched the wagon, grabbed his brothers Curg and Rans, and we were able to hoist him up after he came to despite being groggy and bleeding from the head and ribs. Old man Wheeler was beat up bad!

That event scared him so much he never tried to mess with Noche again. Who could blame him for fearing for his life? Word spread at church soon after and then it got around the county and others had claimed similar experiences. Noche’s exploits made him a notorious legend around the county. He was feared.

Well, I saw what happened all those years ago. I think Noche was just trying to protect himself remembering how he got shot up and all. I know I would!

Years passed bringing us back to the wager. How would I go about sitting on top of him and lasting those 10-seconds without dying? I needed a plan.

As I said, I think Noche was just protecting himself. He needed someone to trust. That’s it. I had to earn his trust.

Weeks later, my kid sister Sally spotted him by the creek and told me about it. I set out to find him. He’d moved on but I could track his deep tracks from the muddy creek. After about 80 or so yards, I found him grazing in a grass clearing. The backlit sun shown his silhouette filled with muscular lines. He was majestic.

I slowly walked hiding between the towering yellow pines to get a closer view. I grabbed a handful of tall grass and before I knew it, I was within about 30 feet from him. His head raised up and he sniffed the air. I’m sure he could smell me as I hadn’t taken a bath in about 2 weeks. I was ripe alright.

I slowly stepped to the side of the tree figuring that if he attacked, I could run between the trees to slow him down. But, he didn’t attack. He just gazed at me from the side so I started talking calmly.

“Hi Noche, I’m Nathen. You want some more grass? Lookie here, I have some for you,” I said quietly and calmly as I could knowing that at any minute, I might pee my pants for fearing for my life.

Noche didn’t seem amused and put his head back down to munch the grass into cud. I enjoyed that. He saw me and didn’t attack! I knew he was just protecting himself.

The sun set as I watched him being in his immediate vicinity so before it got too dark and I couldn’t see my way back home through the trail, I quietly said my goodbyes and slowly made my way backwards watching for sudden movements.

Weeks passed on by when I saw Noche one morning in the distance from the corral. “Mah,” I cried out, “I’ll be back in a bit. I’m just, uh… I see a rabbit an’ I’m gonna try and get it. I’ll see if I can hit him with this stick!” Instead, I looked around and saw it. I grabbed a brick-sized chunk of salt block that fell from the fence post and took off. What kind of cattle doesn’t like a salt lick?

I repeated my behavior from the last encounter using the Piney Woods trail as cover to get closer. As I approached, I brought the salt brick chunk out and showed him. I think he remembers the sight from when he was part of old man Johnson’s ranch. He snorted and sniffed the air. As he looked at me, I calmly talked to him and placed the salt brick down at my feet and slowly backed off. As I walked backwards, he made his way towards the brick.

I stopped and he proceeded to close in on the brick. He seemed more interested in it than anything. He must’ve gotten to within 10 feet of me and then looked down and started licking the hell out of that chunk of salt. YES!

As he licked, I slowly kept talking so he’d get accustomed to my voice and I’d inch closer and closer but around to his left-side. I could hear the deep sounding rumble of his breathing and voracious licking from that massive tongue. He seemed quite happy with it.

Finally, I got to his side and reached out to pet him. He quickly turned his head staring me right in the face. I was trembling but tried to keep my demeanor about me.

“It’s okay, boy. I’m your friend. See, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, I just wanna get to know ya,” I gently said.

I stuck my hand out for him to smell and smell he did. Then he started licking my hand and it tickled something fierce, but I dare not laugh out loud or it might scare him. The way I figure it, he must have smelled the salt on my hands.

Well, when he was done licking, he went back to savoring that salt brick. I stayed there petting him ever so gently on his side. I was doing it. I was really petting the fearsome Noche! And, he was letting me. I remember daddy telling me that even a blind squirrel could find a nut ever’ once in a while so I backed off and headed home.

Well, I told Coon about that and he had a hard time believing me. We agreed the next time either one of us spotted Noche that the bet was on and we both had to be there. And, I told him about the salt brick so we agreed anytime we ventured out, we’d make sure to smuggle some with us.

Coon and I set off to do some rabbit hunting one morning weeks later. I grabbed a chunk of bread for a snack and a small salt brick with me and stuck them in my gunnysack taking off at sunrise. We met at the creek where it flows under the bridge of the red dirt road.

“Coon, let’s follow the creek down yonder ways. Sally said she saw a rabbit warren down about 50 yards away the other day,” I suggested. He agreed. We walked along the creek.

“Shhh,” whispered Coon, “What’s that sound?”

Sounded like some heavy breathing coming from the barbed wire fence line about 20 yards away past the brush. We walked over slowly and quiet as possible. It was Noche!

I instructed Coon to set still and muttered, “Ready to lose your marbles? Watch and learn.”

I grabbed the salt brick from the sack and walked towards Noche. As I got closer and peered from behind the brush that hid us from him, I saw him look up. He made his way to the fence that separated us. Ah, my old friend remembered me!

As I walked closer, I held the salt brick out for him to see and his eyes widened. He knew what it was. I saw some barbed wire on a cedar post that had enough slack to place the salt brick in for him to lick. As I approached, he started licking my hand not paying much attention to the fact I was attaching it to the fence. He licked and licked like it was no one’s business.

I motioned for Coon to come around. I told him I was going to get up on him and for him to count to ten Mississippi once I was on. He motioned to me like it was a bad idea. And, it was. But I didn’t care. I wanted them marbles and I wanted everyone to know!

I slowly climbed the barbed wire. The wire swayed back and forth until I set my leg on the wire above it to stabilize myself. I pet him as I climbed up and he was so engrossed with that salt brick he paid no attention. I patted him hard to gauge his reaction and still nothing.

I looked back one last time at Coon and saw the fear in his eyes. I was determined.

I kicked my scrawny leg over the massive back and gently sat my ass down on him. He still didn’t pay no mind to me. I motioned to Coon to toss me the rope that was in my sack so he did.

I loosened it up, tied a slip knot and tried to slide it over Noche’s massive head. But it got caught on his left horn. I tried to tug it off there ever so slightly and it caught his attention. He started shaking his head back and forth to get it off only causing it to tighten the knot I made.

He must’ve known something wasn’t right and he swung his head around. I saw his eyes bug out as it met my eyes and it was on, he started bucking!

I couldn’t hear him at first, but Coon later told me he started counting the Mississippi’s once the bucking began. I could only pay attention to staying up on him.

At first, it wasn’t too bad. But then my pant leg got caught on a barb shredding and bloodying up my leg. It stung but that was the least of my worries. We were air born!

Noche went straight up and when he came back down, my whole body jerked, and a hard thud could be felt as he landed on his front legs. I thought my leg bones were going to crack!

He twisted his head sideways and I could feel myself going back up in the air to the left. I held onto that rope that was held on his horn for dear life. Then I heard through the chaos “Two Mississippi!” Well, now I was determined. I just needed to hang on.

After the thud of his hind legs rattled my body, he lunged forward for a far jump and started going in a straight line away from the fence towards the clearing. “Three Mississippi!”

I was doing it! He twisted his head to the right and his body swerved to the left. I guess it helped that I was small and scrawny because my body conformed to his movement. I felt myself body rise up again into the air. “Four Mississippi!”

We were high enough at the point that the sunrise over the Piney Woods hit my eye with a bright intensity and then in a flash it was gone again as we went below the ray of light going down. Thud! This time we went straight up. “Five Mississippi!”

My hand was hurting something awful by now as was clutching the rope. I could feel a burning sensation in my hand, but I dare not let go of it. I could feel my heart beating through my chest at this point pounding harder than it’s ever pumped before.

Then before I knew it, Noche feel over sideways onto the left side and my leg was pinned underneath him. Oddly, I couldn’t feel it and it really didn’t bother me as I concentrated on his writhing body. As he started making his way back up off the mud, I could hear a sucking sound as my leg came out of the puckering sound of mud. “Six Mississippi!”

We were back up right and he stood there pissed off as all get out while huffing and puffing. He didn’t move and I didn’t dare budge. “Seven Mississippi!”

Noche then turned his head towards Coon right after hearing that seventh particularly loud declaration. Coon had caught his attention.

Just then, Coon shrieked for his life and began running back along the creek fearing for his life. Didn’t he realize the fence was between us? As he took off I could hear “Eight Mississippi!” in a shaking voice. Before I knew it, he was gone.

Noche forgot I was on top of him and he just stood there. I quietly muttered to myself, “Nine Mississippi. Ten Mississippi.” I did it! 10-seconds! Take that cowboys! I was the new sheriff in town.

He seemed content. I hopped off and Noche stared at me. Then he stared back at the fence with the salt brick. He seemed to forget the whole ordeal and walked over to commence salt licking.

I made my way out of there. Alive.

I couldn’t wait to tell everyone of the newest legend of Shelby County!