ROUND-UP IN HOLBROOK

By: Ron Mc Coy

ROUNDUP IN HOLBROOK
By Ron McCoy

I’m a dyed in the wool trail rider and have been for forty years or more but every now and then something comes along that is as much fun and perhaps a little more challenging. It was in the early part of December when a fella I know told me there would be a round up at the Saddle Rock ranch on the upcoming weekend. That fired my interest up considerably. The ranch is up near Holbrook Arizona a high plains desert area. Fact is that it is up about 5,200 feet, and to make a long story short in December it can get pretty cold up there. So I told this fella I’d like to go if I could get my ducks in a row. First thing I did of course was head for home and get the newspaper out and check the weather for the area. Found it was 23 degrees at night and warming to 45 degrees during the day with a brisk wind. There lays the problem, what do you wear? As the day warms and you need to pull off that heavy down jacket that felt pretty good when it was 23 degrees, where do you put it. It’s way too bulky to tie on the back of the saddle. I’d hoped for a warming trend, but found the conditions remained about the same as the week progressed.

Here in Queen Creek Arizona where I live the days were getting up into the 60’s and 70’s and so our horses were pretty short haired, but a long about Wednesday I decided to go anyway. Most of the day riding crew were going up early Friday morning and that caused a small problem for me. I was scheduled to work Friday morning and my daughter, Sara, was to be a school play that night. Checking with my neighbor, Al Spall, who was going up also, told me he would take my “Goes anywhere does anything” horse Lefty when he and a bunch of other Day Riders left early that Friday morning.
The plan was now in place for what I knew would be the coldest ride of my life. I went to work that Friday morning almost hoping that the roundup would be called off for one reason or another. When I came home from work, I checked down at the barn. Sure enough Lefty was gone along with a heavy horse blanket I’d set out for him for that night. Checking the newspaper for conditions seemed to be the next item of business and they were unchanged. I could see myself the next morning with all that heavy winter stuff on and still being cold.

My daughter was really great in the Christmas play that night and I was glad I had stayed to see her in it. I finally got to bed at 10:30 and knew it would be a long, cold day that Saturday. The drive to the ranch takes about four hours and I knew they wanted to start about 7:30. My alarm got me up at 3 AM, and I got a pot of coffee going to take along with me in a big insulated cup. I was on the road by 3:20 AM and the local weather said it was 60 degrees. Altitude climbing begins almost right away from my home and the further up the road I went the more I had to inch the heater thermostat up. Going up the road on route 87 to Payson a person from the Midwest as I am finds some of the most interesting western names along the way; Mesquite wash, Camp creek, Bushnell tanks road, Kitty Joe creek and Whiskey Springs to name a few.

After a bit, I’d made the long climb from 1200 feet at Queen Creek to 5200 feet at Payson. My foot had been in the carburetor during this time and the gas gage had fallen perceptively calling for a stop in Payson for gas, coffee and fresh donuts. I whipped into an all night station when I saw the gas was about 20 cents a gallon cheaper than in Phoenix. Figure that one out. Getting out of the warm truck a cold blast of wind inspired me to slip on my down jacket. Finding ice on the windshield washing outfit only reminded of how cold this roundup could be. As luck would have it I was too early for fresh donuts and the coffee had been brewing all night so I settled for just the all night coffee that could burn a hole in anybody’s stomach. I didn’t care however, I was going on a roundup, so therefore, I must be somewhat of a tough guy. After gassing up I slipped off my jacket and ripped off down the road ignoring the “Watch out for Elk” signs. Passed Diamond Point restaurant, Kohl’s Ranch and on up to Heber. Swung North at that point on Route 377 for a 36 mile ride to Holbrook, Arizona. Dawn came with a gorgeous Arizona sunrise and at 6:30 a.m. I was in Holbrook The remaining miles took me to a ranch entrance that was a gate in the middle of nowhere totally without any note that it was a entrance to anywhere. It was 6:50 a.m. when I swung the gate open and it was colder than you-know-what.
I noticed an awful lot of cattle up close to the ranch entrance at the highway and I wasn’t too happy about that. I knew it was 5 l/2 miles back to the ranch headquarters where the corrals are situated, making it a long ride back out to get them. The drive back over a very rough lane to the ranch headquarters finally thumped to an end. When I arrived, I found that the crew had not even had breakfast yet. I was ready for something to eat and hopefully the weather would warm some and felt that this was a good turn in events. I checked on my horse and then went into the ranch house to join them for breakfast. It wasn’t until about 8:30 a.m. when the Ray Deskins the ranch owner, called for us to saddle up. The crew slipped on chaps and strapped on spurs and shortly we were ready. The best thing now was it had warmed up considerably. And the heavy, bulky down jacket was no longer needed.

More good news came when the ranch owner told us his brother and nephew had trailered in earlier and were gathering all the cattle that I had seen earlier near the highway and they were now pushing them our way.

We set out at a brisk trot and occasionally loped for about 45 minutes when we came upon the rancher owner Rays brother and nephew with a sizeable part of the herd. Ray then sent the riders in different directions to sweep the pastures clear of any stock. A young fellow by the name of Jonathan and I were assigned to drive the bulk of what had already been gathered towards the ranch. I’ll have to say that Jonathan was riding a whole lot more horse than I was. The weather had warmed considerably by this time and I was feeling pretty good about everything. The ranch is pretty flat and there are very few trees, in other words you can see a long way off.

Jonathan and I were pushing about 75 head towards the corrals, picking up a few more cows here and there. Some of the other riders would run what they had gathered and push them into our bunch.

I’d been having some trouble with a black baldy steer that kept stopping and I’d have to ride back and get him. He had a big yellow ear tag marked 143. Later on, I looked back and there he was standing about a quarter mile back from the herd which was now about 100 head. Lefty and I rolled back and picked him up; this time, when Jonathan was going the other way, I got old 143 way over to Jonathan’s side and pushed deep into the main herd. About 30 minutes later most of the other riders had joined us with their gather.

I happened to look back and saw that old 143 standing way back from the herd on my side. So I had to make another long, loping trip back to get him, but before long we got the whole head into the pens and we broke for lunch.

A semi had pulled up to the loading chute and a livestock buyer was there looking just exactly like the livestock buyer that you’ve always pictured in your mind. After lunch, we separated the stock into five groups. We rode in and cut out about 20% of the herd and pushed them into smaller pens.

Now the footwork started. All the jackets and vests had come off by now as it really turned quite pleasant. We ran 20 head at a time into a pen and then down a chute where Ray would decide what would be shipped and what would be turned back out to pasture. I was helping run stock into the chute. That can be a lot of running around for some of us older folks. Pretty soon my old friend yellow tag 143 was ready to go down the chute. Ray called for him to be turned out, but when he wasn’t looking, I sent old 143 down the ship lane. Can’t tell you how satisfied I felt.

It sure got dry and dusty working in the corrals, but before long, we were finished. The semi pulled out with 140 or so yearlings and we still had a little daylight left. A decision was made to head back home and in a very short time all the gear was loaded up. After some good-byes we set off. At the entrance to the ranch I saw one of the most spectacular sunsets I had ever seen. So I stopped and took several pictures.

Al Spall and his crew stopped in Payson for supper. So I enjoyed them. We had a nice chance to recount the day’s adventure and what all we had seen and done. Of course, I didn’t say anything about old 143. Before long we were back home in Queen Creek after experiencing another adventure in life.

Ron McCoy can be contacted at rksmccoy@earthlink.net

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