Free Stars Always Shine by Rick Rivera Page A

cautiously and murmuring, “So, boss, it’s okay, boss,” and Mickey swinging his loaded lariat high over his head.
    He shot the noose at the calf’s head and missed. It ran to another corner of the pasture. They tramped over to where the calf was eating, suspiciously now, and again Mickey readied his loop. Mitch signaled to Jacqueline to close ranks on her side, and when she did, Mickey hurled the lasso again. This time he grazed the calf’s head. He gathered up his rope quickly before the young animal could run to another corner. He made his loop even bigger, and running up to the calf, he mugged it by swinging the opening of the lasso over its head. Mickey grabbed the end of his rope and pulled hard. The calf choked out a grunt before lunging forward in a panic. Mitch jumped close to the calf and holding it in a headlock, tried to ease its fear with low, susurrous sounds. Mickey continued to pull back on the rope as if the animal had been sentenced to hang.
    “Where’s the bolus?” Mitch managed to ask as she continued her tight grip. “You might just try it here. This baby weighs about three hundred pounds, and I don’t think it will let us drag it all the way to the holding pen. But first cut some slack or nothing will go down its throat with your rope pulled so tight.”
    “I have it—right—here,” Mickey sputtered as he reached into his pocket with his free hand and tried to approach the front of the calf at the same time.
    Jacqueline, seeing the impending struggle, scrambled up on the fence.
    “Okay, hold on to him, Mitch,” Mickey said. “I’m going to stuff it in his mouth.”
    The calf, however, did not feel that Mickey’s plan was really conducive to its own well-being. As he swung his hand up to the creature’s mouth, it switched ends on him quickly so that now he aimed for the part that was called rump roast once the cow had been butchered. Mitch maintained a fierce headlock on the calf as she dug her heels into the ground, and the bovine switched and bucked and jerked. Mickey’s legs were scissor-locked around one of the calf’s front legs now as he held onto the noose with one hand and aimed with his fist at the beast’s mouth. But the animal had much more self-esteem than anyone had realized. It stepped sideways and bumped Mickey into the fence, then switched again. In the dervish of motion, the rope continued to wrap around both the young cow’s body and Mickey’s. Mitch finally let go and cleared from the excited turmoil as Mickey rode the side of the calf while tethered to its body like Ahab to Moby Dick.
    Mickey finally broke loose, and in a striking roundhouse punched the bolus into the calf’s mouth. The shocked animal ran to the middle of the pasture with the rope still around its neck. It mouthed and gummed the large pill for a few seconds, then spit it out. Mickey wiped dirt and manure off himself and shook his head quickly to regain his senses.
    “A successful ride is eight seconds!” Mitch joked. “You almost had it, cowboy.”
    Mickey smirked, and Jacqueline praised him. “You did fine, honey. At least you got the pill in its mouth.”
    “Yeah but she spit it out too,” Mitch said pointing to the victorious calf. “That one’s been wasted. That’s why you need a balling gun. You get that bolus right down their throats with one of those.” Mitch did not wait to hear Jacqueline’s or Mickey’s response. She walked away realizing that what she had learned years ago with cattle still held true.
    “Where are you going?” Jacqueline called after her.
    “I have a ranch to run!” Mitch yelled without looking back and holding her arms outstretched as a way of presenting the vastness of the ranch to the owners.
    Mickey determined that he would just seed the pasture with many boluses—two for each calf—and he rationalized that eventually they would walk over to one and eat it when they felt a worm coming on or had a touch of diarrhea. He didn’t remember what