The Rope Story

Not ready for the big time. I guess I should be thankful it’s hot and I don’t ‘have to’ ride. I’m having a hard time switching gears from cowgirl to housegirl. I hate being stuck inside, time goes sooooooo sloooooow.

I thought I might tell the The Rope Story.
My cowboy roped a bull and when he hit the end of the rope the bull jumped, front end straight up, in the air and on his lunge down he managed to get away from my cowboy and take off with the rope around his neck. He ran into something like what is in the photo above but thicker and with no nice trail through it like the picture. Its Thorny Buffalo Berry, prickly nasty stuff.
I thought, as I saw that rope being drug into the brush, $80 rope-$13 metal hondu. (I’m ‘haner Cymraes’, half Welsh and I’m so frugal, aka tight, that I’ve even had a Scotchman apologize to me for wasting hay.)  On my horse along the outside of this 1/2 mile long patch of brush I followed the sound of the bull carefully as he crashed along, out of site, through it. Then I glimpsed him as he came out and went back in and guess what? Yup, no rope. 
Well there’s no way to do with out it and there’s no way I’m going to let my cowboy spend almost $100 to replace it. So I took off my hat and looped the stampede strings over the horn and got down on my gloved hands and knees and started crawling back through the thorns looking for this rope. I could see pretty clearly the trail of broken branches where this bull had muscled his way through.
Blue, my good dog came in with me but went a different way and I lost site of him. Then all of a sudden I hear some crashing in the brush not too far to ahead and to my right. Blue starts barking and barking; I have no idea what at. I was pretty sure it wasn’t the bull because the last I saw of him, he was booting it in the other direction and I had crawled quite a way. 
I yelled “Blue!” and then I heard my cowboy, who had by then caught up with me (after having to reseet his saddle) calling my name. I yelled back, “Help! I think there’s something in here with me. Can you see anything?”
“Nope, the brush is too thick. What in heck are you doing in there?”
I just grumble to myself.  The barking stopped and I kept going, not much choice. Another 50 feet and I see the rope. “Thank Heaven!” I get it and manage to crawl my way out. 
My cowboy rides over with my horse and a big grin, “My rope?” I see him think for a minute, “Are you sure you’re not 1/2 Scotch.”
“Ha!” Is all I can say as I pick a thorn or two out of my pants. 
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8 responses to “The Rope Story

  1. Great story…so…what was in the brush with you???

  2. Oh I would have totally went after it. I'm tight as bark on a tree, and no way would I have left it! 😉

  3. Waste not want not… my mom was half Irish and she taught me that one. I probably would have gone after the rope too… whats a thorn or two anyway!

  4. Yeah! I think I'd have went back in for the rope too, those darn things are too exspensive, I'm pretty tight myself, and heck some are just better than buying a new one. A good used rope is hard to beat!!Loved it!

  5. Great story. As I was reading along, I thought Blue would stop barking and it would end up being your cowboy in the brush also looking for his rope.

  6. You are made of awesome. 🙂 I would not have gone after it until I had gotten something to hack my way in, haha.I am glad you have no idea what Blue was barking at. 😮

  7. I am 1/2 Scot, and I think it must be the Welsh in you cause I gotta say I would have maybe left it … maybe

  8. hehe… that's awesome! I wonder what Blue was barking at though….

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