Using Saddle Broncs And Brahma Bulls As Financial Advisors

Early October, 1962. The setting is the Northern Montana College campus at Havre, Montana. Later, the school will be called Montana State University--Northern. For now, in one of the dorm rooms, I am having a conversation with my friend, Danny McNeil. Recklessness on my part has resulted in my car's right front fender denting his car's left rear fender.

Never mind that I drive a 1952 Chevy (ugly tan) while his Chevy is a 1958 model (cool yellow). I am responsible for the damage, and it is up to me to find a way to pay for the necessary repair. While it is true that a local body shop will do this for a total of $47.50, I don't have $47.50.

What I do have is need in addition to a hastily devised plan. Another friend, Conrad "Connie" Cox, an area rancher and an outstanding rodeo cowboy in his own right, has agreed to loan me the money to get to a rodeo some miles above the border into Canada. Yet a third friend, Terry Estelle, will travel with me and split the costs. On this basis, I know exactly how much money I need to win in order to pay Connie back and fix Danny's car: $115.00

To put this in perspective, you need to understand that I had competed in more than 40 rodeos between May and September of that year and had won less than one hundred total dollars. But that was my plan, and I was sticking to it.

As it turned out, cowboys working all three bucking events at this particular two-night rodeo would each be climbing down on one bareback bronc and one bull but on two saddle broncs. The "bronc riding" may be the classic rodeo event, but it is "trickier" in a way, and fewer total riders gravitate in that direction...so they sometimes ride more horses per cowboy to give the audience that all-important show.

While it is usual to begin with bareback riding, this outfit ran a section of saddle broncs through first. I didn't know this string of stock, but Canadian cowboys assured me that the big, dark bay gelding I had drawn could "buck a bit". I understood, and he could. His bucking pattern was high and flashy, circling steadily to the left. I came down maybe half a heartbeat before the full eight seconds, landing on the back of my neck, producing a goose egg on the back of my head as well as on the judges' score sheets.

No money on that one.

To make things even more interesting, I was knocked out on my feet. Minutes later, as I straddled my bareback bronc in the chute and settled my hand in the rigging, I looked up at Terry and asked him what town we were in. He freaked, saying,

"You get up outa there!"

I "got outa there", all right--by nodding to the cowboy holding the gate to swing it open. Horse and rider jumped out into the arena...and I won second place in the bareback riding that night. Money money money.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't throw any fantastic bronc ride whatsoever. In fact, I was so out of it that although I did not miss the horse out, neither did I spur the animal a single lick. Not only that, but the critter hardly bucked at all, just sort of hopped down the center of the arena. So...how did I win money?

Simple. Only two of us at the entire rodeo had qualified bareback rides. Everyone else either bucked off or failed to mark their horses out.

My traveling partner would not be riding his bull until the following night, but I was "up" during that same, first performance by the luck of the draw. By the time Terry pulled my bull rope tight on the dark, medium sized Brahma crossbred, my head was clear. He (the bull, not Terry) cranked it back in a high, tight, lefthand spin--what today's bull riders refer to as "into my office", spinning toward my riding hand.

This time I placed second as well, just like in the bareback riding, but in a tougher competition with a little more entry fee money to go around. However, getting off a bull can often be as tricky as riding one. I came down "inside the spin", meaning that when I did hit the ground, my erstwhile mount had me in his sights.

No good bull could pass up a target like that. One of his short, sawed-off horns nailed me between the shoulder blades, driving me hard into the plowed arena dirt. He only got in that one lick, thanks to the rodeo clown, but it was a good one.

That bull ride showed me something: Although I'd been riding broncs for more than four years by that time, and bulls for only one year, I was already better on the bulls. Before long, I would specialize in trying to get myself killed in one event only, where on occasion the animal would try to help you reach that target

Most importantly, however, I knew I was well on my way to hitting my financial target for the trip.

Not that the night was over. There were two "happenings" yet to come before the sun made its appearance over the horizon:

1. A 15-year-old local cowboy acted without thinking. We had talked some here and there. Perhaps he idolized me a bit. Mostly, he was fifteen. I was walking behind the chutes, very sore from being gored in the back, when he jumped down off a chute and threw his arms around me in a bear hug.

Too fast for thought, my right foot went up, back, and in, my long-shanked bull riding spur scraping his leg and ripping his jeans from ankle to knee. He wasn't much hurt, but he was indignant: How could I do that to his good pants? To get him to shut up, I finally dug out a dirty pair of Wranglers from my car and gave them to him. He wasn't as friendly after that, but neither did he jump on any more wounded cowboys without warning.

2. We drove for miles and miles, Terry and I, before finding a cheap motel for the night. Sharing a bed in an overheated room, unable to find a comfortable position with that gouge at the base of my neck, I did not sleep much.

During the final performance, I placed third in the go round on a somewhat average saddle bronc. Terry bucked off his bull: No score. Every cowboy has to have a sense of humor to survive in the rough and ready world of rodeo, but I was not smiling as the Rodeo Secretary handed out our checks. Since I had placed in all three events, she passed three checks my way, and then a fourth--I had also miraculously placed First for All Around Cowboy.. I added the money up in my head several times to be sure. Then I smiled.

My total winnings came to $116.50, precisely $1.50 above my stated goal of $115.00.

At age 64, I no longer use broncs and bulls as my financial advisors...but neither have I forgotten the power of a goal clearly stated and pursued with determination.

Thanks for reading,

Ghost32.