The last buffalo    

© B. K. Chadwell, October, 2009  

I'd spied him in a draw just off the Old Oregon Trail

where it crossed the ridge 'tween Alder Creek and the Virtue swale.

With two plus years of searchin' I was always on the ride

I musta' rode five hundred miles... and never seen his hide.

The last time that I'd seen him was the fall of '93.

"Two year buffalo bull"...not so impressive...not to me.

But boy's, I gotta tell ya, when I jumped him in that draw,

his shiny horns and massive hump.... the best I'd ever saw.   

It had happened sort of sudden, the way things sometimes do,

when cowboys get snowed in and then get cabin fever too.

We were sittin' swappin' bull...which gets serious with Rock

when he speaks up and sez: "let's buy buffalo breedin' stock".

So... along in the springtime when the snow had melted down,

Rocky bought a herd of buffalo.....then... took off for town.

Oh...sez he, "we're partners in this buffalo enterprise.

I'll pay the feller for 'em and.... the rest is your surprise".    

I thought for sure a cowboy would just... automatic know

how to transfer all his cow sense... straight through to buffalo. 

But... for sev'ral years thereafter I fenced...then...  re-paired fence

and learned lots of buffalo stuff... that made no cowboy sense.

Of course we made no money, we was ranchin'...didn't I say,

workin' to support the ranch at another job by day.

I never was a quitter, but I'd tallied time and  pay

and I finally figured out... the buffalo couldn't stay.

My day job, the fencin' and ridin' took a lot of time,

with little left for me.... to even pen a cowboy rhyme. 

So we rode hard and rounded up, until one week was done,

then we sorted and shipped buffalo... all except for one. 

We all just called him "Rodney", Rocky named him that one day

(some neighbor kid he used to know, that always ran away).

And so it came as no surprise the day we were to ship,

the tally showed, one more time, Rodney'd given us the slip. 

Neighbors rarely saw him, yet they was always on the look.

He'd grown a lot in stature and ... "purely wild" in my book.       

 I rode the hills most every week but he was plenty slick

So...he became a legend on the range 'round Ruckles Creek.

The mornin' that I spied him... I pulled back to make some plans

and then gathered up two cowboys I considered real hands.

We all was freshly mounted up, I thought that day we'd win

and reckoned when  the sun went down ....ol' Rodney would be in.

Rodney didn't know that day, when I jumped him up the draw,

he'd cross that famous trail and meet my niece's cowboy pa.    

Then just in case that Rodney bull should  give ol' Don the slip...

I'd posted Ty, my son-in-law, to guide him on his trip.

I jumped him up the draw, whip and spur were in a tizzy...

I was yellin' up at Don... "get ready to get busy".

Rodney crossed that Oregon Trail... his tail straight in the air

Don raced in behind him... over and under'n on his mare.

Rodney headed for the line fence... Ty spurred up on the run,

These all were sights I'll cherish, when I think of things I've done.

Then Ty pulled up short as Rod... lightly vaulted o'er the fence,

a mile from any line gate...things were start'n to get tense.

Every cowboy worth his salt never ventures out to ride

without a pair of cutters  hangin' somewhere by his side.

We cut the fence, put horses thru, along with us three men,

then we mended back the fence, just the way it should'a been.

But then it was a horse race just to beat ol' Rodney's flight

and to get him down to Ruckles Creek before we lost day light.

Ty McPherson  up on Sam, who we knew came off the track

and this we never doubted because... speed he didn't lack.

I watched him runnin' rock slides, clearin' rim rocks every jump.

Ty's chinks looked more like wings while Ty was thumpin on Sam's rump.

He was gainin' on ol' Rodney, until he hit the flat...

disappeared in horse high sage...then lost Rodney... and his hat.

We took our turns, first me then Don, then Ty.... and on we went,

but Rodney... never waivered once, until we all were spent.

Late in the day we all were done, and Rodney was ahead,

Now, he'd turned back up Second Creek, that's all that needs be said.

There's more to tell... we often talk... how Rodney later dies.

But a question that is hidden here....I should summarize;

Was Rodney  ..."the last buffalo "... to raise a lofty tail,

like used to be, runnin' free, across the Oregon Trail?

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