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The trail was long and very dusty great clouds churned up by hooves of the vast herd being wrangled on 300 more miles of eating their dust Bandana's tightly wrapped round faces cries of "get up there" ringing out bawling calves separated from mothers hiss of hot branding irons scorching A rumbling constantly moving mass stretching back as far as eyes can see horses reeling back and forth, pushing always pushing them on, 200 miles to go Storm is approaching as they settle down tightly bunched up wranglers keeping watch hard as nails falls the rain, lashing down cattle milling round and round as flashes Of lightning light up the sky causing restless beasts to try to break and flee away tumultuous thunder now joining in causing panic "Keep them circling, don't let them break out" Came the cries of the foreman as they tried to hold chuck wagon knocked over as through camp they run woe to anyone on foot or even a thrown rider "keep them going south, They will stop at the river" Gradually the storm quietens and dies down first light shows how scattered they are some needing to be shot where they lay mangled the rest pushed through the river to the plains Here they can be regrouped, lush grasses to eat no urgency now 10 miles or so a day we push them letting them gain some more weight, 50 miles to go the foreman sends two men on to warn the yards At last they see the rail tracks, only 15 miles away "one last big push lads and we will have them there tonight we will wet our whistles and eat like kings" hot tubs to soak in, washing away dirt that is caked We push them into the waiting pens as they bawl and churn settled now with fresh hay and water the plaintive calls of mothers looking for their calves, the wranglers push them together keeping the bulls apart, they will ship first Now work is done, 800 miles or so we have driven them it is time to relax and let our hair down, find ladies of the night with which to dally for awhile, some poker played, several fights break out over who gets which one As dawn breaks low rumbles from the pens as the cattle stir the town but for a few still fast asleep, until the train spitting steam and smoke arrives, and buyers now alight many offers are made and rejected out of hand, these cows Are already sold to keep our armies fed as they war against the Maverick Indians, that are plundering the homesteads 30,000 at first of drove, now reduced to 27,000 or so loaded up on the train our job is done we are homeward bound written 09/17/2013 contest Epic Only
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