Rattled Ride On Cutthroat
- April 15, 2025
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- Jan Swan Wood
Posted in: Featured, Ranch Life
My time in New Mexico working on a ranch holds some pretty special memories. Some good, some bad, but overall, it was a great experience. Funny occurrences seem funnier now, 40 plus years later.
For those who don’t know, when you are working for a big outfit and have a string of horses assigned to you, no one else, including the owner, would even think of using one of “your” horses. They are yours until you turn them back or leave. So, if you have your string of horses worn out, lame, or whatever, it’s a real privilege to have someone offer a horse from their string.
Unbeknownst to me, the farrier that came out to the ranch to trim and shoe horses, had a habit of trimming horses too short and leaving them sore for a week or so after he was there. I hadn’t had the experience, so I didn’t take a hint when the more experienced cow boss loaded several extra horses from his string in the trailer the day the farrier was to be there. I took a very green three year old with me that day, who wasn’t up to two big days in a row, much less a week.
Sure enough, the next morning, my already scanty string of horses were all counting the grains of sand in the corrals with their very sore, short feet. I was, as you might imagine, delighted. It was to be a long day for whatever I caught, and the tired little three year old wasn’t a candidate, nor were my other horses who could barely get around to feed and water.
Thankfully, another guy on the crew loaned me a gelding from his string, that due to his snorty nature, had somehow been overlooked by the farrier, as his reputation was that he was not user friendly and pretty handy with his hind feet. The gelding’s name was Cutthroat, or Cutty for short. He was a sorrel with some chrome, and some hideous scars from an incident involving barbed wire. His one nostril was about twice as big as the other as part of it was missing. He also had a bad scar on his neck, right behind the throat latch, which led to his name.
He was a very alert, grabby horse that had been turned back by most of the bunkhouse crew but this one guy got along with him and liked him just fine. I’d ridden alongside this horse for quite a while and knew what he was like. I was young, limber, and bullet proof at that age, so Cutty was welcomed by me to use for a few days.
When I stepped on him, we eased off and though he was sure watching me, he didn’t make a bad move. He was one of those horses that had a very forward way of moving, and he was always hustling along like he was late to an appointment. I liked that type and anticipated a good day for both of us.
After walking and slow trotting to warm up the horses, the cow boss had scattered us out to start gathering the pasture. It was a long way to the back side, so he sent Cutty and me that direction to start pushing the cattle back toward the pens. I eased Cutty into a trot, then as he extended out, we were really covering the country in a long trot that Cutty could do all day.
Several days before I’d awakened with a bad headache, so had put some aspirin in a little metal tin to take along with me. It had been forgotten in my coat pocket. When Cutty shifted into his long trot, somehow that woke that little tin of aspirin up and it started rattling. It was amazing how much noise a half dozen little pills could make!
Cutty noticed it immediately, and I figure that the only thing he’d ever heard that rattled anything like that was a rattlesnake. He turned both ears back and one eye to try to see just where this snake was hitching a ride on him. His long trot turned into grabbing his butt and goosing ahead, running sideways and trying to run off. I had my hands full keeping that from happening. The kangaroo rats had tunnels everywhere on that stretch of country and a long trot was as fast as you dared go for fear of your horse sticking his front feet down through the sod and going end over end. A runaway might just kill both of us.
I finally got Cutty turning in a little circle until he stopped. As soon as he stopped, of course, the rattling stopped. I carefully moved my hand up to my coat pocket, reached in and extracted the little tin. Still holding Cutty pretty short and with his head bent toward my knee, I opened that tin with one hand and dumped those aspirin out on the ground. He saw every single one, believe me, and heard them hit the dirt, flinching and side stepping as they fell. The rollers were really going as I slipped the empty tin back into my pocket.
I let his head straighten out and we stood for a bit, just letting him relax while I rubbed his neck. I eased him off again and finally resumed the long trot. Cutty was still listening and looking back, but there was no more terrible rattling coming from my pocket.
After a bit, he really lined out again, apparently having decided that the terror had passed. I didn’t blame him a bit and was just grateful that he hadn’t decided to buck the rattle off. I knew he was perfectly capable of that too.
I rode him for several days until my own horses’ feet had toughened up a bit. He was a good booger, just watchy and quick, and for sure, he never shifted into a long trot with me again that he didn’t turn an ear and eye back to be sure the rattle wasn’t there. I respected his caution and to this day, I haven’t packed anything in a pocket that made any mysterious sounds.
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Posted in: Featured, Ranch Life
About Jan Swan Wood
Jan was raised on a ranch in far western South Dakota. She grew up horseback working all descriptions of cattle, plus sheep and horses. After leaving home she pursued a post-graduate study of cowboying and dayworking in Nebraska, New Mexico, Montana, Wyoming and South Dakota....