from the bottom of the rock.
The four girls stood up and looked over the edge of the rock. Everyone was getting ready to go. They hurried down the craggy rock to their horses.
Carole kept her thoughts to herself as she swung herleg over and sat comfortably in Berry’s saddle. Whatever happens happens, she thought. Why should I need my father to understand so much about riding anyway? After all—it comes down to how I feel about riding, and that part’s just fine. In just a couple of hours, this beautiful ride will be over, and we’ll be back at the Bar None.
She gave Parson’s Rock a farewell glance and trotted over to catch up with the cattle.
B Y THE EARLY AFTERNOON , the group had reached the arroyo they had come over yesterday. Only now, on the way back with the hundreds of cattle, Carole thought the descent into the streambed seemed much steeper. She watched as Walter led the first few steers down the side of the gully to drink at the narrow stream. The animals directly behind his horse made it down the bank okay, but the others got distracted and started to spread out on the high ground, looking for places to go down the hill.
Carole immediately saw the problem. The safest placefor the cattle to go down the hill was very narrow. Walter and John were guiding the cattle, but they had to funnel them practically one at a time into the narrow spot to take a drink.
As the other animals wandered off and tried to make their own way down to the water, some of them slipped on the steep embankment. This could lead to trouble, Carole realized.
“This is a job for Stewball!” she called to Stevie. “You two need to go down there and convince those cows not to spend the whole day drinking. I’ll stay here with Berry and guide these cattle down the bank one at a time.”
“Gotcha!” Stevie called back to her friend, and she and Kate headed to the front of the line of cattle, which was much farther upstream by now.
Stewball was a champion cutting horse. He could easily get cattle to go where he wanted, no matter what the situation was. Stevie knew this about Stewball, and she had the technique to take advantage of his skills.
When they got to the front of the line of cattle, Stevie and Stewball nudged, cajoled, and led the thirsty animals over to where Walter and John were trying to herd them up the bank.
One by one, and sometimes two by two, Carole let thecattle go down. Lisa backed her up, making sure none of the cows wandered away.
Once they reached the stream, the animals stopped to drink for a long time. The youngest of them couldn’t decide whether to drink from the stream or from their mothers, so they stood at their mothers’ sides, alternately nursing and drinking the cool clear stream water.
It was a slow process. All The Saddle Club members stayed intensely focused on the job at hand.
“These ornery beasts are sure taking their time,” said Colonel Hanson. He had been riding back and forth on the near bank.
Carole overheard her father. They’re not being ornery, she thought with irritation. They’re just thirsty.
But all of the Saddlebags were getting restless. Carole heard them continue to complain.
“What’s going on down there?” Mr. Lake asked his wife and Mrs. Atwood, who had been sitting on their horses and chatting.
“The cows are having their coffee break,” Mrs. Lake replied, “and it’s taking forever.”
“Sure is,” Colonel Hanson agreed as he rode back up to the group, followed by Mr. Atwood. “You know, Rich and I were thinking, maybe us Saddlebags could do alittle exploring up the banks here, while the experts get these cows squared away.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” said Mrs. Lake. “Let’s clear it with the boss.”
“Okey-doke,” said her husband, and he rode down the steep bank. “How’s it going?” he called to Walter.
“Fine.” Walter looked up. “Slow but sure.”
“Okay if us oldsters go exploring along the arroyo?”
“Yup,” Walter
The four girls stood up and looked over the edge of the rock. Everyone was getting ready to go. They hurried down the craggy rock to their horses.
Carole kept her thoughts to herself as she swung herleg over and sat comfortably in Berry’s saddle. Whatever happens happens, she thought. Why should I need my father to understand so much about riding anyway? After all—it comes down to how I feel about riding, and that part’s just fine. In just a couple of hours, this beautiful ride will be over, and we’ll be back at the Bar None.
She gave Parson’s Rock a farewell glance and trotted over to catch up with the cattle.
B Y THE EARLY AFTERNOON , the group had reached the arroyo they had come over yesterday. Only now, on the way back with the hundreds of cattle, Carole thought the descent into the streambed seemed much steeper. She watched as Walter led the first few steers down the side of the gully to drink at the narrow stream. The animals directly behind his horse made it down the bank okay, but the others got distracted and started to spread out on the high ground, looking for places to go down the hill.
Carole immediately saw the problem. The safest placefor the cattle to go down the hill was very narrow. Walter and John were guiding the cattle, but they had to funnel them practically one at a time into the narrow spot to take a drink.
As the other animals wandered off and tried to make their own way down to the water, some of them slipped on the steep embankment. This could lead to trouble, Carole realized.
“This is a job for Stewball!” she called to Stevie. “You two need to go down there and convince those cows not to spend the whole day drinking. I’ll stay here with Berry and guide these cattle down the bank one at a time.”
“Gotcha!” Stevie called back to her friend, and she and Kate headed to the front of the line of cattle, which was much farther upstream by now.
Stewball was a champion cutting horse. He could easily get cattle to go where he wanted, no matter what the situation was. Stevie knew this about Stewball, and she had the technique to take advantage of his skills.
When they got to the front of the line of cattle, Stevie and Stewball nudged, cajoled, and led the thirsty animals over to where Walter and John were trying to herd them up the bank.
One by one, and sometimes two by two, Carole let thecattle go down. Lisa backed her up, making sure none of the cows wandered away.
Once they reached the stream, the animals stopped to drink for a long time. The youngest of them couldn’t decide whether to drink from the stream or from their mothers, so they stood at their mothers’ sides, alternately nursing and drinking the cool clear stream water.
It was a slow process. All The Saddle Club members stayed intensely focused on the job at hand.
“These ornery beasts are sure taking their time,” said Colonel Hanson. He had been riding back and forth on the near bank.
Carole overheard her father. They’re not being ornery, she thought with irritation. They’re just thirsty.
But all of the Saddlebags were getting restless. Carole heard them continue to complain.
“What’s going on down there?” Mr. Lake asked his wife and Mrs. Atwood, who had been sitting on their horses and chatting.
“The cows are having their coffee break,” Mrs. Lake replied, “and it’s taking forever.”
“Sure is,” Colonel Hanson agreed as he rode back up to the group, followed by Mr. Atwood. “You know, Rich and I were thinking, maybe us Saddlebags could do alittle exploring up the banks here, while the experts get these cows squared away.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” said Mrs. Lake. “Let’s clear it with the boss.”
“Okey-doke,” said her husband, and he rode down the steep bank. “How’s it going?” he called to Walter.
“Fine.” Walter looked up. “Slow but sure.”
“Okay if us oldsters go exploring along the arroyo?”
“Yup,” Walter
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