Chris Lombard

Photo by Amy Disarro

THE BULLY CHASE

“He escaped some time in the night,” said Cody, the head cowboy. “I was thinkin’ you’d ride out this morning after breakfast, see if you can spot him.”

We finished breakfast and walked out to the corrals. The sun was just coming up. Some of the horses were still eating as the suns’ first morning rays warmed their backs. I walked out and met Alto, stood with him a while. He seemed happy in the morning.

Contemplative maybe. Content definitely.

I walked Alto up to the hitching posts and saddled him. Took off my jacket, the chill of the Arizona morning was dieing quickly. On one side of the saddle I tied my lariat, on the other I secured a bottle of water. Thought about taking the binoculars but then didn’t. He was big enough to see.

I got up on Alto and leaned back and scratched his hindquarters, then his withers. He turned his head back and nuzzled my boot. Every time I got on we did this, like some sort of pre-flight check. You’re there and I’m there.

Cody walked up to me.

“Don’t try to bring him back alone,” he said. “It takes at least two, sometimes three riders.”

“Okay,” I said.

Alto and I rode across the courtyard to the gate, I brought him up alongside of it, opened it, went through, closed it, and we disappeared out into the Sonora.

We walked along a dry, sandy riverbed toward the border. I sang some Neil Diamond songs, then some Chris Ledoux songs. Left the riverbed and took a winding path through some mesquite. Followed that for a while. We passed by the old bone yard and stopped. Scattered everywhere were the bones of horses and cattle and other farm animals. Whole and half sculls stared at us from the ground, half buried in the sand and dirt and brush that had grown up around them. Memories, alive and well, from the ranch’s near two hundred years of history. Alto and I looked on, paying our respect, and at the same time wondering about all the stories this sacred place held. We turned and continued on.

We rode out onto an open flat and there was the border fence. On the other side was Old Mexico. I knew I would find Arvilardo’s herd of cattle somewhere near here. Arvilardo was a Mexican rancher whose herd of cattle sometimes wondered across the border and hung out around here. And I knew if I found them, I would find what I was looking for.

I rode the fence line for a while and started to move up into the foothills. The land got steep at times but we switch-backed across it. We topped a small hill and spotted two things: a beautiful view into Mexico, and a line of 8-10 mujadas—Mexican people who were illegally crossing the border into the United States—walking in a line into the lands of a new country. They saw me just as I saw them and momentarily stopped. They then took me for what I was, a lone cowboy out riding, and soon they continued walking. I rode by them. They were mostly young men. Two young women. One with a baby. Some looked at me, others wouldn’t. Those that did look at me looked away immediately. All had hope and fear in their eyes. There was something about the Sonoran Desert, a faraway land in the middle of nowhere that had us all looking at each other as people. Just people. Trying to get along in life.

After another half hour of riding we came to a hilltop and saw Arvilardo’s herd. I scanned the hillside… and there he was. Easy to see. Twice the size of those around him. I could see his horns from where I stood with my horse.

Bully was our ranch bull. He was… well, how can I see this as clearly as possible… one of the biggest animals I have ever seen. He was freakin’ huge. Weighing in at what we guessed at easily one ton, with a horn span of four to five feet, he was the bull that many a rodeo man would love to have a shot at. And would probably lose at. He was big, mean looking, and here’s the big thing: he was quick as a cat.

And he saw me, before I saw him.

He loved hanging out with Arvilardo’s herd, and he knew what I was there for. A man on a horse riding toward him—he knew what that meant.

I took a deep breath and talked to Alto. He knew what this was too. He was a ranch horse who was good at this sort of thing long before I ever met him, and he had taught me a lot about it. And now everybody involved in this situation was getting ready.

I thought about what Cody had said. What could it hurt though, riding over there toward the Bull and scouting out the situation.

I rode in a zigzag line, trying to disguise my intentions. One by one cows looked up at me. Bully stared at me the whole time. As I got closer I saw his eyes fixated on me, a line of drool blankly hanging from his mouth. I rode into the herd, riding amongst the cows like a polite gentleman who had come for a visit. And trying to trick Bully into thinking that as well.

I got as close to him as I thought I could and I stopped Alto. And there we were, the three of us, staring at each other. Alto’s eyes never left him. The drool hung there. I looked away, like I was just enjoying the day. But then I slowly turned my gaze back onto him, and it betrayed me…. With a snap Bully pulled back onto his haunches and turned and sprinted down the hill like lightning. Before I could think Alto fell into the chase. Within seconds we went from zero to sixty with Bully sprinting and Alto digging across the ground after him, leaning his head into the chase, fully committed. Bully came to a line of mesquite and without hesitation he crashed through it like a boulder, and tree and bush parted for him. Knowing the thorns and the thickness of the brush I pulled Alto up to an immediate stop. Bully ran on, but he was now just a noise as I heard him crashing through the brush and getting further away from us. Soon, the noise of his movement died away and I knew he was long gone.

I sat there on Alto for a second. He waited for a decision from me. With a slight squeeze from my calves we started cantering along the line of trees, looking for a way through.

We finally came to a section I thought we could make it through and I took us through it. It was rough but we made it and came to the bottom of the hill. I knew Bully was probably miles away from us by now, but I took Alto up to a collected canter and we started to move through the land, my eyes scanning from side to side for any sign. In this land, there were a million places he could hide. But we rode on and searched.

After ten minutes of combing the land, I thought we had lost him. But what was that out of the corner of my eye!

I relaxed my seat on Alto and touched the reins back and he came to a quick stop and I rolled him back to look behind us.

Standing in the shade of a tree we had passed, was Bully. We had startled him. His look said it all.

“You’re still here?” it said. That line of drool still dangling inquisitively. “How did you find me?”

“Yup, still here,” my eyes said back.

Alto danced his feet in anticipation.

I smiled.

And we were off again.

Bully turned and sprinted through the trees. Left then right, then left then left again then back right. He would change direction on a dime for no reason. It was like chasing a hummingbird. But this land was different, the trees were sparser, it was more open, and Alto and I glided along at a gallop, cutting to the left and then to the right, keeping Bully in our sights, staying with him like a water-skier in the wake of a speedboat. And when the bull looked back and saw us still there, he knew the game was on.

And then I realized we were going in the direction of the ranch.

We could do this.

And then Bully seemed to realize that very same thing. Suddenly he cut back and tried to make it back past us. But Alto and I were of the same mind. Our gallop was a stop in no time. Bully ran back at us until there was only a tree in-between us, a great big mesquite. He tried to get by us by running to the left of the tree, but we cut him off. He tried to go right, we cut him off. My God… I had never herded a bull before… were they all like this?

It was here I felt something like I had never felt before. Alto knew what we were doing, and his heart was in it the whole way. If Bully wanted to get around me, he could. There was no way I could be quick enough in my riding to be right on top of him. But Alto and I together…. that was a different story.

Alto took over, and like he was trying to rival Bully’s quickness, he dropped down into a cat-like stance and shadowed Bully’s movement, cutting him off at every try the old bull had at getting around us. I let go and trusted Alto and just followed Bully with my eyes. I sat deep in the saddle and just moved with my horse.

The battle of quickness between horse and bull grew and grew until one cracked….

The Bull gave up.

He turned and tried to run real wide around us, but I saw that if we back tracked a little we could come out ahead of him and cut him off. I picked up on the reins and without hesitation Alto followed my lead. He had no idea where we were going, to him it looked like we were dropping off the chase, but he trusted my lead.

We came out and sprinted ahead to cut the bull off and we made it. The bull was turned back the way it had come. It started running back toward the ranch again. Alto and I followed confidently, letting him know there was only one direction he could run. We passed by the bone yard, Bully cutting around it to the left, Alto and I cutting around it to the right. The bull was picking up speed, and we followed. Not pushing or controlling, but guiding and directing…

And then the ranch came into view. And with that, another dilemma came into my mind. Okay, I got him here, but how do I get him in by myself?

Bully ran faster, Alto and I ran faster. I saw Cody standing at the main corral area with JC, the other cowboy that worked there. They started sprinting for the gate to the main corral, hoping they could get there in time to open it for Bully.

People and horses and bulls were all running as hard as they could and to tell you the truth I didn’t know how this was going to end.

Bully did though.

He ran for the corral fence and never stopped. He jumped higher than I was aware a bull could jump, which is why I guess he escaped so easily in the first place. The bull leaped over the fencing, taking the top board with him.

Behind him Alto and I came to a halt.

Cody and JC came running into the pen and herded him into a pen with larger fencing, one that he couldn’t readily get out of. Alto and I rode in through the gate. With the bull in and the excitement over, Cody came walking up to Alto and I.

“Looks like I missed quite a chase,” Cody said.

“Yeah,” I said, out of breath.

“Didn’t I tell ya not to be tryin’ to bring him in on yer own?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. Not knowing what else to say.

He looked away, smiled like he was laughing to himself. “Well… today, at least, I’d say you earned the right to wear that hat. I’m proud of ya, cowboy.

I smiled, patted my horse. Alto.

Cody turned and walked away. “Sure wish I was there to be a part of that chase,” he said, shaking his head in some sort of disbelief.

I reached down and scratched Alto’s hindquarters, and then his withers, and then held out my boot to him. He turned back, nuzzled the end of the boot.

And somewhere where I couldn’t see it now, there was a line of drool hanging down from a bull’s mouth. I almost felt like going into that pen now and setting that bull free, tipping my chocolate brown Stetson to him, and letting him go back to where he wanted to be.