The legend of Bobby Boone, Cowboy Extraordinaire.
Bobby Boone, on the left
What I am about to tell you is a true story, at least most parts of it. I weren’t there and he that told it to me heard it from someone else. That person said he got it right from the horse’s mouth, Bobby Boone, himself.
Bobby Boone, a Cowboys, Cowboy. He didn’t sit tall in the saddle; he was tall in it, literally. Bobby had the longest legs of any Cowboy in history. He could walk on a horse and into the saddle his legs were so long. And there weren’t no horse to ornery for Bobby to ride and a calf he couldn’t rope. Which brings us to the tale you are about to hear.
It is old news that the “Cowboy’s” left Cowtown Keeylocko empty handed, blooded and baffled. Outwitted by a bunch of four legged critters who ain’t smart enough to stay off the Bar B Q pit. These cows sat back on the range “high hoof’in it” and gloat’in as they watched the dust cloud that was the defeated Cowboys departing the Cowtown Keeylocko range. They should have had a look out; they’d a seen the lone dust cloud headed at them from a direction they weren’t watching. Within that cloud of dust was a determined Cowboy bound to have his way and not to be out done.
Bobby had a pretty good idea where those four footed “we got the best of them two leggeds” would be hang’in out. You see ole Bobby figured it, that when the “Cowboys” were circumnavigating the range trying to push the strays to the ranch; the strays themselves were circumnavigating the “Cowboys”. Who’d a thought cows could be that smart, oh by the way that word circumnavigating means to circle around. He figured the cows knew were the boys were all the time. So they kept moving one step ahead of the Cowboys, ducking in and out of first one arroyo and then another. He swept down upon the unsuspecting herd and routed them in a tight little formation and herded them straight toward the ranch into the corral. All their fuss’in drowned out by the crack of a rope and a Cowboys whoop’in and holler’in. Yet still before Bobby could get em all in the corral, one broke the herd and ran for it, straight into Indian country. He would have free reign for a moment as Bobby made sure the others were tucked in safe and sound.
Bobby knew the Sioux War of 1862 was started over a cow that strayed into the
mouths of some hungry Sioux, maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to be out
witted or out done by a four legged, who didn’t know his place in life. Maybe
it was pride and reputation, if it were the latter, no one was there to witness
the feat, no one’d know the difference if one cow was missing. Then again Ed
would. He knew where every nail and splinter was in that chaos of a town.
Ain’t nobody knows what got Bobby’s goat, in that he rode straight in after
that stray when it thought it could bolt onto the reservation and escape. What
he did next even had the ghost of Bill Pickett scratching his head. A Cowboy on
a good horse, who has the skill with a lariat, is second to none, and Bobby was
just that. Any thing Bobby threw his rope over was caught. When he and his horse
were one in harmony, nothing that was more suited or intended to have a lariat
tossed around its neck, stood a chance. So what possessed him to do a dang fool
thing like dismount and throw his rope over the critter in a field of cholla
cactus? Cactus in this neck of the range was numerous and thick as bees who got
a case of a word I will not mention here, you know what I mean. This behavior
would have had every Cowboy from LA to the
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