For the Most Part: Muddling the Truth

By Ron Jordan

Spinning yarns and storytelling has been a way of life for many folks living in the American West. Here is a returning author whose stories will captivate and remain with you for many years to come. Ron Jordan knows the western life up close and personal, living it on a daily basis. His stories and point-of-view are unlike anything you've read before. Down-to-earth honesty with the diplomacy of a stampede, this author writes it like he sees it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 11, 2009
• ISBN: 9781440187582

Ron Jordan

Back after nearly four years of obscurity and author of Considerations?Emails From the Heart, Ron Jordan depicts a gut-wrenching life as a cowhand in southeastern Wyoming. Presently working ranches north of Cheyenne, this Storyteller returns with all-out honesty and truthfulness about ranch life on the high plains.

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Contents

Preface

Part One—Age and Treachery

Part Two—The Critic

Part Three—Fixing the Mend

Part Four—Senility

For Jan Roat of Grass Range, Montana …

The best sidekick in the ol’ hip pockets.

You go … Cowgirl!

Many Thanks!

Preface

The following stories are true … for the most part. I have attempted to share from my perspective some tales and experiences I have encountered in the previous years living and working here in Wyoming. That’s not to say everyone will agree with this personal perspective of mine but nonetheless it’s out there now. The problem many writers have is being objective in their approach when placing pen to paper. I believe I have been objective in what I have written, though muddling the truth somewhat.

Where there is a lack of credibility in what I have written I have endeavored to turn those half-truths into embellished lies instead. I leave those portions for you the reader to determine the factual truth from the embellishments. I meant no harm but then … if you the reader can’t figure it out I’ll not further expound on my inadequacies as a Storyteller. Any errors in grammar, punctuation, shedding some folks in an unfair light, or pontificating on a subject when I have no business doing so, are mine alone … for the most part. I’ll admit that there were times I was put up to it by others who are still out to get me.

Gossip makes the world go round. I enjoy good folks who gossip, even when they have no idea of what they’re talkin’ about. They tell stories and I tell stories. Sometimes we share stories about stories. (If that’s not enough to muddle the truth then I don’t know what is.) Perhaps that is what this book is all about … muddling the truth. I wish to thank the many wonderful folks out there who will read what I have written, twist the already tainted truths, and pass on to their friends in the way of gossip, what a real Fruitcake I really am. Somewhere down the road all of what I have written in the following pages will become the absolute truth … for the most part.

Part One—Age and Treachery

A wealthy old lady decides to go on a photo safari in Africa, taking her faithful aged poodle named Cuddles, along for the company. One day the poodle starts chasing butterflies and before long Cuddles discovers that he’s lost. Wandering about, he notices a leopard heading rapidly in his direction with the intention of having lunch. The old poodle thinks, Oh, oh! I’m in deep doo-doo now! Noticing some bones on the ground close by, he immediately settles down to chew on the bones with his back to the approaching cat.

Just as the leopard is about to leap the old poodle exclaims loudly, Boy, that was one delicious leopard! I wonder if there are any more around here? Hearing this, the young leopard halts his attack in mid-strike, look of terror comes over him and he slinks away into the trees. Whew! says the leopard, That was close! That old poodle nearly had me!

Meanwhile, a monkey who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the leopard. So off he goes, but the old poodle sees him heading after the leopard with great speed, and figures that something must be up. The monkey soon catches up with the leopard, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the leopard. The young leopard is furious at being made a fool of and says, Here, monkey, hop on my back and see what’s going to happen to that conniving canine!

Now, the old poodle sees the leopard coming with the monkey on his back and thinks, What am I going to do now?, but instead of running, the dog sits down with his back to his attackers, pretending he hasn’t seen them yet, and just when they get close enough to hear, the old poodle says, Where's that damn monkey? I sent him off an hour ago to bring me another leopard!

Moral of this story? Don’t mess with old farts … age and treachery will always overcome youth and skill! Bullshit and brilliance only come with age and experience. I am in no way insinuating that any of you are old, some are just more youthfully challenged.

New Year

A year has come and gone. Its beginnings were in the deep of January with snow and cold out there on the Ol’ Prairie. Hauling hay to the gals over on the Warren in the middle of a snow storm, I got so twisted-up I couldn’t see my way out of that pasture—did a complete 360 before I found the fence line and finally the gate just to get back out on that country road again … which was a blessed sight to behold! Late winter traveling down and back over that same country road to the east with more hay for the other gals and breaking 6 to 8 inches of ice in the water tanks and wearing the frozen splashes on my coveralls.

CBS News Channel 5 from Cheyenne out to interview and film me on my latest book and my horse Sparky acting like a Hollywood stud for the camera. Isabelle the cat, pondering and quietly watching the two of us out there in the coral dancing around the bulls like we had done it all our lives. (Isabelle would later have kittens, one of which looked just like her.) There were two wild trips on a snowmobile going eighteen miles up north to check on the ladies, then over to the Cattail Ranch to share camaraderie, and then the long cold ride home again.

Early spring and the snow blowin’ through the walls of my home and I can’t see out the windows to get a weather forecast. Buck out there in the corals bulldozing the snow so we can get through, and then bulldozing a road over to the haystacks so I can get the tractor and wagons there to load up more hay. Somewhere along the road coming back from over east I pass-out driving the tractor and come to in the barrow ditch, almost tipping the tractor and wagon over while bouncing around in the seat like I was ridin’ a bronc or something. Chalk that one off to exhaustion and my Savior watchin’ over me.

There were three trips to North Carolina ending with the Grand Finale’ of me settling down just outside the town of Faith, which was an appropriate name for something I had all along. Along the way I learned a few things and reinforced some of the things I already knew. So I’ll share with you what I’ve come to realize about myself and others.

I learned that living a life of loneliness is sometimes better than rejection. That one’s own personal strength is more powerful than someone’s opinion of you, if you truly believe in yourself and that God is supreme. I learned that a beat-up ranch truck that will go the distance is better than parking a Lexus in the garage. I have reinforced the saying, There never was a horse that couldn’t be rode or a cowboy that couldn’t be throwed the first time I got dumped in North Carolina.

My thoughts regarding friendship haven’t changed and are reinforced with that ol’ saying, A friend is someone who knows everything about you but likes you anyway. I learned that one’s destiny is yet to be determined and that it’s not over with today’s events. Life goes on and living in the past is the same as dying … that there are two main reasons in living … today and the future.

I have learned that today’s young people are our lasting legacy and they will write our history. My thoughts regarding another’s opinion have been reinforced by the actions of those they have had contact with. I have learned that a temperature of 104 degrees in North Carolina is not the same as 104 degrees out West, and that the absence of waist-level snow and that you can’t see the forest for the trees … are good things.

I have come to better understand that one’s own heritage starts with the present. I have learned that NASCAR means National Association for Stock Car Racing and not National Association Supporting Cowboys And Rodeos, which originally left me feeling out of place there in North Carolina (I’m a little slow at times). I have come to better understand that words once spoken (or written) can never be taken back and I have the interior of the dog house memorized.

I have further come to understand that humor heals, that bitterness is a cancer, that making mistakes is a way of life, and that trust lost is never regained. And so with this ending note of another year, my wish to all is that of Peace and Happiness and the prospects of a new and better year ahead. God Bless!

Seasons

I have seen nearly sixty years now. I have affiliated myself to the seasons, more so livin’ this life I live. We all grow old and die from something. That much is a given and so whatever bad habits I have accumulated should be enough to sustain me until departure. I never realized how often those words, intentionally or unintentionally spoken or written come to rest so deeply within the hearts and minds of others.

Winter to me is gray—cold, filled with bitterness and death. It is a testimony of one’s willingness for survival and inner strength. Reaching out to friends, families and loved ones everywhere who also endure that gray season, and sharing the warmth that comes only from within with others who reciprocate. Yep … there’s nothin’ better than that good ol’ warm and fuzzy feeling you get while doctorin’ your own frostbite.

Summer’s heat risin’ from the prairie—basking in the glow of nonchalance and immortality. I enjoy summer and the feeling that it brings to me. I know I won’t freeze to death and heat stroke is preventable when you stop working. Plenty of shade and beer on hand helps as well. I like that part about not working—always have, always will. Although I’m not like some folks who will spend an entire day figuring out how not to work.

Fall is a reflective season for me. I think a lot in the fall, primarily because I do so little thinkin’ during the other parts of the year. So fall is catch-up time for me when it comes to thinkin’. I don’t do any real deep thinkin’ then—that would only add to my own instability. I like the colors of the season and the feel in the air. There’s nothing better than a good ruttin’ season.

Spring … ah wonderful and glorious spring. Now there’s a season of hope, new life and a better tomorrow just around the corner. It begins to get warmer; the snows eventually melt to green grasses, and one’s boots begin losing the sucking sound as you find firmer ground. I like spring … I even like the way it sounds, SPRING! Makes me want to SPRING! (This ol’ body better rest up first after this last winter—if I spring too much I’ll be sprung.)

Yes … affiliation with the various seasons for better or for worse is just like marriage. Sometimes you just gotta’ take the bad with the best. I’ve often wondered what the best of the bad would be like. I think I’ve been there a time or two, or so others have told me. The way I figure it you should be the best at whatever you do. If I’m the best of the bad then at least I still have half a chance.

Time for me to go sniff a flower …

Extremes

On New Year’s Eve I drove one of the snowmobiles up Indian Hill Road to check on the cattle eighteen miles northeast from here. Then I traveled on over to the Cattail Ranch to visit with my old alma mater. I visited with Rod and Mae, Barbie, Mike, and Craig. I said farewell to Craig and left the Cattail Ranch around seven o’clock that evening on the snowmobile. It was dark and very cold and I was traveling around thirty mph. I almost made it back to the R Bar H Ranch, when the snowmobile’s drive belt shredded apart and I could go no further. I was still three miles from the ranch with a long and dark walk in the cold on New Year’s Eve. I finally made it home by nine-fifteen. Considering that I had traveled over forty miles that day on the snowmobile and walked the remaining three miles just to get home, I was tired when I walked through the front door. I was sweaty as well. I quickly stripped off my sweat-soaked under clothes and threw them in the washer … and myself into a hot shower. Then, I think I died sometime after that.

But you know … my visit to the Cattail Ranch was worth every minute of the agony that followed afterwards. My life has been one of extremes. I was so cold at times that night that all I wanted to do was just lie down and rest forever. But then, I wouldn’t be around to do it again. Extremes—passion coupled with physical pain. I had not been to visit anyone for such a long time that it was good to get away for awhile. I’d make the same trip again. You can call it foolhardiness, or just plain stupidity. But to me, that’s what it’s all about—living on the edge gives meaning to my life. One of these days I know that I won’t make it and that I will finally fail … but it won’t be because I didn’t try. The road traveled for me is, at times, so much better than the destination.

I have loved deeply and died briefly … only to love deeply again. Now, pain is my constant companion. When I was forty years old I was invincible—I was still in the United States Army and in better shape than most of today’s youth … and I proved it time and time again. (I could still run five miles in thirty-five minutes.) This Old Man earned the respect of the youngsters in his command. Nowadays, youngsters don’t have too much respect for anyone older than themselves—and I don’t blame them. You have to earn their respect, and give it in return.

Until recently, I had forgotten what an embrace meant—arms tightly hugging another, and hanging on—as a movement of one. Whatever the conditions or the terrain, placing one’s faith in another’s ability to get you through it all. A crimson sunset coupled with deep lavender skies and the mist of snow melt upon one’s face—extremes of cold and heat. I live for today because I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Give me the deepest snow-covered valleys and the steepest wind-swept hills of these rolling plains and the means to fly amongst them, and I will tell you about extremes. I am the eagle of the prairie in search of the next updraft. I am the field mouse ever watchful of shadows overhead. I am cold … then warmed to the heart with hope. Please do not utter a single word—just breathe the mixture of understanding between us, united as one.

Occasionally, while climbing the mountains, I would find myself positioned upon a snow-covered and rocky ledge that overhung a glacial valley below. Physically exhausted from the arduous climb to arrive at that point on the ledge I seriously gave thought to just letting go. It was the flight that I looked forward to and perhaps … my final destination. Physical pain given over to complete comfort … extremes.

Beneath a Wyoming Sky

If you have a wide sky above and are attached to everything earthly about you, then you probably have a Wyoming sky overhead. If your horizon is one of limitlessness vision, combined with faith in the Almighty above, in all likelihood you’re experiencing a daily spiritual retreat that is unfathomable to the majority of folks. In all likelihood you’re standing beneath a Wyoming sky.

I could not envision a daily existence of walls, ceilings and doors without a view to the sky above. I would not be able to breathe—I would suffocate in the process. I would simply give up … I would die. This Wyoming sky is what ties me to my earthly existence. It is my bond with life. It is my hope and my future, my relationship to all living things. It is my way of life. It’s what gives me direction and understanding. This sky ebbs to and from my heart and is my pulse.

This sky works a Meadowlark’s song, an evening’s kiss, the whisper of a breeze on a hot summer day, and ole man winter’s breath. My sky is filled with stars and a moon above, clouds that wisp shadows across a rolling prairie, a thunderstorm that shakes the very earth I