The longhorns were getting hard to hold as the thunderstorm came in fast and cold. The dark black clouds were starting to hover as the fretful steers made a sweep for cover. The herd had started to drift asunder, courtesy of the loud, clapping thunder. The wailing wind sent up a deafening cry as lightning streaked across the darkening sky. The daring cowhand out riding lead was trying to prevent a potential stampede. The clashing horns validated his fears as he tried to mill the leader steers. Each pointer worked to keep the herd on course with the expert help of his trusty horse. And the panicked drovers who were riding swing sent gunshots skyward with a ping. But the struggling crew worked in vain as the beeves took flight across the plain. The lightning cracked, the thunder boomed; any fallen horse or rider was doomed. The buckaroos rode at breakneck speed to escape the explosive, bawling stampede. To the four winds the herd was scattered. But life preservation was all that mattered. It was a vivid, graphic scene as I stared at the television screen. Not wanting to see how many ended up dead, I turned off the TV and went to bed.
Posted on: Fri, 26 Jul 2013 22:53:02 +0000
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