An Old Story with a Fresh Beginning

I don’t consider myself a cowgirl…but the actual cowgirls that I look up to and admire tell me I am.  So here’s my story.  I was born on September 18^th, 1984 in Sierra Valley California.  My dad was a third generation commercial cattle rancher and my mom grew up in southern California in a family where horses and cattle were second nature.  I guess “cowgirl” is just in my blood.  I have a picture sitting in my living room on an end table right next to my couch that shows me at about two weeks old at my first calf branding.  I was sitting on a horse before I could walk…it was my first and favorite mode of transportation.  No matter what I do or where I go, horses and cattle will always be a part of who I am.  Growing up, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about horses.  But in my mind, being a cowgirl isn’t just about loving horses.  It’s about knowing horses, it’s about loving that western lifestyle that comes with growing up on a ranch.  It’s not just about riding and roping, but it’s about raising livestock as a way of life.  Horses are a love and a passion, but they are also a tool. 

 

I guess my first real cowgirl experiences came from running around with my dad. He was the ultimate cowboy.  He could rope. He could ride.  He was rough and tough.   But most of all he loved me and he taught me almost everything that I know about being a cowgirl.  Most kids looked forward to Christmas and birthdays…I looked forward to summertime buckle ropings where I got to run around with my friends horseback and compete in barrel racing.  I looked forward to calf branding season because I got to rope and help mug calves.  Those were our social events. 

 

Growing up in this lifestyle wasn’t always easy.  I was expected to be tougher than most girls.  If I cried, I had to sit in the pickup.  I didn’t complain because I was a kid who worked in a freezing cold snow storm or the blistering heat of summer.  I worked sick, I worked hurt, and I worked tired.  But the fact of the matter was I worked.  Ranch kids don’t grow up indoors.  The house is a place where you eat your meals and you lay your head down to rest after a long day.  But I never complained.   I just sucked it up and did what I had to do because the alternative was always worse.  But I thank God every day that I was raised that way. 

 

As I got older, I started really focusing on competing in rodeo.  Unlike most girls, I didn’t care for barrel racing all that much. In my mind, they were a lot of pretty girls who were filled with drama.  Most of them did it for the attention, not for the love of the sport.  I loved to rope.  Team roping was something that I could do with my dad every weekend and we enjoyed traveling to ropings year round.  I’m not ever going to say I was the best in the business, but I definitely possessed a talent and by the time I was a senior in high school, I was winning at some pretty good sized ropings.  I was never the girl that had expensive horses.  Our horses were ranch horses turned rope horses that we never paid more than a couple thousand for.  While some of my friends were riding $25000 animals, I was competing on an 18 year old buckskin horse that my dad didn’t get along with so he gave him to me.  Don’t get me wrong, that horse was the best rope horse I’ve owned thus far.  He took me to a higher level and I learned so much from the time I spent on his back.  But, it wasn’t long before he was ready to retire.  I worked all summer for a neighbor ranch running cattle and saved enough money to buy a new head horse my sophomore year of college.  When I tried him, he had been drugged to calm him down without my knowing.  I roped great on him so I paid the people the money, loaded him up and hauled him to college. The next day the drugs wore off and he spent a few hours trying to buck me off.  When I called the people to ask what the deal was, their exact words were, “well, if you’re scared of him, bring him back and we’ll refund your money.”  If you’ve ever known a real cowgirl, you know that “scared” is a word that leaves a very nasty taste in our mouths.  I ended up keeping the horse despite my better judgment.

 

Scooter was a bronc for a long time.  He took a lot of work and I ended up wasting a year of college rodeo trying to get him to a level where I could compete and win on him.  Eventually he became just that, but he always had some quirks that made him nearly intolerable to be around.  I rode that horse and won for about four years before I finally sold him for twice what I paid for him.  That left me horseless yet again. 

 

I spent the next few years focusing on school.  I always rode and continued to work for my dad on our ranch, but I wasn’t roping much.  In the summer of 2006 I bought a big bay horse from an ex-boyfriend to use while working for the Sierra Valley Ranch.  We were running roughly 3000 head of mother cows there so I needed at least 2 good mounts of my own along with my string of ranch horses provided by the outfit I worked for.  Baker was another counterfeit bronc.  He may not buck for weeks and then all of a sudden nothing at all would set him off and he would pitch.  He was a pain in the ass, but I loved him.  Unfortunately, despite my love for him, he was never a competitive rope horse.  I ended up selling him for practically nothing to the ranch I worked for.  When the seasons turned and winter rolled around, I was laid off.  I decided to take my chances in Utah as a trail guide.  My dad was sad to see me go, but so proud of me for getting out and seeing the world.  As I was finishing up the season there, I received the news that my dad had unexpectedly passed away.

 

I’ve always been a cowgirl, I guess. But it never really meant anything to me until my dad was no longer around.  At 24 years old, and the sole heir to my dad’s estate, I took over our cattle ranch and everything that came along with it.  There were a lot of expectations from people for me to run the ranch just as he did.  It was so hard.  I had so many questions and really no one to turn to.  My dad had a lifetime of experience running the ranch and all of a sudden I was expected to know everything that he knew.  I feel like I made a lot of mistakes.  But no matter what, I never gave up.  I tried like hell to keep the ranch going and at the end of the day, it still is.  When I first took over, we were running 300 head of cattle for someone else.  I took over that duty and despite the many people who wanted to see me fail, I succeeded.  But after a year of stress and nearly working myself to death, it was a task I no longer wanted to participate in.  My dad always used to tell me to go do something with my life.  Don’t become a lonely old rancher like him.  I saw myself becoming that more and more every day.  I had secluded myself from family and friends.  I missed roping desperately.  I felt like I was letting my dad down by giving up on something that both he and I were so passionate about. I decided then and there that it was time to get back in the saddle, literally. 

 

I went out the next day and bought a decent little mare to rope on.  From then on, I was going to ropings at least twice a week.  I would drive hours upon hours in terrible weather just to go practice.  I was roping excellent and was winning regularly.  But life without my dad overwhelmed me, and I started to drink away those sad feelings that I hid deep down inside.  I missed him more than words could ever describe.  It felt like there was a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to reside.  I got into a little bit of trouble at a rodeo one spring, and it finally set me straight.  By this time, I was 25 years old.   I know someone was watching over me, because despite the fact that I had gotten into some trouble, I was offered a great job selling cattle supplement and I was on the right track to success.  By my 26^th year, I was running the ranch, working for a successful company, I owned my own home, built a nice roping arena in my backyard, had a great boyfriend, and I had bought myself a jam up head horse prospect.  I had, what I thought was, the perfect life. 

 

Maybe it’s just me, or maybe its cowgirls in general…I don’t know, but I got restless just like I always do when I’ve been in one place too long.  My jam up head horse prospect that I had spent a small fortune on coliced and died one rainy spring morning, I fell into a small depression which put a strain on my relationship, my boyfriend and I broke up, my mom got sick and was hospitalized, my best friend was in a horrible car accident that left a friend dead and her incarcerated…I’d had enough.  I called my aunt and uncle and asked them if they would like to lease the feed on my ranch from me.  I knew if they leased the feed, I could make financial decisions from a distance and I could go out on my own and find myself.   I sold my hay equipment which was always a source of much frustration anyway, I packed up my horses and my dogs and I moved to Texas which is right where I am at today.

 

When I first moved out, I was waitressing for $2.15 an hour and barely making enough to pay my rent.  But it wasn’t long before I found a job riding cutting horses for world champion cutting horse trainer.  He was an old guy, on the verge of retiring, but a legend in the cutting horse world.  Working for him was both a blessing and a curse.  I learned a lot out there, but it was long, hard hours, little pay, and most of the time, even less appreciation.  I was working 6 days a week and 10 or more hours a day.  But I was happy to be busy and to be horseback again.  The months crept by before I realized that I was watching life pass me by.  I was spending all my time working myself to death at a job that I had no future at.  I began to get restless after about a year.  I decided to let the job go and try my hand elsewhere.  As I write this, I am currently unemployed with the promise of another feed sales job that is said to open up very soon.  My plan is to take this time to work on some projects that I have always wanted to do as well as pick up that rope again and get back in the arena. 

 

It has been two years since I have roped competitively.  When my good horse died, all that I had left was a crippled mare and a young horse that belonged to my dad that had only been ranched on.  I tried a few horses, but none fit me and I decided to quit heading and switch ends to heeling, using the horse that I already had versus buying a new one.  Although I show some talent there, heeling is not my favorite.  When I moved out here, I promised myself that I would be going roping all the time whether I start heading on the little horse of my dad’s or I went out and bought a new horse.  After riding cutting horses every day for a year I decided to try my hand at heading on my little horse.  As it turns out, He works just fine.  He has a long way to go to get me down the road, but I am going to make it work.  No one has ever handed me anything and I don’t expect it to happen now!  Although everything happens for a reason and God has a plan for everyone, I feel that we are the conductors of our destiny.  We have to be active and can’t just sit around waiting for life to happen to us. 

 

In two weeks, it will be the start of 2014.  I have already received my application and sent my money in for the 2014 Reno Rodeo All Girl Invitational Team Roping.  It is one of the biggest and best all girl ropings in the United States and I plan on winning it this year.  It’s going to be hard work and I have to be dedicated, but if I have to beg, borrow, and steal to get there, I’m going to do it.  I have already received several offers from friends to borrow their horses in case I can’t afford to haul my horse out or in case he’s not ready by June.  I have a little over 6 months to prepare. 

 

This is real cowgirl stuff.  I am a woman who has not roped competitively in two years and has entered up in one of the biggest women’s ropings in the US.  I have one horse available to me to practice and compete on and so far I have turned only 3 steers on him…ever.  I am not supported financially by anyone and I am currently technically unemployed.  I truly am risking it all for something that I love.  I plan on documenting my journey with video, blogs, articles, and photos.  I hope to have a steady following of people that will possibly lead to future funding for other projects that I am involved in.  I am a girl with many dreams and I feel that is a huge part of who cowgirls are.  We are dreamers.  It’s something in our souls that leaves us restless and always wanting to do more and go just a little bit farther.  I constantly worry to myself that I may never be satisfied with my life…that I will always have that desire to keep going and never idle calmly.  But, I don’t know how to be any different.  I leave a lot of things up to God and I trust that He knows who and where I am supposed to be.  I also know that He made me who I am for a reason and I am not meant to sit around and do nothing all day. He made me in His image and I am perfect in His eyes.  That means that the path I am walking is the right one and all I have to do is keep following my heart.

 

As I finish writing this, I am filled with hope. My future looks bright.  I can’t help but be happy that I am making an attempt to do all the things that I have ever wanted to do.  To some, it may seem like a lot…to others, it may seem like nothing at all.  But, I’m not doing this for anyone but myself.  When I take my final breath before I meet my maker, I want to exhale knowing that I lived my dreams.