Roundup at the Borum Ranch, 1955

An invitation from Margaret to go with her family to “the ranch” was something one just said “’yes” to without question. There was something about the ranch that held an excitement and mystic of not really knowing what we would be doing for the day or two lying ahead. This time, however, was different. We were going to help with, or in my case, observe, the spring roundup.

It was early spring when cowboys from most of the ranches in the area would gather at one ranch to help round up their cattle for branding and sorting and medication. Since Margaret and I were good friends, I didn’t protest when we were told to get up at about 3:30 am. We were horse-back at 4:00 and we headed south of the ranch house where the action was. We were a party of at least four: Mrs. Robinson, Margaret, Margaret’s brother, Jimmy, and me.

We made our way to the top of a knoll where we had an excellent view. We were trying to stay warm with our chins tucked down in the warmth of our coats. All except Margaret, whose horse was prancing around as she pleaded with her mother, asking to be allowed to go down and help with the roundup. With admonitions to be careful, Margaret was off!

It was a fascinating scene in the early morning fog and it was cold enough for steam to come out of the noses of horse, livestock and men amid the mix of dust, steam and smoke from the fire where branding irons were being kept hot for the next victim!

To add to the whole picture was the sound of the cowboys calling out and calves bawling. It seemed like a happening from 100 years ago. Even though I never again experienced anything like this day, I can still see it vividly as a nostalgic memory.

There are no doubt newer methods and techniques for round-up in current time (2009), but I will always remember the way it was on the Borum Ranch in 1955.

Thinking of getting back to the warm ranch house and crawling into bed, we opened the door to wonderful smells of breakfast. The big wooden table had been lengthened and was covered with huge platters of
breakfast meats, fried potatoes, eggs, flapjacks and biscuits. Big bowls of gravy were passed and some of the ladies who came to help from other ranches were serving steaming hot coffee from huge black pots that looked like they had been used for years.

In the kitchen Hazel Hines was cooking and had everything under control while laughing and joking with everyone. I knew Hazel as a beloved member of the Robinson’s extended family. Both she and her husband Earl were fixtures at the house in town and on the ranch as well. Earl so good humored the way he teased us kids and threatened to put us over his knee and tan our hides with a hickory stick.

The cowboys came in the back door after stomping their dirty boots on the ground outside, getting rid of most of the mud and manure. They were a loud bunch that quieted down as they sat at the table and started eating. There was no excuse for anyone to leave hungry as refills kept coming. The talk was rough and Margaret and I received some teasing which we probably didn’t understand, but liked the attention anyway.

I don’t remember exactly, but I know we both ended up in massive living room chairs, cuddled up in Indian blankets taking naps until being awakened for the trip back home to Cedar Vale.

This memory came to me recently and I feel so fortunate to have been a friend of Margaret Robinson’s and to have been included in so many activities thanks to the Robinsons. Special times which are now special memories to cherish forever.