“That’s my place, but I didn’t order any bull.”
“Then take it up with the shipper.”
Silas removed his gloves slowly. “How big is this animal?”
“Thirty-four hundred pounds.”
The cold seemed to move straight through his coat. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.”
“What kind of temperament?”
The driver hesitated just long enough to make Silas’s stomach tighten.
“Difficult,” he said.
“How difficult?”
“Notes say aggressive. Four men to load him. Reinforced trailer. Do not enter enclosed space with animal.”
Silas looked toward his north pasture, where ordinary fence wire ran beneath a line of dark spruce. “I don’t have facilities for a bull like that.”
The driver’s patience was gone. “Sir, I drove this animal from Texas through Canada and up the Alaska Highway. I have another pickup scheduled and weather coming in. Manifest says he gets unloaded here. You refuse him, I document it and drive him to Anchorage, but then you’ll be dealing with transport charges and legal disputes. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
This story touched a part of me that has hurt underneath several careers and 65 years of life. I'm 71 now. My family is a long established name there. My memories of ranching, accidents, rodeo stock, flash floods and family loss are different than the way life is lived today. This story is magnificent, thank you for sharing it. And maybe there's hope for some of us humans that just need space and understanding. It's been 40 years since I became a civilian after 11 years as a
U.S. Marine. This story and that bull have more meaning than some will ever know. Thank you once again. Job well done.