The Volkswagen Cowboy

Bowman is nestled in the sure-nuff cowboy country of southwestern North Dakota. If a fella was to draw a circle around that fair little city with about a hundred and fifty mile radius, you’d probably have just drawn a line around the highest concentration of good cowboys in the entire world.

Casey Tibbs the famous bronc stomper would more than likely head the pack, based simply on all his World Championship buckles, but then there’s the famous bulldoggin’ town of Buffalo, South Dakota, just down the road a few miles, and of course the big annual Miles City, Montana Buckin’ Horse Sale and all the boys around that cow town would make it in the circle, too.

The Penfield’s ran the auction barn in Bowman for many years, and also had an annual buckin’ horse auction that they ran continuously there for 18 years. As a matter of fact, it was the second oldest event of its kind, with only Miles City having run longer.

Bob Penfield is the third generation involved in the auction business there, following in the big boots that his Dad and Grandad have left him. Bob had a couple of good teachers. He grew up with both the ability of a good cowboy, and the savvy of a horse trader. He can think on his feet. That must be why he came up with that crazy sounding plan to use a Volkswagen to capture an old renegade stud horse.

The horse belonged to Ed Gardner from down in the Harding County, South Dakota country. The Gardner’s had a string of horses with quite a little draft blood in them, and Bob had gotten the horses bought for their annual buckin’ horse sale. They were just what he was looking for ... the perfect size and age to make good buckin’ horses. They’d never had a hand on them, with studs all the way up to five or six years old.

I don’t know the exact details of their deal, but if I remember right, Bob had bought them by the head with the condition that he had to “Take ‘em all.”

Well, “takin’ ‘em all” included the renegade stud I mentioned earlier. He was a bay horse about six years old. He was born in that pasture and had never been out of it. When the other horses were gathered out of that particular field every year, the devious old renegade would head for the brush.

In a country containin’ that many cowboys, a horse that nobody can seem to corral is quite a challenge, and a lot of dang good hands had taken a crack at him. A man had to be pretty well mounted to even run up on him, but by the time he got within roping distance, the old stud would turn, lay his ears back, bare his teeth and come at you with his mouth open. Any horse or cowboy with a lick of sense quickly became the chase-ee.

They’d tried everything. They’d tried mare bait, but ol’ bay was too wise for that. It didn’t work. One of Ed’s hired men had made a run at him with a new four-wheel drive pickup, but the country was pretty rough, and he’d left the front end of it four feet down in a washout. It seemed even tying to corral that horse was useless, and everyone had all but given up.

Bob talked to the local Veterinarian about using a tranquilizer gun, and had gotten the advice that he could sure use his gun, but he didn’t think his tranquilizer was powerful enough to get the job done. That’s when the Volkswagen Cowboy came up with the plan to use Black Leaf 40.

I’m not really sure where he got that idea. Black Leaf 40 was an old nicotine based chemical that was used at the time to fumigate green houses, and to spray the mites off of the roosts in your chicken coop. The recipe isn’t exactly common knowledge, so Bob tested his experimental concoction on a few killer horses down at the stockyards. He chose horses that weighed in at around 1500 pounds, to be the size of the renegade, cutting the powerful substance with water and alcohol until he thought he had his mixture about right.

“Bob, part of the deal is I want that bay horse out of that pasture,” Ed reminded.

“I know. I think we can get him. We’ve got a tranquilizer gun and a Volkswagen.”

That must have sounded like a hair-brained plan to Mr. Gardner, but he was game for just about anything. Nothing else had worked.

“Here. Take my 30-30,” Ed said skeptically as he handed over his old Winchester. “I want that stud horse out of that pasture one way or the other. Just bring me the ears if your plan doesn’t work. Good luck.”

Like all good cowboys, they just had to try running him out of the field with horses first. After all, what a feather those boys would have had in their hat if they’d accomplished the task where so many other good hands had failed. Unfortunately, it didn’t work for them either.

The old Volkswagen had a sun roof, so with Albert Chapman stickin’ out the top as his gunner, Bob headed for the stud. They somehow managed to stay out of the washouts, and ran the ol’ boy around the pasture for a couple of hours, shootin’ him in the rear end with the tranquilizers. It wasn’t long until they were out of dope, and the stud was still on his feet.

They did manage to make him good and drunk. The ol’ boy would stand sort of spraddle legged and stare at them with bleary eyes filled with contempt until they’d try to move in a little closer, and then away he’d go again, stumbling off in a drunken trot, eventually gaining the mental faculties to get into a staggering lope.

With the pasture being so rough, there were very few spots to take a good run at him, but they eventually managed to get him into the middle of a ten acre flat and left him to stand there in a stupor while they tied two ropes together. The boys then tied one end to the bumper of a half ton pickup, and with Albert in the back with the loop in his hand, away they went again.

“When I yell, that means I got ‘im caught. Just punch the gas on this outfit and go on by.”

After a try or two, Bob heard a yell, and he kicked the old pickup in the rear end. Around the stud horse they flew. When Mr. Renegade hit the end of the rope there was a fairly sudden stop for all the parties involved. Albert baled out and in a few minutes the boys had him hogtied and in the trailer.

By sundown the Volkswagen Cowboy and his trusty sidekick had the heretofore “uncorralable renegade” safely captured in Gardner’s big round pen. The old pony was a little hung over and pretty well steamed up from being galloped around most of the afternoon, but all in all, none the worse for wear.

I think this little story exemplifies a couple points well worth pondering:

1. Never underestimate the wily resourcefulness of the great American horse trader.

2. But probably an even more important lesson: ….NEVER, EVER, buy a second hand car with a sun roof from a cowboy. (Especially if there’s sagebrush danglin’ from the bumper.)

Keep Smilin’…. and don’t forget to check yer cinch.

Ken Overcast is a recording cowboy singer that ranches on Lodge Creek in North Central Montana where he raises and dispenses B.S. http://www.kenovercast.com