My Marlboro Man

Note: I wrote this during my flight home earlier today. For the record, Brandon had most of Nacho’s accident cleaned up by the time I arrived to the house this evening.

I had to stop what I’m doing. I just had to. I have to tell you something.

I’m reading The Pioneer Woman’s book Black Heals to Tractor Wheels.

It’s amazing.

As weird as it might sound, I’ve laughed {out loud} on the plane home from Vegas about 20 times. I’m only on page 70.

Warning: If you have not read the book, do not read this blog post. Quickly go back to Facebook, Pinterest or tune into your favorite TV show. I’m telling you now. I don’t want to ruin the best book ever for you.

So what did I have to tell you?

A story.

A piece of Brandon’s story.

I couldn’t help but think of Brandon while reading Ree’s book. As I read about the comfort she felt in Marboro Man’s company, I began to wonder.

Could it really be? I wonder if it is?

Yep.

It must be a cowboy thing.

Not just any cowboy thing. I’m not talking bronco busting, bull riding, and extreme sports type of cowboy. And I’m definitely not talking about beer drinking, bar going people who wear their jeans too tight and belt buckles too big.

I’m talking generations deep of everyday care and stewardship, patience, calmness, confidence and persistence all wrapped up in one man- a cowboy.

Pioneer Woman and Marlboro Man...yeah well...I got one of those too.

Believe it or not, they still make those kinds of guys.

I mean, it makes since. Day in and day out these men work to care for things. Yes, I just said things. Stick with me here.

Here’s what I got on Brandon:

• He’s rarely worked a day under 11 hours since I have met him.
• He’s the first to worry when cattle are sick and the first to make an extra trip to check sick pens.
• He’s up at 3 a.m. so young cattle don’t have to go through the chute during the heat of the day in the summer and he’s the one checking water tanks and scooping snow in the dead of winter.
• He burns pastures until 3 or 4 in the morning to renew pasture growth, care for the grasslands and continue the legacy his ancestors began 4 generations ago, so he can feed cattle on schedule during the day.
• He’ll be the first to take an extra minute or two to stop and watch new heifers or calves in the pen, just to make sure they’re looking okay.
• He’s always the first to point out, and check on, a newborn baby calf in the pasture.
• It doesn’t matter to him if it’s 2 minutes or 2 hours, if that horse, cow, heifer, bull {or I} need a few more minutes to calm down, he’ll find the time.
• He’s never is in a hurry, and always has a few thousand things going on.

All I can come up with is it must be bred in them, those cowboys I speak of.

Have you ever heard of the cowboy gene? Maybe we need to invest in some good old fashioned research to identify what could be a cowboy genetic marker?

We need to let others know, these men really do exist.

A man strong enough to wrestle the elements, tractors, and bales of hay- not to mention wildly temperamental, brunette women miles away from family and close friends. Yet gentle enough to deal with a newly born calf needing a warm bed of straw.

On that note, Brandon fed the dogs bacon for dinner last night. He just loves spoiling our little pups when I’m gone. Nacho, our red heeler, messed on the carpet sometime last night. He probably got an upset stomach from the bacon. When I get home from Vegas there’ll be a discolored spot on the carpet and I’ll need to get the stain out. Isn’t that a good jolt back to reality?

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