Caint & Able, The Gatherin'

This story is a bit of whimsy that for me, at least, boils horsemanship down two it's basic and essential elements. I hope you enjoy the story, I hope you grin and maybe chuckle. I really hope that the lessons don't get lost in the dialog... Enjoy!







Since morning's light til dark of night, he fought me on every cause.
Til we rode on up to Rocky Point where I took an unplanned pause.
He rung his tail and broke in half and bucked long, mean and bold.
Then we had no fight for a while or two... he knocked me out stone cold.

I could hear em comin' from near a mile off. There was cussin' and gritchin' and hollerin' to raise the roof. When they first came into view, I could see that it was Caint and Ol' Dan, his best sorrel gelding. Well, that used to be the horse's name, but lately Caint's been referrin' to Ol' Dan by another name that I promised Mama I would never say. As they passed me by, I noticed that Dan was a wreck. He was dancin', snortin', soaked in sweat and the look in his eye told a story of sure, pure frazzlation. Caint looked 'bout as bad with a white knuckled grip on "guitar string" tight reins. Through tight lips he was a mutterin' more of what Mama warned me about. Everything about their look told a right clear tale of one long "temper bendin'" day.

Just about then, I heard the sound of hoofs and turned to see Able comin' down the same path on his good gelding, Pal. I noticed that things was a mite different as they passed by. Pal was walking quiet and steady on a loose rein with the look of pure peaceful ease in everything he did. Able seemed to be hummin' the theme from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" as he reached down and patted Pal's neck.

I found myself a nice sittin' rock in the shade and pondered for a spell. I went to figurin' on what had just passed before my peepers. I reckoned that every ride has certain things in common. Since horses are generally honest and sure enough predictable, I reasoned that the powerful difference between the two horses had everything to do with Caint and Able and almost nothin' to do with Ol' Dan and Pal.

Both these boys are plum good hands and sure enough know how to sit a horse. But, sure as Caint was "mad dog" angry and Able weren't, there was a difference here that called for a head-scratchin', squinty-eyed look. The questions rose to the top of my mind and were right quizacle. What is it I wondered, that Able understands and Caint can't? I figured, this I gotta know. So, I'm gonna do a little vestigatin' and study this problem clean through. I'll learn all there is to know 'bout their ride from catchin' to puttin' away. Maybe I'll discover the secret that made all the difference, and maybe I won't.

Blast this horse and durn his hide.
You gotta catch before you ride.
But round and round and round I go.
The horse too fast and me too slow.

The mornin' air was crisp when Able held his hands up to the old wood burnin' stove one last time before startin' a cowboy's day. "Guess we ought to git goin'", he said to his friend and partner, Caint. Their chore for the day was to gather cows and calves from the steep mountains just east of the DallyPost Ranch. The first light of the October sun was just beginnin' to show over the high peaks when they swung the gate wide and stepped into the horse holdin' pen.

Caint found Ol' Dan standin' on the far side of the pen, and started makin' his way there. When Dan saw Caint comin' in the dim mornin' light, he raised his head with a worrisome snort. The horse eased away, and Caint jumped right quick to block his escape. Ol' Dan got clear. Again and again Dan was nearly caught... but nearly wern't good enough. "Blast this horse and durn his hide!" Caint grumbled as this simple job started to feel like an all-day chore. Each attempt to block the horse made Dan sure fired anxious to git gone, while each near miss, sent Caint's mood from simmer, to boil, then brand-hot mad.

Meanwhile, Able found Pal and made his way to the horse. Pal, too, was surprised by Able's early morning howdy and started slippin' away. Able just let him go, and steady as rain, kept a-walkin' toward the horse's head, By stayin' calm and movin' cowboy easy, Able put soft n eazy pressure on Pal. Now and again, Pal would stop and look back. When he did, Able stopped too, and eased back a step or two. After a short spell, Pal learned that the cowboy quit pushin' on him every time he turned and faced up. Since standin' still was the the sure-easiest thing Pal could do... that's just what he did. Able walked to the horse, rubbed on him for a time, slipped the halter over his nose. "Come on boy" he whispered as the two walked quietly to the truck.

Back at the pen, Ol' Dan and Caint was still findin' the mornin' some strained. Old Dan saw every move Caint made as some new kind of worrysome chasin' game that he didn't quite understnd. As the game heated up, the horse's stress spiked and trust faded like the dimmin' mornin' star. The best he could do was run to the far end of the pen where he would rest for a spell while the mutterin' cowboy hurried to catch up. It took some time, minutes and miles of temper-bendin' time, but Caint finally got lucky... or Dan got slow. With a sure-angry tug on the lead rope, Caint stomped to the truck.

Buddy, grab this lead rope, We'll wrap it round his butt.
And pull and push and whip and cuss, 'til we load this nut.
An hour gone, then two and three, the horse still in the yard.
Put him away with a flake of hay, ain't meant to be this hard.

Able looked at the brightenin' sky and shook his head. Twenty minutes earlier he had loaded his horse on the trailer. He then slipped into the driver's seat and fired up the old pickup in the hope of gettin' an early start on the day.

His partner and friend, Caint, was runnin' some late. He glanced toward the horse pen and finally saw Caint and Ol' Dan a-comin'. Caint was blowin' a might hard, leaving white puffs of hot breath on the cold mornin' air. "Catchin' Ol' Dan must have been some tough," Able thought. "Well, at least now we can git gone." Able rolled the window down a might and jabbed at his friend, "I'd a stayed in bed a might longer if I knowed you was on bankin' hours."

Caint led Dan to the back of the trailer. The horse put his nose just inside, snorted, stiffened, and pulled back like he'd been snake-bit. With a grunt and a hard tug, Caint leaned into the lead rope, but found his bony frame some lackin'. With heels dug in and white knuckles clingin', Caint got Ol' Dan stopped. That is, he busted his shin on the trailer bumper and got drug twenty feet in that mud... then Ol' Dan stopped. Now Caint was startin' to get plum fired up. "I'll show you who's in charge!" he bawled as he drug Dan back to the trailer. Again and again Dan refused and pulled back like he'd sure die if he went inside. As Caint pushed harder, Ol' Dan pulled all the more. Finally, with a lot of pulling, whipping, and darn sure cursin', Ol' Dan charged into the trailer and Caint slammed the gate hard shut. Able thought again, "Finally, we can go."

Twenty minutes earlier, Able led his horse to the back of the trailer. Pal also took one look at the dark trailer and headed for safer places. When this happened, Able just relaxed and allowed Pal to move away a piece until the horse could settle some. Then Pal was made to work a bit by lungin' five or six circles at a sure-quick lope. He then stopped and quietly started back to the trailer. Pal soon learned that he could leave the trailer any time he fixed his mind on the idea. He also learned that leavin' meant workin', which was some harder than stayin'. He came to know that Able wouldn't force him to do somethin' that he couldn't or figured he couldn't do. Through it all, Pal's trust in Able went from plum shaky to pure firm. After a bit, Pal found that the easiest place for him to be was in the trailer, so he went there... cause he wanted to.

Caint slumped down in the passenger seat. He rubbed his throbbin' shin bone and grumbled "I hate that horse! I just can't figure why he won't do like Pal!" Able smiled to himself as he slipped the truck into gear. While they bounced up Big Canyon Road, Caint glanced at Able with an uneasy grin and said, "Well, I got him caught and loaded. The rest of the day should be easy enough."

"Yea maybe" Able dug a little at his friend, "but at the speed you're a-flyin' we'll get done by June."

A pushin' and pullin' and fightin' with me, This durn horse is such a pain.
It's easier, that's what I'm thinkin', to find a good seat ridin' rain.

Able tugged his latigo tight and pulled his stained hat down till his ears bent low. "You 'bout ready?" he called to his good friend and riding partner. From the far side of the trailer, Caint called back, "Ready when you are!". They both swung into their saddles and began a-movin' up Bull Canyon trail.

Ain't nothin' like cold mornin' air to put fresh on a horse, and Pal and Dan both had fresh-a-plenty. "Awweee!" sang Able, "ridin' these two is some like findin' a good seat ridin' rain." Both horses were simply alive with pent-up energy. They were unpredictable as weather. Near everything they saw got a nervous look or a worrysome snort. Caint dug his heels in hard and started Ol' Dan up the narrow trail while Able eased in behind.

Up 'til now, Caint and Dan hadn't seen a one darn thing eye-to-eye. Caint was in no mood to spend another second doin' more of the same. Through clinched teeth, Caint growled, "It's time that this ol' cob comes to terms with the fact that I'm the boss here!" With two hands, Caint pulled the reins up tight and held sure fast. For a little spell Dan slowed a mite, but soon started pullin' back against Caint's hands. In short order, they was in a full on tug-of-war with no clear winner. Not willin' to be beaten, Caint tightened his grip, held firm and started to mutterin' unprintables.

Mile after uneasy mile, the ruckus between Caint and Dan went from strained, to stretched, plum thin. One mile turned to two, and two became three with Caint kickin', yankin', and yellin' while Dan turned near inside out with nervous fret. Things were near past savin' when Caint looked over his shoulder and bawled, "What's the matter with these stupid horses toda..." His words died hard in his throat when he caught a glimpse of Able and Pal. They was a-movin' quiet and easy with Able sittin' soft in the saddle. Caint listened careful and was right sure he could hear Able a-hummin'.

While Caint was fightin' the good fight, Able relaxed easy. Each time Pal got a some upsetable, Able quietly lifted his hand, setting firm but not harsh pressure to Pal's mouth. The instant the horse eased and quieted, Able dropped his hand and patted Pal's neck to help him learn that there was a comfort spot and all he had to do was look for it. In previous doins' with Able, Pal learned that he will always quit askin' and leave him be, just as soon as he figures out what Able is askin' for. In a quick minute, Pal discovered that Able would drop his hand and give release each time he slowed and relaxed. So he did cause he wanted to.

By the time they reached the saggin' gate, Old Dan had traveled lots of miles with constant pressure comin' from near every side. He tried to get clear of it by pullin' n pushin', flippin' his head, slowin', speedin' up, rearin' and, finally a bit of a crow hop. Nothin' worked... nothin'! So, when Caint pushed Dan up to the rusty gate to work the latch, gettin' it done was just askin' too dang much. "Easy there, slick," Able whispered, "he looks 'bout to blow." Then he did! In a rush of wildy-eyed panic, Dan jumped forward and whirled hard away. He set into a head down, heels up, snaky n snortin' bit-a-buckin'. With clinched teeth and a pucker factor near 9.8, Caint pulled hard on the rein to stop the buck and slow the spin. Dan wheeled away and ran plum into the gate. "Hang on, buddy! Hang on!" Able bawled, but things was fast gettin' out-a-hand. The frantic horse pulled hard-away from the now busted gate, and that's when Caint lost his seat. A bony knee cap hung on the gate post and near tore clean off. Caint was peeled from the saddle, slick as banana hide.

Caint wallered in the dirt a-gasping and a-raspin', and searchin' to find his breath. He felt his head for lumps and cursed when he found a good one. He rubbed his throbbin' knee and cursed again. Caint looked up from the flat of his back. He was sure curious 'bout why his good chinks was wrapped 'round that gate post that near tore off his leg. He started to rise and noticed that he was still wearin' those chinks and thought, "Aint that odd!". He leaned heavy on the gate post, still some wobbly, and took another closer look. Sure nuf. He was still wearin' the chinks, but one leg only. The other... sure gone.

Caint gathered up his horse and the portion of his wardrobe that got separated like oysters from a spring calf. He was patchin' the pride that got busted in the fall when Able eased up to the gate and slipped through. Able hollered back, "You sure was a sight just then... sure was."

Somethin' bout deep water, no pony can deny.
Your duty bound to step right up, but if you do, you die.

Finding and movin' cattle was the first thing to go right all day. They was right where Caint and Able figured they ought to be and they seemed in no mood to get excited 'bout much. The two friends slipped around the bunch and started easin' 'em down the canyon.

Caint's horse, was still strung pretty tight. He was near to snappin after the head-bumbin morning. The two had, however, settled into an uneasy truce... some like the treaty Custer signed short before his last ride.

Caint and Able were riding side by side behind the herd. The cattle were movin' easy and slow. Caint and Able talked quietly and tried to enjoy the afternoon. "Aint no place I'd rather be than right here, right now." Able murmured. "The sun on my face... the cool mountain breeze... and nothin' but God's best handy-work for gazin' on." Caint nodded his agreement while he took a stronger hold on his horse. Old Dan fidgeted some and twitched his tail in reply.

"There it is," Able said, "all we got left t' do is cross East Fork Creek and call 'er a day. You with me?". "Sure.", Caint muttered as they rounded the corner and saw the water crossin' place. The cattle all paused for a spell and drunk deep from the clear mountain stream. The cowboys waited patiently for the cattle to get their fill. Well, some more patient than others. Even quiet times wern't real quiet for Dan and Caint. Pal eased to the edge of the trail where Able let him sample some sweet mountain meadow grass. Ol' Dan, that poor bugger, was pawin', and worryin' and latherin' and a-drippin'. Mean while, Caint, the other poor bugger, was holdin' and pullin' and pushin' and a-mutterin'. No amount of doin' or wishin' seemed to smooth the grit between the two. After a time, the last cow and her bawlin' calf waded to the far side.

"Lets finish this." Caint gritched as he legged his horse nearer the stream. Both horses cautiously inched to the water's edge and lowered their heads for a closer look. Pal snorted and that was the queue. Both horses whirled hard away from the water, and headed for safer ground. "Oh no you don't you worthless cob" Caint growled while he pulled hard and hauled Dan back to the water's edge. With pullin' and pushin'... kickin' and gripin' Caint offered no escape except in and through the stream. His worried horse was havin' none of that and stayed sure firm on dry ground. Caint looked over his shoulder and saw Able up the trail a mite working Pal back and forth in a bunch of rollbacks. "He aint never gonna cross this thing 'less he grows a little spine." Caint thought to himself. Shortly Able was back and Pal had his head down, givin' the water a second good look. Pal snorted and pulled back and again. Caint watched Able move back up the trail and start into more rollbacks. "Dang fool," Caint thought as he hollered back, "How you ever goin' ta cross this thing if you let that fool horse keep leavin' like that." A minute passed and Able was back... allowing Pal to look things over one more time.

Pal had learned that leavin' meant workin' so he stayed a bit longer and tried a bit harder. Pal gave a soft snort and carefully stepped into the water and waded on across... because he wanted to.

Seeing his pasture mate cross the stream was just the encouragement Ol' Dan needed. But, half way across, He stated worrin' and pawed at the water some. The big splash set him off. With his mind, done gone, he could only blow... so he did. Things got some hairy and a bit bumpity right quick. Dan was whirlin' and a-pawin'; water a-splashin' and swirilin'; Caint, hollerin' and a-puckerin'. Then it happened, Caint got too much air and Ol' Dan slipped from underneath. Caint did a full back flip with a half twist and flopped face-first in the deepest part of the stream.

Caint's hat came up first, follered by Caint's head. He was sputterin' and a-cussin'. Yup, his control was gone sure as his new hat that was just out of reach gainin' speed. He looked into Able's face and saw it near split with a shakity grin. Able fought hard to swallow up a huge belly-rollin'... knee slapin'... side splitin' laugh. No luck, he bent low and shook with pure-sure ticklement. "Seems every time I look at you today," Able said, holdin' his side, "I'm a-lookin down".

Cowboys and Horsemen, here's what I've got to say.
Are near about the very same, just like night and day.
Cowboys are a special breed, American for sure.
They do just what their Daddy did and Grandpa did before.
Horsemen take a different path, choose a better way.
By stayin' open minded, and learnin' more each day.

The last pink and gold of a perfect western sunset was fadin' fast when Able wheeled the old pickup into the yard. He looked to his good friend, and sighed, "What a day!" Thinkin' there was nothin' more to add, Caint agreed with a tired and hurtsome grunt. "Well," Able chuckled, "let's put the horses up and git some dinner."

Caint led Ol' Dan off the trailer and looked to his friend, "Well, I guess it's time I replaced this ol' horse with somethin' that can help me do a days work. This wreck of a day has made clear to me that Dan has flat got to go!"

Both cowboys were silent as they led Pal and Dan to the pen. Able thinkin', How can I help this close-minded friend of mine consider new ways. Caint wishin' he could stop thinkin', cause thinkin' just made the hurt sure worse.

Able slipped the halter from Pal's head and gave him a long scratch behind his ears. He then offered a ration of hay and a little extra grain, in thanks for a job well done.

Caint, tight lipped and brows pulled down near touchin' his handlebar, flung a flake of hay at Dan and stomped off in a huff. He was still thinkin' thoughts that raised a vein on his neck... still wishin' to find a way to shuck the miserable memories of the day... still believin' that having Ol' Dan gone is the sure best way.

Where's somethin' here.
Beginnin' to clear.
And firmin' sure on my mind.
A horseman is or a horseman aint.
Some are Able and some just Caint.


"Caint," Able said, leanin' heavy on the gate post, "I got a book that has some new thinkin' 'bout horses, horse problems and such. Maybe you should have a look."

"Don't see why. It's Dan what has the problem and he don't read."

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