Hand Full o’ Sevens

“It was quick and unexpected,” he murmured through a cigar filled mouth as he reminisced on the day’s events…

Everything during the day appropriately fell inside the confines of that statement. The fire had shifted course and changed everyone’s priorities within fractions of a second. The call came and everyone moved to action. The men gathered the family, formed a plan, saddled and mounted the horses, started the ATV and pickup and united to quickly and emergently bring the herd home from summer pasture. They were two months ahead of schedule, but wildfire held no qualms. Fires had ravaged lands across Montana throughout the month of July, and their corner of the state was no different.

The mountainous pastures that kept the playful calves and sedentary cows suddenly held a looming glow found usually only at night. But on this day, it was near noon. Plumes of smoke billowed, cows caved to that unnatural, uneasy feeling that stirred within their guts. The crackles of a quickly approaching blaze grew ominously in the smoldering distance.

The herd was gathered easily enough. It was like they knew.

Only a third of the way back to the ranch, the original homestead upon which their ancestors made their claim, was when the ‘quick and unexpected’ began to truly take over.

He rode alongside his father as they pushed the herd up the long dirt track when that strange feeling he knew too well hit him hard. He glanced behind him, over his shoulder and under his big straw brim. The simple turn made him look back at the old, trusted ranch pickup which trailed behind. Inside his sister-in-law sat behind the driver's wheel as she grimaced with pain. The feeling within nudged him to turn back even at the critical moment to push the herd forward.

“Keep pushin’. Something’s going on…I’ll be right back!” he yelled at his father as he turned the horse toward the pickup.

Without acknowledgement, or even a sound, the aging man kept herding. Urgency was afoot and there was no time to question his son, the one he regularly worked alongside day in and day out. It was moments like this that the older man knew deep within himself that they worked just as he and his father had long ago. It was a special working bond to ride side-by-side, without a word, knowing what needed to be done and what the other intended to do. So were the intricacies of stockmanship intertwined with generations of everyday ranching. It was an unusual intimacy to know what the other would do amongst an expansive herd, especially when they managed to communicate without a word spoken between them.

As the younger man approached the rolled down window atop his horse, he knew something was wrong. She clearly hurt, as was evident from the sweat beaded across her face and the matted straw-blonde hair against her unnaturally paled skin.

With worry over his brother’s pregnant wife, he asked directly, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s happening…” she squeaked through hard set contractions.

He peaked through the window, saw the dark stains on her jeans and knew. There was not a moment to question.

“Dad! Call him back! She needs to go!”

Stressed, concerned, but hard-pressed to break the herd’s momentum, his father looked back and for the first time questioned the urgency with only a look the two of them knew.

“Get him—Now! She needs to go…baby is here!”

That was it. The magic words they expected for nine months had finally arrived amid the stresses of this particular day. Everything stopped, this was yet another shift to the day’s priorities. His father pulled back on the reins, gave a large sweeping wave and his famously long, piercing whistle to catch his wife and younger son’s attention. Suddenly the lead ATV stopped, and the rider turned. Everyone was quiet for a moment and waited over the bawling cattle herd. His father attempted to yell in vain for his brother to return—drowned out by deafening bawls and moos of pairs trying to find one another. There was no movement at all to indicate his urgent message was received.

“Damnit!” the oldest cussed loudly under breath recognizing the urgency and moved forward atop his horse, “I’ll get him. Try to keep them from busting back too much. Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s alright son, do yer best.”

He moved quickly, but quietly, through the middle of the herd. Something he would usually punch a man in the face for doing at such a pivotal time. While he moved forward, he observed the questioning look on his mother and brother’s faces as he approached.

He jammed his thumb over his shoulder and bellowed as he got near, “Get your ass back there and take your wife to the hospital! She needs to go. Now!”

A slight look of panic crossed his younger brother’s face. Then timely realization.

“Yeah…now you get it! Follow me back nice and slow on your four-wheeler.”

So, as a team in tandem, they moved through the herd again and returned to the vehicle where the grandfather-to-be prepared his daughter-in-law to lay in the back seat while her husband readied to speed eighty miles to the nearest hospital—through the cattle once more.

“Get in. Take it easy through the herd…” his father said.

“…and drive like hell on the other side,” the oldest son unnecessarily finished his father’s thoughts to his brother.

The door slammed behind his younger sibling as he remounted his trusted grey gelding. Through all the worries and the obstacles ahead, the older brother recognized the moment and spun his horse back around one final time.

“Hey, stay safe and good luck,” he said through the open window as his brother looked up at him, “And if he comes before we arrive—congrats!”

He leaned heavily in the saddle and reached down inside the cab with an extended arm. He heartily shook hands with the new father. His brother smiled through a heavy beard and began to inch forward with a tempered increase in the diesel’s engine.

With a final quip he finalized the farewell with, “I’ll bring you one of your best cigars,” he winked as the couple hurried away.

The only reply he received was a beaming grin in the reflection of the driver’s side mirror and a brushed off wave of the hand.

The young parents moved back through the cattle for the final time, leaving the ATV behind on the side of the road for the time being as the mounted men regathered the remnants of the herd and began moving home once more.

The two looked up from the backs of the bovine in front of them. One saw his wife. The other his mother. The woman ahead of the herd energetically exited her side-by-side to bestow a good luck hug then dutifully returned to leading the cattle toward refuge.

Afterward, all that was seen was a cloud of dust from the road that lay before the travelling livestock and what remained of the family. They sped. As fast as the young father could drive, the remnants of the ranch’s generations worked in unity now to also push the herd as fast as they were allowed…

After seven hours of hard labor, on the seventh day of the week during the seventh month of the year, the seventh generation finally arrived.

A hand full of sevens, and a ranch full of luck, during the toughest and most trying of times. Another graced the family and began his journey into the rewarding, generational world of Montana ranching. Sometimes, the good Lord above graces us all with a simple draw…one full of luck and good blessings.

**Dedicated to my nephew ‘Carlos’, the newest and seventh generation of the Hashknife. He has arrived amidst a family that already loves and adores him with everything we possess.**