It was the turning point in young John's life. He just didn't know it yet. What he did know was the oppressive heat, the mass of churning horse below him and the close hardness of the ground. With every leap and buck of the bronco, fifteen year old John Kendrick's teeth rattled. He was acutely aware of the compacted clay rising and falling beneath him. What he didn't count on was the solid wooden fencing of the arena. The horse stopped short and John flew over the mustangs head, crashing head first into the fence.

The next thing John was aware of was the hard kitchen table beneath him. He peeled his eyes open and saw a red checked apron. He blinked and saw the woman wearing the apron. She was medium height with a long brown braid hanging down her back.


“How ya feelin'?” She asked. John's head throbbed painfully, the room spun.

“I...I'm gonna barf!” a bucket was quickly procured and John's lunch was even quicker. When he was done, he sat up slowly and glanced around. He was in the spacious ranch kitchen. A wood stove had a pot of corn stew bubbling on it and a small girl wearing a checked apron identical to her mother's was perched on a stool stirring it and watching him intensely.

“John!” a man dressed in a bright red vest and black cowboy boots bounded into the kitchen. “We thought you were gonna sleep forever!” He stopped short and yanked his hat off of his head revealing a mass of curly yellow hair and smiled bashfully at the lady in the checked apron. “Howdy Mrs. Wulfjen.”

“Wulfjen...?” John asked nervously.

“You can call me Ida.” She smiled kindly. “We're just visitin' for a few days in from town.”

“Your...Your Mr. Wulfjens wife!” John exclaimed. Mr. Wulfjen was the co-owner of the Snyder-Wulfjen ranch and here was his wife holding John, a humble wranglers, barf bucket! John jumped off the table, boot heels thumping on the wooden floor, and staggered into his friend Chase's side.

“Easy there, You took quite a knock to the head.” Mrs. Wulfjen cautioned “You ought to be still in bed.”

“I'll take him back to the bunkhouse; He'll be more comfortable there. Thanks Mrs. Wulfjen.”
A slight cough from the girl on the stool and a pointed look. “And Miss Wulfjen.” Chase grinned. He smashed his hat back on his head and helped John out the door.

Later that night, when all the cowpokes had come in from their various chores and had eaten dinner, they gathered in the bunkhouse around the wood stove for a game of cards. Just as the last bet was being placed a rap came at the door. The girl from the kitchen entered, carrying a mug of tea.

“Mama says this will keep ya from losing your supper.” she said, handing it to John who was reclining on his bunk, trying to keep his throbbing head in the poker game. A round of stifled chuckles came from the other cowhands gathered nearby.

“Uh, thanks.” John took a sip cautiously.

“You're pretty cute. You're real skinny but my momma says you will fill out. I like you.” The little girl rocked back and forth on her heels. John nearly sprayed the bitter tasting tea all over the bunkhouse! His friends roared with laughter. An angry flush rose to John's cheeks.

“How old are ya girl?” He asked, putting down the mug.

“Seven and a half. And my name is Eula.”

“Eula?” He asked incredulously; she nodded. “How bout Eu? Like, U girl.” A pouty look came over her face. “Anyways,” John continued “You know how old I am?” She shook her head, braids flying. “Fifteen. You know what that means?” another shake of the braids. “I don't like little girls.” Her face sort of crumpled and she headed towards the door. John hated to break her little heart, but all the other men were watching. She slammed the door with all her might and there was momentary silence in the bunkhouse, then the teasing started. Finally they let John go to bed only to be woken a few hours later by the ache in his head.

He peeled himself off his bunk and headed to the stables, entering by the side door to the tack room where the saddles and other equipment was stored. His hand had just closed around a bottle of horse liniment, the cowboys cure all, when he heard a soft whinny from one of the horses in the barn. He wouldn't have worried about it ordinarily, horses whinny all the time, but no one should have been in the barn to whinny. The mustangs were usually kept outside in their corrals.

John eased around the corner of the tack room and saw a dark chestnut colored horse saddled and bridled, waiting to be ridden. Who would be riding at this early an hour? John wondered. It was at least two in the morning. A tall dark figure that John couldn't make out climbed into the saddle and rode into the night at a canter. John made a split second decision. He saddled one of the mustangs, a bay named Sam, with his gear and headed out after the shadowy figure.

But he wasn't the only one following someone. Seven year old Eula had been getting a drink of water when she saw Sam and John ride off. Staying true to her curious nature she decided to follow. She had some difficulty hoisting her saddle on her ponies back but she was a tough little farm girl and managed. The sun was just rising over the horizon when John saw her. He pulled his horse to a stop and motioned her towards him. She reluctantly rode up to him.

“What in...” John paused, searching for an appropriately strong word “tarnation' are you doin' here?” John wasn't only annoyed at her for following him but that she was in danger.

“Followin' you. What in tarnation' are you doin' out here?”

“Followin' him!” John pointed into the distance where a faint outline of horse and rider could be seen on the horizon.

“Who's he?”

“Someone up to no good. And that's why you shouldn't be here!” John glowered at her. Eula was not deterred.

“ I can help you bring him to justice! You and me! Partners!”

“No! Not partners! And I'm not bringin' him to justice, I just wanna see what he's up to.”

“But, but I can help!”

“The only way you can help me is by goin' home.” John turned and trotted his horse to the east. Eula’s lip trembled but she pulled her ponies head towards the ranch.

As the sun reached it's zenith, the plot became clear to John. Down at the bottom of a gulley about forty cows and their one year old calves were gathered. Three cowboys had herded the cows together and were quickly joined by the fourth man that John had been following. The men started cutting the calves out of the herd but leaving the mothers. The reason for this was the spring roundup.

In the spring, after all the calves are born, the cowboys herd up all the cows and bring them to the ranch to be branded. It's hot smelly work but the cowboys enjoy it because they get together from different ranches and have a huge fiesta after the work is done. The Wulfjen-Snyder outfit usually hosted it because it was the biggest ranch with the most space. The problem with this method was that the babies born after the roundup weren't branded until the next roundup. Clearly, these men were taking the unbranded babies and selling them somewhere. Or to someone.

John swung cautiously down from his horse and dropped the reins on the ground. Sam set about cropping grass peacefully. John knew that Sam would stay there until the reins were picked up. He was quite sure of it. After all, he had trained the mustang. It was his job.

John belly crawled through the high prairie grass, avoiding the cow patty’s, until he was a good distance from the creek. The men s camp lay just on the other side. The sun had begun to slide from the sky when three men rode into the camp. The fourth stayed with the calves.

John strained to make out their conversation when he heard something that sent a chill down his body. The sound of feet splashing into the stream. One of the men had come to get some water for their stew. As he bent down, bucket in hand, he spotted John. For a moment they stared at each other. Then the man sprang with a yell.

They thrashed and tumbled in the small stream, churning the water dark with mud. The man gave John a solid clout on his already throbbing temple and hauled him, soaking wet and filthy, out of the stream. With a grunt the man threw John onto the ground, tied up his hands and feet, and gave him a boot in the ribs for good measure.

While John lay on the ground, struggling to inhale, the man (whom John nicknamed red bandanna) waved his friends over.

“How long you been here, boy?” The tall, scruffy looking man that John recognized as Garth Lumbar, growled.

“Just... just a few minutes...” John gasped out, still doubled over and panting.

“It don't matter, he's seen enough. What should we do with him?” The third cowboy, silver spurs John decided, drawled.

“Leave him here. By the time he gets loose of them ropes we'll be long gone.” Garth said dismissively.

“I think we should just be done with him. He's caused us to much accursed trouble to just let him go free and easy, like that.” Red bandanna, who John was beginning to dislike more and more, grumbled.

“Don't want murder on our hands to, now.” Garth cautioned.

“No, you don't!” Eula appeared out of nowhere, a huge kitchen cleaver held tightly in her small hands. “Untie him and back up!” She demanded.

In response to her fiery demands the cowpokes threw back their heads and laughed! Eula brandished the cleaver and shaved one edge of Garth s mustache. The cowboys immediately stopped laughing. With a quick twist of his wrist Kevin angrily knocked Eula s head with his clenched fist. Eula dropped like a stone, sagging towards the ground. Kevin reached out, scooped her up, and flung her across his saddle.

“Come on boys, we've got a ways to go.” Kevin hoisted himself into the saddle behind Eula and whirled his horse towards the herd. With a sneer and another kick to the ribs Bandanna man and silver spurs followed. John sat, stunned. Everything had happened so fast! Eula! He struggled uselessly for a minute before catching sight of the kitchen cleaver Eula had been carrying. It was a wonder how she hadn't stabbed herself.

After a few moments and a couple of hasty slices in his palms; John let out a whistle. Sam came trotting over the hill and gave an answering nicker. Wasting no time John set out after Garth and his gang of rustlers.

It wasn't exactly hard, cows aren't the epitome of stealth. The sun was just sinking when John came upon a small figure lying in the tall prairie grass. John jumped off Sam s back, stiff legs protesting, and flew to Eula s side.

“Eula! Eula!” John cried in panic, kneeling next to her.

“So ya do like little girls. I knew you'd come for me.” Eula gave a small smile.

John carefully cut the ropes on her wrists, “they tied me up after I pinched his fat leg!” Eula told him proudly, and boosted her up in front of him on Sam s sturdy back. John turned Sam towards home, both kids battered but glad to be alive.

When they rode up to the ranch the whole outfit was turned out to meet them. John and Eula dismounted painfully in front of Mr. Wulfjen. John told the whole story finishing with “I'm sorry we didn't stop them sir.”

“I'm just glad your home in one piece.” Mr. Wulfjen assured him, sweeping Eula into his arms.

“I know where they are headed.” Eula told her father proudly “I overheard 'em when we was ridin'. They thought I was unconscious.” She gave a triumphant grin. The entire ranch sprang into action at her words, tacking up horses, riding for the sheriff, loading shotguns.

“Good job...partner.” John gave a tiny flash of a smile. “Now we can let your dad and some of the other cowpokes take over.”

“Thanks, but partner? Next time we go after cattle rustlers, maybe we ought to invite the big guys in the first place. Unless that's what you wanna do for our honeymoon?”

“Honeymoon!?!” John and Mr. Wulfjen exclaimed at the same time.

“Yes daddy, I'm gonna marry him.” Eula explained patiently. And so, John thought, the teasing begins again.

In 1891 John Benjamin Kendrick married Miss Eula Wolfjen. They had two children, a boy and a girl. John became the governor of Wyoming and eventually a senator. They lived happily at their ranch, trails end until the end of their trails.