Listening for His
Cinch Bell
Dear Lord, I know I don’t talk
with you enough
Here anymore, it’s just because he is late
I always knew his days would be long and tough
But I didn’t know how hard it’d be to wait
It's two hours past dark, four past quitting time
He should have been home by now, where’s he at?
A storm's coming on; I can hear my wind chimes
About then, the first rain drop falls with a splat
He mentioned he was checking heifers today
Up in the high pasture, the one past the creek
He was going to trot out, thought he’d take the grey
That raunchy one, you know, that has the mean streak
I know I shouldn’t worry, but yet I do
He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself
His absence continues to make my mind stew
Could he be hiding beneath the rocky shelf?
Maybe that no good colt tipped over on him?
Maybe those heifers are scattered all around
From heck to breakfast out on that shell rock rim?
And maybe, he’s lying wounded on the ground?
At the door, I strain to hear his jingle bobs
Regardless of the brewing storm just outside
This is the downfall of these cowboying jobs
Peering into the dark, looking for his stride
Lord, please quiet my mind and ease this girl’s heart
For the sake of my sanity, send him home
As his wife, I’ve always tried to do my part
I promised from his side I would not roam
The dog perks his ears and heads toward the front door
I can hear it too; his cinch bell ringing
And comes the end of my internal war
This time, but the battle wounds are still stinging.
© 2010, Jessica Hedges
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Jessica comments: Growing up in a
ranching family, and marrying into one, it has become a tradition to
wait and wonder where your husband or dad is. This is something that
many women I know, including myself, really struggle with.
History in the Barn
I’m in the barn alone tonight
Just reflecting upon the day
The stars and the moon sure are bright
As I finished brushing the bay
With a pat I turn the horse out
A silent thanks for all that he is
He’s a good one beyond any doubt
A perfect kind for this biz
Slowly I turn back towards the barn
I see character the others have miss
But those other guys don’t give a darn
Only seeing the flaws of this
A hundred years this barn must be
And oh the stories it could tell
Some of sorrow and jubilee
Oh how I just long to dwell
It had comforted the owner
The day the boss lady had died
A humbled man now a loner
Forever without his bride
It had triumphed with the kid
Who through hard knocks became a hand
The youthfulness he worked to rid
As he tried to ride for the brand
It was anxious for the coworkers
Who were slowly falling in love
Miss Reba and Mr. Merker
That no body knew the likes of
Here it stands without attention
Both the doors beginning to sway
The roof has lost most the tension
All its feed bunks in disarray
It continues to guard our tack
The only defense from the rain
From the floor up to the roof rack
Its protection it shall maintain
Though you’re tired when you get back
For it there is never any rest
Put a few nails in this old shack
And to your honor it’ll attest
But leave it broken and alone
Its frame will begin to crumble
As its eves will begin to moan
Beneath the thunder’s rumble
That building is a living thing
As silly as that must sound
The history it does sing
All stories of the old compound
If it falters, history will too
Its not that hard to take the pride
Although the job is never through
To keep this old barn from divide
© 2010, Jessica Hedges
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Jessica comments:
The ranch I grew up on was started in the 1800s. It has an amazing
barn that I grew up working and playing in as a kid. I always had the
feeling that something special happened there but to this day I don't
know of any specific event.
Leo
He lost a good friend today
Through no fault of his own
It was his flea bitten grey
All of it said through a groan
The horse didn’t like hobbles
He was never sure what to do
The grey and the hobbles had squabbles
The battle had been overdue
The grey was in the round corral
Just standing with his halter
Erect the horse couldn’t rationale
Moving caused him to falter
The cowboy moved for his head
But not quick enough though it seems
For he had missed the thread
That’ve prevented today’s theme
He hit the ground thrashing
The man leaping for his head
The damage from the bashing
Couldn’t escape this purebred
The right hind had been broken
What else was the ranch to do
They gave the horse his token
The respect for his adieu
Released to the great beyond
This stud would live out his days
Past the corporate bond
Completing his earthly phase
A lock of hair remains
Reminding the cowboy’s heart
Of the passion through his veins
To complete this dying art
The art of training horses
There’s so few left who do
He can’t contend with the forces
Who determine the card we drew
So his heart will slowly mend
But the memory won’t fade
Of the life he couldn’t extend
Shall become his new crusade
© 2010, Jessica Hedges
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Jessica comments:
"Leo"
is the poem that really got me back into cowboy poetry. This is a
true story of my husband, two weeks into a job training colts for
someone else. We wondered if he was going to have a job or if we were
going to have a place to live, and the hardest part was he couldn't
have done anything different with that colt. It was just one of those
things that happen."
Ghosts of Cavalry
It's 3:30 in the morning and
his breath hangs heavy on the air
As he heads out to wrangle the remuda for the days work ahead
He tightens his latigo by Braille as the moon has hid its soft glare
With an overcast October sky above the Solider Meadows spread
The wrangle horse is a bit humped up but settles into a fast trot
As the rider posts to the familiar rhythm, at ease with the night
The rest of the buckaroos on the crew are curled up on their warm cots
As Cookie is whipping up the meal that will soon make their bellies tight
He tries to listen past the sounds of his reata and jingle bobs
For the bell on the lead horse that will tell him where the remuda reigns
Bringing the horses in is only the first of today’s many jobs
And he gets after it in earnest as it’s not in him to complain
The ever so slight sound of ringing comes to the wrangler’s cold ears
And the faint outline of caballo are discernible in the haze
He nears a barbed wire fence and a shiver runs through him in fear
For the things he trailed passed through the wire and into a willowed maze
A coldness strikes him as he realized the sounds he hears are sabers
Sabers of the soldiers who use to ride this circle on night guard
His eyes try to make sense of it all as he takes a breath with labor
He whirls his horse around to finish his job, hitting that trot real hard
It’s been years since the morning the wrangler saw the cavalry here
Carrying this secret, not even sure he believes what he saw
But the dream returns to him at night, striking him with a haunting fear
Asking what lingering evils make the cavalry patrol that draw
© 2011, Jessica Hedges
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Jessica comments:
I was inspired to write this true story of my husband's growing up in
northeastern Nevada. He must have told me this a hundred times and it
still gives me chills...
Milkshake Finale
Across rural America there is
an understood rule
That you don't walk too close to a pickup unless you're a fool
The reason for this is simple enough for most folks you see
Because most ranch pickups are guarded by a good cow dog or three
They're not trying to be mean but its their job to watch the truck
To make sure it's not raided or vandalized by some dumb cluck
Well I had just finished checking pairs in the Central Valley
When I headed to McDonalds for a milkshake finale
It happened to be St. Patrick's Day so they'd have Shamrock Shakes
I pulled my truck in next to a planter and hit the breaks
I left my 6-month old McNab in the bed of my step side
And headed toward the door of that fast food joint with a long stride
I ordered me a milkshake and cheeseburger and sat down
To watch the comings and goings of people here in town
All of a sudden a man covered in green milkshake came in
That minty ice cream substance dripping and oozing off his chin
Screaming a few choice words, he asked who brought their damn dog with them
A quick look around the joint told the man I was the problem
I was the only cowboy in the restaurant that day
And the only person who'd drive a pickup that looked that way
The drippy green man apparently had an armload of shakes
The skinny trail between my Ford truck and planter he takes
When a black and white beast with gums barred popped up from the truck bed
The man threw those 8 shakes straight up and they came down on his head
Now I know darn well that pup didn't go over the truck side
He'd just given that man a warning for being near my ride
So the point of the melty mess is quite clear I think you'll find
Walking too close to a cowboy's bed will put you in a bind
© 2011, Jessica Hedges
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Jessica comments:
This is actually an experience my dad had in Central California, and
it still cracks me up every time I hear it.
Buckaroo Woman, Unconfined
There ain't
much I ask for from God and this old world
Always been a pretty easy keeper so I guess
Never been one for dresses or ballet slippers that twirl
I've just tried to live by the motto that more is less
All I need is a strong horse and good riding kack
And endless Nevada sage will keep me more than fine
A nice stout bit and a few pieces of well made tack
Are all I need to keep me on the straight and narrow line
Just leave me with an old truck that's firing hot
And let me drive as far as the fuel tank will take me
For my bedroll and my dreams are all that I've got
I know its not lady like, but please just let me be
Leave me to my horses and cows in this sagebrush sea
Leave me to my stars and basin sounds of the night
Leave me to prove I'm capable and a bit gutsy
Leave me to ponder the universe and write
For I am an animal unlike this world had ever known,
driven by something different than the rest of my kind
I carry the spirit of many but stand alone
The spirit of the buckaroo woman, unconfined
© 2011, Jessica Hedges
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted
without the author's written permission.
Jessica comments:
...the poem is just my feelings straight up.
Jessica Hedges shared some
pictures from an Oregon cow camp for Picture the West in March, 2011.
About Jessica Hedges:
provided 2010
Cowboy poet Jessica Hedges spent most of her
childhood on a cattle and hay operation in northeastern Nevada,
about an hour west of Elko. It was here that she learned about
the cattle, the land, and the people of the Great Basin. Jessica
also developed a love for and appreciation of cowboy poetry,
music, and its rich history.
Jessica and her family had a tradition of listening to cowboy
poetry and music while in the truck taking care of ranch work or
on trips to town. They also had a tradition of going to the
National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko every year. As Jessica
says, “We’d stay up way too late at the Gathering to get up way
too early the next morning to feed cows.” She first started
writing and performing her poems at age 12 at the open mic in
the Sherman Station in Elko. “I live on a ranch, I’ve got
stories, I can do that too!”
She wrote off and on through her teenage years, getting serious
again in the fall of 2008 after a misfortunate incident her
husband had with a horse. Most of 2009 and 2010 she performed at
open mic opportunities and scheduled performances in Washington
and Idaho, honing her performance style. In January of 2010,
Jessica’s debut album, History in the Barn, was released.
• History in the Barn- Winner 2010 Academy of Western
Artists Cowboy Poetry CD of the Year
• History in the Barn- Top 5 Finalist for the 2010
Western Music Association Cowboy Poetry CD of the Year
• Jessica Hedges- Top 5 Finalist for the 2010 Academy of Western
Artists Female Cowboy Poet of the Year
• Jessica Hedges- Top 5 finalist for the 2010 Western Music
Association “Crescendo Award.”
• Jessica Hedges- 2010 live performance at the Columbia River
Cowboy Poetry Gathering won the People’s Choice Award in
Kennewick, WA.
Now the 22-year-old lives with her husband, Sam, in a cow camp,
about 120 miles southwest of Ontario, Oregon. When she’s not
pushing cows with her husband, Jessica continues to write and
perform her cowboy poetry.
To schedule Jessica to perform or to purchase CDs, please
contact Melody Scalley at
info@jessicahedgescowboypoetry.com or 757-678-7200.
History in the Barn
Named Best Cowboy Poetry Album,
2010
by the Academy of Western Artists
History in the Barn is the debut cowboy poetry CD for
ranch daughter and wife, Jessica Hedges. It talks about her
experiences, and of those close to her, all wrapped up with a
windy or two. The story lines emulate honor, integrity,
history, humor and sorrow. She illustrates a "no-holds-barred"
attitude as she talks about ranch life, past and present...
History in the Barn includes 11 original poems and
Jessica Hedges' recitation of Waddie
Mitchell's "Where to Go."
Find more about Jessica Hedges and a track list, downloads, and
order information
here information at Jessica Hedges' web site,
www.jessicahedgescowboypoetry.com, and at
MySpace:
www.myspace.com/hedgesjessica.
Includes:
Moving
Listening for his Cinch Bell
Fifty Plus Years
History in the Barn
Dad
Buckaroo Traditions
Why I'll Never Stray
Resting Place
Leo
Joaquin Murrieta
One Last Shot
Where To Go
