Mouse And Green Bronc Bad Mix
When A Woman Is Between Them

By Curt Brummett

In Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary, the word ACCIDENT is explained like this: "an unforeseen or unplanned event ... an unfortunate event caused by carelessness or ignorance."

Now, in order to set the record straight, let me say this about that. Carelessness is okay, but ignorance is kinda harsh. Ignorance makes it sound like some people just don't know what they're doing. Not that carelessness isn't the same thing, it just don't make the person that caused the accident look as bad as when you call her ignorant. And besides all that, when you call a "HER" ignorant, it tends to make 'em a little snarly.

As you may have noticed, I used the word "HER." I did this for a very good reason. I have been in more "JACKPOTS" because of a "HER" than I have because of a "ME."

For example: We (the family and me) were living in Farwell, Texas. We were independently poor, so I was riding some young horses on the side while working in a feedyard and taking care of some wheat cattle.

We lived in a trailer house that had a shed built onto the east end. Walls, roof, and a slight opening to get inside and get to the tools, dog food, or whatever else we kept in there.

I kept several broncs at the house, and when I came in at the end of an evening, I would ride two or three ‘til it got too dark or cold to do any good, and then I would go to the house. I had been told on several different occasions to clean that shed up and get it organized. On each occasion I replied, "that shed is attached to the house, the house is your job, so you clean it up."

I don't remember just how loud I said it, but probably not real loud, ‘cause I didn't want to upset the "LITTLE WOMAN."

Well, one of many accidents caused by a "HER" happened because of that shed.

I was riding a bronc past the front of the trailer one afternoon and the "LITTLE WOMAN" had taken it upon herself to clean out the shed. I might add that she seemed to be doing a pretty good job.

The colt was spooking at all the stuff that was stacked in front of the shed and I was having a tough time just getting him past the pile when it happened.

I figured the "LITTLE WOMAN" was in the house because there wasn't any sounds coming from the shed (seems like the way I had figured in the past I would have learned to quit figuring).

As I finally got the colt up close to the pile of junk that was stacked in front of the shed (I needed to show 'im there was nothing to be scared of), all hell broke loose.

Now, I knew the "LITTLE WOMAN" was afraid of mice. I didn't know that one little old mouse would make a complete runaway idiot out of her.

That colt was blowing rollers, quivering as he got closer to the pile of junk, and seriously considering having a complete one-horse stampeding fit. He just knew something was gonna jump out and eat 'im.

He did not have a clue ...

Have you got any idea what a woman looks like after she's been in a dusty old shed, moving things around and sweating ‘til her hair (as well as the old baggy clothes she was wearing) has taken on the appearance of some Halloween spook monster?

Folks ... it’s not a pretty sight.

There was a muffled scream from the shed, the colt locked up looked at the shed, the door blew plumb off the hinges and attacked the colt, the colt figured he would just paw the attacking varmint and stand his ground.

He did, too. For about two seconds.

Then the varmint with the shaggy hair and baggy shirt came following the door, screaming and slinging her arms, decorated by a tow sack that happened to be hung up on the button of her sleeve cuff.

The colt right sudden decided that door could defend itself after all, and he put the old stampede-off-into-the-sunset-while-bucking-and-bellering trick into action.

Hell, I don't blame 'im. She scared me too.

For some reason, that colt seemed to think I was the major cause of his immediate fear, and he got to bucking a way-yonder serious.

I bucked off in the driveway. Yep, stepped off on my head and broke my arm.

The colt ran off to the back side of the pens, I got up holding my arm and looked around just in time to see a woman (pert-near undressed) jumping up and down on her shirt and an old feed sack. She appeared to be miffed.

Now I've seen some dead mice in my life, but I have never seen a little mouse flattened to the point he could cover up a trash can lid.

Yep folks, this was an accident. An unforeseen and shorenuff unplanned event that was caused by carelessness — and, I feel reasonably sure, just a touch of ignorance.

I say just a touch of ignorance because I feel there is no need to be that afraid of a little mouse.