Twenty-year-old Marnee Ferrell had been hired to do a man’s job on a 75,000-acre cattle ranch, but she didn’t mind. She thrived on riding long hours alone and hunting the breaks and canyons for cattle, although some of those cattle would make her question her job choice at times. This particular day started out like any other, with no indication of the stress and trouble to come.

“Bring this herd on back to the ranch,” stated Tony, the manager of the Big Muddy, matter-of-factly. They unloaded Marnee’s horse Ricky, a blood bay Morgan gelding, from the trailer at the holding pen eight miles from her eventual destination. Their day had begun at 5 a.m., in an effort to beat the heat in this rocky, dry land.

Marnee studied the small herd of about 25 head, located in a 2-3 acre, five strand barbed wire pasture, as she thought back on how she and Ricky had arrived at this place.

A couple of months before, a friend had told her about a job opening for a cowboy position on a ranch in North-Central Oregon. The ranch, formerly called Rajneeshpuram, had been infamous just a few years before, belonging to an extremist cult group headed by the Bahgwan Shree Rajneesh. After the cult moved out, the property returned to its original use as a cattle ranch, but the history remained in the many buildings and secret places built during the few years of the Bahgwan’s rule.

The job description was varied, but one Marnee knew she’d love. She would be spending hours in the saddle bringing in cattle from the hills, sometimes with one other cowboy, at other times, totally alone with her horse. The men would often round up the cattle using ATV’s, but much of the ranch was too steep to allow access by anything but a sure-footed horse. The manager wasn’t much of a rider, having been hired for his administrative ability, and he welcomed Marnee’s skills on horseback.

She was riding her own mount on this particular day, Ricky, a six-year-old athletic Morgan gelding that was almost impossible to wear out. Little did she know how thankful she would be that she chose to ride Ricky instead of one of the quieter ranch horses.

She was allowed to bring her own horse, or use any of the ranch horses, so she brought Ricky and used him as often as she could. The ranch hands and a neighboring rancher who were on hand when Ricky was unloaded, scratched their heads and laughed. This wasn’t a ranch horse! Why was this young woman bringing this prancing, bundle of energy to work cows? Marnee knew that before the summer was over, they would admit Ricky could work circles around their horses.

Her task seemed fairly easy, although she knew where cattle were concerned, nothing was ever quite as simple as it seemed. She slowly gathered the herd to move them away from the far end of the pen, urging them toward the wide gate and the direction of the home pasture. The mixed group of cows and calves were moving nicely, when one spotted cow with twisted horns decided to defect from the herd and bolt the opposite direction. Ricky didn’t hesitate, he leaped after the cow as though it were a game. Cattle didn’t bother him at all, whether it was one, or a bawling, moving herd of 100, they were just one more challenge for this bold, adventurous horse to tackle.

Marnee pushed Ricky to turn the cow back and saw that the rest of the small herd had been infected by the same desire to escape. Cows have very little sense and even less regard for life and limb, even their own. These cows proved to be no exception, as they plowed through and over the tight, razor sharp, fence. By the time the last one reached the remains of the fence, it had been torn down and destroyed, with the cattle running at full speed up a canyon with shale-covered sides.

Ricky was incredibly quick and Marnee was depending on his speed and agility as she bent low over his neck, urging him forward. Her only hope of turning the cattle was to get far enough ahead to turn the leaders, knowing that the herd mentality would cause the rest to fall in behind. She ran her horse up and down the slippery canyon walls, jumping over brush and sliding on the loose shale rock that made the footing treacherous. While coming down one steep hillside, she prayed Ricky would not misstep. The ground was so steep her stirrups were dragging in the dirt and had to be held up to clear. Never had she owned a horse that was more sure-footed than this one, or less afraid to jump in where others might turn away in fear. Finally, she hit the bottom of the gully and gained the lead, heading off the offending cow, and with a sense of relief she watched the rest fall in behind.

The next mile or two the cattle seemed to settle down, as she got them back through the broken down fence and headed up the road towards home. Bawling mothers and playful calves darting away from the herd kept her and Ricky occupied, as they made slow but steady progress forward. They were following an old 8-mile paved road built especially for the Bahgwan, where he could safely drive his Mercedes at high speeds without endangering his or other people’s lives.

The road had been fenced on both sides, but some thoughtless person had neglected to close a gate along the way. The cow with twisted horns darted through, running at break-neck speed through the opening, with the rest of the herd close on her heels.

Again Marnee and Ricky charged after the herd. They spent another frustrating hour pounding over treacherous ground, avoiding holes and jumping brush, as they worked to bring the cattle back onto the trail. The herd was finally through the gate and on the road, but they were determined to head back the way they had originally come. Pushing cattle with no one riding point is tricky at best. It’s challenging for two good riders to keep a herd pointed, but almost impossible for one to cover all sides of a moving, jostling herd. The ranch was short-handed, with only one other good rider in another location, so Marnee had no choice but to go it alone.

With dogged determination and a growing frustration, she pushed her sweat soaked horse, and once again turned the cattle toward the ranch. At times she had to  scream, raising her voice above the bawling and trampling of hooves, keeping them moving when they stubbornly decided it was time to stop. When she first started this job, she felt foolish yelling at cows, but found it easier as her  anger grew at these unruly beasts. Her voice was beginning to grow hoarse, after hours of constant yelling in the heat and dust.

The reluctant cow who had caused all the trouble was decidedly unhappy. Three times now she had been deterred from her purpose of returning to her chosen pasture. As Ricky and Marnee stood quietly, taking a short breather, the unexpected happened. Suddenly, the fast moving, 1200 lb., spotted, bawling cow with twisted horns, rammed into Ricky’s chest, knocking him backward with the impact. Shocked and shaken from the attack, Marnee kept her seat,  then quickly dismounted to make sure her horse hadn’t been gored. Thankfully, the horns of the cow were turned inward and didn’t do any damage, and she was able to again collect the herd and push on to the ranch. Ricky didn’t seem affected by the attack, but calmly moved forward and again bent to his task.

With cows and calves darting in and out of the brush, Marnee and Ricky slowly covered the remaining miles to the final destination, a pasture on the edge of an airstrip once used by the Bahgwan. Ricky had covered most of the ground on this four to five hour day at a solid canter, with occasional rests between. On the last mile, he sensed that home was close at hand, and broke into a gallop, proving his mettle and worth as a ranch horse yet again. Both horse and rider were covered in dust, sweat and scratches from the brush and rugged terrain they had covered that day.

The following week would be one of branding, castrating and administering shots to the calves. Before coming to this job Marnee would have had pity on the young creatures, but after the challenges these cows had put her through, she kind of thought she might enjoy this part of the job!

A sense of satisfaction poured through Marnee’s spirit, as the tired horse and rider arrived at their destination. There was no horse on earth that she would rather have been riding today, then this amazing Morgan called Ricky.