The Mitchell Ranch is just outside the little town of Vale in eastern Oregon. The home ranch was about 300 acres with 25,000 acres of lease ground west of there out on the high desert. The lease ground was an interesting array of small abandoned homesteads from the late 1800’s. The Oregon territory had offered homesteaders 160 ac. parcels under the land grant program for free if they would live on them for five years and try to make a go of it. They struggled to survive for a few years, but land was harsh. Long cold winters, scorching, hot summers, very little rain, with one or two small streams within a hundred miles made it difficult and eventually they folded up and the land went back to the state.
Alva Mitchell, owner had been hurt in a shoeing accident, and needed help gathering 450 pair in the fall of ’89. Money was tight, but he said he would pay me $1500 for shoeing 10 head, starting a couple colts and gathering most of the ranch. Sounded like a good deal to me. I lived in an old 50’s model Ideal camp trailer with my dog and worked for him from daylight to dark.
The east boundary was a reservoir 10 miles from the cow camp where lots of people had built cabins and small vacation homes. Alva brought word one night that cattle had managed to get down into that area and were leaving hoof prints and other undesirables in people’s yards. I rode down a trail on the lower end of the lake and proceeded along the shore picking up cattle here and there until I had about 12 pair and a bull. He said that there was a trail out, on the upper end, so I began looking for it. I found the makings of an old trail and pushed the cows for about a mile up a steep grade, only to find that it just ended into a rock wall. Frustrated, I started them back down and along the shore, until I found another trail. It made a Y. I had no idea which way to go. I thought about it for awhile and finally decided to push the cattle off the trail into a little grassy area. Thank God I was riding Ruby, a favorite older mare from the ranch, that day. I went back down the trail and pitched the reins to her and let her walk up the trail toward the split. Without hesitation she took the trail to the right, not the one I would have taken. Fifteen minutes later we were topping the ridge and I knew the way home from there. I went back and gathered my little herd and made it to the hub of the cow camp just before dark.
Matthew 7:13-14 says, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow is the road that leads to life and only a few find it.” I would not have found my way that day without letting go of Ruby’s reins. The way I was choosing, was leading to another deadend. Some say that all roads lead to God, or all roads lead home. Try that next time you’re leaving a roping and see how long it takes you to get home. Jesus said “I am The Way, The Truth, and The Life; no man comes to the Father but through me.” Trust Him to guide you to the right trail in this life and to get you home. Talk to Him like a friend. He loves you. Give Him the reins of your life, and rope great! Thanks for your comments and prayer requests, contact Kip at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.