By Clay Reid
Back in ’96, while I was on the Trigg Ranch of Singleton’s north of Tucumcari, N.M., I had the displeasure of running across one of the baddest bulls on the planet. The Devil Bull. We called this bull “The Devil Bull” because his horns came out and curled up just like the devil’s. That and the fact that this bull was evil. I mean like pure evil and relentless in his desire to kill you.
You know some bulls that will get after you, but after a short pass and you’re running away from them, they soon give it up and move on. This bull would chase you for a half mile in his pursuit of your death.
It all started after we had split up in the west pasture of the Trigg. I came to a bluff and looked down into a valley. There I saw Randy Simpson, Larry Orrel and Jack Neal scattering like a covey of quail with “The Devil Bull” in hot pursuit. I laughed for a moment then decided to trot on down and join the fun.
By the time I got down there, the bull was down in a creek bottom with the boys up on the other side of the bank looking down at him. I laughed and asked why they were chousing that poor ole bull. They were quick to tell me to watch out for that sucker as he was of a bad kind. I thought “aw baloney,” and jumped down in that creek to join them on the other side.
Big mistake! As soon as I did, that son of a biscuit eater came at me with a fire in his eyes that only the devil could possess. He put his nose in my horse’s flank and escorted us out of there fast and never let up at the top. We all scattered, and I was spurring that pony of mine. Randy fell in behind me, and knowing that the bull had since quit, went to hollering, “Go! Go! Go! He’s on your butt”!
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