Years of bones piled up. Cattle–calves, yearlings, the old–heaped 100 yards
northeast of the ranch house, upwind from the summer, southwest prevailing
winds. Mostly black baldies, a few Charolais. Old bones bleached white,
disintegrated. Some new bloated bodies rotting, nauseating. Others just sundried
hide stretched over skeletons. Drug here by tractor, the dead. Shipping fever, parasites,
drought, extreme weather.
A ranch’s history written in bones.