My last roundup

By Greg Ryan ’77

Pow! We all jump back at the report from Paul’s pistol. He has just launched a .22 bullet deep into the sand. As we catch our breath and push Paul and laugh, his uncle picks up a .22 rifle, pumps it once and begins to lean over the warm hood of his pickup, bracing his belly and arms before firing and pumping the shells in rapid cadence. And so this day has gone, one macho test after another, the joyful annual ritual of riding, roping and branding.

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