I raised my rifle to take aim at that thieving coyote, but that little colt came between us. I was about to curse at him for spoiling my only shot when I heard a yelp. My gun went lax as I gaped at what I saw. That coyote went flying through the air and landed several yards away from the calf it had been after. It managed to find its feet and slink away, tail between its legs. The colt turned to give me what felt like an “I told you so” look and began to graze while the calf beat a hasty retreat to its mother.
From that day the colt was a frequent visitor to the far-back. His visits always seemed to coincide with the presence of coyotes. I found a couple of dead ones, their necks broken and hoof marks on their bodies.
We never lost another calf. By fall, my dad had to admit there might be something to my story, though he never got to see Dominator in action. Yes, that’s what I came to call him. As winter set in Dominator lost interest in his own herd and became a permanent fixture among our cattle. I think he likes the carrots and apples I leave for him. Next year I’ll see if I can train him to the bridle and saddle. I’m not very big, so I think he’ll carry me in a couple of years. We have a bond, Dominator and me.
