The horse was in the bottom of the Sheath allotment and the next morning Monte decided it must be their horse. He knew the Sheath ranch had recently changed hands and he didn’t know the new owners. But decided he would ride up there anyway to tell them he had found their horse and it was in trouble.

Well, Monte actually figured more like just leave them a note. He had to ride because even though it was March and the calendar said it was just about spring the mountain doesn’t pay any attention to calendars and the road was still closed with snow drifts.

Which is why Monte thought about the only thing he could do was leave a note. Because most people bailed out of their mountain ranches come fall and headed to a winter camp where there would be less snow and open roads. In fact the only reason Monte could take care of sheep as high up the creek as his camp was because the owner of the P-Bench had an actual road grader he could plow the snow drifts with to bring Monte food, supplies, and hay about once a month. And that would last about a day until the road drifted shut again.

Monte got another glimpse of the Palomino on the ridge again but didn’t even bother to ride up on him. He just kept riding on the road sometimes having to bust deep snow drifts up to the belly of his horse.

Monte turned out to be totally surprised when he finally got to the Sheath ranch house because there was a four wheel drive pick up parked in the yard and smoke coming out of the stovepipe. Which Monte erroneously thought was good luck.

Monte dismounted in front of the house but just stood there for a minute or two hoping to be seen before he tied up his horse and went to the door. It’s a good and safe idea not to surprise people on the mountain.And it worked. The door opened and a man he didn’t know stepped out with a gun in his hand and wanted to know who he was and what he wanted.

Monte introduced himself and told him who he worked for. And then told him he thought he had found one of his horses. Which the man didn’t seem too interested in.

No telling how long it had been since that man saw another human so he invited Monte in for a cup of coffee. Which was a very welcome invitation. It was kind of a nice day for March on the mountain but sure not warm or comfortable. And some heat and hot coffee sounded really good.

Once inside they talked a little. Yes, the Sheath had changed owners and he was just the foreman. The new owners wanted someone to be there even in the winter to keep the place from being robbed. And he had hired out for it.

Then after the pleasantries Monte told him the reason he was there was because he saw a Palomino horse with a ball hobble he thought might belong to them. Which is where Monte’s luck ran out.

Yes, the foreman admitted the horse belonged to the Sheath. But then addedif he never saw that crazy son of a bitch again it would be too soon. He told Monte the previous spring even with the ball hobble the horse had tried to jump a barbed wire fence and didn’t make it because the ball got hung up. But still managed to take out a long stretch of fence and just kept running. And as far as he was concerned he could run himself to death.

That set Monte back for a couple reasons. One it meant that poor Palomino had been dragging that ball and chain for almost a year. And two the foreman seemed to hold a grudge against the horse.

Both of those made Monte even madder and he said, “It can’t run. He’sgot that damned ball hobble on him. And you need to drive him into the corral and get that hobble off him.”

The foreman said no he didn’t. He was done with that outlaw horse. Monte said he would help him run the Palomino in. And the foreman said if he got sight of him he’d just shoot him.

Monte asked him what the owners would say about that. And the foreman said why don’t you call them in New Jersey and ask them. Which was another thing becoming all too common in that country. Rich people from back east buying up ranches just to lose money on them for a tax write off.

Monte didn’t know who the foreman was or what he was. Maybe a failed farmer from up around Worland or something. But he sure was no cowboy or even a ranch hand. They would never do that to a horse.

But there wasn’t much more he could do because the foreman said it was time for him to leave and he was the only one with a gun within easy reach.

Monte rode back just furious and sick about that poor abused horse. He could hardly get that horse out of his mind. But he got some help a day or so later when he stepped out to feed and the two toe-ed coyote had come through again. This time headed down the creek. But right through the band of sheep again.

By the tracks the coyote didn’t appear to pay the sheep any mind. His tracks went straight through the pasture and never stopped. But the sheep sure minded the coyote and had scattered and milled around what looked like most the night.

The Legend Of Monte And His Palominio

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