I ask for some indulgence here. I started out with a story about a horse I knew called Jughead. A horse I could not ride if it decided to buck. But then I thought of another cowboy and his horse who has a similar bond. So I decided to also write about them. And things kind of just took off on me. All these stories are from my own cowboy days and the clock is ticking on me to get them down is some form, any form, while I still have time. And then if I have enough time get them in a book form. But until them I will be bouncing around through time and space.
So here we go.
To better understand about Jughead and me it would help to explain the special bound some cowboys develop with horses. And I don’t mean necessarily the great ones. But some because they might be misfits like them in some way. And if I had my Jughead Monte had his Palomino.
First you might have to know a little aboutMonte. Because I am here to tell you Monte was a man worth knowing.
Monte was Ted's older brother and they were complete opposites. Ted owned the outfit and Monte worked for him when they could get along which wasn't often or long. Monte wasn't big like Ted. But maybe twice as tough. He was usually soft spoken, calm and cool headed and he had a big caring and kind streak in him.
He was artistic, and even went to art school briefly after he finished high school. He wanted to be a sculptor but got married and had about half a dozen kids instead. But you could always tell wherever Monte had been in cabins and sheep wagons all over Copper Mountain because he'd leave a Cowboy hat ash tray made out of tinfoil even though he chewed tobacco but didn't smoke.
Monte was a cowboy, a horseman, a sheepherder, a plumber, a trapper, an artist, and a local historian and those were each specialty fields for him. He wore a peaked cowboy hat like the Mounted Police in Canada wear. He also wore a big handle bar mustache but not necessarily a beard just depending on when’
What comes next might be more considered legend because I wasn’t really there and just heard about it. And am filling in a lot of blanks with general knowledge or imagination.
But it went like this. Ted didn’t usually employ Monte in the winter so he would hire out as a sheep herder. Usually for the P-Bench. And one winter Monte was staying in a sheep wagon on the upper end of Bridger Creek. Monte was taking care of a band of wethers (castrated sheep.) There was only between 50 and 75 of them and it was his job to feed them hay because it was a small pasture and lots of time covered with snow. And one mooring when walked out to feed he instantly knew he had a problem.
It was the track of a two toe-ed coyote in the snow. Meaning the coyote was missing two toes on its right front leg. And by the tracks a pretty big one.
They are called two toe-ed (sometimes a three legged)coyote because at one time they had stepped in a coyote trap. But the trap had only caught the coyote by the toes or they chewed its leg off to get out of the trap and get away. There was a fresh snow that morning and the tracks were crystal clear.
Monte would tell you that was a special kind of coyote problem. Because if they only had three legs it made it harder for them to hunt wild game which made sheep an especially tempting target. And even if the coyote was only missing a couple toes they seemed to hold a grudge against humans over it and kill sheep for spite. At least that was Monte’s theory.
So Monte saddled up his horse and the first thing he did was back track the coyote to see which way he’d come from. Which was from down the creek. But most troubling of all for Monte was the coyote came right through the band of sheep. It never attacked. But did go right through the sheep and had scattered them from hell to breakfast.
Monte went back to his wagonand put his rifle in the scabbard on his saddle and rode the tracks to see where the two-ed coyote had gone. Without much hope of actually catching up with the coyote and getting a shot. But knowing its amazing the things you won’t see when your don’t have a gun. So he had his rifle just in case.
Monte tracked the coyote off the allotment he was on, through the 2-B and Alleen Ranch, into the bottom of the Sheath allotment and never caught sight of him. Monte figured by that time the coyote knew he was on his trail because he never stopped, quit the creek bottom and headed up over a ridge. And Monte was hoping if the coyote knew he was on its trail it might just keep going and not come by his way again.
It was late enough in the afternoon by then Monte was thinking he should turn back. But then up on the ridge he saw something else. A horse that appeared to be lame. Or at least was sure moving and walking funny. So Monte thought he better take a look at the horse. Maybe it was a broken leg and he needed to be put out of his misery.
Now the first thing he noticed was it was a Palomino horse. Which we didn’t see much in that country. And that it was a really good looking horse at that. The horse wouldn’t let Monte get too close to him and even took off running at one point. So it didn’t have a broken leg.
But to Monte is was almost as bad as a broken leg. The horse had a “ball hobble” on its right front leg. Which to Monte was the worst kind of animal cruelty. Because a ball hobble is almost just like the heavy metal balls and chains they used to put on prisoners.
The horse had to just drag the ball on a chain attached to a front leg with him which was supposed to slow themdown. But it didn’t really work very well and if the horse tried anything more than a walk they had to swing their front leg in a circle to keep from stepping on it. Ball hobbles were not against the law but Monte thought they should be.
By that time dark was falling fast. Which is a really good way to die out on the range in the winter by getting caught too far from his wagon. So he had no choice but to turn back and high tail it back to camp.
But that night Monte could not get the plight of that horse out of his mind.It’s one thing to have a ball hobble on a horse around the farm corral or small pasture. But that Palomino was all by itself on the open range. And Monte thought needed help.