Part. Two
The stock had been turned loose the evening before and would be showing up in camp pretty soon for some hay. I’d corralled my bay pony in a stand of big timber behind camp out of the wind for the night. While the cook prepared breakfast, I retrieved my hat and gun belt to take a look around. Gatherin’ a nose bag of feed and a few flakes of hay, as a I neared the stand of timber I could hear that horse kinda stompin’ around and when I stepped up to him, he had them rollers going in his nose, acting all broncy and such.
I guess on account of the weather, you know how ol’ cow ponies can be. He stuck his head in that bag of feed without any fuss. Finished with the grain, I hayed him good and returned to the tent and the fire. “You boys gonna brave this blizzard to chase the elk?” smiling as I said it. Their look said it all.
Say, “You boys bring a deck o’ cards or you just going to whittle some shavin’s for the stove all day?” After a week of packing in I thought a holiday was in order, my attempt at a little humor was not well received.
After playing cards, whittling, each one takin’ his turn at tellin’ a tall tale.
Had a lunch of rat cheese and crackers and all seemed well. Except my mules and the riding horses hadn’t came into camp and it was the middle of the afternoon. Getting kinda curious as what might be keeping ‘em. “Believe...I’m going to ride out a ways and see what those knot heads are up to.” I stated while hitchin' up my gunbelt, glancing a the Winchester lying on my duffel bag thinkin’ my scabbard under the equipment tarp buried under all that snow, instead on on my saddle, oh well.
The wind had pretty much laid and it wasn’t snowing nearly as hard as it had been earlier. Not to bad really, the stuff was light and powdery, the kinda snow skiers like. The bay horse was making it ok, we cut some sign about a mile out of camp where our horses and mules had cross the trail not too long ago. We're trackin’ them girls along there just as pretty as you please, not too far behind ‘em now. Dug around in the saddle bag and found my field glasses, a pair of Zeiss 8X with the green rubber on them.
Glassin’ off in the direction the tracks were headed. No mules.
Follow tracks farther, it’s as fresh as rat sign in a sugar bowl. Glass some more, wait there, that ain’t no mule. That’s, a bull elk and a darn good one. Reach down for rifle…
Hell fire, lost rifle. Think, dang it, broke my own cardinal rule, never leave camp without a rifle. Big bull 150 yards on little bench pawing in snow, think, come on now, need a plan. Got Smith & Wesson revolver in .44 Special, good handload of 250 grain hard cast SWC heavy load of 2400. Turn horse around, duck behind low bank outta sight of bull, step down and tie horse to nearest tree. Check revolver, loaded, so far so good. Take glasses and ease around the bank. Bull’s still there. Glass terrain for stalk, pretty good cover, some big rocks and blow downs. Check wind, coming to me, should be able to smell bull. Look back at my horse, he watchin’ me, putting a finger to lips and whisper ‘shush’, I don’t know why, just didn’t want him to nicker at me I guess.
I’m low crawlin’ in this snow from rock to rock, stopping to glass, yeah he’s still there just makin' a living, uncovering a little grass. Drop down crawl some more, stop behind big ol’ rock, about the size of a voltswagon car. Don’t need glasses, bull standing broad side at thirty five or forty yards, damn he’s big. Draw Smith, damn it’s small, think now, hell they shoot elk with arrows. I’m in good position, in range and got a .44 Special. Just rest your forearms on the rock, cock the hammer back, front sight right behind the shoulder, that’s it squeeze…
Couldn’t find mules, caught one of the guys horses, long cold *** ride back to camp.
Cook comes out to meet me, ”Find the mules, did ya?” “No, but I found your horse. I need a cup of coffee”, to Joe the wrangler I says, “Young man, feed and saddle Ronnie’s horse for him.”
“Well, what the hell’s going on?” he quizzed. I sezs, “You ain’t gonna believe this, you know all that shootin’ we’ve done over the years?”
Ron is lookin’ over his steamin’ cup, “What about it?”
“You ever know me to miss anything as big as a yearling steer?” I sorta whispered. “No, why the twenty questions?” The cook asked, a little peeved now. To which I replied, “Well, I didn’t miss today neither, I got a good bull down over in that draw, kinda where the trail crosses at the foot of Scapegoat.
Shot him clean through broadside at about forty yards. He wheeled and ran straight towards me, pop’d him again in the chest at less than twenty steps. And that was all she wrote. He’s a layin’ up there just a waitin’ to be skin’t and quartered. You comin’ or just gonna hang around camp and drink coffee the rest of the day?”
And Boys that’s how my .44 Spl won her Ivories.
My bull now hangs out on the veranda at the ranch in Texas.
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(All pictures came from my personal photo album)