This story is from James Greet, written in 1991 about his life as a cowboy in the 1940’s.
Another time that I got in on the cattle drive from the ranch to Worland, was when Roy Mills and Russel Burgess had a few head each that they threw in with ours. The old Mr. Forman was with Burgess. That was in late October. There were no facilities then, so we had to “nighthawk” the two nights out. Two of us took a two hour shift through the night. Seems as though George and I took the ten til midnight shift. Uncle Fred was with us, so we had plenty of help. Uncle Fred tended camp and did the cooking. That was no problem for him, as he had cooked some for cattle roundups out on the range. Also, he and dad batched for seven years on the ranch before dad got married.
This time, a funny little thing happened to me. We were rather jubilant about arriving at Worland and the end of the trail. Russel galloped by me and said “anyone want to race?” I sped my horse up a little, and just then Russel’s horse flipped a little stone that came back hitting the left lens in my glasses. It made a small hole in it, about the size of a match head. Amazingly enough, I didn’t get any glass in my eye, but I had to go around with a hole in my glasses for some time after that.
Another trip of trailing beef from the ranch to Worland, was the fall of ‘38. George and Geneva, (his new bride), and I made that beef drive in November. The first night we spent at the homestead of Dutch Mills. The second night at the Spratt’s cow camp, all went as planned, with food and beds for us, and corrals for our horses and beef herd. The third day, we made it to Worland in fine shape. The weather was typically “Indian Summer”, with cloudless warm days and frosty nights. It may have been this trip that I brought the horses home on Thanksgiving Day. I stopped at Harry and Grace Mills’ sheepwagon. Grace asked me to stay for Thanksgiving dinner, but I declined and made my way on home. Harry and Grace were camped close to South Butte, on the breaks of the Honey Combs. There was good grazing for their sheep along there.
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The Honeycombs that Jim mentions are full of these kinds of “hoodoos”. It’s a very beautiful, though haunting (and snakey) place.
Find me here!
Such a positive story. They enjoyed their work.
It does look like snake heaven.
James really has a way with words, just like you have a way with the camera.
Once again – thank you for your post, Carol. I am always struck by the lack of negativity or complaining in James’ writings.
Simpler life – and in many ways more satisfying.
Gorgeous photo!!