Snoop

The Lon Brinkerhoff outfit ran about 5200 head of sheep and owned Emily's Pond and the grazing rights allotted to it. Emily Points was part of this allotment. In late February 4 or 5 inches of new snow fell so I moved the herd to the most northwesterly part of the allotment. Bitter brush, cliff rose, buffalo grass and other good winter feed grew on these rough points and the snow provided plenty of moisture for the sheep. I moved the camp out onto the ridge as far as I could get it. Sometimes I bedded them away from camp and would string flags or white rags around the bed ground to keep out the coyotes; also set dead trees on fire nearby to help keep them away. The sheep did well and about all I had to do was turn them in the morning where I wanted them to feed that day and gather them to a proper bed ground for the night, then put out the flags and build fires. Of course, I also fed and took care of the saddle horses and the team of work horses. LeGrand Brink was suppose to be camp jack but he thought things were easy so just stayed in town and came out every 10 days or 2 weeks to bring supplies and see how things were.

One day I rode over onto the ridges north of where I had the sheep and ran across mustang tracks that looked to be quite fresh. By darn, it would be fun to come over here and give them a run, maybe I could rope one. So about 4 days later I saddles up my best horse. He was a red roan, good sized but had some draft stock in his veins which made his feet somewhat on the big side. He was in good shape and hard of muscle. I called him Jug. A halter and lead rope were tied on back of the saddle. After getting the sheep situated to where I thought they would stay put for several hours, I pointed old Jug toward those mustang ridges. About a mile beyond where I had seen the tracks previously I rode into a big patch of cedar trees. No fresh sign so far. Then, to my surprise a mare ran by a tree not 50 feet away. I was sitting on Jug about 4 feet from a big bushy tree when, to my further astonishment, a sorrel yearling colt came around that tree on a trot and passed through that 4 foot space. I could have reached out and touched him with my hand. But more vexing still, if my rope had been in my hand with a loop ready I could have put it over his head. So, belatedly I took my rope down from where it was tied by the saddle horn, shook out a loop and wished that colt would give me another chance, but all I could find was muddy tracks in the melting snow. I followed in the direction they led and after a little while we came out into more open country and I got a glimpse of running horses about 1 /4 mile to the front. They were headed west down hill toward Pawcum Draw, and really drifting, so I threw old Jug into high gear and mud flew when those big feet tore up the earth.

The rate of decent became steeper and rougher and Jug's points of earthly contact got farther apart as he gained downhill momentum. I was hoping those big feet could keep up with the rest of his body and stay under him. At the bottom of the hill a wash came around the end of the ridge from the draw up grade, the far bank was sloping but it raised up about 6 feet. I could see the deep tracks of the bunch where they had gone up over that bank at top speed. Old Jug hit the bottom going all-out. Now the terrain required that his plain of travel change drastically and assume an upward angle, but momentum was too great and agility not sufficient, so his head stuck into the soft muddy bank, his hind end came up over his shoulders and there he teetered till the momentum was compensated for, his hind feet then dropped back onto the ground. He pulled his head out of the mud and with a mighty leap we went up over the bank and resumed the chase. Jug wasn't really built for high speed out on level ground, but he had the strength to keep picking them up and putting em down till after about 2 miles we were crowding the drags of the bunch. The yearling colt was in the rear with his ma not far ahead. He was the one I really wanted so I dropped my loop on him and brought old Jug to a stop. It didn't take that colt long to choke down, for he was needing air bad after that long run. When he went down I had my halter ready and put it on his head in a hurry so the rope could be slacked off and let him breath again.

I mounted up on Jug, taking a dally on the lead rope and coiled up my lariat. The colt fought the rope a little bit, but he could see that Jug was one of his kind and he didn't seem to mind that I was sitting in his middle. Pretty quick we were headed back up the draw with the colt following along. Within a few days he was looking forward to a feed of grain and had accepted the 4 camp horses as his bunch. I turned him loose to graze with the other horses and he never wandered away from them.

As the snow melted I moved on to country not so far from Emily's Pond. The work horses were a nice pair of blacks weighing about 1300 lbs, well matched and of good disposition. I had them hitched to the commissary wagon, towing the sheep wagon, with the two saddle horses tied on behind. The wheel tracks of the road wound through a patch of big old cedar trees, growing on flat fertile ground. The sorrel colt played along as we traveled, running back and forth and around. The sun was warm, it being a very pleasant early spring day.

As we traveled leisurely along the colt would nip and play at the side of the team, then turn to run and buck off through the trees and back again. He took off running and kicking his heels in the air. Just then I saw him hit a dry limb that was sticking out from a big tree and came back limping so I knew he had been hurt. I had named him Snoop because he liked to look for oats which he had become very fond of since coming to live with us.

Just before we arrived at the little ridge that I planned to camp on, a washout in the road required some repair work to be done, so I decided to stop right where the wagons stood. This was in the bottom of a little draw with considerable amount of sage brush. On the south side of the sheep wagon was a patch of hard frozen snow.

I examined Snoop, pulling out a piece of limb about 2 1/2 inches long from a puncture in the soft part of his upper front left leg. His shoulder and leg seemed to be hurting him bad, making it difficult to walk. After unhitching the team and hobbling the 3 horses out to graze I mounted old Jug and went out to take care of the sheep. At sundown I bedded them on the little ridge just east of camp and rode over to the wagon. There, on that patch of cold snow, lay the colt stretched full out. He was a sick little horse and I couldn't get him up off the snow.

Dad had told me that once a big stick had poked a hole in his leg causing blood poisoning to develop. He had heated up some hot water, then put his foot and leg into it for a couple of hours which caused the red line in his leg to recede and the pain to disappear. I knew I could not use hot water but could use hot packs made from whole wheat mush like Mom put on us kids when we had chest colds.

There was a 25 lb sack of mush in the supplies so I cooked up a batch. A double cloth was laid over the wound, then I poured on the hot mush and covered it with several thicknesses of towel. I also doubled a big canvas tarp and pulled it over him to help keep out the cold. I replaced the hot poultice about every 20 minutes throughout the night until about 4 AM when the last of the mush was used. I don't know why I didn't retrieve the cold mush and reheat it, but the thought did not occur to me until the next day. I was pretty tired and sleepy by then so decided to turn him entirely over to the mercies of the Lord. The night had turned off colder with the temperature way below freezing when I crawled into bed.

At daylight I got up as usual to get ready when the herd would leave the bed ground at sunup. After building a fire in the stove I opened the door to go out to check on the colt and to my very pleasant surprise that little horse was not under the tarp. He was out by the work horses and looking pretty good.