Big Bite

Buck was a contrary buckskin mule that I bought from Rod Leavitt for $100.00. Rod was a trader in most anything he could make a dollar at. He usually had a few horses and mules around for sale. I told him I needed a young mule for packing purposes, one about 2 or 3 years old that I could break the way I wanted it. He said he'd keep my need in mind and if he had a chance he'd get one for me. Two hundred dollars was the price range I was willing to pay. That was a pretty good amount for them days when a well broke saddle horse brought about three hundred dollars.

A month or so later I met Rod there in St. George. He said he'd just hauled a mule up from down toward Riverside, Nevada the day before. He was a bronc, never been handled, a lineback buckskin color and was now up at the Gunlock rodeo corrals. Said he didn't know how old he was but looked like he might be 8 or 9 years old. The mule had been foaled along the Virgin River and had ranged in them desert hills to the south of the river and eastward of Moapa valley. He said he'd let me have him for $100.00 and if he broke out well I could pay him another $100.00.

So on his word I handed him $100.00 then drove up to Gunlock in the pickup to fetch my new mule. Judy and our baby daughter, Liberty, rode up with me. I also hauled our jennet, Henny, along to make company for that wild mule. The jennet was out of a gray jackass and a registered Morgan stud. She was gentle and good to ride or pack.

At Gunlock I backed the truck up to the loading chute then ran the mule into the crowding pen and up into the chute where I held him in place by putting poles across behind him so he couldn't back out. Then I climbed up alongside his mean, dodging, old head to slip a halter on him (being careful not to let him get at me with his teeth). He don't know how to lead at all and probably now is the first time a halter has ever been on his head. The lead rope is wrapped around the front end of the stock rack when I open the chute gate. He jumped in alongside the jennet and I take up the slack then tied him secure.

We lived in St. George at the time and when we got home I saddled Cathy's Brown horse and after taking the jennet out I dally Buck's lead rope onto the horn and pull him out. He didn't want to come out so takes a flop there at the back of the truck. When he got up and Brown applied pressure to that lead rope Old Buck set all four legs in that stiff lean-back posture. Judy got out to help booger him along and Liberty pushed herself up over the truck window opening and fell to the ground, landing on her head. Course, we left Brown to take care of the mule for awhile and take our baby up to the house. She quit crying pretty quick and appeared to be all right, but she developed two black eyes that stayed with her for the next 3 weeks and we later suspect the fall damaged her spine in the neck area.

After yanking and pulling for all his might, Brown got the mule into the corral and I get off and walk over in front of him. He's standing there, all four legs spread out, breathing hard and dripping sweat. I'm out in front about 5 feet, telling him that if he wasn't so contrary life would go better for him when, quicker thank a wink, he jumped forward and them big front teeth of his snap like a pistol shot as he takes a big bite of shirt front, underwear, and hide off me just below my rib cage. It cuts it off clean, no ripping or tearing, then he jumps back Well, that's a big surprise. Don't mind losing a 2" patch of hide but I sure hate to have that big hole in my good shirt, after all, it won't grow back, ever. Guess that must have been his declaration of war cause we sure went the rounds for the next 6 weeks or 2 months. I built a special chute where I could squeeze him in tight and maul him a lot, but didn't do too much good. He got used to having the pack saddle on him and I could rope him in the corral.

That summer Cathy, Linda and Clay and maybe one or two of their friends trailed our riding horses and pack animals up in the foothills of Pine Valley Mountain. They are headed for the mountain trail there above Blake & Gubler. Our grub and camp gear I haul in the jeep and passed them on the way as they trot along. Above the Cannon Homestead I wait for them in the thick cedar trees. They got there quite early and I anchored ol' Buck mule to a couple of cedar trees and tied up a hind foot. On goes the pack saddle and then I lash on a fair sized pack. When we turned him loose we're mounted up and all ready to travel. We're expecting to see some wild action but after a few crow hops to test that packing job, he lines out with the rest of the animals and we head up the trail. It ain't been traveled much in the past 20 or 40 years and is pretty dim.

We find our way through the thick cedars and then the trail turns out along the open side of a ridge where it has cut a definite mark an the going gets easier. After an hour or so of riding we can see the Blake & Gubler Homestead off to the northwest and pretty soon we're climbing up the steep mountain side above Cottonwood Canyon. This is heavy going and we stop regular and give our horses time to rest and catch their wind. We took the high trail to the east up over the big hump and then down into Further Water. That pack stayed balanced good on Buck all day long, and when we unpacked my opinion of him has jumped up several notches.

There's is a nice mountain meadow in the bottom of a big draw. Fir trees covered the ridges on each side. The grass is good and a little creek comes up about a half mile from its head. It lays north and south and runs down into Pine Valley. We hobbled the horses and stake out one or two. I put rope hobbles on Buck but next morning he'd pulled his small mule feet out of the twisted rope and is loose. We bunched up the horses and maneuvered him around till I can pitch a loop on his head.

One day his pack turned off to the side and I thought for sure we're going to have a stampede and a big wreck but he stopped and let us catch him to straighten the load up. On the trail he was a good pack mule, always kept right up without having to be led, but he was a little ornery to catch and pack up in the morning, always stayed with the horses good even though he was foot loose. That was the summer we bought our place in LaVerkin so that fall I turned the 2 mules and saddle horses into the pasture. Ol' Buck was wild and wouldn't let me get near him and I didn't like that.

One day Merne Bundy from out to Fredonia came by and said he wanted to buy some pack mules. He was hauling supplies down Whitmore Wash to them dude outfits running the Colorado River with rubber rafts. We agreed on $200.00 for Buck. He said he didn't have it on him but would send it right in to me. We caught Buck and he hauled him away. He never did send the money. He had the mule and there wasn't any use parting with $200.00 if he didn't have to. With steady work and a feed of grain every day, I heard that Buck gentled down and was one of their best pack mules, or maybe he was still mine.