Hang Tight

We headed south on the upper side of the Hurricane Rim. Molly and Gray Eagle were hitched to the wagon, with a stay chain on Molly's side. She was half-mammoth jack and half Belgium draft stock, well suited to pull that light rubber-tired wagon. He was a good old saddle horse, humiliated to be hitched with that mule. His job was just to trot along and help hold up the wagon tongue. We camped the first night a few miles south of Antelope Spring, the next day we nooned at Antelope knoll on the Navajo Trail stock drive. I was riding Pearly, a little sorrel mule and Leon was leading Ben, his saddle horse, behind the wagon. That afternoon the brakes of the wagon were tested out down the steep grades of the Navajo Trail road as it descended into Hurricane Valley. The wind was blowing, a constant pressure that didn't make for ideal camping conditions. We found good horse feed inside a fenced enclosure on the leeward side of a big pond bank where we camped, protected from the winds. Next morning we noticed some gaulded spots on the shoulders of Gray Eagle and Molly where the collar had rubbed. As this was just a camping trip venture, we decided to ride the horses home, down along the Hurricane Valley. We left the wagon where we camped and planned to come back later and tow it by truck into LaVerkin.

Leon rode Gray Eagle, leading Ben with Molly tailed behind. Pearly mule was a good traveler and pretty nice to ride, if everything went her way. We followed the course of a big wash that wound its way back and forth down the valley. We crossed it several times along our line of travel, in most places its depth measured 6 to 8 feet. Cow trails and side washes cut the vertical banks making crossing places not too difficult to find. At one place Pearly lead down a steep cow trail with Gray Eagle close behind. At the bottom we turned a right angle to the north. Ben was coming down, and as his front feet got to the bottom and he started to follow Gray Eagle, of Molly decided she didn't like the looks of that high bank. She planted all 4 feet and applied her 1200 lbs. of stubborn mule flesh against the tie rope that connected her to Ben's tail. I was looking back watching them when she set up. It lifted Ben's hind end off the trail, leaving his back feet treading air as he tried to walk on down to the bottom. There he hung. He couldn't go front or back. That stubborn mule was determined she wasn't going down that bank. It was the funniest situation I had ever seen a horse in. We laughed so much that misery made us hurt and then we laughed some more. Finally fatigue overcame determination so off the bank Molly came. Ol' Ben heaved a deep sigh of relief and gratitude. Boy, that's hard, hanging by the tail