Mustangs Rule
Well-known member
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2021
- Messages
- 957
It was a very cold late March in 1981. I was driving my small camper through Wyoming on my way to the Jackson Hole area. As soon as weather got reasonable, I had a job waiting for me there on a carpenter crew building upscale condominiums.
It was single digits above zero. I way too early for work but wanted to have lots of extra time to enjoy Wyoming wildlife.
The area I was going through then was “hard rock poor” with lots of trailers, mobile homes, and where a modern Pre-Fab home was a mansion.
Along the way I had picked up a Cowboy hitchhiker. All his worldly belongings were in his canvas duffle bag. His cowboy boots had worn out leather soles, and silver duct tape was wrapped round his boots to keep the weather out.
He was going to some old cattle ranch for spring work. He was also early too but knew he a had a warm home in the bunkhouse. In return for doing basic chores he could stay there and would be welcomed at the long table in the very well-used WW2 era stick framed ranch house.
I took him right to the ranch driving past the many “No trespassing signs”. He was welcomed like some returning old friend and I put on my best smile and tagged along on all this good will.
The old ranch house was worn to the bone in every way possible, yet it was truly warm of heart. The dining room was long with a long almost picnic like table. Where the chairs were the linoleum floor had spots worn through from cowboy boots.
The bunkhouse could have been used in movie set save for electricity limited to a few lights, outlets and a water heater near the clean bathroom. It was heated with two wood stoves, one a classic cook stove and an old stove with a large fire box.
In between the main house and bunkhouse was the woodshed, which was also the place where game animals were dressed, cut and wrapped. For a goodly part of the winter the weather was so cold, the meat was just stored there frozen.
Behind the woodshed/meat shed was the hugest pile I had ever seen of bones from deer, elk, and of course antelope. Antlers and horns seemed to be all from meat bucks, and young bulls near all taken close by on the ranch property.
In the vehicle shed, among other things, was one of the first ever Dodge 4X4 Power Wagons with “Pioneer “license” plates.
I spent two nights in the bunk house before moving on, and the stories flowed.
After being welcomed back, I did return over the course of the years when I lived in Wyoming.
In the corner of the main house living room, was a very small glass front gun cabinet. In it was the “Ranch Rifle”, the only rifle there, the one everybody used.
It was a Model 700 Remington in 7mm mag. First year production for that rifle and caliber, bought in 1962. It looked incredibly worn, smelled like a horse but the bore was mirror bright. The scope was an also incredibly worn Weaver fixed 6X.
There was a little drawer in the gun cabinet filled with new and old boxes of live ammunition and spent brass.
I always enjoyed my many visits there.
MR
It was single digits above zero. I way too early for work but wanted to have lots of extra time to enjoy Wyoming wildlife.
The area I was going through then was “hard rock poor” with lots of trailers, mobile homes, and where a modern Pre-Fab home was a mansion.
Along the way I had picked up a Cowboy hitchhiker. All his worldly belongings were in his canvas duffle bag. His cowboy boots had worn out leather soles, and silver duct tape was wrapped round his boots to keep the weather out.
He was going to some old cattle ranch for spring work. He was also early too but knew he a had a warm home in the bunkhouse. In return for doing basic chores he could stay there and would be welcomed at the long table in the very well-used WW2 era stick framed ranch house.
I took him right to the ranch driving past the many “No trespassing signs”. He was welcomed like some returning old friend and I put on my best smile and tagged along on all this good will.
The old ranch house was worn to the bone in every way possible, yet it was truly warm of heart. The dining room was long with a long almost picnic like table. Where the chairs were the linoleum floor had spots worn through from cowboy boots.
The bunkhouse could have been used in movie set save for electricity limited to a few lights, outlets and a water heater near the clean bathroom. It was heated with two wood stoves, one a classic cook stove and an old stove with a large fire box.
In between the main house and bunkhouse was the woodshed, which was also the place where game animals were dressed, cut and wrapped. For a goodly part of the winter the weather was so cold, the meat was just stored there frozen.
Behind the woodshed/meat shed was the hugest pile I had ever seen of bones from deer, elk, and of course antelope. Antlers and horns seemed to be all from meat bucks, and young bulls near all taken close by on the ranch property.
In the vehicle shed, among other things, was one of the first ever Dodge 4X4 Power Wagons with “Pioneer “license” plates.
I spent two nights in the bunk house before moving on, and the stories flowed.
After being welcomed back, I did return over the course of the years when I lived in Wyoming.
In the corner of the main house living room, was a very small glass front gun cabinet. In it was the “Ranch Rifle”, the only rifle there, the one everybody used.
It was a Model 700 Remington in 7mm mag. First year production for that rifle and caliber, bought in 1962. It looked incredibly worn, smelled like a horse but the bore was mirror bright. The scope was an also incredibly worn Weaver fixed 6X.
There was a little drawer in the gun cabinet filled with new and old boxes of live ammunition and spent brass.
I always enjoyed my many visits there.
MR
