I really liked the Old West gunfights, and wrote a reply. Then decided not to hyjack the thread, but start an entirely new one.
I remember my Great Grandfather (Father's side) talking about when he was a young man during the mid 1800s. And my Grandfather (Mother's side) telling stories about his father's youth, then about his own youth. His father had been a surgeon during the War. Stories about the Civil War, and the period after the War. How his older brother Lon went West (Wyoming) in the 1880s to be a telegrapher. Stories Lon wrote home about. Not just shootings, knifings, and hangings, but how the land and the weather killed people. Also how the wild animals killed people. One day Lon and another man were crossing the plains. A storm came up, and Lon crawled into a hole in the fround to hide from lighting. The other man laughed at him. The other man stood between the mules that was pulling the wagon to escape the wind. lightening struck killing both Mules and the man on the spot.
Lon wrote one letter about how he and several other men were out with their hounds, hunting wolves. They found a man (Well known and well thought of) that had just been killed, shot in the back. The local Sheriff had taken the day off and was with them. The tracks showed where another man had tried to catch the dead man's horse, but the horse ran off. The man had chased the horse then seeing the group coming in he decided to just run for it. The Sheriff had Lon and his friend turn the dogs loose and sic them on the running man. The dogs were doing what they were told. The dogs caught the man after a short run, and the killer dogs were working him over. When Lon got there to pull the dogs off he felt the man was not going to survive, and told the Sheriff that. Sheriff said too bad, threw him across a horse and headed back to town. The man died on the way. He was buried in an unmarked grave, when they reached town. No one ever tried to find out who the man was or where he came from. My mother would always start going on about how that was wrong, that the man had family, and they should have been notified.
In the 70s while I was stationed in New Mexico I met and got to know a bunch of old Cowboys and Ranchers. These men were in their 70s, 80s, and even one old guy in his 90s. The stories they had to tell about their youth, and their families fighting Indians, Rustlers, Wild Cattle, and Animals. Barr Fiffer told about how his mother killed a man that had just rode up to the ranch house one day and accosted her. Barr said she was only 11 or 12 years old, and her mother and little brother were down to the creek to wash clothes and bathe. She was to follow when she had finished some little chore. After the man tore her dress off she was able to escape and run to the barn. Her Father kept an old shotgun loaded in the barn, just for emergencies. She grabbed it and as the man came through the barn door she shot him in the chest. Kenneth told about how Apaches had came into the valley raiding. He was a small boy then, but his Mother shoved him and his older sister into a tunnel dug under the floor of their ranch house. Kenneth's older brother and his mother shot any Indian that came near the house. Kenneth being curious slipped out of the tunnel where the other end came out under the chicken coop. He said he watched as one injured Indian tried to get back on his horse. His Mother opened the door and sicced the bull dogs on the Indian. Kenneth said he watched the dogs rip that Indian apart. The Apaches never returned to their ranch, but hit other ranches in the area several times after that. Barr then told about how the Apaches would hit the folks around Tularosa or La Luz and get the US Army to chase them. Then as they got to the White Sands they would split. A small group would break off and head for Dog Canyon, the main group would drop back and take the Army on a wild goose chase across the White Sands. Then the Apaches would head for Dog Canyon. There was a trail up Dog Canyon, that started climbing the steep mountain side. A narrow trail going up the canyon walls. Part way up it got too narrow to turn around and go back. When the Indians in the lead reached a certain part of the trail, the smaller group was already on top, and they would roll bolders and rocks down on the Calvery, knocking them off the trail. Killing as many as possiable. Barr said the Apaches had killed several partols with no survivors, so they were able to do it again and again. Finally one man was able to get off his horse before it was knocked off the trail and run back down. That man was able to make it back to Tularosa and safety. After that the Army never again chased the Apaches up Dog Canyon. They dynamited the trail to prevent the Apaches from using it again. Then there was the stories about the different Ranchers that ran cattle outfits in the Tularosa Basin. Then the kids they had grown up with, and life back in those days. Horses they had owned. Cougers and Bears they had killed. Talk about a group of old men that had some serious prejudices. Black Folks were OK in their book, but they hated Mexicans almost as bad as they hated Indians.
It took a year to get an invitation to go hunting with these old geezers. They tell me why they wanted me to go hunting with them, but I soon learned. They needed a young man who could get off and then back on a horse, since they could not. I sort of got a suspission when we got to Barrs Ranch and they led their horses up to a platform with steps, then after climbing the steps, they slid onto the horses. I field dressed all the Deer and Antalope shot that day. Then tied them on the pack horses. The first Deer of the morning was a real shocker. Here was a huge buck with the splindelist set of antlers I had ever seen.
Burley shot it from the saddle, which I had done myself a few times so I did not think too much of it. When we got there I jumped down to start working on the animal. At first I did not think too much of it as burley had not got down. Then I realized he was not going to. I rolled that big buck over and started cutting the hide down from the neck to between the legs. I soon realized there was no testicles on this buck. I looked a Burley and commited "This old boy is a steer". Burley laughed and said, "Yea he got caught during round-up". All the Bucks shot that day were in the same condition. Big fat Deer, with no Testicles. At that point Burley told me not to shoot any bucks with big antlers, they were breeding stock. After we got back to town, and delivered them to Barr's place, Barr told me what had happened. Every year during round-up, they would jump up fawns. If it was a Doe they let it go, but if it was a little buck it got the same treatment as the Calves, roped, thrown, and castrated. Barr said once they were done that way they stayed close to the area, did not chase Does, and got fat. I learned a lot from them old Cowboys, some of it unrepeatable.
