Feeding the Cowboys
I would not want my opinion of cowboys tainted by this story. The fact is, I tinkered at being a cowboy shortly after I arrived in Wyoming, already intent on working with sheep, which I preferred. Switching professions from sheep to cattle and from cattle to sheep was not unusual, for although few cowboys would admit it, short of having it extracted by torture, many cowboys found it necessary to herd sheep when they could not find employment working on cattle ranches.
One summer day, when I was herding sheep under Wind River Peak, I skinned and quartered an old ewe that had died of natural causes so that I could feed it to my dogs. Before I headed out to check on the sheep, I placed a quarter of the ewe in a big pot of water, and set it to simmer on the sheep wagon stove. This task accomplished, I mounted my horse, called the dogs and set off to ride around the herd.
It was a nice sunny day, and I had ridden two or three miles farther than was necessary just to look after the flock. I climbed a steep grade to the top of a bald mountain where I could have a good look at the scenery as well as the sheep below.
I had braced my arms against the saddle horn to settle and rest my body when I noticed three riders in the distance. At first I couldn't make out enough detail to tell who they were, but as I continued to study them I could see they were cowboys.
At times I lost sight of them on the trail as they entered the timber, but when they reappeared, it became apparent that they had spotted the sheep wagon and were headed straight for it. When they arrived, the three cowboys tied their horses to the wagon wheels and went inside.
The mythology about cowboys and sheep herders might suggest that they were busy inside tearing the place up, but it was not at all unusual for strangers of any type to drop in on a sheep herder to get a bite to eat.
Well, I figured the cowboys would find the canned goods, bacon, flour, molasses, and so forth, and get themselves something to eat. I didn't bother to race back to the wagon from my perch atop the mountain. I took my own sweet time riding back.
By the time I had ridden around the sheep and returned to the wagon the cowboys were gone. I went inside the wagon, and found that they had eaten none of my supplies other than some leftover baking power biscuits. But to my surprise, when I lifted the lid off the big pot on the stove, I found that they had eaten nearly the whole quarter of that dead sheep I had put on the stove to cook for the dogs. Furthermore, one of the cowboys had left a note thanking me for the grub. Seldom had they had the opportunity to consume so much meat at one meal. They weren't sure they would return the same way they came, but if they did, they hoped to find me in the wagon so they could enjoy my hospitality again and thank me personally.
