Part X

I remember one of the best summers I ever had. I was doing day work up in the Palouse area. That’s southeastern Washington. It was in early May. I was cleaning some holding pens on this one ranch when they got a delivery of a couple of horses. I helped unload the horses and put them into a corral. As the boss was taking care of business, I worked the horses around a little, as it looked like they were a bit stiff from the drive. I had not been asked to do this, but I saw it was needed so I did.

After the boss and the horse man finished their business, they came over and watched as I worked the horses. The boss told me thanks for taking care of the animals.

As I finished, the horse man was waiting for me. He said he had asked the boss if I was a regular hand and when the boss said no, I was just day working, he thought he would see if I would like a job for the summer. I ask what the job was. I had gotten into some I did not care for, so I wanted to be sure this was one I wanted.

The horse man introduced himself. His name was Charlie Ruggles. (I learned later this was also the name of an old time movie actor)

Mr. Ruggles explained he trained cow ponies. He had a contract to provide a dozen head to a large ranch corporation come fall. He had the herd well started but he needed someone to ride them and finish them off.

I had never actually done a lot of training, so I figured this would teach me some things also, so I jumped at the offer. It took me all of about 5 minutes to throw my gear into my old duffle bag and I was ready to go. I had an old Army duffel bag in which I carried everything I owned except for my saddle. I had an old Savage Model 99 rifle 250/3000 and a Smith & Wesson revolver in 45 ACP. You had to have these small clips which held three rounds in the pistol and I only had one, so I could only load 3 rounds at a time, but it was still a revolver.

Mr. Ruggles had a small spread down near Lewiston, Id. He had about 160 acres, most divided up into small paddocks, but a couple a bit larger. Plus, he backed up to some public land, so there was a lot of riding room. There was only Charlie and his wife. Except when he had a bunch of horses to finish off, he did not need a hand. He was able to mostly take care of his place himself.

He had between 20 to 30 head of horses at any one time. This was just counting the ones he was training. He had a couple of his own stock also. He had a couple of dozen head of cattle of various ages and sizes to train the horses on. He trained the horses to be overall good cow ponies, not specializing on any one factor, but everything. He taught them to cut, drive, and rope from. He would get a young horse and start them on ground work at about 2 years old. He did not put a saddle on them until they were at least 3 and sometime older, depending on the animal.

When we got to his ranch, I just knew I was going to love it. The ranch lay in along a small creek, with the buildings under some tall pine and cottonwood trees. All of his pastures were sub-irrigated, so remained nice and green all season. The barns, stables, and working pens were all well maintained. This was the first time I saw a round pen. This was the picture of a perfect place.

Instead of a bunkhouse, Mr. Ruggles had built a small 2 room house, with bath and all. For a change I did not have to share a bathroom with a bunch of others. Mrs. Ruggles (Elisebeth) did the cooking, and boy, it was grand!

So, the very next morning, I was up and at it. Charlie had the twelve head all together in a small paddock. They were all at about the same level of training. All I had to do was work them. I would work three horses a day, each about 3 to 4 hours. Charlie said he did not want to overwork them, but also they needed to know they were put on the earth to work. Either that or become dog food. He felt that for awhile, 3 to 4 hours a days was enough, but as summer progressed, we would work them longer hours. It meant some long days, but the weather was nice and besides, I was doing what I loved, sitting on the back of a well behaved horse.

I would spend some of the riding time out in the holding corrals, cutting cows, roping them, dragging them to a make shift fire, letting them hold the cows while I pretended to do something to them, then turning them out. Other times I would go out into the larger pastures to work the cattle. Twice we turned the cattle out on the public land, waited a bit, then went out to “round them up.”

All in all, this was a great time. The horses were already well trained, so I think I was learning as much as they were. Charlie would sometimes sit on a fence rail and give me advice as to how I should or should not do something, but, he never got angry, never yelled, and never expected me to do something I was not capable of doing. That was just the way he trained his horses.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end and that part of the job did. When summer was about over, Mr. Ruggles came to me one morning and told me there was a problem, though not one that could not be worked out. He said the outfit that had contracted for the horses had some sort of problem and they would not be able to send anyone for the horses so could he deliver them. He figured he could, but they wanted a couple of the horses delivered to one of the ranches they owned back up in the Palouse area, four more down to a ranch they owned in Lake County, Oregon, and the other six down to a new place they were taking over outside Prescott, AZ.

Well, Mr. Ruggles knew he could deliver the animals, but he just did not want to try a trip like that on is own. I figured I knew what was coming; he wanted me to stay at his ranch while he and his wife made the trip, but he said no, Mrs. Ruggles did not much like to travel, so would I be interested in going along. He said I would stay on the payroll, plus he would give me a bonus when all the horses were delivered.

Let me tell you, I once again jumped on that offer. It just sounded so great, to be able to travel more of the west, plus get paid to do it!

So, a few days later we loaded up those horses, threw our gear behind the seat, and hit the road. This was back before anyone ever heard of a “horse-motel” I think. Charlie said we would mostly camp out along the way. He threw in some extra blankets, an old army cook stove, and a bag of grub.

The first leg of the trip was short. We got up to the Palouse ranch early enough to unload, then head south. There were not many Interstate highways back then. We stayed on two-line highways all the way south. That old Ford truck was not very fast. We could only cruise at about 45 to 50 MPH. But we just chugged along, not really in any hurry. We would watch for some dirt road taking off from the highway that did not look like someone’s driveway. We would pull in and stop early in the afternoons, get the horses off loaded, picketed, and then set up camp. Once camp was set up, I would go out and exercise each of the horses for a few minutes, give them water, then tie them back on the picket line. By that time, Charlie would have the coffee done and supper cooking. The first few nights we would sit up and talk. Old Charlie had some great stories about working cattle and horses. He had been doing that his whole life. I’d guess he was probably in his 60’s by then. He had a lot of water under his bridges.

It took us two days to get down to Lake County. We unloaded the four head there, then spent an extra day as guest of the ranch. Then we loaded up and hit the road again.

We drove across the “Winnimuca to the sea” road then down through central Nevada. Even though summer was supposed to be over, it was plenty hot going down through that country. We made poor time, stopping often to get the horses out and water them. I reckon we stopped about every 2 to 3 hours. I suppose we should have drove at night, but Mr. Ruggles did not like driving after dark. Personally, I think he was having trouble seeing in the night.

Anyway, we finally got to the ranch at Prescott. It has been a long haul, but one I had thoroughly enjoyed. We unloaded the horses and took advantage of the offer to spend the night.

The next morning, at breakfast, the gentleman running the place, a Mr. Walker, asked, since he had not bought in any hands as of yet, if I would care to stick around a few days and get the kinks out of the horses and get them settled in. I told Mr. Walker I was working for Mr. Ruggles and had to do as he wanted. Well, old Charlie spoke right up and said if I wanted to stick around down there, that would be fine with him. In fact, he said, he would even spot me the money for bus fare home to add to my bonus, but Mr. Walker said no, he would pay my bus fare if I decided to stay.

There was not much I could argue with that. Both men being generous beyond belief. So, I said sure thing.

So, Mr. Charlie Ruggles drove off in that old Ford truck that morning, heading north while I settled in for a few more days of riding. Sadly, that was to be the last time I ever saw Charlie Ruggles. I was to learn a couple of years later that he had been killed, drug to death by a spooked horse. I suppose that would be the way the old horseman would have chose to go.

I worked for Mr. Walker for three days, then his hands began to show up. He had already committed to hiring all the hands he needed, so it was time for me to move on. He paid me off, plus gave me the bus fare as promised.

Well, here I was, young, no ties, and quite a bit of jingle in my jeans. I caught the bus down to Phoenix, where I had a long lay-over. I got bored sitting around, so I cashed in my ticket, went out to the highway, and hitched a ride on the first truck that stopped.

It happened the truck was heading south, which was fine. One direction was as good as any other. A few hours later, I was walking the streets of Nogales. I found the bus depot, rented a locker for my gear and duffel bag, and across the border I went.

Now, came the not-so-great aftermath. My money lasted four days, then back across the border I stumbled. My pay and bus fare was left in Ol’ Nogales across the border. I had a fantastic time (what I could remember of it) but I was broke and time to head north.

I thumbed north until I got back up to my folk’s place in Oregon where I spent part of that winter. On the way my saddle ended up in a pawnshop in Tucson, my rifle in a sporting good store in Bakersfield, and my trusty Smith & Wesson in a pawn shop in Redding, California.

I got to my family’s place tired, broke, and hungry. But I was also the happiest man alive!