Stuck, Not in the Mud, with Dad

Back in my young days, my Dad was a working cowboy.  He always worked for someone else as a hired hand for room and board and a small monthly wage.  After I started high school which was ninth grade then, I would spend my summer with him where he was working.  We would spend three or four weeks there and then back to town for mail, groceries and some R and R.

The summer between my Freshman and Sophomore year, 1957,  he was at the Pie Place.  It was a huge ranch belonging to the Wilsons.  He managed the half on one side of the mesa and headquarters was on the other.  The ranch was over two hundred sections, which is two hundred square miles for you greenhorns.

Dad came to town and picked me up and we went out to the ranch.  It was about 50 miles from town, dirt road most of the way.  We didn't get stuck as it hadn't rained.  The Rio Salado was dry as usual when there was no rain.

We got up early the next morning, my Dad had coffee and done the chores by the time I got up.  He always had a shot of bourbon in his coffee to start the day.  Well, he would have a shot while he was making the coffee, too.  That reminds me of another story about he and Gene.  Another day for that.

I can bet he made steak, sour dough biscuits and gravy for our breakfast with some green chile on the side.  We always had fresh milk and home churned butter.  Anyway, we talked and he said, "I guess we can go in the pickup up to Sierra del Oro and check the windmill, give you an easy day before we ride horseback."  So we took off in the old Dodge pickup.  It was a heavy old truck with wooden sideboards made of two by fours and lumber like a heavy fence.  It was about thirty-five miles up there by the road as you had to skirt the rimrock of the mesa.  Very rough with switchbacks so probably took us an hour and a half or so.  

It was hot and dry but the windmill was working fine.  We got back in the pickup and ..... it would not start.  Bummer.  We were in the flat old lake bed and there was no way we could push that old truck to get it started, we were wishing for a nice hill!  Dad said, "Guess we can walk back and get the horses and come back.  If we go down the trail it is only about sixteen miles!  Another time before, when I was  a couple of years younger,  we were at the Field Ranch.  The pickup .. I think it was a Chevy .. wouldn't start.  We were at the house so Dad saddled up his horse and pulled the pickup with a rope while I started it.  Worked like a charm.

So we took off, me in tennis shoes and Dad in his boots. We were lucky to have our cowboy hats on.  No sunglasses or sun screen in those days.   He would have been about 58 then.  He left me in his dust!  After a couple of hours I could see another windmill.  My mouth was so dry. He got to the Axtel windmill, which was an old wooden mill, and waited for me in the shade.  I was so happy for some shade and a drink of water.  I didn't know it had been a dry well for years, what a disappointment!  After a short rest it was literally downhill from there, off the side of the mesa.  Narrow trail where the cattle, deer, etc., went up and down.

We got back to the house finally.  So happy to have a good meal in the works.  Dad had left some steaks thawing out.  Some friends from a neighboring ranch came by.  They usually showed up at mealtime.   We were very glad to see them this time.  Ha.  They took Dad up to the top of the mesa to get the old Dodge.

So much for my easy first day!

You can see a photo of my dad on this post from 2007 and read a bit more of my cowboy stories.  I didn't realize that a snippet about breakfast is the same.  Must be true!

I had hopes of tying this into a story about art, but it is late and we are off on a trip tomorrow.  I will be posting down the road or from up North.  I will sketch on the trip with ink and watercolor.  Should be fun.