The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1935-12-06

he started until the girl nad Va!l!SIleu
behind a butte. Meanwhile, In his TT
of joyous abstraction. he pulled ms
team farther and farther over toward
the edge of the trail, until he, wagon,
horses and all, toppled over a cutbank,
pinning the love struck George under
the wagon. Back in camp the boys be-
came worried about him. Night fell
and no George. Morning came and still
George had not returned. Maybe led
been held up by road agents. Maybe q
Redskin had got him. Finally some OF
them rode out in search OF him. They
found him on his back, the wagon on
top of him. Excited and troubled they
began the difficult task of extricating
him, all the while pummeling him with
questions:
"How did it happen, George? Did the
team run away? Are you hurt?"
Then George looked up, a dazed ex..
preston of great joy on his face, and
murmured, in a weak, dreamy voice:
"She. had brown eyes,"
Those of us who prefer happy end
ingS to our love stories will be glad
to learn that George later married the
girl.
One of the Oldest and most Justly
famed of Montana's cowboys is Teddy
Blue who lives on his ranch-Three-
Deuce ranch-near Gilt Edge. It vas in
1883 that he came up from Texas, rid
ing herd, and liked Montana so well ne
never went back: On the trip, Teddy
says, the cook died, and they were
faced with a serious dilemma. The herd
boss tried his hand at the job Of feed
ing a bunch of hungry cowpunchers
but the attempt didn't tend to strength
IN his popularity. Finally, in despera-
ton, he demanded: Which one Of you
boys can cook?" Teddy said: II can
cook" The herd boss heaved a sigh: of
And so Teddy went over to the chuck
wagon to reconnoitre. He found plenty
of. bacon, flour. sugar and bareback,
everything to get a meal, but no: wood
to cook it with. On the vast, treeless
plains there wasn't a stick to. be found
anywhere. But Teddy wouldn't admit
defeat. He put his bacon into a pan
set fire to the dry, prairie grass, and
held his pan over the blaze. By the
us solemnly, he was II miles from
camp. :.
Life was highly colored for cowboys
in the early days of Montana, with
adventure and romance and hard
ships, laughter and pathos. No story Of
a cowboy is complete, we know, un-
less the story of his horse is included
The two, animal and man.. spent long
lonely days out on the plains and often
arrived at a depth of understanding
n love which was beyond words
himself standing beside his horse, Jack
The Original he had sent to Charlie
Russell who had framed it and hung it
on his wall. Those were the two best
friends I ver had" Teddy Blue told
me. Il mean Charlie and Jack. Charlie
went first. Jack stayed with me until
last summer. He was 35 years old then.
One day I was in the kitchen and
Jack came and stuck his head: in the
away a few steps and fell dead. I'm
sure the old horse knew his time had
come n just wanted to say goodbye
I wish I'd understood. Maybe I'd have
made him happier at the last BY a v
ing goodbye to him..
Then Teddy Blue let me read one
OF the many letters which Charlie
Russell wrote him. It begins: Friend
LED !! got the picture and letter both
me 9th, and you and your old boss will
deck the walls of my shack always,
n whenever I look at the picture INV
memory will drift: back ove- trails long
since plowed under by the Master To
days when a pair of horse wranplers
sat n the shadows of their horses and
watched the grazing bunch of cayuses.
Your friend. Charles Russell"
Much is said nowadays about the
courage and endurance of Montana's
range riders, when loneliness and
hardships were a part of their routine.
But I think we need not waste pitv
on them. There must have been a rich
ness Of adventure in their lives, a sense
OF freedom, a closeness to earth which
Is denied us who have followed them,
Friends made in those days remained
staunch friends forever. Charlie Rus
sell, we all know, put much of his love
Tor the west into his immortal pictures.
In his letters to Teddy Blue he also
painted vivid word pictures. And its
g cineh," he concluded one letter, you
wouldn't get homesick tn q skin lodge,
Ted. Old Mother Nature wa kind e
her red children and the old cow
puncher was her adopted son"