Chapter 4 - Cattleman's Woe

I spotted the vultures circling the draw. Curious, I turned my horse in that direction. Probably a deer had been caught by coyotes.

What I saw turned my stomach.

A mare and a colt were lying at the edge of a small clearing, their bodies distended with the gasses of decomposition. We'd just turned them out into the south range a few days before. Both had been healthy and frisky-and the colt showed unusual early promise. Now they were both dead.

The big birds lumbered off at my approach-but not too far. I wouldn't be taking their dinner anywhere. And I wouldn't be staying.

Both animals had been shot. Close to $200,000 worth of horseflesh, wasted by a deer hunter, trespassing on posted land.

The ground didn't show much by way of tracks. The grass was long and green. Any sign of someone passing through it would have been eradicated within a day. I looked for a place where a hunter might have waited-and finally found it, and the casings from a couple of rifle bullets. That was odd... I couldn't identify the rounds, right off.

A little more work, and I found a spot where a large, 4-wheel drive vehicle had parked. It had to have 4-wheel traction to get where it had been. And there was an oil stain, from a leaky seal, on the grass and dirt. The tires had been large, 'all terrain' types.

I was supposed to be checking on the horses in the south range. Well, I'd better see if this varmint was still around, or there wouldn't be any horses left on the south range. Following the trail of broken sagebrush and occasional tracks on bare soil, I soon followed him to the county road that goes through the southern part of the ranch. He'd cut the fence to get out, but had patched it back.

A thought occurred to me, and I re-patched it, with a special little twist that I'd recognize. If someone came through there again, I'd be able to tell. An hour later, I found where he'd done the same, coming onto the ranch, and again put in my 'tell-tale'.

Then I rode home.

Home is the ranch headquarters for our spread, the Steele Ranch, about twenty miles south of Sisters, Oregon. Surrounded by the Willamette National Forest, we have grazing rights on roughly 60,000 acres of forest land, in addition to the 58,000 acres we own outright. My great-granddad had 'filed' on the ranch before the national forest system existed, which was how we managed to be a private hole in the Forest Service donut.

When I was a kid, growing up on the ranch, we were thirty miles of bad gravel road from Sisters, but the county and state had teamed up to put in a new chip-seal road that made it lots easier to get to town. We had hopes that someday we'd also have a better route to Bend, which was really closer, as the crow flies. That way we could get to a 'real city' for shopping or an occasional night on the town.

Our ranch had three houses, as well as a bunkhouse for the single cowboys, and a big trailer that Gerry, our only married hand, lived in. The 'big house' was grandma's place, though Audry and I were taking it over, with grandma's enthusiastic connivance. Our son, Zack, was the apple of grandma's eye and she wanted him right there where he could be spoiled properly.

Mom and dad had a home of their own, a couple of hundred yards to the southwest. And Uncle Rick and Aunt Elin, Audry's folks, lived in a house a few hundred yards north.

Grandma said Audry and I needed our own place, and she had plenty of room-and wouldn't be around forever either. (I don't believe that. That remarkable woman will outlive us all, and be a randy old slut 'till the day she drops.)

Steele ranch is not the usual operation for eastern Oregon. That is, we don't raise Herefords and pigs, growing alfalfa hay if we have enough water, and wheat with whatever allotment we can get.

Rather, we grow hay for our own use, and raise Black Angus breeding stock and show horses as our sources of income.

Our horses are world famous-among those who really know the competition equestrian scene. We breed and train horses for the arena events, dressage and jumping, as well as the grueling three-day event. One of our horses can easily bring $100,000-the best ones three or more times that. If the horse is not up to mom's standards, it is sold into the riding stable market, after being gelded if a colt. The mares aren't 'fixed'; they just aren't registered or given 'papers'.

Mom was a world-class equestrienne. Audry and I still are-both of us having won gold medals in the Olympics. Audry and I know horses, and riding. Mom has a special gift: She knows when a horse and rider are right for each other. She's a hell of a trainer of both horse and rider, too. Her gift, really, is the secret to the success Audry and I have enjoyed.

Audry came out on the porch, when she heard me ride up, little Zack in her arms. It was meal-time, and he was greedily sucking away at one of Audry's lovely breasts.

"Didn't expect you until late tonight, Rob," she said.

After I'd kissed her as thoroughly as I could with the baby between us, I replied, "I ran into something. Cinder and her colt were shot."

"Oh, no! They were doing so well, too."

"Looks like a deer hunter or poacher. Guy in a big 4x4 cut the fence and came in, staked out a spot, and banged away at whatever came along. Cut the fence in a different place to get out."

Audry understood immediately. Since so many 'city people' were buying the 4x4 'sport utility vehicles', they had to prove their machismo by running them off road over any land that took their fancy... private, posted, fenced... none of that seemed to matter any more. And the law took a dim view of ranchers shooting trespassers.

That night, we told our parents and grandma what I'd seen. We'd all be going armed around the ranch again... rifles on the western saddles and in holders just inside barn doors. Our pickup trucks and jeeps held gun racks and they'd have rifles in them, too.

The ranch was 'posted' as plainly as humanly possible. Our boundary fences had signs every hundred yards, "Private Property. No Hunting. No Trespassing." We made every effort possible to get all our stock off the leased grazing land before deer season started, too.

Even so, we'd get the hunters who were too illiterate to read the signs, or too arrogant to believe them. When we caught them on the ranch, we'd make a citizen's arrest, confiscate their weapons and billfolds, and summarily remove them from our property. If they complained, we'd offer to hold them for the sheriff to take them to jail. (A couple did. We tied them up in the barn, and called the sheriff-who sent out a deputy late the next morning to collect them. They were then carried off to jail, booked, and released on bail a day later. Of course, they then had to find a way back to pick up their vehicles, which we left on the county road-locked, with the keys inside.)

The billfolds were turned over to the sheriff, along with signed trespass complaints. If they asked for the rifles back, we'd give them to the sheriff, who gave them to a friendly ATF (Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms) agent. Otherwise, the rifles stayed on the place-that's how we got the weapons for inside the barn doors.

It's not that we weren't friendly, or good neighbors. Anyone who had the courtesy to come and ask was allowed to hunt on our ranch, if he looked like he knew the difference between a deer and a horse or cow-usually after being offered a drink, and some advice about where we'd seen the most deer recently. Several of my fraternity brothers were annual visitors. We've even had two or three hunting parties at once camping at the spring in the little draw-about a quarter mile from the house-during deer season. They could have hunted public land, but they enjoy our place. And respect our ranch and our stock.

(One of our 'regulars', coming back almost every other year, is a friend of mom's family, from Virginia. He'd come here to look at a jumper he wanted to buy for his daughter. The dinner conversation had turned to the deer season. When he expressed an interest, I took him out, and helped him 'luck' into a huge Mule Deer buck, with eight prongs on each antler. He was hooked and came back whenever he could.)

That night, Audry welcomed me back home. Even though I'd only been gone a day, we thought it was fun to have a welcome home celebration whenever either or both of us had been gone. Truthfully, it was just an excuse to fuck like minks.

That night, I had a special treat, because I got to suck Zack's 'leftovers' from Audry's delightful breasts.

Her shape had nearly returned to its previous spectacular form. Her tummy would need another couple weeks of sit-ups, but she'd be there right away. Her hips were slim as ever. Only her breasts, still feeding our son, were larger than normal. They were lots of fun in bed, but I knew they hurt her, bouncing when she went over the jumps.

When I'd finished my snack, we were both breathing heavily and, with whimpers and little moans, as well as pushes and tugs, Audry pulled me over her and sucked me in. Though she'd given birth to our son not long before, she was hot, wet and tight around me. And her muscle tone allowed her to squeeze me and caress me until I was frantic.

Of course, I'd been petting and kissing everything in reach myself, latching onto one of those amazing breasts-jutting into the air even when she was on her back-and sucking for all I was worth.

Audry bucked and convulsed and seemed to try to throw me off her body, while her legs were wrapped around me, and her heels on my butt were pulling me in as far as I could go. I couldn't take much of it and fired that shot right into her, splashing against her cervix, while she shuddered and came with me.

My mate, my woman... my wife. Audry. For me, there had never been another, and never would be. Besides being beautiful and a fantastic lay, she's bright and caring, a great mother, and loving wife.

And usually able to beat me in the arena events!

Losing the mare and her colt was a blow, but the family was philosophical about it.

Until we started losing cows, too.

Then we knew we had a problem.

They all followed the same pattern. Someone cut the fence and drove onto the ranch, shot up a couple of animals, and left.

Uncle Rick talked with the sheriff.

He obviously didn't have the manpower to patrol our ranch. But he would put out some feelers about strangers who kept coming back. With the resort areas at Sisters and Bend and the ski resorts at Mt. Batchelor, it was hard. We were looking for someone who might stay in one of those, but wandered around away from the resort in a large 4x4-probably a ? ton to 1 ton pickup.

Meanwhile, I wandered up to the Warm Springs Indian Reservation. A good friend from school, Gary Butler, was on the tribal council and might be able to help.

"Hey, Rob!" he greeted me, when I walked into his office at the KaNeeTa resort the Indians have built. "Where's Audry?"

"Left her home this trip, Gary," while I pounded his back. We've been friends a lot of years and don't get to see each other nearly enough. "We have a son now, you know..."

"Yeah. That's what I heard. Congratulations! With any luck, the little guy will look like his momma."

"Thanks, toad face. Anyway, I just wanted to touch base on something."

"Next time bring her. Better yet, you stay home and just send her along. She's not only lots nicer, she's a hell of a lot better looking."

"No argument there-except I wouldn't let her alone around you. Without me there to protect her..."

We shared a laugh of friendship.

"Rob, you've got to spend the night. Mary will kill me if she doesn't get to cook you a dinner, at least."

"I dunno, Gary. I kind of said I'd see you and get right home... We have a bit of trouble going on."

Instantly serious, Gary asked, "What kind of trouble?"

"Well, we've got a poacher. But he only kills, he's not looking for meat. He's not a rustler, in the normal sense. Just every week, or two, or three, he comes in and shoots some of our animals."

"Deer hunter?"

"That's what we thought at first. But he doesn't shoot at deer. Only our stock."

Gary was well aware that our stock wasn't just range beef.

"That's bad," he agreed. "How can I help?"

"We think our guy is a city type. Maybe moved out here, but city bred. He drives a big 4x4. I think it's a one-ton pickup, but could be wrong. He seems to come around every couple of weeks-but any day of the week, not just weekends. And he has a funny rifle." I showed him the brass from one of the shootings-they'd all been the same.

Gary laughed at that. "Nothing funny about those: Probably the most common bullet in the world. This came from an AK-47. There are millions of them. The Russians made them first, then the Chinese, then the Czechs... Anyway, the weapon and the bullet are real common."

"Oh... Well, what I wanted is that you ask the folks here at KaNeeTa to keep their eyes open for a repeat customer who drives a big 4x4-and has a rifle. I'd sure like to find out who this cat is and why he's picking on us... Of course, if I could get him to stop, that would be nice, too."

"Yeah. I see that. OK Rob. Come on home. Mary will give you dinner and a bed and call Audry to explain why you're delayed. We can kick it around... I'll even feed you some fancy wine while we do." He stopped grinning, then smiled serenely. "You know I've been on the wagon for the past three years?"

"Mary told Audry. That's great, Gary. I'm happy for you. In fact, I'll just drink coffee, if it will be easier?"

"Nah! I'm around alcohol all the time. I'm in charge of the resort operation for the tribe now. We pump out a lot of booze, believe me. So giving you a drink won't bother me."

"Super. Let's get over to your place, so Mary can call. Audry has the sweetest spirit of any woman I've met. But grandma can be a terror, if you aren't where you're supposed to be."

Laughing, Gary took me home, where Mary pampered me something awful.

"Mary, you're too much! When are you going to leave this ne'er-do-well and come live with me?"

"Just as soon as you get rid of Audry, Rob!"

"OK. Peace."

We were really good friends. As soon as Mary called Audry to tell her she wouldn't turn loose of me until the morning, Audry demanded to know when she was going to bring the kids to the ranch for a visit. After some more girl-talk, Mary went into her kitchen and started banging things around.

It was a chance for Gary and me to chat.

"You know, Rob, I have an idea."

"Last one was when you first saw Mary, right?"

Laughing, he said, "How can I concentrate on your problem, when you do that to me?"

"OK, Gary. It'll be hard, but I'll try to be good."

"ANYway... You know, we have our own Boy Scout program here?"

"No, I hadn't heard about it. No reason to, I suppose."

"We're under the national program, but we're allowed to include our own cultural stuff, too. It works great. Teaches citizenship and a look at a whole lot of practical skills-as well as more useful techniques for living in the woods than most of our kids are taught by their dads."

I nodded.

"The point is, we keep the senior scouts a year longer than normal. We have a half-dozen 18- and 19-year-old boys still in our explorer post. It's a place to hang out and something to do. We use them a lot for search and rescue in the mountains and the more rugged parts of eastern Oregon. Occasionally they'll also work on the fire lines, if there is a big forest fire...

"My thought was, maybe I'd lend you these kids for a couple of months. They can kind of patrol your ranch and see what they can find. You'd have to feed them-it wouldn't be cheap-and get them to town from time to time, to see their girl friends. But it might just be a way to help."

I was enthusiastic. "If they'll help move the cows and horses around from time to time, we'll even pay them a little." I got a thought of my own. "If their girls can work on horseback, they could be part of it... ?"

Gary looked disgusted. "You have a really dirty mind, Rob. Our young ladies are good girls. They wouldn't want to do anything like that!"

Which prompted a yell from the kitchen: "What time warp have you been living in, Gary? Rob, only one of those guys is going with a girl from off the reservation and she's from a nearby ranch. All those kids would jump at the chance. Of course, you'll have to have separate camps for boys and girls... to start with..."

I laughed hard. What a solution!

"I had in mind having the kids in pairs. We can start them with boys together and girls together. That won't last long, I think. We'll have to make sure they pay attention to what's going on around them, though."

Mary winked at Gary. "Rob, leave that to me. I'll take care of it."

I gave Mary a big hug, and shook Gary's hand. "OK, old friends. Let's set it up."

The next day I returned to the ranch, and brought the family up to date. Dad and Uncle Rick were enthusiastic about the idea. We'd feed the kids well, both in provisions for out in the weeds and good food when they were back at the ranch headquarters.

We brought in a trailer with two nice bedrooms, as a place for them to sleep on a real bed once in a while. Of course, they could go into town every week or two, if they would prefer that.

The horses we bred were larger and a bit more 'refined' than the normal cow pony. We'd found, though, that the 'culls' from our breeding program made very good stock horses. So we'd offer to 'pay' the kids with a horse of their own, from our 'range stock'.

The Warm Springs Indians really do have a strong ethical sense and raise their kids to high moral standards. However, teenage hormones are the same, regardless of race. So Indians seem to marry young... Or maybe I'm just getting older.

Mary came to visit us a couple days later. She and grandma and Audry talked at length about what we were trying to do and the 'ins and outs' of how we'd do things. Then they worked out all the details with Uncle Rick.

All of these kids, including the girls, could shoot. They'd all grown up hunting deer, and shooting varmints. And they were all well trained to be careful with firearms, including the idea of not taking a shot if they weren't sure of the background-that is, where the bullet would impact eventually.

Less than a week after I'd gone up to see Gary, ten kids assembled at the ranch headquarters. There were six boys, and four girls. They were all excited about the idea of working for us and really excited when we told them they could each earn one of our ranch horses for their own.

Each kid had his own tack and camping gear. And several had brought their own horses. (That was great. We would use the additional mounts as pack animals.)