Brave Horses and Insufferable Horsey People

by Mark Harvey

Mexico, the Horse

I have a horse named Mexico that tore one of his legs to shreds last week when he got caught in a wire fence. It was a bit of a fluke because we try to keep our fences tight and well-maintained. But one morning, a herd of 50 elk ran straight through the fence, leaving a twisted mess of wire. Mexico was grazing in that pasture and innocently stepped into the wire and then fought like hell to get out. He’s a horse with the sound temper of a saint, but any horse that gets a leg trapped will fight with all the force taught them through a million years of evolution. He was a mile from any trailer, and we had to limp him slowly off the meadow.

When we got him down to the barn, we loaded him up with three grams of phenylbutazone, better known as bute in the horse world, to ease the pain and give us a fighting chance of getting him in the trailer. Even with the bute running through his veins, he had a hard time bearing weight on the injured leg, and it took a long while to load him.

This is an animal with one instinct: to please. He is an ears-always-forward horse, seems to enjoy human company as much as the company of his hoofed friends, and rarely spooks at anything. He stands patiently when being shod, occasionally bending his neck as if to check on the quality of the farrier’s work.

He was sweating profusely through the pain and trauma, and it hurt all of us to watch him try to get into the trailer, even with the help of a ramp. Somehow, when animals get injured, we take it more personally than when human beings get hurt. At least I do. I joked to my ranch foreman that if it was him who had gotten cut up in the wire, I’m not sure I’d bother taking him to the vet—even if I could get him in the trailer. Read more »

Monday, December 19, 2022

Corsets and Cattle Thieves: News from the Old West

by Mark Harvey

In the afternoon I went to where my Ella was strangled to death, and saw the limb of the tree over which the rope was thrown. The bark is abraided and plainly shows the mark of their fiendish work.—Thomas Watson, 1889

Ella Watson

In western newspapers from the late 19th century and early 20th century, it’s clearly evident that “justice” was often summary without any form of trial. The sentences meted out for crimes, real or imagined, often involved a rope. On the front page of the July 30, 1889, Delta Independent, a Colorado newspaper still operating today, there’s a story titled “A cattle thief and his paramour hung from a cottonwood.” The “paramour” was one Ella Watson described in the paper as “…a woman of notorious character, a dead shot with a rifle, and of revengeful disposition….” The “cattle thief” was Jim Averill, a store owner, notary, justice of the peace, surveyor and partner of Watson.

The story describes the Wyoming couple as notorious and successful cattle thieves. Clearly sympathetic to the vigilantes, it reads,

Last evening about twenty of the most respectable and law-abiding people of the Sweetwater Valley met near Averill’s Ranch. Averill and the woman were secured. A short hearing was given them and they protested that the calves in the pasture were brought from Nebraska. This was disproved without further parley. Ropes were placed around their necks and thrown over the limbs of a spreading cottonwood.

Whether or not Averill and Watson were the thieves claimed by the vigilantes is of some dispute and will never be proven one way or the other. But Tom Rea’s excellent book Devils Gate, Owning the Land, Owning the Story casts real doubt on the issue and suggests that Averill and Watson were just small landowners, general store operators, and aspiring ranchers who got in the way of bigger players. The two had applied for a marriage license in Lander, Wyoming, but it’s uncertain whether or not they were ever legally married. Read more »