by Jonni Hill
Amazing how our sleepy little Antelope Valley can contain so much wonderful history and that so few people really know about it.
I guess, to most, in this fast paced world, the names of Roy Rogers, Hopalong Cassidy, Gene Autry and the like, will fade into the sunset as new generations hopefully find their own heros to believe in. But for me, having grown up on the fringes of Hollywood cowboy heroes, the old west - Hollywood style - will always be a reality to me.
You can't imagine how excited I was to find out that one of my favorite story tellin' artist/writers had added to the mystique of our little Valley. His name was Will James.
James was a diamond in the rough, that's for sure. Seems he had gotten in a little scrape over some cows in White Pine County. It seemed to be easy money at the time for a hungry buckaroo but Judge McFadden of the Justice Court for Ely Township No. 1 saw things a little different and James found himself sentenced for 12 to 15 months in the Nevada State Prison in Carson City for "borrowing" cows that didn't belong to him.
After applying for parole several times during his tenure, he finally got it a month before his time had been served.
The warden handed James $10 in "gate money," the belongings he had upon his arrival at the prison, and turned him loose.
Now in earnest, looking for a job, he was told to contact Bill Dressler of the Plymouth Land and Cattle Company.
He found Mr. Dressler and when he found out the job was "pumping cows," he talked as if he had milked those black and white Holstein cows all of his life. Hired, he headed for Smith Valley.
At no other time in his life would he have considered anything other than horseback but this job was acceptable because it got him away from Carson City and the vicinity of the prison. For several weeks his arms ached and his hands swelled but he had the view of the Pinenut Mountains to console him and he was just glad to be out of where he had been. One evening while contemplating his fate, a cowboy rode up to the barn in search of strays.
Introducing himself as Curley Fletcher from the Rickey Ranch in Antelope Valley, James emboldened himself to ask if there was any more need on the outfit for an extra hand. When asked if he could ride, his smart retort was "Anything with hair." The next day Fletcher returned with a saddle horse, James turned in his time and off the pair rode to the Rickey Ranch in Antelope Valley.
James felt good driving cattle again and as the two rode along the Walker River, the terrain changed and he got the first sight of the Valley with the snow covered peaks of the Sierra on the west and the colorful slopes of the Sweetwater Range to the east. This was Topaz country and for as far as the eye could see, Rickey Land and Cattle Co. land. He knew he was home again.
As they entered the corrals, James noticed an old strawberry roan, off by himself, sullen and sulking, that he figured to be an outlaw. He asked Fletcher if the horse was a stud and was told about half-ways, meaning that during castration not everything was removed leaving the colt with the temperament of a stallion rather than that of a gelding. James saw his challenge before him. He put the horse out of mind temporarily for the job of bronc riding and breaking other horses but the challenge was still there in that singled-out-corral.
Soon it was down to that outlaw roan and this was the hardest fighting horse James had ever encountered. There was just no give to the animal as James snubbed him down to the heavy cottonwood post in the center of the corral that day and the roan finally choked down some and fought to a standstill. With the help of a friend, James pulled a blind over the horses eyes, hobbled his front feet and wrestled the saddle on the shivering back, cinching it tight, adding the hackamore bridle onto the trembling and blowing explosion of horse flesh.
As he tucked the lead rope under his chaps, pulling his hat down snug, loosening the hobbles, he stepped on.
As his friend cleared out of the round corral and watched through the gate, James leaned over and pulled the blindfold.
The roan blinked a couple of times, dropped his head out of sight, let out a roaring beller as he exploded under the would-be conquering cowboy. James' hat went flying on the first buck, he felt his right foot loose the stirrup, as well as his balance, and he faintly remembered the high drive as he hung in the air briefly before crashing to earth.
The roan, barely warmed up for the fight, continued to buck until saddle and tack were a shambles. James, coming to his senses from the first of the fight was not going to let his precious saddle be destroyed by this rouge. He grabbed a lariat and threw a few loops at the horse, wrestling it to the ground but, a powerful hind leg caught James in the jaw, laying the cowboy out cold and loosening most of his teeth.
To make a long story short, Curley Fletcher went on to write the account of what is now this famous ride in a cowboy poetry staple called "The Strawberry Roan."
Will James went on to write many western novels, illustrated by him, about the west and the cowboy lifestyle. And, some of this happened right here in Antelope Valley.
God bless the Nevada Buckaroo. They are not a vanishing breed ... you just don't see them from the road.
To read more about this story and the life of Will James go to Amazon.com and get the book, "Ride for the High Points" the real story of Will James by Jim Bramlett. It's an excellent read.
Until next week...Just keep on keepin' on.
The Strawberry Roan
by Curley Fletcher
I wuz hangin' round town just uh spendin' muh time,
I wuz out of a job an' not makin' uh dime,
When a feller steps up an' he sez, "I suppose
You're uh bronc rider from the looks uh yure clothes."
Well yuh guesses me right, I'm a good un," I claim,
"Do yuh happen tuh hav any bad uns tuh tame?"
An' he sez he's got one, an' uh bad un tuh buck,
An' fer throwin' good riders he's had lots uh luck.
An' he sez that this pony has never been rode,
That the boys that gits on him is bound to git throwed.
Well I gits all excited an' asks what he pays
Fer to ride that old pony uh couple uh days.
Well, he offers uh ten spot-sez I, "I'm yure man.
'Cause the bronc never lived that I couldn't fan.
That no hoss never lived nor he never drew breath,
That I couldn't ride till he starved tuh death.
"Now I don't like tuh brag but I got this tuh say,
That I ain't been piled up fer many uh day;
An' sez he, "Git yure saddle an' I'll give yuh ah chance,"
So I gits in his buckboard an' drifts tuh his ranch.
There I stays until mornin' an' right after chuck
Then I steps out tuh see if that outlaw kin buck,
An' I spots the corral an' uh stand-in alone
There I sees this caballo, uh strawberry roan.
An' his laigs is all spavined, he's got pigeon toes,
He's got little pig eyes and a big Roman nose,
He's got little pin ears an' they touch at the tips,
An' a double-4 iron was stamped on his hip.
He was yew-necked an' old with a longer lower jaw,
I kin see with one eye he's uh reg'lar outlaw,
So I puts on muh spurs an' I'm sure feelin' fine
An I turns up muh hat an' I picks up muh twine.
Then I up an' piles on him an' raises the blind,
I am right in his middle tuh see him unwind.
Well, he bows his old neck an' I guess he un-wound
Fer he seems tuh quit livin' down here on the ground.
An' he goes toward the east an' he goes toward the west
An' tuh stay in his middle I'm doin' my best:
Now he's sure walkin' frog an' he heaves a big sigh
An' he only lacks wings fer tuh be on the fly.
Then he turns his cold belly right up tuh the sun
An' he sure is a sunfishin' son-uv-a-gun,
He's the worst buckin' bronc that I've seen on this range
He kin turn on a nickle an' give yuh some change.
While he's buckin', he's squealin' an' he sounds like a shoat,
An' I tell yuh that pony has sure got muh goat;
I claim that, no foolin' that bronc could sure step,
An' I'm still in the saddle uh buildin' up rep.
Then he hits on all fours an' he suns up his side,
I don't see how he keeps from a sheddin' his hide.
An' I loses muh stirrups an' also muh hat
An' I'm grabbin' at leather ez blind ez a bat.
With a phenomenal jump then he goes up on high,
An' I'm settin' on nuthin' way up in the sky.
An' it's then I turns over an' I comes tuh earth,
An' I lights in tuh cussin' the day of his birth.
Then I knows that the hosses I ain't able tuh ride
Is some uv 'em livin'- they all haven't died.
But I bet all muh money thar's no man alive
That kin stay with that bronc when he makes that high dive.
