Way out in the far northeastern corners of Utah and northwestern
Colorado, just south of the Wyoming border, a lonely valley stretches along the
Green River: Brown’s Park, or Brown’s Hole if you prefer. Nowadays, it is a far
piece from anywhere and not all that easy to get to. But it was a well-traveled
place in the Old West.
For time out of mind, it was frequented by the Shoshoni, Ute, and
Comanche. Blackfoot, Arapaho, Cheyenne, Lakota, and Navajo also visited. Fur
trappers set up shop there in the 1830s, and Fort Davy Crockett opened up to
supply and defend them in 1837. Ranchers followed the mountain men, wintering
cattle there as well as establishing ranches.
One of those ranches spawned Ann and Josie Bassett, who collaborated
with cattle rustlers, horse thieves, robbers, and other bandits who made Brown’s
Hole an outpost on the Outlaw Trail that ran from Robber’s Roost to the south
and Hole in the Wall to the north. Among the most renowned outlaws who hid out
there were Butch Cassidy and his Wild Bunch and, later, the fugitive Tom Horn.
Despite an enduring desire to go there, I have yet to set foot in
Brown’s Park. One of these days…
writer Rod Miller
Writer Rod Miller's musings and commentary on writing and reading about cowboys and the American West, Western novels and short stories, poetry and music, history and nonfiction, magazines and art.
Saturday, January 23, 2021
Where I’m going, Part Four.
Wednesday, January 13, 2021
Rawhide Robinson gets a re-ride.
The news of the day is that Rawhide Robinson is once again riding into the literary world, in new paperback and eBook editions from the publishing house Speaking Volumes.
Rawhide Robinson Rides the Range: True Adventures of Bravery and Daring in the Wild West is now available in paperback and eBook. That’s the handsome new cover above. The other two Rawhide Robinson novels previously published in hardcover will be along soon in paperback and eBook. And, somewhere down the trail, another Rawhide Robinson adventure will be available for the first time—Rawhide Robinson Rides a Wormhole: A True Tale of Bravery and Daring in the Weird West.
For gifts, for yourself, or just for fun, when Rawhide Robinson rides into your life you’ll have a lot to laugh about. Stand by for crass commercialism. Here’s where the new edition of Rawhide Robinson Rides the Range is now on sale:
Sunday, January 3, 2021
The Bird has flown.
Back in our college days when all the rodeo bums who lived at or
hung around the Rounder House were known by nicknames more than names, Marlowe
Carroll was Bird, or the Bird Man, a moniker earned by long, skinny legs.
More than anyone else I can think of, Bird was influential in my
rodeo years. When I arrived at USU he ran the Rodeo Club and was the star of
the Intercollegiate Rodeo Team, winning a bunch in both bareback and bull
riding. He made sure I was involved in the club, and encouraged and supported and
assisted my efforts as I earned a place on the team, eight seconds at a time.
We spent a lot of time together, much of it involved in activities best unmentioned—but
those days resulted in a lifetime’s worth of memories.
A series of brain aneurisms and strokes while still a young man ended
Marlowe’s rodeo career and landed him in a wheelchair, his agile mind betrayed
by a mostly unresponsive body. Still, he lived for decades and never lost his
sense of humor or happy outlook on life.
Marlowe—Bird—left this life in late December, and made the whistle
with the same grit and try that you see on his face in the photo of him aboard the infamous bucking bull Fuzzy 4.
(The other fuzzy photo shows the USU Rodeo Club in 1971. That’s
Marlowe in the upper right; yours truly is there on the left.)
WOMB TO TOMB
for
Marlowe
Two hearts. One beats steady
and strong. The other races by.
Confinement presses knee
against rib, back to thigh.
Sounds, muffled and distant,
penetrate. Irresistible, the urge.
Pull. Squeeze. Slide. Every muscle
tense, you nod and emerge;
delivered into chaotic glare
assaulted by motion and sound.
Bull bellows. Brain blows.
Body, unbound, seeks ground.
Face down in arena dirt
consciousness goes astray
as flooding blood erodes neurons
and synapses wash away.
Tucked, then, into the coffin of
a body cold and unresponsive;
rolling through years gathering
dust as memories weave
tapestries of Rounders and rodeo,
broncs and bulls—of life before
a hemorrhagic stroke of bad luck
drew you out to ride no more.
Monday, December 28, 2020
Really stupid words, Chapter 15
Whereas the beginning of a New Year is the traditional time for Americans to elect to pursue goals and objectives in order to improve their lives and the lives of others; and
Whereas speakers of American English routinely abuse, misuse, overuse, and exhaust words by excessively employing trendy usages and clichés in misguided attempts to sound fashionable and knowledgeable; now, therefore, be it
Resolved, that in the New Year of 2021 and forever after, speakers of American English will eliminate these tired, hackneyed, banal, threadbare, and altogether stupid word usages from their vocabularies:
·
source, when used as a verb (rather than its proper function as a noun)
to indicate the location and acquisition of products or services or ingredients.
·
pivot, unless specifically referring to rotation around a fixed point
(and not in reference to any and every change or adjustment).
·
curate, when used outside its common meaning pertaining to museums and
exhibits (more precise but less trendy words such as choose or select
are preferable for other uses).
·
unpack, when referring to discussion or explanation of a complicated
subject (rather than when removing items from a crate, suitcase, or other
container).
· surge, to describe
any increase of any size (rather than the intended meaning to indicate a rise
or movement of remarkable strength or speed or force).
Saturday, December 19, 2020
The Big Rodeo.
For ten nights in a row recently, we sat in front of the TV
watching the National Finals Rodeo. We were especially impressed with how well
the cowboys from Utah did, bringing home several world championships.
For years now, the saddle bronc riding at every level in rodeo has
been dominated by the Wright family of Milford, a small, small town way off the
beaten path in southern Utah. Before this year, six Wright brothers had won
among them five world championships and more other accomplishments than you can
imagine. The oldest of the brothers, Cody, won two of those world titles.
Now, it’s his sons who are in the limelight.
Back in 2018, I wrote a magazine article about that next
generation of Wrights. I spent an afternoon and evening with two of the boys at
the Utah State High School Rodeo Finals. The picture above is from that day—that’s
father Cody in the middle offering advice and encouragement to his sons Ryder, on
the left, and Rusty on the right. Too young for high school rodeo at the time
was another son, Stetson.
All three are now full-time professional rodeo cowboys, and proved
themselves the best of the bunch at the recent NFR.
Rusty, the oldest at 25, tied for first (with his brother) in a
go-round of the saddle bronc riding, placed in seven of ten go-rounds and fifth
in the average, and came away ranked fourth in the world standings.
Ryder, at 22, placed in nine and won or tied for first place in
five saddle bronc riding go-rounds and won the average, and walked away wearing
the World Champion belt buckle (for the second time).
Stetson, at the ripe old age of 21, won one saddle bronc riding go-round
and tied for first in another and ended up seventh in the world standings.
Stetson also rides bulls and won four go-rounds at the NFR and was crowned
world champion. He entered the National Finals Rodeo second in overall winnings
for the year in the All-Around Cowboy race, but passed the leader and left him
more than $158,000 in the dust, bringing home his second All-Around
Championship.
The Wrights are a wonderful family, making history in more ways
than one, both in and outside the rodeo arena. It has been a pleasure to know
them over the years, and we’ll be hearing more of them in the future.
It also bears mentioning that Kaycee Feild—son of the late Lewis
Feild, five-time world bareback riding champion—matched his father’s accomplishment
by winning his fifth world championship in my favorite rodeo event.
Wednesday, December 9, 2020
Where I’m going, Part Three.
For several years now I have wanted to visit Las Vegas.
Not that one.
I have been to Nevada’s Sin City more times than I care to
remember, and only revisit when there’s a reason—say a rodeo, or a conference,
or, in the past, family. The city’s main attractions hold no attraction for me.
I’m talking about the other Las Vegas.
Las Vegas, New Mexico, is of interest to me for its historic
importance. It was a waystation on the Santa Fe Trail, for example, and played
a role in the Mexican-American War and the Taos Revolt. And over time it has
hosted Indians, Spanish colonists, cowboys, outlaws, lawmen, railroaders, and
other pivotal figures in the history of the West.
Later, movie and TV folks showed up, and still do from time to
time.
I once got within about 100 miles of the place when approaching
from the north, but took a left turn for Amarillo. I once got within 50 miles
when approaching from the south, but took a left turn for Albuquerque. When
visiting Glorieta Pass while doing Civil War research I came within 40 miles,
but u-turned for an engagement back in Santa Fe.
One of these days, I will make Las Vegas my destination, and I
will see the sights on both sides of the Gallinas River.
And the city lights, such as they are.
Saturday, November 28, 2020
My Favorite Book, Part 24
There’s a common belief about Western novels, practically a law,
that the hero always saves the day and good always triumphs over evil. And,
truth be told, that’s the formula behind most, almost all, Western novels.
But there are books that defy the doctrine and go a different way,
presenting a more nuanced—you could say more realistic—way of seeing things.
Some of them become classics.
One such is The Ox-Bow Incident by the late Nevada writer Walter
Van Tilburg Clark. There is no hero in its pages, the day is not saved, and
there is no triumph of good over evil—just the opposite, in fact. And yet upon
publication in 1940 the novel achieved eminence, and has maintained its place
among the best Western novels of all time, widely considered a masterpiece.
It just goes to show, I suppose, that while there is safety for
Western writers and Western novels in following the herd, there is more than
one trail that leads to success.
And, to my way of thinking, to better books.