After their morning chores, Thomas and Bart mounted their rides and headed north along the creek in search of a bull elk. This was strange country to both riders since neither had been more than a couple hundred yards north of the homestead. Thomas rode Black and Bart was on Maude, holding the tether of a draft horse following behind.
They had been en route for ten to fifteen minutes when they heard a faint roar ahead. Riding a little farther, they came to where the stream and mountain took a sharp turn to the northwest and then circled back around, forming a horseshoe-shaped boxed canyon of about a hundred acres; its sides went straight up. The opening into the boxed canyon was two hundred feet wide. The stream they had been following flowed out of a large pool of water filled from a mountain waterfall thirty feet above. The waterfall was only twenty yards from the opening of the boxed canyon.
The men dismounted and spent several minutes exploring the area. The pool beneath the falling water was four to five feet deep with a solid rock ledge circling the pool and extended behind the waterfall into a cave about half the size of the Douglas’ bunkhouse. “This cave is a perfect place to store food, Bart,” Thomas said. “The temperature will stay about fifty degrees with a high humidity throughout the year. Food would keep for a long time in here.”
“How about wild animals?” asked Bart. “Wouldn’t they bother it?”
“I don’t think so. The water will mask the smell, and the sound of falling water will be a deterrent. Most animals don’t like to get wet.”
“The pool looks like a good place to swim or take a bath.” suggested Bart.
“Only in the summertime,” Thomas laughed. “And even then, it’ll be ice cold.” They both smiled. Before leaving, the men squatted and drank the cold, clear water from cupped hands, saving their canteens. Afterward, they led the horses to the stream. The sun had climbed to its midmorning position by the time they mounted, but before moving off, they sat for a few minutes observing the beautiful surroundings.
They rode at an easy pace around the perimeter of the horseshoe canyon wall, looking for slopes or crevasses that would allow cows or humans to climb in or out, but none were found. At the far end of the canyon was a small pool of water about three feet deep, glistening in a hollowed-out rock formation. Trickles of water, coming from cracks in the cliff wall, filled the pool. The overflow found ways to disappear into an unseen stream beneath the rock. After riding around the entire canyon, they continued their northward trek alongside the base of the mountain.
Sometime later, they moved away from the mountain and traveled southeast through a thick timberland of pine and birch trees at a slow, deliberate pace, staying within sight of each other. They avoided brushing against tree limbs and rode around fallen branches to keep from making sounds that might alert the hunted animals. Fortunately, the snow was soft in the shadows of the dense trees, and along with the underlying cushion of pine needles, made their travel almost noiseless. Even though the trees were thick, the white background of the snow-covered ground made for perfect visibility. They stopped every fifty paces to listen for sounds and look for movements, always on the lookout for animal tracks.
The sun was high in the sky when a strong thwacking noise, some distance ahead, was heard by both riders. It sounded like two sticks being slammed together. They tried to distinguish the source, but the sound had stopped. A short time later, the noise started again. Thomas eased over to Bart and said the noise most likely came from the racks of two bull elk fighting not over a quarter of a mile away. They rode on, alert and observing the snow for tracks that might lead to the elk. Thirty minutes later, they came upon prints coming from the east. From the looks of things, several females and two large bulls had passed. The men dismounted and tied their horses.
With shells in their rifle chambers, the men slipped forward, staying concealed in the trees. Finally, an open plateau came into view about five hundred yards away. The elk couldn’t be seen at first because of the camouflage effect of their surroundings, but soon, movement caught the men’s eyes. The elk were on the far side of the plateau. “We’ve got to get closer, Bart,” whispered Thomas. “We’ll stay together and go around to the west, in the tree line. When we get within two hundred yards, we’ll shoot. If there are two males, I’ll take the one on the left. You shoot the other. We’ll both fire on my count to five.” They crept forward.
When positioned, they could see twelve females and three bulls within shooting distance. One male was small, but the other two were massive. The two large males were not very watchful of their surroundings because of their constant fighting to establish dominance. The females, however, seemed nervous and very much alert. They would lower their heads to eat for a few seconds and then raise their heads to search for intruders.
The men were standing with raised guns braced against trees when the two elk stopped their fighting and stood broadside. Each man took a deep breath and fixed his gun’s sight slightly behind the front leg of his bull. Slowly Thomas whispered, “One, two, three, four, five.” Both hunters squeezed their triggers, and both animals fell to the ground.
Bart rode behind Thomas on the way home because the two field-dressed elk weighed close to twelve hundred pounds. The weight was too heavy for the draft, so Maude was forced to carry some of the load.
Shadows were cast over the homestead when the hunters dismounted, and the Double D folks hurried out to see the prize of the day’s hunt. “That’s enough meat to last us a few months,” Douglas said. “Where do you intend to store it?” Bart looked at Thomas and smiled.
The elk were butchered and the meat was placed in white feed bags before they sat down to their evening meal. With full stomachs and coffee in hand, Thomas and Bart opened the conversation about their day. They excitedly described the waterfall, the pool, and the cave. Thomas continued by going into great detail about the boxed canyon. Everyone listened very attentively, knowing these finds were important. Bart painted a vivid description of coming upon the elk and the accurate shots, but minds kept returning to the waterfall, cave, and box canyon.
Mrs. Douglas spoke, “How long do you think meat will keep in the cave, Thomas?”
“For at least five to six months. Remember, the temperature will be constant the year around and should stay a little below fifty degrees. I’d suggest we build hanging racks for the meat tomorrow, that’s our immediate need. We can build shelving to hold other items at a later date.”
“How about potatoes and other vegetables?” asked Liz. “Will they keep as long as the meat?”
“I’m not sure, Liz, but I think they should stay good for several months. Potatoes can best be kept in a potato hill at the edge of the garden.”
Douglas interrupted. “Thomas, you have something in mind for the boxed canyon. What is it?”
Thomas could hardly contain his enthusiasm as he unfolded his plan. “It’ll make a perfect holding pen for the stock, come spring. All we have to do is build a barrier across the mouth of the canyon with a gate in the middle. There’s water and enough grass there to last the herd a couple of weeks.”
“I thought we’d service the stock on the range. Why do we have to put them in a holding pen?” asked Douglas.
“It’s normal to have two roundups each year. The roundup this spring will be our most difficult one. It’ll require extra handling and a lot of hard work to get the Vincents’ mavericks in a manageable condition. Our first task will be to separate any branded animals not wearing the Double Box. Then we’ll need to rope and brand the rest. Most of the males will be castrated at our first roundup, except for a few that’ll make good breeding bulls. We’ll need to separate all the cattle we’re not keeping for breeding and see if they can join a neighbor’s cattle drive. On our fall roundup, we’ll brand the new calves and cut the weanling males. After this year, it won’t be necessary to drive the herd to a holding area.”
“Will other ranchers include our stock in their drive? Is that a likely possibility, Thomas?” asked Douglas.“It’s the neighborly thing to do, and besides, larger herds bring higher prices. But our challenge will be to have our cattle ready before the drives start.”
“How long do the drives take?” Douglas asked. “And when will the money come our way?”
“The drive to Sedalia, Missouri, takes a little over twelve weeks. It’s the most popular destination for ranchers in this area. However, two years ago the rail service was extended farther west, so there may be closer markets now. Sometimes a drive may get diverted to a different destination if the original market is flooded with cattle and prices are low. We’ll have to wait and see where the drives are headed before we can establish a timetable. As far as the money is concerned, it usually comes by wire as soon as the herd is sold.”
“What’ll we do with the cows carrying another brand?” Bart asked.
“It’s customary to return them to their owners. We can do that when we’re finished separating our stock.”
“But to start the process,” Douglas interrupted, “you say we need to build a barrier across the entrance of the box canyon. What kind of restriction do we need?”
“We can simply drag some felled trees across the opening. It might take two trees, side-by-side to make an adequate barrier but that should be sufficient. The obstruction may need to be refreshed in a couple years, but we’ll be able to construct a proper fence by then. In the future, the canyon will be a good location to keep horses.”
“Ca-ca-ca-can I h-h-h-help?” asked Jake.
“Everyone is needed if we’re to get the job done before cold temperatures and heavy snows set in.”
“When do we start?” Liz asked eagerly. “I can help too, you know.”
“Might as well get started first thing in the morning,” Douglas ordered. “We have some long, hard days ahead of us.”
The racks inside the cave were built to hold the meat before construction started on the barrier across the canyon. Trees with long, dense limbs were marked to be cut, and by noon on the third day, the first tree was hitched to the draft team and dragged to the site. It required both big horses to pull the tree, even though it was moved across snow-covered ground. Tree after tree was cut and hauled to the canyon site before the tired, weary workers headed for the house in darkness.
At day’s end, four days later, the workers had completed the barrier, except for the gate. “We’ll finish the gate tomorrow,” remarked Douglas.
“I don’t know about that. Have you noticed the black clouds hanging over the mountain tops?” Thomas asked. They woke to a brisk storm bringing wall after wall of snow to the ranch. The snow accumulated in high drifts, causing outside chores to be difficult. The water in the washstand bucket outside the barn door was a solid cake of ice.
When Douglas saw the expanse of white, he whispered to himself, “Guess the gate will have to wait until spring.”