Return Of The Mountain Man

Roger is now busy with quiet things such as working on his European mounts, but it wasn't always that way.  Life with him began as a wild west adventure and continued as such for many years.

I was recently reminded of the near-catastrophe with his father, Mose, just a few days after we were married.  It was hunting season, a fitting start for our life together, and Mose decided to take relatives to hunt one of his favorite spots in the country where he had lived all his life. He drove to a basin about ten miles from home, pointed the hunters in the right direction, and then he took a stand in a low saddle nearby in hopes an elk would pass by on its way to feed.  He couldn't accompany the hunters because he had a bad heart. They would meet at the pickup at dark.

After dark, the hunters came back to the house, saying that Mose wasn't at the pickup as planned. So, like the wild west of old, horses and riders appeared to scout the country. Those who didn't ride took off in jeeps and other four-wheel-drive vehicles.

In the kitchen of the ranch house, female friends and family waited with Stella, Roger's mother.  As the night wore on, conversation wore thin as we attempted to take her mind from the circumstances. Periodically, some would retreat to the couch for a few winks of sleep.  Dark turned to daylight, and the road in front of the house was empty of passing cars.  The morning wore on, and occasionaly a car came by, but it was unknown. The situation was dire because Mose not only had a  bad heart, he was diabetic, he had only one arm, and he was in his late seventies.

Then, at mid-morning, a car appeared in the distance that looked like that of Uncle Bill, Mose's brother.  As Stella sat quietly at the table, the rest of the group rose to the windows. "It look's like Bill's car," someone shouted. "Yes, it is Bill's car, but I can't see the driver or if there's any passengers," another chimed in. "I see the driver and I think I see a passenger."  "Yes, there is a passenger, but I can't tell who it is."  "I see that the driver is Bill." Then the car stopped.  All conversation ceased as the passenger stepped out and slowly headed toward the house. "It's Mose!" was shouted in unison as tears of joy streamed down tired faces.

As Mose walked slowly up the stairs and opened the kitchen door all voices were quiet. He nonchalantly placed his hat  on the rack inside the door, paying no attention to the crowd in the kitchen.  Stella, who was still seated at the table, crossed her arms in front of her, and quietly and slowly said, "Well, where have you been?

"Don't bark at me!  I haven't had my breakfast!" was the answer.  The kitchen crowd smiled and left  The mountain man had returned, and he probably needed a nap before he ate his breakfast.