Lonely Horses

By Arthur H Barnes

It is estimated that there are some 13,000 wild horses and burros in just the state of Nevada. A total number of wild horses in all Western states are in excess of 27,000.

With a number of very rigid laws, the BLM is doing a most outstanding job. During the year, BLM keeps track of wild horse and burro herds, permitted livestock, conditions of the vegetation and availability of water on the range. The habitat is also shared with wildlife which is managed by the state wildlife agencies.

Each year, they round up a selected number of the wild horses that have increased above the recommended number to the degree that they are consuming far more of the natural food source that is sparse to begin with.

To preserve the wild horse population, BLM removes excess animals from the range. Those horses are inoculated for common horse diseases before being offered for adoption to private individuals who will provide a good home.

Until a horse is titled, it cannot be sold by the adopter. The Federally protected wild horse must be humanely maintained for a year before an adopter can apply for title.

Some of the horses offered for adoption are gentled and some are saddle trained by supervised inmates in a prison industries program.

This information was provided by the Bureau Of Land Management, Reno Office. A special thanks to Maxine F. Shane, Affairs Officer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arthur H Barnes
• Release date: Oct 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781604146134

Arthur H Barnes

Arthur H. Barnes was born in Ventura, CA. He earned a B.A. in professional arts from Brooks Institute, Santa Barbara, CA. and an M.A. degree from Pepperdine University, Malibu, CA.While serving in the US Navy (1944 -1950) he survived a Kamikaze attack and earned a Purple Heart; and he served in Okinawa, Japan, which experience provided the source of many of the details and flavor of this story. He worked at the Data center of Edwards Air Force Base, CA., in the Major Company for 27 years.He lives with his wife Alvena in Bellingham, WA, a most beautiful city 22 miles south of the Canadian Border and overlooking the San Juan Islands. He has been married from 1950 to the present, and dotes on one “fabulous” grandson.

Book preview

LONELY HORSES

Arthur H. Barnes

Smashwords ebook published by Fideli Publishing Inc.

Copyright 2012, Arthur H. Barnes

No part of this eBook may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Fideli Publishing.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN: 978-1-60414-613-4

Lonely Horses is just plain fiction. The area that is written about is real, the northern Nevada desert. There is no wildlife refuge, no Ross and Helen Carter ranch and no Victor’s meat shop in Fallon. Fallon is real and an important training facility for our country’s Naval pilots. It is however a real love story of a special group of people portrayed among the pages. Helen and Ross, although fiction, are an example of the life-long devotion and love. The cast’s love of the wildlife, especially the horses that make the vast desert their home, is real. The environment is, and should be, a serious concern for everyone, And for many a life-long love.

The author

Contents

Acknowledgements

Characters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Conclusion

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The author cannot thank the special people enough who serve our country’s demand of protecting our natural resources.

To just say thanks to the Bureau Of Land Management will never be enough. I have personally driven along several of the Nevada desert highways, stopped because in the far and sometimes near distance, was a small band of the wild horses.

No different than our own demand of freedom, they do no one any harm and seek only to be free and in a small measure, cared for way.

Maxine F. Shane, Public affairs officer, Reno, who sent me maps and great statistic information about our Nevada treasures.

Jeffery Krauss, Furnished the color cover and back cover of wild horses, Bureau of Land Management, Washington D.C.

CHARACTERS

New friends whom you will meet as you journey through the pages of Lonely Horses:

Ross Carter Captain, USN, retired. Owner of wild horse ranch.

Helen Shirley Ross Carter’s administrative assistant.

Gus Feenly Original owner of homestead ranch

Kelly Commander, friend of Ross’, retired to ranch

Elizabeth Lester Grant writer

Orie Shelton Bureau Of Land Management, supervisor, Reno.

Louie,The most knowledgeable person of all the northern Desert of Nevada.

There are a number of others with whom you will become acquainted as you read the pages. Each one of them made a strong contribution up to the final page.

Northern area Nevada map furnished by Bureau of Land Management, Reno, Nevada.

Wild Horse photos courtesy of Bureau of Land Management, Washington, DC.

Chapter 1

Dressed in faded old Levis, because they were the most comfortable, Ross rambled down the only highway from Ely Nevada to Reno. His jalopy was a rebuilt model A Ford pick-up truck that he had acquired when he was attending test pilot’s school at Edwards Air force Base near Mojave, California. It was a very sentimental, but important part of his life. When a test pilot could find such a prize and was able to put it into near original condition, it was the mode of transportation on the base. Almost every one of the pilots who served there had such a cherished old Ford.

For the past few years, he had escaped from being the Commanding Officer of the Fallon Top Gun School run by the Navy for training only the top 2% of the best of all F14 and F18 combat pilots. He had cajoled, and finally purchased from an old rancher, one of the few remaining private ranches left in all of Nevada. The Bureau Of Land Management was the caretaker of some forty-eight million acres, leaving very few areas in private hands.

The model A Ford slowly gained the top of a low ridge that overlooked his destination. He had left Fallon just after the end of the workweek, which for him was just after noon on Fridays. Normally he drove straight across highway 50 that connected Reno to the Utah border and through Ely, the closest town near his ranch. Without any effort, his Ford seemed to sense that the top of the ridge was a good place to rest and observe all that had become very important to Captain Ross Carter, USN, Retired

Aviation had been Ross’ total involvement after his second year in college when he enlisted in the school’s NROTC program. At first he was only interested in having a place to go after he had finished his education and the Navy seemed the best. During the mid part of his third year as part of the NROTC obligation, he had a choice of duty for the two-week summer training program, which was mandatory. Why he decided to spend the time at Pensacola, he still did not know but it was the wisest choice that he had ever made.

During the two-week period, he was asked if he wanted to take a flight in a high performance jet aircraft, an F14, proudly called Tom Cat, top of the line fighter at the time. The pilot was a Lt.jg. and had over five hundred hours just learning how to drive such a powerful aircraft. It was the ride of his life.

The jg. must have wanted to either scare the hell out of him or at least cause him to toss all his cookies and have to clean up his mess after landing. All the rough acrobatic twists, turns, high speed climbs and dives, only made him know that this was what he wanted to be for his Navy career. Upon landing, Ross had grabbed the jg.’s hand and thanked him for giving him the answer to his future. The jg just stood still with a much-puzzled look on his face as Ross walked to the administration office to find out how he could become a Naval aviator.

The Lt. Commander sat him down and began to give him all the negative reasons that he could think of. When the Commander stopped long enough to catch his breath, Ross had stood up and asked, Just where do I sign up?

First he had to complete his remaining college education. As he returned to school for his last year-and-a-half, he sought out the local flying school and learned how much flying lessons would cost him. The cost was well beyond his financial status at the time. He was able to make his total expenses mainly due to the small money that he received from his involvement in an ROTC commitment.

The instructor pilot that he had talked to became interested in Ross’ plea and offered to give him some flying lessons for trade in helping keep his three training planes in good clean order. He was able to work some thirty hours a week and that was about twice what the instructor was looking for.

Each day after classes, he beat it to the airfield and turned to, as the Navy liked to say. He began to train in an Aronaca Cub two-passenger-kit aircraft. The instructor sat in the front and he sat just behind him in a cramped space. There were no typical doors to the little plane. Side panels just plopped down when the latch was released, allowing both men to crawl out. He was flying and that was all he wanted. In less than eight hours of instruction, after a good day of touch and go landings, his instructor had him taxi the plane to the end of the runway and got out. Now it’s your turn to do your stuff, he had said and Ross found a new source of saliva forming in his mouth. Not fear, but he was now forced to prove his ability to journey through the sky.

That was a long time ago and as he sat enjoying the naked surroundings of the great desert of central Nevada, he could not help but reflect on the almost twenty-seven years that had passed since. After flight training at Pensacola, he spent almost a year learning to fly the combat-type aircraft that were the arm of the Navy at the time. His first real fighter was the worst jet that he tried to fly. It was often referred to as the widow maker. The Vought F9F Panther being the early model and the last one, the F9F Cougar. They darned near killed him several times. Then came much faster and more reliable planes like an F4D.

After several tours of duty on aircraft carriers, he somehow was selected for test pilot training at Edwards Air Force Base in California. It was a fun place to fly and that was where he found his Ford pickup truck. It was the standard for most all the pilots to spend time in the air at over six-hundred miles-an-hour, then land and creep around the base at twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. He loved it.

After nearly twelve years in the Navy, he was given the title of CAG, Commander, Air Group and the boss of a squadron. Each time there was a transition for operational duty at sea each squadron had to requalify at a special Navy base to sharpen their flying and combat skills. That was how he had become acquainted with Fallon Naval, a training facility, some forty miles east of Reno, Nevada.

It was daylight to dark and on some occasions, well after dark, learning skills for night carrier landings and emergencies. It was hard work and there was always some senior joker yelling, You are doing it wrong, you have to do it the Navy way, or else, but you really learned.

Along the way he received orders for Top Gun School that at the time was at Miramar Naval Aviation Center near San Diego, California. He had felt very lucky to be classified as a Top Gun pilot when he finished the very difficult course and reported back for carrier duty. Now he was the TOP GUN of the school and nearing retirement. So it goes, the crazy world of military service. Twenty-seven years and a respectable retirement income with special privileges.

When he first served at Fallon, one of the interesting but discouraged activities, was chasing small bands of wild horses across their grazing grounds while flying training missions. There was nothing more frightening to the horses than having a screaming jet traveling near the speed of sound suddenly pass just a few feet over their heads. Somewhere along in this time frame, he began to be concerned about the many bands of horses and made an effort to learn something about them. The Reno Bureau Of Land Management gave him a great deal of the long history and he became even more interested.

Before becoming the Top Gun Commander, he had again been sent to Fallon for retraining so that he could do another tour overseas. By then he had become deeply interested in the animals and traveled around in his Ford truck watching, and even camping out over weekends, when he did not have to fly, seeking out different bands of the horses, plotting their travels and asking all kinds of questions from anyone who seemed to know anything about them.

During a week’s leave, he drove to Ely, Nevada and rented a hotel just so he could get a flavor of the people and their attitude about wild horses and be a little closer to their range. On one occasion, he met an old ranch owner whose family had homesteaded a large parcel of the desert and he was still owner of a part of the land. The old rancher complained bitterly, that no one seemed interested in the beautiful wild scenery and the wildlife that roamed freely across the land. In the end, the rancher invited Ross to drive out to his ranch and see what it was like to live in the path of these great animals.

Ross made arrangements to visit the rancher the next time he had a weekend. They departed with a firm handshake and to Ross’ surprise, he called as he walked away, Young man, God bless you and what you are doing for our country. Ross could not have felt prouder.

Two weeks later he had a long weekend and headed for the old rancher’s home to honor the invitation. The rancher had given him somewhat vague directions and just said, Drive about thirty miles west of Ely and when you come to the only dirt road that has a high post gate with a beam over the top, that’s it. His house was about a mile up a rough and dirty road.

The old man must have seen the dust from his drive up the dirt road for he was standing out front of a much-weathered older house that needed much repair. As the Ford hissed to a stop, the old man held out two very cold beers and simply said, Sit in the shade for it’s too damned hot any place else. I have been expecting you and don’t know why. You just seem like a real committed person to me. Instantly Ross felt at home.

Gus Feeney was his host’s name and as the day passed to evening, there was no doubt that Ross was going to spend the entire weekend with his new friend. Gus told him how his grandfather had homesteaded some 125,000 areas about the end of the 1880s and it had been in the family as one piece until just after WW11. Due to some real failures in the cattle business, they sold off two different pieces to the Land Management people for a few cents on the dollar of the real value of the land. My father had no choice for the Land Management people were going to do a condemnation on the property using some crazy excuse about it being in the public interest. Imminent domain they called it. I have had nothing but hard feelings about them ever since.

Gus brought out two very large venison steaks for his much used outdoor barbecue cooker and asked Ross if he wanted another beer. If so, you know where they are, so help yourself. It was the first venison that Ross had ever tasted. Gus had to be a master at cooking wild game in order to serve such a delicious piece of meat.

As the sun began it’s colorful descent to the horizon, Ross asked Gus about his future plans and what he was going to do about the remainder of his ranch. Gus hesitated for a long time. "I really don’t know. I want to see all of it in a reserve of some kind, a secure place for all the wildlife that lives here.

"Few people, except the local people, know just how many different kinds of critters make this forgotten-looking land their home. We even have a few elk and always a lot of giant mule deer. I don’t know if you have noticed but the howling that you can hear now is the many different groups of coyotes having a conversation with their kinfolk. I cannot tell you about all the different birds, including some waterfowl, which live in many of the places where water is available. I hunt deer about twice a year but harvest only what I can eat.

"Of course one thing that I could do without is an over abundance of rattle snakes. The darn things are everywhere. They do a great job of keeping the desert mice and small kangaroo rat population down but they can really scare the hell out of you if you don’t watch out for them.

Why did you ask about what I might do about the ranch?

Ross related his first experience in visiting Nevada and that as he did several tours at Fallon; he had become seriously interested, mainly in the wild horses that roamed through most of the desert. Free and highly spirited animals, they have caused me to think about how I might do something to help preserve them. I really didn’t have a specific thought or plan in mind until I wondered what you might do with your ranch. Your deep desire to make it into a reserve for all desert critters, interests me to no end. Have you thought about someone who might share in making sure it always stays in your, or in private, hands so that it will always be a refuge?

Ross felt that the answer that Gus gave was just short of a lie. Gus had uttered, No, maybe it had been in the back of my mind but not in a serious way. Are you asking to be some kind of partner or just what, young man?

Gus continued, I really don’t know much about the Bureau of Land Management but from what I have seen, read, and heard about them, they are very determined to control all the land in Nevada and treat it as their own, not the public’s as they advertise.

Ross added, I am about to retire from the Navy after almost 28 years of the greatest adventure that a man could hope for. I have a very good retirement program and have saved a great deal of my money, invested a lot in the stock market and done well. Now I would like to put some of it to work doing some good for the environment. I don’t know just what wild horses have to do with the environment but that is what I want to do. I feel very guilty at having scared them so much. Now, can we meet somewhere in the middle and allow me to be a part of saving these ‘lonely horses’?

Gus had never heard anyone refer to the wild horses as lonely but he latched on to the idea and accepted Ross’ suggestion.

Now some two years later, Ross owned the entire 1160 acres of wild horse country.

Chapter 2

Shortly after he and Gus made their agreement, Gus became very ill and before he died, he made sure that Ross became the sole owner of his property. Gus had made up his mind before he fell ill so he had a real sharp attorney from Las Vegas do all the paper work so that the deed could not be overturned by Land Management. It really pissed Washington, DC Land Management because they had planned to declare the property theirs in the interest of the people of the country. Ross had promised Gus before he died that he would legally have the ranch listed as a Federal Wildlife Sanctuary and prohibit anyone from even trespassing on the property. It would be for wild animals and birds only.

Now, as Ross sat overlooking his very private domain, he also thought about his coming retirement from the Navy. Gus had been gone for almost two years and during that time, He had spent every free moment he could away from his duty as Top Gun Commander, refurbishing the ranch house. At first he was alone. When some of the squadron staff learned about his project, there were as many as a dozen Navy friends showing up for the weekends to give a hand. He was surprised at the quality of the different craftsmen that were at the base, like plumbing and electrical experts.

His first real project, with help from his Navy friends, was to replumb the whole house. The existing plumbing was only for cold water to the house. Gus and his past family had cooked over a large wood stove and had never managed to install propane gas. The toilet facility was a two holer out back that had to be done away with and a complete bath facility built in the house. All the needed plumbing was on the inside walls of the house which made installing a little easier.

He would have lots of beer and great barbecues for them to show how much he appreciated their help. He had to reserve the beer until late in the hot days because some of the effort would begin to show a change in quality after they had had a few too many. Regardless, a great friendship developed among everyone as each project was completed.

The official retirement ceremony was scheduled for the last Saturday of the month that was two weeks away and he had much to do in order for the new commander to just step in without any problems. He had changed very little as commander and always had his full command helping make most of the decisions. His four years at Fallon had become a joy because of the quality of his staff and in particular, Lt. Shirley, one of the sharpest lady officers that he had ever served with.

He started his pride and joy, and slowly drove to the only official entrance to his wild horse ranch. Shortly after it had become his legal sole property, he had added a few items to the gate and smoothed the dirt road that led to his house. There were no markings to say Ross Carter lives here, but he had placed a new plainly lettered sign that clearly stated, " This property is a Federal Wildlife Refuge, regardless, NO TRANPASSING. He marveled that the sign had caused some problems with a few local gun-toting hunters that had defied Old Gus and hunted both deer and birds without any permission. Now no one dared to even walk on to his sanctuary. He was happier than he had ever been since his divorce from his only marriage many years ago.

It was late on a Friday and he wanted to have a written retirement statement ready for he knew that he would be somewhat emotional when he had to say something about his 27-years-plus as a Naval Aviator. It was still hot on the desert so he opened a can of bud and began to write sitting on his front porch watching the sun slowly recede below the far mountains. He had enjoyed many wonderful sunsets while at sea and simply thanked God for the display. Now as he forced his thoughts back to some of those special moments, he began to notice that a desert sunset was completely different. The colors were more subtle and had less of a sharp composition in the horsetail-type clouds. Maybe it’s a premonition of what’s to come of my new life, and he returned to his retirement statement.

He finished writing his final comment and spent an hour rereading the document. He was amazed that almost all of his penned statement was not about flying and the many stations where he had served. It was ninety percent about the men and women that he had shared so much time with. He had written about the few early struggles as a combat pilot flying the Phantom F4 over Vietnam. It was his duty and was what he had been trained for his entire Navy career. His strongest feelings were that he had served his country and was deeply proud of every moment.

It must have been close to midnight when there was a different disturbance beyond the