Montana Madness Read online

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Beautiful Montana – Big Sky Country

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Some Extra Treats to Enjoy from Sioux Dallas

  Author’s Note

  Other books by Sioux Dallas

  Back Cover

  Montana Madness

  A Novel by

  Sioux Dallas

  CCB Publishing

  British Columbia, Canada

  Montana Madness: A Novel

  Copyright ©2012 by Sioux Dallas

  ISBN-13 978-1-927360-30-9

  First Edition

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Dallas, Sioux, 1930-

  Montana madness : a novel / written by Sioux Dallas. – 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-927360-30-9

  Also available in print format.

  I. Title.

  PS3604.A439M65 2010 813'.6 C2010-900796-4

  Additional cataloguing data available from Library and Archives Canada

  Cover photo: © Donnie Sexton

  Disclaimer: This is a book of pure fiction, a product of the author’s imagination, and does not represent any person, living or dead.

  Extreme care has been taken to ensure that all information presented in this book is accurate and up to date at the time of publishing. Neither the author nor the publisher can be held responsible for any errors or omissions. Additionally, neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Publisher:

  CCB Publishing

  British Columbia, Canada

  www.ccbpublishing.com

  With grateful appreciation this book is dedicated to dear friends Catherine and Dale Parker for their information about cattle. For years they have raised some beautiful (and ornery) Texas Longhorns. They have now settled on a mixture of Angus and Herefords for better beef.

  Thank you to Brett Morin, a pastor in our church, who helped me locate some Bible verses I needed. He and Jenny are two of the most compassionate, caring people I have met.

  Beautiful Montana --- Big Sky Country

  Welcome to Montana Madness

  You will probably need some assistance in pronouncing and understanding some of the names. I shall do the best I can to make it more enjoyable for you.

  Chaska Magi Proudfoot

  Chaska pronounced chah skay - means first son

  Magi pronounced Mah gee (g as in burger) means Michael

  Chaska Magi my first son, Michael (Mike)

  **********

  Angeline Litzou

  Angel leet zow - means angel love (Angel) wife of Chaska magi

  **********

  Atian Chetan

  ay teen chay than- means Stephen Hawk (Steve)

  Son of Mike and Angel

  **********

  Ehawee Donoma

  eye wah dough mo - means laughing maiden of the sun

  Wife of Steve (Donna)

  **********

  Nizhniy Tayas nee zhoh nee tah nis - means beautiful daughter

  Daughter of Steve and Donna (Ginger)

  **********

  Tokala

  two klah - means strong hearted (James Deerhunter)

  My daughter, Verta and I toured fifteen western states one summer, visiting historical sites, museums and meeting remarkable people. I loved all of them. Montana had breathtaking land and views.

  Another time I was visiting friends and they took me to an old fort which had been renovated into a restaurant. We had excellent food. I ate rattlesnake meat and thoroughly enjoyed. They then asked me if I would like Rocky Mountain Oysters. I love oysters and was eager to try them, wondering where they found oysters in the mountains. I took one bite and almost threw up as I spit it out. They laughed at me and they ate them. When I learned what they were, I was glad I had not tried them. They are the testicles of a calf, and sometimes sheep, deep fried and considered a delicacy in the west. When the calves are cut to keep them from breeding, the testicles are saved for mouth watering dishes. (Their words, not mine.)

  In the book I tell of gymkhanas. These are games of skill on horseback. A lot of them were instigated by the Plains Indians to keep in practice for their life style. Barrel Racing, Pole Bending, Rescue, Trail Class and games of skill on horseback.

  I speak of horses being so many hands. A hand is measured from the top of the withers (top of shoulder), down the front leg to the ground. A hand is four inches, or the width of a man’s hand. A fifteen two hand horse would be fifteen times four plus two or sixty-two inches. Five feet, two inches. A sixteen hand horse is sixteen times four or sixty-four inches at the withers.

  Yes, cattle rustling, horse stealing and murder still exist in the U. S. A.

  A male breeding stallion is called a sire.

  A female breeding mare is called a dam.

  The baby is spoken of as by a sire and out of a dam. (by Ranger out of Flower)

  A just born is a foal. A few months old and being weaned is a weanling.

  A year old is a yearling. A just born male horse is a colt; a new female horse is a filly. Filly foal - or - Colt foal.

  Crow hopping - all four legs stiff and jumping up and down as well as forward.

  I learned a lot about cattle but my heart broke when I learned that a Bobby calf is one killed at four days old for veal.

  Chapter One

  Thunder rolled and crashed over the ranch house until the walls shook. Frequent bursts of lightning lit the night sky as bright as day. Ginger Proudfoot had been awakened by the storm overhead, but was brought straight up in bed when her two Border Collies leaped on her bed and landed on her body.

  “Hey! You cowards. What’s wrong with you? You’ve heard storms before and you’re safe inside. Now move over.”

  The dogs continued to stare at her and then look toward her bedroom window that looked out over the barn and pastures. She finally heard the angry barks of the guard dogs, two Blue Heelers and two German Shepherds in the barn. It penetrated her sleepy brain that something was not right.

  Ginger hurriedly got out of bed and looked out the window. She always checked the barn with the prized personal horses, just before going to bed and then closed the big doors. The doors now stood open and were crashing back and forth in the strong wind.

  * * * * *

  Ginger’s parents had been killed in a flash flood as had the horses they were riding. She was only sixteen and her widower paternal, Grandfather Chaska Magi Proudfoot came back to live on the seventeen hundred acre ranch and take care of it until she became of age to take over. He was full blooded Comanche, but his beloved wife was Scots and Sioux. He called her Angel and she called him Mike.

  Grandfather Proudfoot had a contract with the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) to take care of several head of wild mustangs on about five hundred acres of the
ranch. He gave them the land making sure the Big Horn River ran through it. Other ranchers also protected the mustangs.

  These mustangs were the old, sick, lame and very young who could not be adopted. The younger ones would probably be adopted, but the others would live out their lives in peace.

  Grandfather had died the year before at the age of ninety-six. Ginger had just finished college and had returned home with her degree in Animal Husbandry and a minor in Accounting. The Majestic Equine Ranch was dear to the heart of Grandfather whom she loved and she determined to do the best she could to make it grow. She loved the ranch life and didn’t mind the hard work. She was breeding and raising Quarter horses, training them for cutting cattle and for gymkhanas. At twenty-two she was the youngest ranch owner in the area.

  Forty horses, for workers’ use, were in a separate pasture, but the personally owned horses were kept in the barn at night and allowed out to graze and run during the day. The pasture horses had three-sided sheds for shelter. Borders’ horses were in a separate barn and pasture.

  Ginger exercised her horses every day in addition to the training of the horses she hoped to sell or the ones the boarders left to be trained. She refused to sell to someone just because they had the money. The buyer had to prove to her that they had a suitable place to keep the animal and were willing to care for it properly.

  * * * * *

  Quickly dragging on a pair of jeans and a green and blue flannel shirt, she stomped her feet into her old, worn boots, grabbed her rain-proof poncho and rain hat and ran out to the barn. Thankfully it wasn’t raining hard yet, but she knew the noise of the approaching storm would cause the horses to be jittery. Too, she couldn’t understand how the big doors had blown open. Where were the guard dogs?

  Stepping inside the barn she called soothingly to her four-legged babies.

  Just as she reached to flip the lights on, something dark rushed at her striking her on the head and knocking her down before running out the door. She was woozy and had trouble focusing her eyesight.

  Her heart beat rapidly, fearful that someone had harmed the horses or tried to steal them. They were all registered, healthy and well-cared for. Staggering up she had to push the house dogs off her as they tried to lick her face. She wondered why the guard dogs had not attacked the intruder.

  Feebly turning on the lights, she went down the aisle checking to see if the horses were all there and all right. Hearing the guard dogs barking and throwing themselves at the door, she opened the feed room where they had been shut up. She jumped out of the way as they rushed out angrily.

  Visitors, or non-horse owners, often thought the barn didn’t smell good. Ginger loved the aromatic odor of horses, feed, hay and, yes, sweat.

  In the first stall on her left was Hank Baxter’s sixteen-two hand liver chestnut, Sunset Serenade. Hank had been the foreman before twenty-two year old Ginger had been born. In the next stall was her favorite, a fifteen-two hand bay with dark points, War Shield. In the third stall was a big, rangy, sixteen hand piebald, Dakota Joe, one of the best cutting horses on the property. In the fourth stall was her Grandfather’s favorite, sixteen-two hand, Wind Eagle, a big, strong Appaloosa.

  On the right side in the fifth stall was Sierra Sioux a fifteen-two hand chestnut mare that had given them three beautiful babies that sold for an average of twenty-two thousand each as yearlings. In the sixth stall was sixteen-two hand Macho Man a tall Quarter/Thoroughbred who was everyone’s dream horse. He was excellent at just about anything that needed doing. In the seventh stall was a fourteen-two hand mustang mare, Shy Anne who had become a ranch favorite. In the last stall was a fifteen-two hand Palomino, Butter Cream, who had also been an excellent brood mare.

  The barn dogs were so agitated that Ginger knew there was more to be concerned about. She apologized to War Shield and quickly saddled him. Placing a rifle on the saddle, she checked to be sure she had plenty of ammunition. She knew a two legged animal had been responsible for attacking her. What was he doing in her barn? She must have arrived too quickly for him to have time to do damage.

  Ginger then made a very unwise decision. She decided to ride out and check on the horses in the pasture and the wild mustangs without alerting Hank or any of the hands. It wasn’t until way later that she wondered why some of the hands hadn’t awakened or no one seemed to be on night duty.

  Ginger hoped the rain would hold off a little, although she felt moisture in the air. The storm was almost completely overhead and causing War Shield to crow hop while running through the dark. She finally came to her senses and slowed to a walk. She didn’t want to risk her horse getting hurt or breaking a leg in the dark.

  As she moved through the pasture with the horses, she was relieved to see them calm and the majority were lying down. She went through a gate into the field with the wild mustangs. The farther out she rode the more she thought she should have told the housekeeper, Juanita Yellow Bird, that she was leaving. Too late now.

  War Shield threw up his head and nickered softly, waving his ears back and forth to show he was disturbed. She then realized that the mustangs were milling around and making noises showing fear and confusion.

  Suddenly there were several gun shots and yells which stirred the mustangs into a stampede. In a flash of lightning Ginger recognized that there was a Judas horse leading them. Judas was the name given to a horse that had been trained to lead the group into a trap that had been arranged for them.

  The frightened mustangs were running, in the dark, toward a narrow canyon where they could easily be trapped. Rustlers would then back trucks to the opening and, men working together, would force the horses on the trucks to be taken away. They would then either be sold to a slaughter house for dog food or shipped overseas where people loved horse meat.

  They could probably get at least a dollar a pound, thus an eight hundred pound horse would net eight hundred dollars or a thousand pound horse would bring a thousand dollars. Taking enough horses, in one night, would bring between twenty-five thousand and thirty thousand dollars.

  Ginger hoped to divert the mustangs and herd them into the pasture to safety and away from the canyon. She counted on the frequent lightning bursts to help her see even though she knew the danger of being in a lightning storm.

  One burst of lightning showed men on horseback spooking the mustangs to make them run. These men were running their own horse in the dark without thought of falling or harming their own horse. She saw several men raise an arm and fire a gun into the air. She didn’t want to fire her rifle under the circumstances.

  She shouted in anger and plunged toward the men. They could not hear her above the noise of the storm and the roar of the galloping horses. She hoped to catch up with the Judas horse and turn him away from the canyon.

  Taking off her hat, she waved it and yelled at the Judas horse. In the meantime she was praying that none of them would fall and break a leg or hurt each other running in fear.

  A close lightning streak allowed two men to see her and realize what she was doing. She saw one raise his arm and point his gun at her. Just as he fired, War Eagle screamed and went down. Before Ginger hit her head and was knocked out, she thought, “No! They’ve shot my horse.”

  Chapter Two

  Ginger moaned and stirred. Without opening her eyes, she wondered why she was lying on the ground, in the dark, and with the rain beating on her. She was on her stomach and felt terrible. Rolling to one side, she laboriously opened her eyes and was looking at a pair of black Tony Lama boots with red trim. Long, long legs in black jeans were above the boots with a black shirt at the top. Her eyes went on up to a square jaw, high cheekbones, copper skin, long black hair and piercing black eyes. A black Stetson was too high up for her to see without rolling on her back.

  She licked her dry lips thankfully moistening them with the rain drops. “Where did you come from? Were you the one who shot me?”

  There was no answer as he leaned down and easily lifted her on her feet. Ginge
r’s five-eight only came to the dark man’s shoulder. She could only stare at him and wait for him to speak.

  With no expression he spoke, “I moved back last week to help my parents take care of their ranch next to you. Howard and Arline Deerhunter. We’ve been missing some cattle, so I thought I’d ride out and see if I could catch cattle rustlers. I saw the men cutting your fence and followed them. No, you were not shot and neither was your horse. He slipped on some muddy ground and was bumped by some running mustangs causing him to lose his balance and fall down.”

  “Where is my horse? Did he run off with the herd?”

  “No. He’s standing beside my horse, Thunder Dancer. You don’t recognize me. I’m James Deerhunter.”

  “Of course I remember you, Tokala. You left before I went away to college.”

  “Yes, I went away to college hoping to become a veterinarian. My parents are old, and when my father had a stroke, my mother could not handle the ranch work and care for an invalid husband. I’ve been gone a little over ten years.”

  They were walking toward War Shield as they were talking. “I’m so glad I got here in time to see what was going on and try to save the mustangs,” Ginger spoke with a relieved smile.

  “The men ran when your horse fell and you yelled. I had little to do with it. I did fire over their heads and I guess they weren’t sure how many hands they were facing.”

  “Good. Maybe they’ll stay away.”

  “Not likely. They’ll just regroup and try again another time. Why are you out here alone? Don’t you still have ranch hands, Nee zhoh nee Tayas?”

  “You remembered my Indian name. I love it but I felt awkward using it in college among the other students. My mother always called me Ginger because I was so full of energy and could not seem to keep still,” she laughed. “My hands don’t know I’m out here. Hank will be furious with me when he discovers what I’ve done.”