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In my column, the only time I've mentioned any of the hired hands at the S-Bar-S was a line concerning the Moffat boys working for Dad. During the 88-year history of our operation, there have been a lot of different hands, some whom make for very interesting stories.

I couldn't start to recall all of those who worked here. When we did all the haying with horses it took a lot of teamsters. We sometimes had as many as six or eight hands on the hay crew, and there were many others that worked for just a few days or a few weeks during grain harvest, fixing fence or riding, besides all of those who worked longer periods - irrigating and feeding cattle.

Dad told me that one of his former hands had gone on to become president of one of the world's largest steamship lines, and I don't even know who that was. If anyone has a clue to who the man was, I'd like to know.

As I recall, "Six-Gun Pete" and "Horse-Thief Charlie" were a couple of characters we had on the same hay crew. Charlie was a respectable enough person - he'd acquired that "Horse Thief" nickname because he'd taken up a homestead in Horse Thief Gulch near DeBeque on the Colorado River above Grand Junction.

Six-Gun Pete was another matter. He had the appearance of a bad one, and he always packed a gun. He and another guy had come in together and were sleeping with the rest of the hay crew in the loft of an old barn (that had no lights). During the night, Pete and his partner got into a very heated argument, and the other fellows about tore the barn down getting out of there. They all knew Pete slept with his gun, and none of them was anxious to stop a stray bullet.

That barn was the scene of some fast action another time. Ben Brookshire was working for Dad. We had a heifer that couldn't deliver her calf and had got on the fight. Dad had pulled her up close to the back door of the barn with the feed sled, but they were having a time trying to get her into the barn. Ben was around the corner inside the door pulling on a rope; Dad on the sled, pushing. The heifer was really mad and fighting like crazy. There were holes for dropping hay out of the loft into the mangers, but when Ben thought the heifer had decided to come on in, he didn't take time to find that hole. He made a new one into the loft, Ben went out the other end of the barn and was surprised when he peeked around the corner and found the heifer still outside and Dad about to split his sides laughing. Dad said he'd been singing "She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain." Ben swore he'd heard Dad yell "She's Coming."

Oh, my! I could fill a book with stories about Ben.

Perhaps the strangest event I can tell involved a hay hand named George Porter. George gave the appearance of a bum from some Eastern city, and he really didn't fit on the ranch. Sometimes at the table he'd act like he was in a trance and say, "If I could just be in New York for one hour." John Chura (Steve's brother) was on the crew; he and the other hands went to town in John's car one Saturday night but wouldn't take George - none of them liked him. Most everyone went to town on Saturday night in those days; the stores were all open til 9 p.m. and the town band gave a concert on Main Street. George said he'd like to shop and hear the concert, so Dad took him in our car along with the family.

After the concert we couldn't find George. Dad finally found him out near the Soda Spring, sneaking along in the shadows with the high collar of a big sheepskin coat up around his face. He came home with us - the old road in through the pasture. He'd gone to the bunkhouse, turned on the light (the other hands weren't home yet) and left his full new roll of Copenhagen inside the door. The rest of the crew was somewhat spooked when they got home, especially John.

The next morning we crossed the foot-log and found George's tracks about to the Spring Creek Bridge, but no farther. He'd left his suitcase in the bunkhouse, and he hadn't collected his wages. His disappearance is still a mystery.