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Regional,
Monthly All-Breed Horse Magazine • Since 1993 |
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Copyright 2011 Rocky Mountain Rider. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Reproduction of any editorial material, artwork and photos is strictly forbidden without express written permission of the publisher. For information about reprint rights, please contact the editor; editor@rockymountainrider.com.
Charlie
Russell had a love affair with the West and spent his life documenting her
beauty both in the written word and in pictures; what is perhaps not so well
known is his love for his horses. They played an important role in his life as a
necessary mode of transportation and as partners in the adventure. This section
catalogs those horses and the part they played in Charlie’s life. In
1880, at age 16, Charles M. Russell bought a rather plain looking, bay pinto
horse from a Piegan chief named Bad Wound, as he had been shot in the face.
Charlie named the horse “Montana Monte.” After many years together, Russell
said of his horse: I don’t think he owes me anything. We were kids together,
and I have ridden him and packed him thousands of miles. We have always been
together. People know me, know him. We don’t exactly talk, but we sure savvy
one another…
Charles
M. Russell and Monte. Circa 1883, when Russell was 19 years old. Towner &
Runsten photograph, Monte’s
tale begins in a Crow camp on the About
1880, hunting took them into Blackfoot country, which was very dangerous as the
Blackfoot were enemies, well armed, and skillful at taking horses. For
protection, the Crows had circled their lodges and picketed their horses in the
center. However, as they slept, 10 Piegan warriors (a branch of Blackfoot)
slipped into camp and loosened as many horses as they could. They mounted up
and, waving their robes, spooked the Crow horses out of camp. Dogs were barking,
people were screaming, and the half-asleep warriors were firing into the
darkness, as their horses stampeded out into the night. Monte’s unfortunate
rider caught a Crow bullet and bled profusely over his mane and back before
falling off and being lost in the darkness. The
Piegans and their stampeding horses kept a steady pace until dawn’s first
light, when it was noticed they were missing a party member. When Chief Bad
Wound’s loop dropped over the pinto’s head, he noticed the dried blood and
knew what had happened to the missing warrior, Calf Robe. Bad Wound removed the
rope, pulled out his rifle, and shot the horse as he was returning to the herd.
The little pinto dropped like a rock and lay still. Bad Wound said, “It was
not good to let a friend walk to the sand hills. The trail is long, and I have
given him a strong horse.” After
mounting fresh horses, they rode on to a deep, grassy meadow where they rested
until evening. When they were again ready to move, Bad Wound scanned the passing
herd with his one good eye, sucked in his breath, and exclaimed, “Ghost
Horse!” There, bloody but alive, was the same pinto horse—he had only been
stunned by the bullet. There was much feasting and celebrating when the Indians
joined their camp on the Old Man, I would give you the horse your son rode, but he is
a Ghost Horse. I tried to give him to your son, but he would not die… He is a
good horse, but I will never ride him. My heart is afraid, and I have said that
it is not good to give a friend what you fear yourself. The next spring, young “Kid” Russell and Jake Hoover showed up at the Indian encampment to buy some horses. After some negotiating and an exchange of $45, the “Ghost Horse” had a new owner—Charlie Russell. The horse was described as a typical Indian cayuse[1], weighing about 850 pounds, with slim legs, short coupling, and a deep chest. He obviously had
a lot of strength and stamina for his size. The
next few weeks, no doubt, proved a steep learning and training curve for both
parties, as the newly christened Grey Eagle …One
hot, dry fall in 1891, Russell threw his saddle on Grey Eagle, packed Monte, and
headed out from Chinook for
Charles
M. Russell, Self Portrait with Grey Eagle. Later,
when asked what the wolves did, Charlie said, “Just showed their teeth and
grinned… they didn’t try and follow us. They might in winter, but probably
they weren’t hungry.” Charlie
and Hank pushed their horses hard and fast to the next water, which they found
after dark. Charlie noticed the horses seemed awfully choosy about drinking,
considering the day they’d had. He himself got down on all fours, and then he
noticed the water didn’t smell too good, and that, in lapping it up, he was
getting soft particles on his tongue. He sieved the water through his
neckerchief to drink, but it was the next morning before he discovered the soft
stuff in his mouth were maggots—floated over from the dead cow at the end of
the pond.…
The stories of both
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Rocky
Mountain Rider Magazine • Montana Owned & Operated |
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