X Diamond Ranch Museum

THE X DIAMOND RANCH MUSEUM A Little House of antiques and artifacts near Greer

IN TIME OF DROUGHT, nothing stirs a rancher's soul like a sideways rain. It's like payday in a mine town, an honest-togoodness gold rush. Last night the Little Colorado River "went Western," as they say around X Diamond & MLY Ranch outside Springerville in the White Mountains. Debris from its little rampage was tossed everywhere, and the grass across a portion of the valley lay silver-dollar-flat from the water jumping its bank.

Ranch owner Wink Crigler rose before daybreak to see if the river took anything important with it. She stood in the chilly darkness outside her house, listening to the rising water press against the girders underneath the bridge that connects her to the outside.

"The water sure made those girders sing," said Crigler, a former schoolteacher and lifelong White Mountains resident.

More rain was forecast, and I asked if she worried the bridge might not survive another night. "The reason the world's round is so you can't see too far ahead," she said. "If it comes, it comes."

Ranch life makes that attitude not just admirable but essential. Every turn in the road brings something new, and you roll with it or under it.

Fifteen years ago, after the unexpected death of her husband, Oscar, an award-winning horse trainer, Crigler decided to gather some of his awards, saddles and other items into a couple of rooms on the property.

She had no idea what her venture would amount to, or in

The excitement of the morning eased, and Crigler finally sat down to talk about settlement of the region, a topic she has studied intensely for years. The settlement happened the way it did because of the Apache Wars.

Soldiers sent by the government to quell warring bands had to be fed, and so did the Indians who came to the reservation. The Army initially relied on its own division of packers, and individual hunters and trappers who sold their kill at Fort Apache, called Camp Ord when established in 1869.

But the need for food was so great that wild game populations were hunted to near-extinction. As a solution, the Army offered contracts to cattlemen willing to supply beef, hay and oats to the fort.

“People don't realize the cattle industry actually saved the wildlife here in these mountains,” said Crigler.

The opportunity drew settlers by the hundreds. But it also attracted outlaws who knew they could sell whatever wasn't roped down, and for a time this country was as wild as any in the Territory.

Ike Clanton rustled cattle here after leaving Tombstone, and in 1899, Butch Cassidy's Wild Bunch, on the run from Pinkerton detectives, landed near Springerville.

Crigler found Apache County records showing that a man living under Cassidy's alias, Jim Lowe, was arrested for butchering stolen cows north of town. On the paperwork, someone had scribbled “Nice gentleman. Released.” Evidently, that's what happened, even without a trial.

men “Cassidy's release and the killings happened close by, so I think the gang was involved,” said Crigler. “A deputy sheriff from here thought so, too, because he tracked Cassidy to Wyoming, but never found him. The murders of those boys are still open.” The mystery could've been solved if old Monte Butler had talked. He was the gang's ramrod, and a teamster whose job was to make sure Cassidy, the Sundance Kid and the others had fresh horses.

A tough, squinty-eyed redhead and friend of Crigler's dad and granddad, Butler stayed behind when the gang left, and lived peacefully until the early 1940s. His little shack home still stands in a depression off the road leading to the X Diamond.

Two days later, when the ground had dried enough, Udall practiced being cranky as he boosted 68-year-old Susan Pinkham of California, and her longtime friend, Marie Seburn, 71, of Mesa, onto horses. The two worked as stewardesses in the 1950s and have visited the X Diamond together the past few summers.

“I'm getting used to horses,” said Pinkham, “although it's a little hard on the rump.” Soon as the words passed her lips, her horse commenced stomping and snorting. She white-knuckled the reins. “S-SSam, I don't think this horse likes me,” she stammered.

After making a theatrical adjustment on her stirrups, he drawled, “Oh, now, Susan, she likes you just fine. It's me that don't like you.” With a hearty laugh, the group, including Udall's wife, Joy, rode toward the ridge bordering State Route 260. For a good half-mile, the rock facing was decorated with petroglyphs of every kind and design.

Back at the ranch, the subject switched from Butch Cassidy

humos

Traveler: "Who's the closemouthed individual in the corner? He hasn't spoken for 10 minutes." Storekeeper: "He's jus' waitin' for Pete t'come back with the spittoon."

From the Arizona Highways humor book Never Stand Between a Cowboy and His Spittoon by Leo W. Banks. To order, call toll-free (800) 543-5432. The cost is $6.95 plus shipping and handling.

START WITHOUT HER Last year we subscribed to the family series of concerts given by the Phoenix Symphony. At the beginning of every concert, before the conductor enters, the woman concertmaster comes on stage to tune the seated orchestra. At our third concert, right after the concertmaster appeared on the stage, our 5-year-old son, Christopher, nudged me and said with disgust, "She's always late!"

DONNA HAWKINS Phoenix BREAKING BAD HABITS I was delivering supplies to the ranch roundup camp when the cowboys came in for lunch. One hand, Mike Landis, was a true cowboy, and had even lost part of a finger in the dally of a lasso. As we sat around enjoying lunch, the boss pulled up with his 5-year-old daughter, Cindy. Everyone loved her, but she had a bad habit of picking her nose.

"What happened to your finger?" she asked Mike, busy poking around with hers.

"Well," he replied, "I had my finger up my nose and something bit it clean off." Wide-eyed, Cindy jerked her hand away from her face, believing every word.

To this day, we have not seen her engage in this habit again.

ELIZABETH M. STEELE Stark City, MO FRAGILE MERCHANDISE As a farmer, one of my tasks is to haul the round bales of hay from the field to the barn to feed the cattle. My young grandson was driving the tractor pulling the empty trailer upon which I would load the bales. I was riding on the trailer, and as we were going slowly to the field I jokingly said, "Drive carefully. You are hauling valuable merchandise." He looked at me over his shoulder, and with a mischievous grin asked, "Antiques?"

MERYL MCCAMPBELL Camden, OH GRAVE IN A CAVE Many years ago when I toured Carlsbad Caverns, our guide shut off the lights, engulfing us in total darkness. All we could hear was the slight trickle of water and our own breathing. A worried voice broke the silence. "Wouldn't it be terrible if the ceiling caved in and we were all buried here in this dark cave?"

"I don't think it would be terrible at all," replied the guide. "Where else could you be buried in such splendor for the price of admission?"

EDWARD J. PFEIFER Clifton THANKS, MOM One day last spring our granddaughter, Amy, and greatgrandson, Logan, 5, were waiting in line for one of the most desired Ty Beanie Baby Bears. After a longer than usual wait, Amy saw a sign: "Only one bear to a customer." So she would end up with two bears, she gave Logan $20 and separated herself from him by two people in line.

Amy got to the cash register, bought her bear and stepped back to wait for Logan to get his. He left the line with his bear in a bag, happy and smiling. She asked him for the change, but he didn't have any. The bears were only $6. So Amy looked to see if maybe the clerk put the change in the bag.

She was surprised to see not only the bear but also 12 of her son's favorite candy bars.

DALE L. PEIFFER Valparaiso, IN ASK A SILLY QUESTION On a recent trip to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, I stopped for gas in Fredonia. I asked the service station attendant if he knew a place where I could buy some cigars. With an apathetic look on his face he replied, "Havana."

MARK MOLINA Pensacola, FL TO SUBMIT HUMOR Send us an original short story, no more than 200 words, about your humorous experiences, and we'll pay $75 for each one we publish. Send them to Humor, Arizona Highways, 2039 W. Lewis Ave., Phoenix, AZ 85009. Please enclose your name, address and telephone number with each submission. We'll notify those whose stories we intend to publish, but we cannot acknowledge or return unused submissions.