Slim grew up on the western prairie of South Dakota. The son of hard working farmers who in those days farmed with horses and whose children went to a one-room school. When I met Slim he was already well into his late seventies. Tall as his name would imply, as was his build. He was a pleasant looking man but he had a long drooping nose that appeared to have no cartilage in it. When Slim turned his head and then stopped, the motion of his nose didn’t! It wiggled!
Slim married a local gal and moved to the city where he became a tailor and worked in a fine men’s store for over 30 years. By the time I met Slim he was semi-retired, taking in occasional tailoring work in his home. It was an instant friendship and I admired the love for his wife that he outwardly showed and his humor. It wasn’t long before we found a common interest in fishing. I happened to own a boat and I invited Slim for a days fishing at a nearby reservoir. Well, you’d a thought I had taken Slim on a Canadian fly-in fishing trip the way he expressed himself over the day’s outing. I quickly learned that Slim could see the best in everything and he constantly pointed out sights that most folks would have never seen; the blue water of the lake, sun shining through the clouds, apple trees in bloom or maybe a pretty lady jogging with her dog. Slim saw it all!
I also owned horses and had been riding up into the high-country and catching beautiful cutthroat trout on about every other cast from shore. These high-country fishing trips were overnighters and reports to Slim about my horseback fishing adventures made his mouth drool!
Slim’s wife Margaret had been in bad health since I had met them. One afternoon Slim called to say his wife had passed away and asked if I would be a pallbearer. Days following the funeral I stopped by Slim’s place and we visited at length. Telling stories seemed to help take his mind off the loss of his long time mate. A week or two after the funeral a thought occurred to me to ask Slim if he thought he might be able to ride a horse. I had a dandy of mare that I guess you could say was a babysitter type. “Slim, do you think if we took some rest stops on the way up the mountain, you could make it to the high-country and fish with me? Could you sleep in a tent and sleeping bag for a night?” Slim’s face lit up like a six-year-old boy on Christmas morning. “Oh Freddy, that would be wonderful,” he answered. (Slim always called me Freddy) I brought Slim out to the ranch and evaluated the potential of him in a saddle for three hours or so. To no surprise to me, he showed not one sign of pain or stiffness and his enthusiasm for the high-county fishing trip was escalating by the minute.
A few days later I loaded the horses, two black and white Spotted Saddle Horses and Festina, my pack mule. As I pulled up to Slim’s house, he was waiting at the door with fishing rod case in hand. We got to the trailhead and quickly packed and saddled our horses and headed out on the trail that hopefully would produce fish and make an old friend one happy man. I have to confess, I’ve never had better company on a trail riding adventure in my entire life! My friend pointed out more beautiful sights than I was ever aware of, even though I had been on the trail many times before; the snow glacier near the peak of the far off mountain, the crystal blue skies, a Stellar’s Jay, Red Squirrel, Bald Eagle, Blue Grouse hen with chicks, Mule Deer doe with twin fawns, tracks, scat, wild flowers and berries. “Freddy, isn’t this something up here?” Slim asked. “Indeed my friend, indeed,” I thought to myself. I knew where I wanted to pitch the tent and put up the Hi-Line for the horses, but I thought I’d seek Slim’s approval. “How is this spot for the night my friend?” “Looks perfect to me Freddy! Let’s unsaddle and turn the horses out to eat while you and I see if we can catch dinner,” Slim replied. Slim was quickly ruffling through his backpack looking for lures so he could make that long awaited cast into the lake he had been thinking about for days. In truth, it didn’t take a great fisherman to catch a fish on this lake. Not on this day anyway. The task of getting to the lake was made possible by good horses and Slim and I were reaping the benefits. Cast after cast we hauled in 12”-15” colorful cutthroat trout. “Release ‘em Slim, we’ll keep a few for dinner later. You keep a fishin’. I am going to put a few beers in the water, make camp and start a fire,” I told him. After I got everything set up, I yelled out to Slim, “Time to catch a few for dinner!” Twenty minutes later, our dinner was delivered by a fellow who looked as proud as a peacock. I cooked as Slim and I enjoyed a few “Cool Ones!” I never heard Slim refer to a beer as a beer. It was always a “Cool One.” I also don’t ever recall Slim drinking more than three beers in an entire day. He however enjoyed his “Cool One” just as much as he enjoyed everything around him. After two or three hours of soaking up the enjoyment of the campfire, as well as the stars and three quarter moon, it was time to turn in.
Morning didn’t come early. Heck, we were on a vacation! The only task we had to complete that day was to have a ball and get back to the trailhead before nightfall. I got up, turned the horses out again to graze, and started a fire and a pot of coffee. I truly believe there isn’t a better cup of coffee in the world than cowboy coffee made on an open fire. I was enjoying my third or fourth cup when I heard Slim begin to move around in the tent. “Ready for a cup of coffee Slim?” I asked. “Oh boy Freddy, that sounds good,” he answered. Waiting a few minutes and no Slim, I asked, “You okay?” “Can’t find my teeth!” he mumbled “What? Where’d ya put ‘em?” I questioned. “I put them in a glass of water when I went to bed,” my friend replied. Glass of water…glass of water, I thought. I don’t remember any glass with water in the tent. The only container I could think of was the coffee pot I had filled with lake water in anticipation of morning coffee. I grabbed a cooking mitten and a long handled spoon and reached for the pot sitting on a flat rock next to the fire. “Slim, you’d better come look!” Yes sirree bob…I had been enjoying my cowboy coffee with Slim’s dentures in it!!! Slim poked his head out of the tent opening and with an expression of relief said, “There they are!” There they are? There they are? Hell’s bells, his dentures were browner than the tops of my boots. Slim picked them up and kind of molded them with his fingers and in his mouth they went. “Oh they’re fine,” he proclaimed! The sight of my friend with his long slender nose that wiggled and a dark, brown-toothed smile made me forget all about previously enjoying my denture-brewed coffee. “Got something to clean those babies with Slim?” I asked. “No,” Slim replied, “I forgot to bring my denture cleaner.” “Take ‘em down to the lake and try rubbing them with sand,” I suggested. Well my cowboy coffee had stained the dentures so bad we couldn’t lighten the dark brown color for nothing. Every time Slim opened his mouth I started to laugh. I just couldn’t help it. I told Slim if anyone came along or we met someone on the trail on the way down, he’d have to keep his mouth SHUT! “You’ll scare a person to death!” I said. “Okay Freddy,” Ol’ Slim reluctantly agreed. We finished off the morning by catching a few more trout and frying them along with some eggs and Texas toast. Slim stood quietly watching fish jump on the surface of the lake. I wondered if Slim would see this sight again or if this was his last horseback ride up into the high-country. I tried not to think about what the future might hold but chose to concentrate on what a great time I was having with a true dear friend.
With the horses all packed and saddled I helped my friend mount up, then off down the trail we went with Slim again pointing out every magnificent thing God had created. I turned around in the saddle and reminded Slim not to be showing his big ol’ grin if we met someone before we could make those teeth pearly white again. “I’m serious Slim,” I firmly suggested. Looking up ahead I could see two women hikers who kindly had moved off the trail to let our horses pass. I said good morning and thanked them for their thoughtfulness of stepping off the trail. I also waited and listened for Slim to acknowledge the visitors we just met. A voice from behind me said, “Wello Wadies!” The challenge of Slim greeting our hikers and not giving them a heart attack made me smile from ear to ear. I knew there was no way he could ride past someone without saying Hello!
Not sure what Slim did to get his teeth white again but the high-country horseback fishing trip gave my friend and I memories we still share with one another. We just don’t do it over a “Cool One” anymore.
Fread M.
Trail Horses of the West
