Got the new bookcase out of its box and the pieces hauled upstairs. Whew, that thing is heavy! And you could injure yourself just unpacking it - heavy cardboard and those mean big copper staples.
I you are old (like me) and have lived in Wyoming a long time, you may remember this horse. His picture used to be on every postcard rack in the state. He was a wild stud, captured down by Wamsutter on the desert. The rancher who caught him decided to keep him. He lived for years, and sired many colts. He was in a pasture down by Glenrock, when someone shot him and several other horses.
Here is a link to the story about him:
The rancher who owned him was named Frank Robbins, and I met him once, under comical circumstances. Some of my friends and I were goofing around in Shoshoni, just driving around. It was time for the little bus to come in from Casper, so we went down to the Shoshoni garage to watch it. (Yeah, that's the kind of thing you do if you grow up in Shoshoni. Once in a while, someone actually got off the bus!)
And this night, someone did get off the bus - a drunk cowboy, no coat in the middle of winter, no shoes, and no wallet. Seems he was drinking with some friends in the Elbow Room in Casper, and when he reached a certain point, they decided to put him on the bus to Shoshoni, as a prank.
He was pretty confused, and looked pretty helpless to us, and cold. So we took him to the Derby Bar and Dining Room, where Nick fixed him a steak. The bartender gave him a pair of shoes, and someone else found him a coat. Nick let him sleep on the mattress in the old gambling room, and staked him to bus fare back to Casper the next day.
And that's how I met the owner of Desert Dust.