Big Dave: The Summer of 1941

By Robert W. Callis

In the summer of 1941, the area around Kemmerer, Wyoming, is still in the grip of the Great Depression. World War II rages overseas in Europe and Asia but is not yet a reality in the United States.
This is the story of eight young men, newly graduated from Kemmerer High School, as they make their journey from boyhood to manhood in a summer filled with new challenges, new opportunities, and new dangers. Some will succeed. Some will fail. This is their story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781663252111

Robert W. Callis

Robert W. Callis is a native of Galva, Illinois. He graduated from Iowa Wesleyan University in 1965 with a B.A degree, majoring in History and minoring in English. At Wesleyan he was a member of Sigma Tau Delta literary society. He attended the College of Law at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois. He is a retired commercial banker. This is his twelfth novel and his second stand alone novel. He has written ten novels in the Kit Andrews series. He currently resides in the foothills outside Boulder, Colorado, where he has lived since 1984.

Book preview

Chapter One

Early Summer, 1941

Big Dave pulled the old GMC ¾ ton pickup truck to the side of the two track he had been driving on for the past hour. He shut off the engine and turned to the young man seated next to him.

This here is where I saw those maverick calves yesterday, he said. There’s a small water hole about three miles north of here. I think we got a good chance of catching some of them critters at that waterhole.

Sounds good to me, responded his passenger, Rupert Sanders. Rupert was shorter than Big Dave, and he was skinny as a rail. Big Dave stood six foot four inches tall and weighed about two hundred and twenty-five pounds of pure muscle. He had huge hands for a young man, only eighteen years old. Both men had just graduated from high school and were working all the angles they could find to make and save enough money to give each of them a start in the livestock business.

Rupert hated his first name and had been known as Rocky since he was in the first grade. He had managed to beat up every boy in school who had made fun of his real first name until one day in the seventh grade when he found himself outnumbered and getting pummeled after school out in the parking lot.

As Rocky lay on his back in the gravel lot trying to use his hands to defend himself from the four boys pounding on him, he felt a sudden shadow fall across him that seemed to obliterate the bright sunshine he had felt on his face. By some magical force, the boys on top of him seemed to rise in the air and disappear until suddenly he was no longer encumbered by the bodies and arms and legs of his four attackers.

Rocky looked up and saw the source of the shadow that had blotted out the sun and then managed to toss the four boys aside like four small bales of hay. What Rocky saw was the face and body of a young Viking giant. He quickly recognized his Viking rescuer as none other than David Carlson, known in school as Big Dave.

Big Dave extended a huge hand, and Rocky quickly grasped it with his own. Big Dave pulled Rocky to his feet. Rocky proceeded to dust himself off and then looked straight at Big Dave with a puzzled face.

Why’d you do it? Rocky asked.

Do what? asked Big Dave.

Help me with those four assholes, responded Rocky.

I was watching you with them rascals and you was doin’ pretty fair for a skinny little runt, but then I saw one of them Barlow boys pull out a pair of brass knuckles and I just couldn’t abide that happenin’, said Big Dave.

With that said, Big Dave put his arm around Rocky’s shoulders. Let’s get you over to the restroom and get you cleaned up, he said.

From that day forward, Rocky and Big Dave were almost inseparable as best friends.

Rocky got out of the truck and walked back to the two-horse trailer hitched to the back of the old GMC pickup truck. Big Dave joined him there and unlocked the latch on the back of the horse trailer and swung the trailer gate to the side.

Rocky moved to the front of the trailer and grabbed the lead rope on one of the two horses and moved the rope along the side slats of the trailer, forcing the horse to back out and onto the ground. Rocky then held the mare still, while Big Dave grabbed the saddle blanket, saddle, and bridle out of the back of the pickup. He placed the bridle on the mare’s head, slapped a blanket on the horse’s back, added the saddle and connected and tightened the cinch. He put his knee on the mare’s side to push the air out, so the saddle would fit tightly and finished tightening the cinch strap.

Once finished, Rocky tied off the mare to the side of the horse trailer and he repeated the process with the gelding in the trailer. When they were finished, both men mounted their horses and set off at a lope toward the water hole Big Dave had mentioned.

As they rode toward the water hole, Big Dave studied the sky and his surroundings. The day was warm and there were few clouds to block the sun’s rays. There was a slight breeze, but it came and went. It was a warm day for early summer and both men wore jeans, long sleeved denim shirts, cowboy hats, boots, and leather gloves.

Big Dave had exceptionally good eyesight, and he had learned at a young age to use his strong eyesight to his advantage. He was always scanning his surroundings, looking for what didn’t belong. It had served him well in hunting wild animals for meat, and it had worked well in spotting maverick calves in the brush covered landscape of western Wyoming.

As they neared the location of the water hole, Big Dave held up a hand to signal a halt and both men sat on their now still horses, side by side.

I’ll take a look see and be right back, said Big Dave.

He dismounted and handed his reins to Rocky. Then he moved slowly forward. Instead of following a straight line to the water hole, he moved sideways and diagonally from bush to bush, bent low at the waist. When he felt he was close enough, he went down to his knees and scanned the area around the waterhole. Then he crawled forward several yards on his hands and knees, still moving slowly.

Finally, he came to a halt and propped himself up on his elbows. He scanned the area in front of him and then dropped down, turned, and began to crawl back the way he had come.

Once he was no longer in the line of sight from the waterhole, he rose to his feet and slowly moved back to where Rocky, and the two horses were waiting. When he reached the horses, he paused to brush himself off.

Any luck? asked Rocky.

We hit the jackpot, said Big Dave softly. There’re at least half a dozen calves at the water hole. Three are laying in the shade of some mesquite bushes. None of them are branded.

Big Dave mounted the mare and untied the lasso from his saddle. Rocky did the same. When we reach the water hole, you take the left and I’ll take the right, whispered Big Dave. Rocky nodded his head that he understood. The two men slowly approached the waterhole in single file with Big Dave in the lead.

There was a slight rise in the ground before the water hole and when the two cowboys reached it, they halted with Rocky on the left and Big Dave on the right.

Let’s get ’em, said Big Dave. Both men spurred their horses and quickly rode over the rise and headed down into the hollow where the water hole was located.

As the two cowboys exploded out of the sagebrush, the calves sprang to their feet and then turned around in terror, trying to understand where the danger was coming from, and which way led to safety and freedom. Young calves can run pretty well, but not when they are pursued by a horse at full gallop. Big Dave had his calf roped within sixty seconds. The calf went down, and Big Dave’s mare immediately came to a stop and backed up, keeping the rope on the calf tight. Big Dave was instantly out of the saddle and running to the downed calf with rawhide thongs between his teeth. He grabbed the calf and threw it down on its side. Then he used the thongs to tie the calf’s legs together. He rose to his feet next to the downed calf and looked around for Rocky.

Rocky had taken longer, but he was down on one knee, tying up his calf’s legs with a long rawhide thong. Big Dave made his way over to where Rocky was standing next to his trussed-up calf.

Both men were breathing hard but had big grins on their faces. Nice work, said Big Dave.

Nice work for both of us, replied a grinning Rocky.

Let’s get them calves properly trussed up and then get them back to the truck and trailer, said Big Dave.

I’m on it, said Rocky. The two men grabbed more rawhide thongs and then tied the calf’s hind legs together and then the forelegs as well. Big Dave slung the calf up onto the mare’s saddle with the tied forelegs on one side and the hind legs on the other and the two men walked back to where Big Dave’s calf lay tied up, leading the mare.

Once they reached the second calf, they repeated the process. They slung the second bound calf over the mare’s saddle, next to the first calf. Then Big Dave mounted his gelding and led the mare back the three miles to where the truck and trailer awaited them. When Big Dave had unloaded the calves into the bed of the pickup, he grabbed the reins of the mare and led her back three miles to a waiting Rocky.

The two men rode back to the truck and loaded the horses back into the trailer. Then they drove back to Big Dave’s father’s ranch and released the calves into a small corral.

After making sure the calves had hay and water, they drove back to the same spot on the open range where they had previously parked and began the process all over again. By the end of the day, they had roped and caught three more maverick calves and returned them to the tiny corral. After turning the calves loose in the corral, they unloaded the horses, unsaddled them, and wiped them down. The two cowboys led them into stalls in the barn where they had grain, hay, and water set out. It was dark by then, and the two tired young cowboys agreed to meet in the morning and brand the calves with Big Dave’s father’s registered brand.

Rocky headed for home. Big Dave headed for the ranch house to see what was for supper.

Chapter Two

Big Dave entered the low roofed ranch house and immediately went to the wash basin and used it and a towel to clean off his hands, forearms, and face. He hung his cowboy hat on a peg and entered the kitchen and dining area. It was late and both his father and his brothers had eaten and gone. His stepmother motioned him to the table and filled a plate with food warming on the stove. She was Big Dave’s father’s third wife. Big Dave’s father and the entire family were Mormons. Big Dave was more of a Jack Mormon. He followed the rules he thought made sense and ignored the ones he didn’t care for. He also had a very spotty record for attending church. The last time he went he heard a sermon that was more of a lecture on the need to tithe to the church. Big Dave had snorted aloud when he heard that from the preacher’s mouth. He was making nothing and so the church was getting ten percent of nothing.

After taking his dishes into the kitchen and placing them in the sink, he thanked his stepmother number two and headed off to bed. He needed to get up early and meet Rocky at six in the morning at a spot just south of Kemmerer. He couldn’t use the truck this time, so he would have to ride the ten miles into town and then three more miles south. He headed out to the small ranch bunkhouse and glanced up at the sky. It was a clear night and there were tons of stars shining above him. The moon was almost full, and he could easily see his way to the bunkhouse. The bunkhouse was a low, one- story log building that had been erected when Marcus’s sons became adults. It was small, but adequate for four bunks and four small trunks to hold clothes and personal items. Pegs on the wall held extra clothes. A small pot-bellied stove stood at the far end of the building with a wooden crib to hold firewood. The front door was the only entrance and exit and each side of the building held one window for light and ventilation in the warm months.

Once there, he made sure his Winchester lever action rifle was loaded and he pulled out a box of 30-30 shells from his trunk and placed them next to the rifle under his bed. It would save time in the morning. He’d be getting up at the crack of dawn to make it to his rendezvous with Rocky at six A.M. He slipped out of his clothes and into his bunk. He was asleep in minutes, despite the snoring and farting he could hear from his brothers’ beds.

*     *     *

Dawn came early the next morning, and Big Dave was the first one up and dressed and out the door with his boots on. His rifle and vest in hand, he made his way to the barn and quickly saddled the pinto gelding he had come to consider his own personal horse. That wasn’t true, and he knew it. The horse and most everything around him belonged to his father. He owned his rifle and his saddle, bridle, and blanket, but that and the clothes on his back were his only real assets. His plan was to work hard, make money, and have his own place and his own sheep outfit. The reason he was building a herd of calves was because you could rope and claim an unbranded maverick calf, but there was no such legal allowance for collecting lambs.

After checking to make sure he had everything he needed, he stopped at the ranch house and slipped into the kitchen. There he grabbed a handful of antelope jerky and stuffed it in his vest pocket. That accomplished, he left the ranch house, filled his canteen at the pump, and then mounted the pinto gelding and rode north to Kemmerer. Rather than just ride on the shoulder of the narrow highway, he soon cut across country and took routes he had come to know like the back of his hand. Soon he could see the edge of Kemmerer where some lights were on in the half-dawn morning.

Rocky was waiting for him about three miles south of Kemmerer. He was in a clearing surrounded by large sagebrush. He had a small fire going and was seated on a flat rock. His horse and a pack mule were tied off to a stunted pine tree. When Big Dave dismounted and approached the fire, Rocky pulled out a thermos and poured hot coffee out into a small tin cup.

Big Dave tied his gelding off to a nearby sagebrush and walked over to Rocky. He took the offered cup and then took a long sip of hot coffee.

Damn that tastes good this morning, said Big Dave.

I swear hot gasoline would taste good to you in the morning, replied a grinning Rocky.

Some mornings, maybe, but not this one, responded Big Dave. Then he took another big gulp of hot coffee.

What’s the plan? asked Rocky as he screwed the top back on the old, battered thermos.

I thought we’d head over to the west side of the flats and see what we can see, said Big Dave. If we stick close to the Ham’s Fork, we’re likely to catch some of them deer strollin’ down for a morning drink.

Works for me, said Rocky.

They buried the small fire in dirt and made sure it was completely out.

Let’s go make some money, said Big Dave. He handed the tin cup back to Rocky and then mounted his gelding. Rocky mounted his horse and grabbed the lead rope for the mule. Big Dave led the way, and the two men headed deeper into the abundant sagebrush in the area south of Kemmerer known as the flats.

They rode slowly through the sagebrush covered flats and moved in a southwesterly direction. Soon they intersected with the Ham’s Fork River, which looked more like a creek than a river at that time of year. The snowmelt in the mountains had started but was not yet in full swing and thus the river was less than full or rushing.

The two men split up at the river, each one riding on a different side of the narrow stream. They rode slowly and tried to keep their passage as quiet as possible.

Big Dave was usually the first one to spot wild game, and this morning was no exception. His exceptional eyesight combined with his knowledge of wild game habits made him the hands-down choice to be the first to see any game.

Big Dave reined his gelding to a stop. He stood up in the stirrups and sniffed the air as he scanned his surroundings. Then he looked at Rocky and put his right hand up in the air. He turned it in a circle and then pointed downstream to a point where the river made a hard turn to the east. Rocky was on the east side. He nodded his understanding and he, like Big Dave, pulled his rifle out of the scabbard running under his right leg. Both men pulled down on their rifle levers to place a bullet in the chamber and to cock the weapon.

Then the two cowboys used their legs to move their mounts slowly forward, the mule trailing behind. They moved as quietly as they could manage. As they came to where the river turned sharply to the east, Big Dave could see the riverbank sloped down on the east side and the area was open, barren of any sagebrush. As he moved about fifteen yards further along the west bank of the river, he suddenly reined in his gelding to a halt and brought up his rifle.

Before Rocky had reached the point where the river turned sharply to the east, Big Dave fired four times. Each time he fired; he automatically worked the lever to load another round. He had fired four times in less than three seconds. The gelding had not moved, even though Big Dave was shooting over the horse’s head. Very few horses would do that and remain still. The noise of the rifle firing was usually enough to frighten the horse and cause it to buck off the rider, rifle, and all. Big Dave had worked to train the gelding and his training had paid off.

Rocky came around the curve of the river and cleared the wall of sagebrush he had been riding through. There on the riverbank were four dead deer, all does. None of them were moving. While Big Dave slid his rifle back into the scabbard and then looked for a good place to ford the river, Rocky dismounted from his horse and tied it and the mule off to a big chunk of river rock.

Rocky pulled out his hunting knife and went to the first dead doe. He slit the doe’s throat, and then turned the doe’s body so the head was downhill. This allowed the deer’s blood to drain from the body. He performed the same ritual with the other three dead deer. Then he cut off the heads and threw them on the ground. He started with the first deer, using his knife to cut open the body of the animal from the neck down the belly to the anus. When he finished cutting the deer open, he used both hands to scoop out the internal organs of the deer and deposited everything, along with the head, in what hunters referred to as a gut pile. He also carefully cut out the scent packs along the top of the legs and tossed them as well.

Rocky rose from his finished work on the first deer just in time to see Big Dave start work on the deer closest to the river. In about half an hour, they had gutted all four of the dead deer. They wrapped the carcasses in old burlap and then slung them over the back of the mule. Then they tied off the bags to the pack saddle on the not very happy mule. Even mules do not like the smell of blood.

After packing the deer carcasses on the mule, both men walked to the edge of the river and washed off their knives and dried them. Then they washed off their hands and arms in the icy cold river water.

Damn that water’s cold, said Rocky.

Snowmelt tends to keep the water chilly, said Big Dave with a chuckle.

Four deer enough for today? asked Rocky.

That’s about all the mule will handle, replied Big Dave. Anymore and we’re liable to have a mule rodeo, and I ain’t in the mood for that.

Both men retrieved their horses and were soon in the saddle.

Is the UP-work train in the same place? asked Big Dave.

They moved about five miles, responded Rocky. They’re workin’ about a mile and a half north of town.

Lead the way, said Big Dave.

Rocky nudged his horse in the ribs with his boots and with one hand holding the lead rope for the mule, the three-mount caravan was on its way.

Chapter Three

It was faster to travel cross country than try to stick to the county roads. Big Dave led the way, and they rode slowly, not wanting to lose the meat cargo on their pack animal. After two hours they were still in the flats but were now riding west of Kemmerer. They hit the railroad tracks and then followed the tracks to the northwest.

Their progress was slow, but steady. Half an hour later, they could see the work train on the tracks in the distance. As they neared the work train, they could see the gandy dancers more clearly. They were replacing a rail on the tracks. As they rode slowly past the railroad workers, they paused their work and raised their heads to see who was interrupting their day. When they saw the deer carcasses on the pack mule, they began to wave and cheer.

Fresh meat, was the cry that stood out.

Both Big Dave and Rocky grinned as they passed the sweating workers. Big Dave led the way to the last car in the work train. It was a caboose, but one used by the work train as both an office and the kitchen for the train. When they got to the back of the caboose, a short, stocky man with long hair and a full beard stepped out onto the tiny platform at the end of the caboose. He was wearing a dirty, blood-stained apron that might have actually been white one day in the distant past.

Howdy, said Big Dave.

Howdy yourself, sonny, replied the railroad man.

Got some fresh meat to sell if you’re interested, said Big Dave.

Always interested in fresh meat, replied the bearded man. It depends on the price.

I got four fresh kilt fat does, said Big Dave. I’m thinkin’ five bucks a doe.

I’m thinkin’ I should be retired and living on the beach someplace, said the bearded cook. That’ll happen about the time pigs start to fly.

What’s your offer? replied Big Dave. He was used to bartering with the railroad cooks and knew it was part of the game.

Well, sonny, I was thinking about a buck and a half a doe, replied the cook.

Shit, that’s highway robbery, even for a railroad cook, said Big Dave.

That’s my offer sonny. Take it or leave it, replied the cook.

I think three bucks a doe is fair, and we’ll help you unload them and get them into your train car, said Big Dave.

You drive a hard bargain for a youngster. Done, said the cook with a big grin on his face.

You heard the man, said Big Dave. Let’s get these deer unloaded and into the man’s train car.

Rocky tried to suppress the grin on his face but did a poor job of it. Both young men swung down from their saddles and began to untie the ropes holding the dead deer in place on the pack mule. Twenty minutes later, Big Dave and Rocky waved at the cook as they rode back toward Kemmerer. When they were out of sight of the work train, they stopped and dismounted. Big Dave pulled out the twelve dollars and gave half to Rocky. They each took a drink of water from their canteens and then they mounted their horses and began the ride back to Kemmerer.

They reached Kemmerer in less than an hour. There, they paused to shake hands and Rocky led his pack mule away to the east, and Big Dave turned his horse south, toward his father’s ranch.

By the time Big Dave reached the ranch, the sun sat low in the west. He unsaddled his horse and led it into a stall where he grained and watered the animal. Then he wiped the horse down with an old saddle blanket. Big Dave glanced at the sun in the western sky. He was about a half hour early for supper. He went to the side porch and washed his hands, forearms, and face in the tin pan after filling it with water. Then he toweled himself off and emptied the pan. Knowing it was still early, he went in the kitchen and asked his stepmother if there was anything she needed him to do.

She smiled at him and told him to get the hell out of her kitchen and leave her be. Big Dave smiled and went out to the front porch where he picked out a fairly sturdy chair and took a seat. Twenty minutes later, his father, and two brothers arrived and by the time they had washed up, Big Dave’s stepmother was ringing the dinner gong.

Dinner time was usually pretty noisy at first. It paused while Big Dave’s dad said grace, but once the food started hitting the plates, all conversation stopped and the only noise audible was the sound of food being devoured by four hungry men.

After dinner was finished, the men took their empty plates into the kitchen and slid them into the tub of soap and hot water after scraping them clean into a trash bucket. While Big Dave’s stepmother began cleaning up in the kitchen, the men retired to the outside porch and sat in the various chairs and on the steps of the old porch. Tobacco and alcohol were forbidden in the Mormon household, so Big Dave had to content himself with just the idea of having a good cigar or a drink of good whisky.

As the sun began to set, one of Big Dave’s brothers lit a kerosene lantern hanging from the one of the porch roof’s supports. That lasted until about eight o’clock when the men trooped off to their rooms or the bunkhouse. Someone blew out the lantern. The evening was over.

Chapter Four

The next morning everyone was up early. A sheep shearin’ crew from Australia was due about noon the next day. They would set up to begin shearin’ all Big Dave’s father’s sheep. The Olson men would be busy all day and the next morning moving all the sheep down to the ranch house area, so they could be processed and shorn of their year’s growth of wool. To accommodate the shearing crew, the men worked to set up holding pens and chutes to push the sheep through so the shearers could grab them and begin relieving them of their wool. Long narrow burlap bags were stacked in piles. They were used to store the wool after the sheep had been shorn. When they were stuffed full of wool, they were about ten feet long and four feet wide. Once full, the bags were tied off at the ends and then stacked in piles to be sent to the market in Utah.

When each sheep, ewe, weather, or buck was shorn, they were released into an open field beyond the wooden chutes they had come through. The sheep would be frightened, confused, and more than a few would have a few bloody scrapes on their hides.

Big Dave started early that morning with two dogs trailing him on horseback. He rode to the farthest herd of sheep and began moving them toward the ranch sheep pens with the help of the two herding dogs. Because many of the ewes had slung lambs, the move went much slower than Big Dave would have preferred but moving too fast would end up killing some lambs. Big Dave had no desire to be responsible for the death of some healthy spring lambs.

It was a cool morning when Big Dave set out, but by the time he had the herd of sheep rounded up and started moving them toward the ranch house, the sun was rising in the east and the temperature went up accordingly. Trailing behind a herd of sheep with lambs was slow, dusty, and dirty work. Big Dave stopped several times to grab his canteen and wash out his mouth, then spit everything out on the ground. He had his neckerchief pulled up over his nose to keep the dust out, but plenty of it managed to get through to his nose and mouth no matter what he did.

When he finally got the herd of sheep to the ranch grounds, it was almost noon. He grabbed a sandwich and a cup of coffee from his stepmother and set out to help bring in the next herd. By suppertime, he was just helping push the last herd into the fenced enclosure with the rest of the ranch’s sheep. The sheep were not happy. They were noisy and agitated. Ewes were constantly trying to keep track of their lambs and only added to the noise, dust, and general confusion.

It was almost eight in the evening before all the sheep were