Wyoming State Muzzle Loading Association  

http://www.wyomingmuzzleloaders.com

Letter from the Editor

    First off I would like to apologize to everyone. I didn’t have my head screwed on straight after I got home from convention. Anyway I owe you all a big thank you for a job well done putting on a really nice convention. To the board, the traders, the demonstrators and everyone one who came and enjoyed.                                       

                                          THANK YOU!!

    Bill and I now have the new website up and running for you all to enjoy. Hopefully we will have all the needed info on it concerning our great association the WSMLA.

                   www.wyomingmuzzleloaders.com

                                         The April newsletter is posted on it.

   This info concerns the clubs who are sponsoring State Sanctioned Shoots. The name of the shooter, target and scores for all competitors shall be posted out where everybody can see them throughout the event.

    I guess you all will just have to keep checking the website ever once in awhile to see if the newsletter is on it, since I have very few e-mail address’s, so I can’t notify everybody when it will be there.

    If you want to help sell raffle tickets or buy them for the trade gun, you need to get hold of Carrie Gavin. Her address and phone number is on the board of directors list.   

   If anyone out there has old newsletters from the beginning of the association through 1986, could I talk you into sending them to me? I will copy them and return them to you. I need the info for the Historical records. THANKS

    Another project that I’ve been toying with is a photo album for the association, or someone who would be willing to put one together. Then we could have it at convention for everybody to look through. It would be nice to see how we were in the past and for the new people to see how it was. I enjoyed the pictures that were posted in registration this year at convention. Maybe this would be a good project for one of the ladies of this great outfit, I sure hope so anyway.

    Well enough blather out of this old man, see ya some place down the road. Got me a new flinter-she is going to be my primary rifle with any luck. Now, maybe Ron will quit giving me such as bad time about being a percussion man, who knows.

 The Old Trader

 “Innkeeper, I’ll have a whiskey…..no, on second thought make it a pint”.  I’m plumb parched and a flagon of ale sounds a whole lot better to this old man right now”.  The man sighed and wiped the dust from his sweaty brow.

 “Comin’ right up Gov’ner”, bellowed the barkeep, as he pulled the tap handle and drew a pint for the thirsty stranger.

 “Haven’t seen ya here in Parsons before, good sir”, pried the barkeep, “Looks like you’ve spent your whole life in the mountains, for sure, he added, as he sized up the grizzled gent with the long, scraggly beard.

 “Guess you could say that”, replied the newcomer who met the barkeep’s gaze with steely eyes that had seen it all.   “Name’s Black, James Alfred Black…..folks just call me J.A.”, he added with a wink.  Raising his stein to his lips, he paused in a toast to the innkeeper; “We surely thank you”.   

Seeing the conversation wasn’t immediately going to develop further at the moment, the innkeeper nodded and as he began his return to the bar, remarked, “You’re most welcome now for sure, and if ye be needin’ a room for the night or anything else, just say the word”   

“Very kind of you sir, but I’m going to be looking at the old Black place and I just dropped by for some refreshment before I head out of town”, he added.  “If the place looks suitable ’m thinking I’ll settle here, for awhile anyway”, JA added.  Little did the barkeep know that this very hamlet was his birthplace over sixty years ago.  But with his exodus over 40 years previous a fair sized town had grown up around what JA remembered of the village.

 Indeed, he did hope to re-establish some roots and live his remaining years in a manner to which he would like to become accustomed.  At least, a life of ease was what he had dreamed about on the long, annual sojourns he had taken each summer into the shinin’ mountains.  There at rendezvous he’d trade rifles, whisky, gun powder, traps, tobacco, and other fooferaw with the trappers and return with their many packs of plews.  Back in St. Louis the beaver, muskrat and an occasional buffalo robe would bring more than enough money for him to lay up for the winter. re-supply the necessities for his business, and in a good year still have a few pieces of silver left.  Those he’d tuck away in a satchel he kept hidden in the paunch of a full sized mounted bison he kept in the kitchen, its horns facing west, always facing west towards the mountains and the next rendezvous.

 It had been a good run, but the underbelly of the fur trade had long since exposed it’s vulnerability to the changes in fashion, and the beaver had pretty well been trapped out.  Being the entrepreneur he was, he had continued to supply the endless wagon trains of settlers hoping for greener pastures on the trails headed west, and following that, the buffalo hunters.  If you knew where to look, many kettles, belt axes, Green River knives, and other assorted goods probably still displayed the cryptic “spaenx, bdrxxx, llmzzV” identification engravings that were his trademark.  But he was tired.  It was time for him and his wife Kay to relax; maybe do some research into his ancestry, and maybe go through the many journals of his travels and publish some books.    

He had a much younger half brother that supposedly still lived around these parts, a man named Dusty, but it had been years since they had talked.  A sister Janie had gone to the heavens a few years back but still JA wanted to find his parents’ old place and have a reflective, personal look around before letting brother know he was moving back.  So many years, so much black powder sent to the heavens.  JA sighed, shook his head as if to pull himself back to the present, and rose to his feet to leave. “My good man…., I’d best be on my way.  Can you direct me to the land agent so I can verify where I think the Black place is situated?”

 “Surely now I can”, but you won’t be needin’ a land agent.  The old Black place is just a few furlongs north and then a few more to the east”, offered the innkeeper, gesturing this way and that.  “When you get to the Hubenkowitz saddle shop, that pretty well is the end of town…..you can’t miss the turn to the east”, he added.   You can’t miss the old Black place….just look for the grove of old pecan trees down by the river”

 “We thank you kindly now”, nodded the old man as he tipped his well worn, broad brimmed, fedora with its colorfully quilled band.    

 The innkeeper went to the window and watched as the old trapper climbed on a well used wagon being pulled by an even older white nag, and as he took the reins, clucked “Let’s go, Caprice”.   The innkeeper watched as they steadily rolled up the hill and out of sight headed north. 

 “I reckon there’s a lot more to that old man than what meets the eye”, the innkeeper said out loud as if there were someone to hear his words.   

*** Two ***

 It had been a long ride, despite the innkeeper’s words that it was “only a few furlongs this way and then that”, grumbled the old man.  “The tipsy lummox probably hasn’t gone further than the wine cellar out back of the inn”, he snorted.  The August sun was high in a cloudless sky, and with a “whoa, Caprice”, the wagon came to a stop under a stately elm where JA reached into the back of the wagon and withdrew a gourd canteen, pulled the stopper and took several glugs of water.  Wiping his dripping, chest length beard with a shirt sleeve, he looked around him and surveyed the territory.   In the distance, he could make out a dense thicket of trees.  “That’s probably the river….it’s starting to look familiar”, the old man thought out loud.   “Giddyap, Caprice”, he barked, and with a tug of the reigns the rattling wagon and its curmudgeonly driver headed west towards the trees.

 Several bumps and ruts later, the wagon and its grumbling driver came to a broken down gate and in the clearing ahead he could see a large grove of pecan and walnut trees.  Just ahead was a fair sized cabin that looked to be in pretty fair shape except for the sod roof which was in need of some repair. 

“Whoa Caprice”, he called to the old white mare.  “I think I’ll have a look around.  This certainly seems like the old home place but it’s so overgrown”.   JA alit from the wagon and surveyed the cabin and the weathered but still upright out buildings to the rear of the cabin. 

 The door was locked but he was able to peer in a dusty window and have a look around.  The old place still contained a few sticks of furniture; primitive living but adequate for awhile, JA surmised.   “I can put the buffalo right there looking out towards the road….looking west, as always”, he mumbled. 

“In the big shed out back a fellow could probably set up a small store, or maybe a museum”, he thought out loud.  He then chuckled, “Hell, every place I’ve ever lived in turned into either a store or museum anyway”.  

 JA recalled his first “store” back in Pittsburgh when he was attending University.  Though a student of the King’s English, even then he held a fascination with history, adventure, and military armament.  Instead of books by Shakespeare, he started collecting revolutionary war hardware and at one point contemplated buying a large howitzer.  In rapid order, one room of he and his all suffering spouse’s house soon was taken over by his collection. 

 After completing his University education, he and Kay moved to Summerfield where he began instructing English at the local school.  Kay became a schoolmarm who taught mathematics.  It wasn’t long though before JA became the Headmaster for the school, but still his real love was in things that go boom.  As in Pittsburgh, one room of their homestead became a store where JA sold gunpowder, firearms, and other supplies to the townspeople and hunters.   It wasn’t long before beaver hats came into fashion and he soon found himself supplying the first companies of trappers and wayward free spirits headed into the mountains. 

 Stories were rampant in the village, of adventure in spades, and fortunes to be made.  The long and dreary days of overseeing the little school in town, began to wear on JA, and one evening after a particularly dull day in the schoolhouse, he announced to Kay that he thought he might buy a couple more wagons and horses in Joplin, and head west into the Wind Rivers to re-supply the mountain men. 

 Being the practical one in the family, Kay asked how he would be able to compete with the big traders, Sublette, Fitzpatrick and the rest.  After all, she reasoned, they had their own companies of trappers on the string.  JA reasoned that he planned to trade to the free trappers, and at first offer more for their packs of plews.  It wouldn’t be long, he reasoned, that even the company men would come around.  Before long, he’d have a fair share of the trade in the mountains and maybe he could make a living.  “I’m just not cut out to be a damned professor”, JA had said. 

 Gazing through the hzay window pane and around the spread brought back a flood of memories.  His dad had built him some stilts that were so tall he had to climb up on the roof to mount them.  He remembered how is sister Janie lost all her eyebrows when he had almost blown up the stove with gunpowder trying to light it one cold day when the folks were in town.  He chuckled as he remembered getting in trouble with the fire department for exploding fireworks in town too.  But the biggest fireworks went off when he told Kay that he was going to quit his job as an educator and head for the mountains.  JA remembered saying firmly; “Anyway, I’ve made up my mind.  I talked to T. Bennett Lehman this morning about building me some rifles and pistols to trade.  He’s one of the best gun makers in these parts for sure.  The challenge is going to be to get him to speed up his production and cease doing those damned fancy inlays that only add to the cost and bog him down”. 

 And so it came to be.  JA had left Kay behind in the settlements to tend school while he amassed a goodly assortment of hard goods and fooferaw to take with him to the Rocky Mountains.  He had gotten somewhat of a late entry into the business but his plan paid off.  Where Fontenelle and Fitzpatrick would pay $2.50 per plew, JA would offer $2.75.  It wasn’t long before word got out that he not only paid more in trade but had a better line of goods.  He carried with him a few T Bennett Lehman rifle guns to be sure, but his claim to fame became trade beads. 

 No one really understood why JA even messed with so many different varieties and colors of the damned glass things, and to make matters even dicier, they were quite breakable unless well padded and packed for the trip to rendezvous each summer.   But the mountain men and their squaws liked them and it seemed to be what set him apart from the other traders with their kegs of pony beads and occasional strands of Coeur d’ Alenes or padres.  It also helped JA gain the lion’s share of the bead trade with the Nez Perce, Flatheads, and other native tribes that came to rendezvous. 

** * THREE ***

 JA took a deep sigh and turned away from the window of the old cabin.  “Guess this will do just fine.  Needs a fair amount of fixin’ up but I think Kay and I can retire here and make ends meet”.  When he had put the padlock on the store back at Fort Simple just west of St. Louis, he found the buffalo in the kitchen pretty well full of silver and gold coins.  If he spent his savings wisely, he might just make it without having to live like a pauper.         

 With one final glance back, he boarded the rickety wagon and clucked; “Giddyap Caprice” and headed for the gate and the town.  He’d get a room at the inn for the night, call on the land agent in the morning and buy his childhood home, and then set about finding his brother Dusty.  On his way down the rutted road, he remarked out loud; “Could be a dandy location for a little store though….stock a few guns, some leather goods, and maybe a few beads if there’s anybody in these parts still interested in the damned things  Once a trader always a trader I guess……..”                                                                                                    Stands-In-Ants 

JA Black, the cowby Parons, KS, Circa 56

 

    Rabbit Huntin’ Walkin’ Eagle Style

   Loaded up all the huntin’ equipment in the old pickup truck, put the .45 Leman in the gun rack along with shootin’ bag and horn. Drove out to the head of Sage Creek east of Worland. Remembered that I forgot to go buy a small game license. Oh well! I doubt if the local game fuzz will come out here anyway. Jumped out of the old truck, put the bino’s in one pocket, a couple sandwich’s and a warm beer in another, a rabbit call around my neck, grabbed the Leman, shootin’ bag and horn. Headed down off this long old ridge towards the head of Sage Creek. I knew of a place where I’d seen a lot of rabbit sign in October when I was out there deer huntin’. This is November and still no snow on the ground to speak of so it was easy going for this old man. Anyway I wandered down a side draw until I came to the rabbit waterin’ hole, there I set up my sagebrush blind. Got everything ready and cozy for a day of watchin’ the old waterhole, which by the way had a skim of ice on it. So decided I’d better go cut a hole in it so Mr. Bunny could get a drink. That done I headed back to the blind and got settled back in.

   Caught movement out of the corner of my eye up on this high ridge to me left, grabbed the bino’s for a better look, sure enough it was a couple bunny rabbits. By now they was just sittin’ there looking’ around and doin’ what rabbits do ya know. Well says I, it will be awhile fore they get here so guess I will take a little snooze.

   When I woke up the sun was high in the sky, I decided it was time to make use of those two sandwiches and that now cool beer and to look around to see if I could locate those two rabbits. Couldn’t see them anywhere so decided to use my rabbit call, blew on it a couple times and saw movement on a ridge to my right. I thought all right, going to get some action now. Got the old Leman capped and set on my cross sticks, got the bino’s out and sure enough I was going to get some action. Blew one more time on the call, real loud and screechy like. They was within about 75 yards and a comin’ in fast. I decided to let them get about 40 yards or so away before I let the back one have it, Kaboom lots of smoke couldn’t see nothin’ When the smoke lifted, boy did I have a fine prize, one of the biggest Coyotes I’d ever got with the old Leman.

                  Copper Lady’s Vittles

  With the early stirrings of spring and the last snows for the winter (we hope), this is a good time to go over your equipment for food preparation and eating.  Trail food and utensils used by Rogers Rangers on scouting excursions described in Muzzleloader (November/December 1993) lists the following basics:  horn mug or tin cup, small kettle, canteen or tin flask for rum, antler salt horn, tin plate, clasp knife and fork, knife with sheath and tin spoon.  Large cooking fork and spoon that hang on the fire iron are handy.

  Most of us also take along fire irons, a cast iron pot or two, and some sort of skillet.   We may prefer a wooden spoon or antique knife-fork-spoon set used with enameled cup and plate.  What we choose to carry depends on our level of primitiveness' and how its transported.  What is carried on horseback will obviously be more compact than in a trailer behind a pickup.

 Now is the time to go over your supplies, replace what’s gotten lost, strayed or stolen since you last went to rendezvous.   Notice what seasonings you want to add, what equipment needs replacement.  Check for items put away dirty or which have become dusty over the winter, and for ones with so many nicks and knocks they need to be replaced or put on a shelf to remember the good times.

 This is a much better to think about all this than midnight the night before you want to get up at dawn to head out.

 If you get new cast iron cookware or the old one needs re-curing, you might consider cleaning it out with a hot sudsy water, dry over heat.  At the campsite, fill it with oil for deep fat frying something like Dutch Oven Sinkers. (Or deep fry your dinner meat in it.)

 Dutch Oven Sinkers  

(adapted from Old Fashioned Dutch Oven Cookbook, by Don Holm)

 

2 cups flour                                                    ½ tsp. salt

2 tsp baking powder                                     2 tsp shortening

½ cup sugar                                                   dash of nutmeg

1 egg or milk or water

 Mix flour, salt, baking powder, nutmeg and sugar with shortening into a coarse mixture and store in the refrigerator until ready to use.

 At campsite, and oil is almost ready to fry the Sinkers add an egg or enough liquid to the dry mixture to make a stiff dough.  Break into small chunks and gently slide into the hot deep fat.  Makes a tasty dessert or snack.

 Antelope Steaks

Cut from the hip bone in ¾ inch steaks, antelope steaks make good eating.  For a change of pace, or to reduce the gamy flavor, marinate the steaks overnight before cooking.  When ready to cook, lift the steaks from the marinade and drain on paper towel. Lightly brown a bed of sliced onions in the pan.  Flour both sides of the steak, push the onions aside and lay steaks in the middle.  After both sides are brown, pour in a small amount of your favorite juice (apple, wine, other) and reduce the heat to allow the meat to simmer to tenderness.  Serve with your favorite carbohydrate or try Potatoes Lyonnaise.

 Try this to Marinate

Sprinkle garlic salt or similar seasoning over the meat and place in a dish.  Mix in a bowl 1 Tbsp vinegar (balsamic or other), 1 Tbsp soy sauce and a dash of Worcestershire sauce, and pour over the meat.  Turn it a couple of times to make sure both sides absorb the flavors.

 Potatoes Lyonnaise (From The Buckskinner’s Cookbook)

Fry a small, sliced onion until limp, add diced or thinly sliced potatoes (previously boiled).  Turn frequently until potatoes are mostly browned.  Salt and pepper to taste.   Or thinly sliced pre-boiled potatoes could be added to the antelope steaks and onions when they are nearly done.

Wyoming Muzzle Loading Clubs

Big Horn Basin Muzzle Loaders Monthly Shoot 1st Sunday of each Month	David Tyrrell P.O. Box 92 Shell, WY  82441 307-765-2289	Tom Brewster 1202 Road 47 Ten Sleep, WY  82442 307-366-2391
Deer Creek Muzzle Loaders	Dave Hein 731 N. McKinley Casper, WY  82601 307-237-9631	Paula Sorter 1448 W. 29th St. Casper, WY  82604 307-237-3743
Rocky Mountain Free Trappers	Mike Corrigan 7459 E. Geary Dome Rd. Evansville, WY  82636 307-237-5136	Ken Hall 6375 Westland Rd Casper, WY  82604 307-472-4175
Sheridan Bullshooters Monthly shoot last Sunday of each Month	Roger Roebling P.O. Box 535 Dayton, WY  82836 307-655-2583	Ed Green 655 E. Burkitt St. Sheridan, WY  82801 307-674-6343
Wind River Muzzle Loaders Monthly Shoot 2nd Sunday of each Month	Travis Bennet P.O. Box 1205 Riverton, WY  82501 307-856-6152
Crow Creek Fur Co.	Mike Penz 117 East 3rd. Ave. Cheyenne, WY  82001 307-635-0791	Chris Allen,  2920 Ames Ct.,  Cheyenne, WY 82001  307-635-8425.
Sierra Madre Muzzle Loaders	Ed Kennaday P.O. Box 372 Saratoga, WY  82331 307-326-5059	Les Daniels P.O. Box 1051 Saratoga, WY  82331 307-326-8197
Platte Valley Muzzleloaders Monthly shoot 3rd Sunday of each Month	Bryan Youngberg 307-266-9692     bryan.youngberg@gmail.com