Growing up as a youngster in Western Colorado, we always had horses, at times it would range from just a few head up to thirty or forty head, depending on what my father was using them for at the time. My father was most likely one of the greatest horsemen that I knew. He not only knew how to handle and get the most out of a horse, but he also respected them. However, he was not the best "cowboy" that I knew. When I think of a cowboy, only one image comes to mind and that was a gentleman by the name of Art McKelvey. His family and our family had been friends for many years and he worked with dad anytime that he had a large party of "dudes" or hunters to pack into the high country of Colorado. Art always had a few head of stock around his place, but never had the money to have a large ranch, instead he applied his trade as a cowboy to the other ranchers in the area. He and his wife Ruth, had sons and daughters that were similar in age to my older siblings. If you enjoy a good western movie, I would recommend the new release of "Monte Walsh" starring Tom Selleck. In this movie, Tom Selleck represented what Art McKelvey lived. When I was stationed as a recruiter in Durango, by coincidence Jack McKelvey was teaching school at the High School level. Learning that I was there, we were able to renew our friendship, he was the same age as my brother Don. One fall, he came to me and wanted to know if I would go Elk hunting with him on Missionary Ridge, the stipulation was that we would put in the kind of hunting camp that our fathers had when they worked together. Organized, neat and orderly with four foot wall tents. Jack had several head of horses and we hunted each year together for several years, each time putting in a very comfortable camp.
Art McKelvey lived in the Montrose area until the late 1960's, working the ranches in that area, predominantly working with cattle. In the early 1970's he and his wife moved to Moab, Utah to work on a large cattle ranch. Art not only was a cowboy, but he looked like a cowboy. He was the only person that I knew that had his cowboy boots custom made. Each year, he would have a new pair of boots made by a leather shop in Ignacio, Colorado which is located on the Mountain Ute Indian Reservation. They were no ordinary cowboy boots, the tops were extended almost to the knee. The reason that he chose to do this was to eliminate the need for "chaps" on most occasions. The last time, I saw him he was still wearing the leather cuffs around the cuff of his shirt sleeves, again to keep them from snagging on something while working in the brush or around cattle. After getting re-acquainted with Jack in Durango, I would occasionally ask him about his father and what he had heard from him. His reply was always the same, "Talked to mom, said Dad had been gone for thirty days and would be home soon". Art preferred to be a cowboy, he had no use for town or even a roof over his head. Into his late 60's and 70's, by himself, Art would take a herd of cattle onto the range land of Utah and remain with them, taking them to fresh grass and water, always moving. In his late life, he had what he needed the most, a herd of cattle to watch over, riding a good horse with a pack horse carrying all the things that he would need to enjoy the good life of a cowboy. I think of him occasionally and picture him sitting around a campfire on the high plains, a pot of hot coffee steaming on the fire, a coyote barking in the distance, the sound of the cattle, and a million stars overhead. The lights of town are out of his thoughts, what he loves most is what he is experiencing at that moment, his solitude and being a real cowboy. He was a cowboy and with his passing, the real cowboy has also passed from our history.