A Peep into the Past by Gordon and Belle Hall Volume 1 1990
The saddles of the early west have all but disappeared, but some are in museums. One old saddle that I own was given to me by my father in the 1960s. It was once owned by the late Boney Thompson. Boney was a bronc rider of note, arriving in the Cochrane area in the early 1900s and fatally injured by a horse in 1921. The good book, Red Saddle Blankets, written by G.J. Fuller and researched by Dorothy Edge.
The old saddle has quite a history, being used throughout the years. It was used as a dude saddle by my son Ron when he ran Timberline Tours at Lake Louise in the ’60s and ’70s. Having a large seat, the saddle was often selected to accommodate some dude with a large posterior. The front of the saddle and stirrup leathers plus stirrups have been redone. At the rear of the cantel is a cluster of small brass stars and when this saddle was recently stolen, the brass stars were a means of identification and the saddle was recovered.
Another old saddle I had was once owned by Norman F. Edge, the rodeo veteran of years ago. It was a roughout saddle based on the Calgary red tree, it was a good bronc saddle and I have used it for many years. Back a t the start of the depression, about 1932, money was scarce as hen’s teeth. I was offered the job to ride a horse from Cochrane to Exshaw. Bob Hogarth Sr. had a hay and feed business i n Cochrane and he wanted a horse delivered to Stoney Mapsons’ dairy at Exshaw. The horse was to draw a milk wagon.
Hogarth said the horse was gentle broke, and I was to get $5. Now $5 was half a month’s wages in those days, so sure I’ll do it. Dad, who was working for Hogarth at the time, came home one evening and said my horse had arrived and I was to leave the next morning. He was sure the horse was not broken to ride but just halter broken. Oh, oh, m y $5 was slipping away fast. However, I was going to try. Next morning, we blindfolded the horse with a coat over his head, got him headed west and away I went. The horse bucked and squealed as far as Horse Creek, then ran away with me to the Ghost Dam. I got him over the new dam bridge okay, then the horse played out, but I kept him going. Mother had made me some jam sandwiches which I put in the back of my shirt, so I ate on the fly. I kept to the river beyond Morley, missing the bad bridge at Bowfort. I had left Cochrane at 8 a.m. and arrived at Exshaw about 5 p.m.. I was in the saddle the whole time because if I had gotten off him. I wouldn’t have gotten back on alone.
