What was the news that was so difficult to explain? From his shack in Judith Basin country, Charlie witnessed the die-off in which the Northern Plains lost nearly seventy-five percent of its livestock. The capital that entered the beef business for huge profits pulled out, leaving the “stickers” and those with boot-strapped capital.
When Kaufman later visited the ranch, Phelps asked him if he expected to see the brindle cow that “came around the ranch hanging behind the horse barn for protection.” Kaufman responded in the affirmative. He was correct. That cow would live in many ways.
Kaufman shared Charlie’s painting around, including to a nearby harness shop owner, Ben Roberts, who knew Russell and in whose home Russell would later be married. Kaufman saw little value in the picture and gave it to Roberts. The painting stayed in the harness shop, sometimes displayed in the window and sometimes just gathering dust.
In 1913, rancher Wallis Huidekoper bought the postcard-sized piece and had it cleaned and framed. He took it to Russell in Great Falls for the artist to sign, then donating it in 1941 to the Montana Stockgrowers Association. They still own it and have lent it to the Montana Historical Society. The postcard sealed Russell’s international fame as an artist of the West.
Track forward nearly 135 years. In 2021, we sold our herd of Highland cows that we had nurtured for 25 years. Three or four weeks after their departure, I was still teary-eyed with thoughts of our “clouty coos.” It felt like a door had closed forever. The feeling haunted….Then the unexpected happened.
This young cow in the photo emerged from the willows and trees along the Missouri River. We had missed her when shipping out the rest of the herd weeks before. The cow not only survived on her own despite the coyotes, but she bore her first calf. Protected it against the coyote patrols. Then brought that babe the two miles back to the buildings.
The sun shone a bit brighter that day. And it reminded me of something else.
The cow in the Russell painting and our straggler could be dismissed as merely sad reminders of loss. A Highland herd with our years of stewardship scattered to the wind. And Russell’s drawing of a cow standing against weather and wolves, a grim reminder of a winter that nearly crippled livestock raising on the Northern Great Plains.
But in loss lies the chance to turn the page and study its other side. Both cows represent what is passing, but each also provides a peek into a future with room for other possibilities. That cow in Russell’s drawing was in the twenty-five percent that survived. Although her “Open Range” soon disappeared, replaced by new trajectories like homesteading and inventions like the railroad and barbed wire, cattle ranching changed and survived.
And a Highland cow? She carries memories of the past. But she also reminds us of the possibilities that lie in the space ahead. New things to learn and create. New trails to shape.
