THE LAST OUTLAW
Written by W. W. Seegmiller
Published in the Deseret News
31 Jan 1942
In the early days of the settlement of Southern Utah and Arizona, the Naegle family settled in Toquerville and developed cattle ranches on what we then called “Buckskin Mountains.” This mountain is now known as the “Kaibab” and is situated in Coconino County, Arizona on the north side of the Colorado River.
In those days the land was unsurveyed and the understanding among cattlemen was the first in use was the first in right. Under this common law the Naegle boys became the recognized owners of all of the west side of the Buckskin Mountains.
When so many Mormons moved to Mexico for reasons of their own, the Naegle boys sold what they could and went to Mexico seeking greener pastures. Quill Nebecker became the owner of what was left of the Naegle cattle, and finally the Grand Canyon Cattle Company bought them. John Naegle branded with JN of the left hip, the brand last used on the Naegle cattle on the Buckskin. The Grand Canyon Cattle Company sold all odd brands out as fast as possible and branded all calves with Z. The Naegle cattle became fewer and fewer as time went on until there was only one left, a big black steer that ranged on the east side of East Lake.
On each round-up the Boss instructed the men to get that old JN steer. The years passed, but the old steer remained. The timber is very thick around East Lake, and it is not far to the East Breaks where the Little Mountain slopes into House Rock Valley. This was the roughest country on the Kaibab.
One September when we were camped at Snipe Lake gathering steers, the Company Boss said, “Now boys, we’re going east of East Lake today. Look out for the big black JN steer. It has been eighteen years since that brand was put on any calf. We don’t know how much older this outlaw is. If we see him today, rope him. He always pulls for East Breaks, and no cowboy can get him out of there.”
Just as we arrived at the point where the Little Mountain joins the Big Mountain, we saw a bunch of cattle drinking at a little lake which we had never seen before. The cattle heard us and made for the breaks. I was riding my best horse that day, and when the cattle reached the top of Little Mountain, I was in front of them. They were so much out of wind that it was not hard to force them back down the hill. The cowboys were not looking for such a turn, and they plunged on into the thick timber and rough country. But Alex Swapp saw them turn and he and I went back down the mountain at terrific speed considering the roughness of the country we were in, riding hard past the little lake where we had jumped the cattle.
As we started up the Big Mountain, the cattle had gone on each side of a deep, rough gorge. Alex took those to the left; I followed to the right. Alex yelled to me, “That’s the old JN steer. Rope him and let the rest go! I’ll get this big red one!”
The old black steer was on lead. With rope in hand I made for him. No chance to throw a rope; the timber was too thick. I touched Haffen with the spur and said, “Get on top of him!” My spirited, well-bred horse understood and through fallen trees, rocks, and gullies, he fairly flew with thoroughbred determination. Soon my faithful horse was rubbing his shoulder on the big steer’s hip. “Not yet, Haffen. Get up where I can drop it on!” He did, and I laid the loop over old JN’s head, all the time wondering what the contest would be like, for this was the biggest, fiercest steer that I had ever seen.
The experienced cowhand will say, “Oh, he was old, rough and limber!” But not so. He was big, fat, smooth and heavy. He reminded me as much of a big black Percheron stallion as a steer could look like a horse. We three had a real tussle, and all the time I was yelling in hopes that some lost cowboy would hear me.
Out of the timber came a cowboy from Colorado. “What the Do you want? Oh, what an elephant!”
“Well, get your rope on his heels. I’ve been here long enough!”
Just as we put him down, Alex arrived with some gentle steers. “That’s old JN, alright, Bill. At last we’ve got him!”
“Did you get the big red one?”
“Yes, but I broke his leg and had to let him go.”
Alex threw his rope on a gentle steer, flopped him on his side, and dragged him up against old JN with their backs together. We then tied a rope around old JN’s horns and around the smaller steer’s neck, holding them close enough together so the big steer could not run around the small one. “There,” said Alex, “we will put them in this tame bunch and take them to camp. Old JN is going to the railroad!”
When they got up, the outlaw was on the upper side and tried time after time to go around in front of the smaller steer and crowd him down the mountain, but the rope between them was too short, and being around the smaller steer’s neck and around the big steer’s horns, the leverage was all in favor of the little steer. All went well for a time. Then old JN decided to jump over the little steer. The pull of the rope bent his neck, and he fell with all his weight on the side of his head. Snap went his neck! And old JN checked in.
We skinned and dressed him, and the next day sent pack mules and brought him to camp. We had plenty of fine fat beef. To this day the little lake which we discovered is known as “Beef Lake.”
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