One More For The Road

[{"type":"text","text":"Another more efficient way of taking care of the trash...."}]

One more for 5 5 24

Cowboy State Daily is Wyoming’s largest newspaper with Wyoming’s most experienced journalists. 

<title>One More For The Road: Sunday, May 5, 2024 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Another more efficient way of taking care of the trash....

One More For The Road: Sunday, May 5, 2024

 Another more efficient way of taking care of the trash....

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's Feature Reporter, Andrew Rossi.

Andrew Rossi

Around Wyoming

Many relics from the age of the steam engine in Wyoming remain. Some are grandiose, like 

One of these relics is the Lusk Water Tower, a point of pride in eastern Wyoming. It’s one of the few structures of its kind remaining in the United States, still standing strong 140 years after it was built.

“It's pretty important and iconic to the community,” said Leslie Stewart, a volunteer at 

. “I think there would be a drive to save it again if we needed to.”

It's also significant as one of only six surviving redwood water towers in the United States, according to the Niobrara County Historical Society.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Built Better"}]

In 1886, the Fremont, Elkhorn and Missouri Railway was establishing a line to connect Douglas and Chadron, South Dakota. This necessitated new depots and water towers along the route to ensure the steam engines kept running.

Lusk was chosen because it had, at the time, the only post office along the intended route.

Stewart, who’s also a commissioner for Wyoming State Parks and Cultural Resources, said the establishment of this railway was an important development for the newly incorporated town.

“The railroads were coming this way to transport livestock, grain, mining equipment, and coal, but they also provided ready access for ranchers, farmers, and homesteaders coming to settle this area,” he said.

Water towers were essential for steam engines, but the Lusk Water Tower was built to be better. That’s reflected in the specifics of its design.

“It’s mostly made of Douglas fir, but the tank is four-inch planks of redwood,” Stewart said. “It wasn’t an aesthetic choice. They wanted something that would expand with water and hold the thing together tightly when it was wet.”

According to Stewart, adjustability was essential. The circular tank is 25 feet in diameter and equally as tall, but the redwood allowed it to expand and contract as needed.

“It was built like a barrel with metal bands around the outside,” she said. “When the tank was empty, they could tighten the bands. When it was full, they could loosen them up and expand the tank while keeping a tight fit.”

A windmill was used to move water 25 feet up into the tank. At full capacity, it could hold around 44,000 gallons of water.

In a certain sense, the Lusk Water Tower was ahead of its time in design and construction.

The tower and the railway were built by the Wyoming Central Railway, a subsidiary of the Fremont, Elkhorn and Missouri Railway. The director of the subsidiary was Frank Lusk, for whom the town is named.

The Wyoming Central Railway was established specifically to ensure that a Wyoming company would build the line and all its infrastructure.

“That was one of the requirements for the railway,” Stewart said. “They had to have a Wyoming company do the construction.”

There’s another way the Lusk Water Tower happened to be ahead of its time: It was deemed worth saving before it was too late.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Standing Strong"}]

When the original Lusk train depot was destroyed by fire, the water tower was moved from the center of town to the eastern edge, where it stands today. The tower continued to service steam locomotives until diesels took over.

The railway, which is still in service, changed hands multiple times over the next several decades. However, there were concerns that the Lusk Water Tower might be destroyed by the very railway it had been built to service.

“The Chicago and North Western Transportation Company was moving a lot of heavy coal traffic past the tower,” Stewart said. “The Niobrara County Historical Society was concerned that the vibrations from the trains would destroy the tower.”

In 1971, the Niobrara County Historical Society purchased the Lusk Water Tower. A campaign was immediately started to raise money to restore and repair it.

By 1982, enough was raised for Gillette LNT Fabrication and Construction to do a thorough restoration.

“A lot of different organizations helped fund that restoration, including the Wyoming Legislature and the Chicago and North Western Transportation Company,” Stewart said. “I don't think the railroad had any interest in saving it, although they did help in the end.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Lusk’s Own"}]

In 1991, the Lusk Water Tower was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Rheba Massey, the historian who submitted the form for its consideration, said the tower was “one small part of that great expansion” that had “a major effect on the settlement history of the area.”

“The Lusk Water Tower represents this early development of rail transportation, including steam locomotion from the period of 1886 to World War II,” she wrote. “Massive water towers and windmills were regular features of station sites during the age of steam, (and) the Lusk Water Tower is Wyoming's only surviving railroad structure of its type.”

The railway is currently owned by Union Pacific, which still sends plenty of freight past the iconic tower.

As of 2026, the only other tower of its type that’s easy to track down is the Gerlach Water Tower, built in 1909 in Gerlach, Nevada.

Stewart wasn’t sure how many redwood water towers were built or how many remain. She’s content that the Lusk Water Tower isn’t going anywhere.

“We still get people asking about the tower,” she said. “Alumni come home and say they had to swing by the tower to make sure it was still there.”

She also applauded everyone who recognized the tower’s historic significance and organized the successful effort to save it, at a time when historical preservation wasn’t as popular as it would become.

“If those historically astute people hadn’t recognized that, I’m not sure it would have been saved,” she said.

Lusk Redwood water tower 6 28 26

<title>Lusk's Redwood Water Tower, One Of 6 Left In US, Still Standing After 140 Years | Cowboy State Daily</title>

The redwood water tower in Lusk was built in 1886 to keep steam engines running between Wyoming and South Dakota. While the engines are gone, the tower endures 140 years after it was built and is one of six such relics still standing in the United States.

Lusk's Redwood Water Tower, One Of 6 Left In US, Still Standing After 140 Years

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's business and tourism reporter, Renée Jean

Renée Jean

Wyoming Life

In a modern West where history is increasingly paved over or fenced in, Wyoming’s notorious Hole in the Wall outlaw hideout stands out as one of few places that remains just as wild as it was more than a century ago. 

Here, a towering red rock wall rises 400 feet and stretches, seemingly unbroken, for 35 miles. 

There’s an ocean of blue sky above and a sea of green prairiegrass below without another human soul for endless miles. This cliff appears both seamless and impassible — a beautiful, if formidable, sight.

Hidden within that long wall, however, is a single passage where a man can slip past the rock and simply vanish. 

And that is what gave this place its name, the Hole in the Wall. 

It’s not really a hole in the wall, cowboy historian Clay Gibbons tells visitors on his tours of the remote hideout. It’s more like a notch, just wide enough for a single man on horseback to squeeze through. 

Beyond that notch lies a secluded and lush valley just right for grazing stolen cattle and horses, and impossible to see from the outside.

The narrowness of this nearly invisible notch also makes it easy to defend. A lone gunman with plenty of ammunition can hold off a much larger force. 

That helped keep lawmen at bay for decades, creating a haven for outlaws ranging from Harvey Logan — better known as Kid Curry — to Butch Cassidy. 

Though Cassidy didn’t spend as much time here as he did a place further west called 

 where three states meet, giving him three  directions to escape the law.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Finding The 'Hole'"}]

One of the first things Gibbons does on his tours is teach visitors how to find the nearly invisible passage. 

“So there’s that red wall that has no shadows on it,” Gibbons said, pointing toward the red cliffs. “And then there’s this one that has shadows. You see where it comes together? There’s a triangular shadow. 

"And at the top left of that triangle there’s a little white dot.”

It looks insignificant. In reality, it’s a flat, white rock measuring 12 feet by 15 feet. 

“We’re about 3 miles away from the hole right now, so as we get closer, that will get bigger,” Gibbons said. “But first, we’re going to stop at the Hole in the Wall Fight site, where I put up a state historical marker, and I’ll tell you how I found that location. That’s going to be some story.”

Stories are actually what Gibbons’ Hole in the Wall tours are all about. 

They begin the moment his vehicle lurches onto a rugged two-track — less road and more dry riverbed. It’s a ride that jostles the insides in more than one direction at once, even as an untamed and beautiful landscape unfolds.

Gibbons laughs about the roughness of the ride and admits some would question his speed, given the bumpy terrain. But, he adds with a grin, the pace is absolutely necessary. 

Even by vehicle, this trip to the Hole in the Wall will take every bit of an entire day, from sunup to sundown. There’s a lot to see and a lot of history to tell, so the truck careens onward without slowing down.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Growing Up With History"}]

Gibbons comes by his love of history naturally. His dad loved it, too. 

Growing up, the third-generation Worland native went everywhere with his dad, who owned an implement dealership. To help pass the time, Gibbons’ dad would tell him all kinds of interesting historical tales. 

By the time he was 16, Gibbons had heard so much about the Fetterman massacre, for example, he was timing his entire school day by it on its 100th anniversary.

“I didn’t get anything done in school that day,” Gibbons said with a chuckle. “I stared at the clock and I was thinking, ‘OK, right now Fetterman is doing this. Right now Crazy Horse is doing this.’ I mean, I was just mesmerized.”

For Gibbons, though, it’s never been enough to know what happened when. He also wants to know where it happened. Exactly where.

One day as he and his dad were driving south of Ten Sleep over Spring Creek, a 9-year-old Gibbons asked his father where 

“He kind of waved out to the side,” Gibbons recalled. “Somewhere over there.”

That answer didn’t satisfy Gibbons, and sent him on a lifetime historical search that would eventually uncover lost details of that raid and allow him to pinpoint exactly where it happened.

Gibbons applied that same mentality to the 1897 Hole in the Wall Fight. 

At first, the location of the gun battle was a mystery.

Newspapers only mentioned the battle’s location vaguely. Locals, meanwhile, would say it was by the Bob Smith Hill, “somewhere over there.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Those were fighting words to Gibbons. "}]

He started digging into old court papers and documents, trying to find something that could help him pin down an exact location. 

From that effort, he learned that county officials at the time weren’t sure whether the shooting was a Natrona County or a Johnson County crime. They sent a surveyor to the scene to find the county line and determine which county had jurisdiction.

Clay was eventually able to track down the surveyor’s century-old field notes, which mentioned a large pile of rocks marking the site of the shooting. 

Gibbons had noticed an unusual pile of rocks when he had visited before. They weren’t like the rock Indian cairns that mark the 1,500-year-old Sioux War Trail that winds through the Hole in the Wall country. And they weren’t like a grave marker either.

Using Bureau of Land Management maps and the surveyor’s legal descriptions, Gibbons was eventually able to verify that the pile of rocks he’d seen was in the same spot indicated by the surveyor’s notes.

A stone monument now stands at the site of the battle on a windswept knob just above Buffalo Creek. 

The marker retells the story of the battle. 

Stock detective Bob Divine of the CY Cattle Co. had ridden up to the Hole in the Wall with 10 cowboys to look for rustled cattle. They met three members of the local outlaw crowd, brothers-in-law Bob and Al Smith and their partner Bob Taylor.

“There was animosity between Bob Divine and Bob Smith,” Gibbons said. “Divine asked if they’d seen any CY cattle and Smith replied, ‘Not a damn one.’”

Smith, believing that Divine was about to pull his weapon, pulled his own gun first. 

“Shots were fired,” Gibbons said. “Horses were pitching and the dust flew. When the smoke cleared, Bob Smith lay on the ground with a bullet through his back and Divine’s horse had been killed, and he and his son Lee had been wounded.”

Al Smith escaped after his gun was shot from his hand, and Bob Smith was taken to the Hole in the Wall Cabin where he died the next day with his young wife at his side.

“Bob Taylor was captured and taken to the Natrona County jail and later released shortly after that,” Gibbons said. “Divine led a contingent with heavily armed men and two deputies through the Hole and drive several hundred cattle out. 

"They were watched closely by a number of armed men, but were not bothered.”

After the sad tale, Gibbons offers a spread of sandwiches and drinks for lunch, and then there are more stories.

Clay shifts seamlessly from outlaw history to the wider, grittier politics of the West at the time and the Johnson County War, when powerful cattle barons brought 32 hired guns up from Texas at $5 a day plus $50 per scalp. 

The siege of the TA Ranch comes alive as he is talking, as does the doomed defense of small ranchers like Nate Champion, who wrote his last words in his diary as gunmen ringed his cabin and finally set it ablaze.

“The cabin's on fire,” Gibbons quotes Champion. “I’m going to have to make a run for it. Goodbye, boys, if I never see you again.”

Champion, Gibbons said, took his boots off before charging out into the gunfire. It’s an odd piece of historical detail that has nagged at Gibbons for years. 

“I always wondered why the hell he took his boots off,” Gibbons said. “Because the people who were there, the invaders, had mentioned that he had his boots off, had a rifle in one hand and a revolver in another, and he goes out the back door shouting.”

Champion was met with a barrage of 28 bullets, Gibbons said. 

“They went up to him and they tied a little note to his vest, ‘Cattle thieves beware,’” Gibbons said. “And so that’s where Nate met his end.”

Gibbons spotted an old frontier saying he believes explains Champion’s bootless feet.

“If you died with your boots on it meant you were an outlaw,” Gibbons said. “A good guy dies in bed, right? You don’t wear your boots to bed. So it finally clicked. Nate stripped those boots off as his final statement. 

"He wanted the world to know he wasn’t an outlaw.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Cassidy’s Escape Plan"}]

No Hole in the Wall story can be complete without a Butch Cassidy mention or two. But Clay doesn’t treat Cassidy like a Hollywood myth. Cassidy was a smart, calculating professional.

“He understood one thing, and that’s a fresh horse will outrun a tired horse every day of the week,” Gibbons said. “So when he would pull his jobs, whether it’s a bank job or a train job or whatever, he always knew where he was going after he got the cash. 

"He knew where they were headed, and so what he’d do is take a horse and ride the hell out of him and about 15 miles away … to a fresh horse.”

By planting fresh horses every 15 miles or so along his escape route, Cassidy guaranteed he would stay ahead of law enforcement and ultimately get away. 

The law didn’t know where he was going and had no fresh horses to keep up. 

Fast horses could take Cassidy to a hideout like Hole in the Wall where sheriff’s deputies feared to travel. 

“For hell’s sake, how do they expect us to ever catch these outlaws once they get into the Hole in the Wall?” an exasperated sheriff wrote in a bitter letter to the Pinkertons and the Wyoming governor after the Wilcox Train Robbery. “There’s nobody will talk. Everybody protects them. It’s a den of thieves.”

Locals had their reasons for protecting the outlaws who used the Hole in the Wall.

For one, they paid well for fresh horses. 

In an anecdote Gibbons found, one ranch wife told a visiting writer she could leave a coffee can of coins on her mantle, and if outlaws passed through while the family was away, they’d cook themselves a meal, leave the house tidy and sometimes even add to the can of coins.

“Who is going to turn in the men who treat you better than some of the big outfits do?” Gibbons asked.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"An Unfolding Mystery"}]

Not all of Gibbons’ stories are settled history. Some are still unfolding. 

Like the one he tells at the remnants of Alex Ghent’s ranch. 

The cabin and barn look like a heap of breaking grey bones, bowing to the inexorable years and slowly sinking into the earth. 

In this place, Ghent once raised fast horses for the Hole in the Wall crowd, including the mounts that helped the Wilcox train robbers disappear into this country.

At some point, a second man named Joseph “Joe” Bowie bought into the ranch. The two bachelors ran cattle together until Bowie went back East, married a schoolteacher and brought her home to this lonely, but spectacular, place.

Cheyenne newspapers of the time gushed over the new Mrs. Bowie. She was so vibrant, charming and beloved by everyone she met, and they wished the couple “the best of luck in their new home in the Hole in the Wall.”

Not long after that, however, there’s a legal notice in the same paper. Mrs. Joseph Bowie is filing for divorce due to abandonment. She hasn’t seen her husband in over a year.

The notice had to run three times in the newspaper before a judge granted the divorce. The very next day after that, Mrs. Bowie became Mrs. Alex Ghent.

Gibbons has always wondered about that. Did Bowie really walk away from his equity in the ranch he’d worked so hard for and the wife he’d married from back East?

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Or had something else happened …"}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"A Tin Cup Clue"}]

One weekend while Gibbons was camping over the Fourth of July, he decided to do a little poking around with a metal detector. He found a dump near an outhouse with shards of pottery, old medicine bottles, and old tools. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"He also found a tin cup in that trench."}]

It was nearly intact, save for one single neat bullet hole punched through the bottom and existing just above the rim.

It was exactly the trajectory one might expect if someone were holding that cup to his lips and taking a drink.

“If you’re this far from town, you don’t use a perfectly good cup for target practice,” Gibbons said. “If you’re going to use it for target practice, you’re gonna shoot the living hell out of it right? Not just one hole and throw it away.”

Gibbons realizes he can’t prove anything based on that. But he’s learned of suggestive anecdotes that make him believe Bowie didn’t abandon his wife at all.

“There was word that Ghent left the ranch one day and he came back and threw his gun on the bed and said, ‘I never want to see that gun again,’” Gibbons said. “And then one of the hired men caught him down at the crick crying.”

What Gibbons wants to do next is a little more digging in the privy area to see if he can find a revolver that matches the bullet in that tin cup.

“If we do, then I think we’ve solved a murder mystery,” Gibbons said. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Letting The Past Live"}]

Hole in the Wall 20240612 154811 6 28 26

<title>A Day At Wyoming’s Notorious Hole In The Wall Outlaw Hideout | Cowboy State Daily</title>

In a modern West where history is increasingly paved over, Wyoming’s notorious Hole in the Wall outlaw hideout remains just as wild as it was more than a century ago. Here, a towering red rock wall rises 400 feet and stretches for 35 miles. 

A Day At Wyoming’s Notorious Hole In The Wall Outlaw Hideout

Kolby fedore

Kolby Fedore

At 79 years old, Robert "Bullet Bob" Brotherton is hanging up his mallet. 

For most of the 21st century, he was a fixture at the Big Horn Polo Club, where families unfold lawn chairs along the sidelines, children kick soccer balls near horse trailers, and spectators wander barefoot onto the field at halftime to stomp divots in the shadow of the Bighorn Mountains.

Brotherton, the club's oldest player, recently announced his retirement from competitive polo.

The decision brings to a close a second act that began when he picked up a mallet at age 52 and eventually became one of the most recognizable figures in Wyoming polo.

For years, Brotherton said the same prayer: "I just want one more year."

[{"type":"text","text":"After surviving cancer three times, it became more than a saying."}]

"I was an awful sick person," he recalled. "I would just lie in bed saying, 'I just want one polo season'."

People in Sheridan know him as Bullet Bob, a nickname he earned during a match years ago when he surged past another player to stop a scoring opportunity.

"And there goes Bullet Bob on his brand-new horse!" the announcer shouted.

[{"type":"text","text":"The name stuck before he even left the clubhouse."}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Living Legend"}]

Ask Brotherton one question and you'll likely get three stories, a history lesson and a laugh before he circles back to the answer.

His tales drift through farm fields, racetracks, Vietnam, business ventures and family to polo history.

[{"type":"text","text":"Through all of it, one thing never changed."}]

They carried him through nearly every chapter of his life, from boyhood to watching his grandchildren play.

"Horses have always been my go-to," Brotherton said. "I've ridden horses since I was basically 3 years old."

After graduation, Brotherton went to work for an uncle with racehorses in Colorado. 

His job was to "get them running, so they wouldn't buck you off," before they were sent to professional trainers and racetracks. It was demanding, dusty work, he said. 

His polo career began entirely by accident when a buyer handed him a mallet and a ball after buying a horse from him in Sheridan, unknowingly setting him on a path that would consume a quarter-century.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Old World Pastime"}]

The Big Horn Polo Club traces its roots to the 1890s and is widely regarded as one of the oldest active polo clubs in the United States, with organized matches being played in the area as early as 1893.

The sport arrived in northern Wyoming with British expatriates and aristocrats who settled in the Big Horn area and brought with them a game they had learned through military service and travel abroad. 

One of the most influential figures was Scotsman Malcolm Moncreiffe, who established a polo field and horse-breeding operation near Big Horn in 1898 and helped organize local horsemen into teams.

[{"type":"text","text":"Over time, something uniquely Wyoming emerged."}]

Cowboys played alongside sons of British nobility. Ranch horses shared fields with imported thoroughbreds.

What began as an Olde World pastime gradually became part of the local culture.

Historians have described it as a place where "local cowboys played the game with sons of lords."

Unlike the glamorous image often associated with polo in places like Palm Beach or Argentina, Brotherton said polo in Sheridan always felt accessible.

For much of its history, the game belonged as much to ranchers and working horsemen as it did to wealthy patrons.

"Not everybody likes to rope a calf on a Sunday afternoon for recreation," Brotherton said. "Those guys liked to hit the ball."

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Season Of Gratitude "}]

Brotherton's retirement from competitive polo brings to a close a 25-year run that began almost entirely by accident.

He still plans to ride horses. He expects them to remain part of his daily life for as long as he is able.

Contact Kolby Fedor at kolby@cowboystatedaily.com

Bullett Bob 1000009065 6 28 26

<title>Wyoming’s Oldest Polo Player ‘Bullet’ Bob Brotherton Hanging Up His Mallet | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Wyoming’s oldest polo player Robert "Bullet Bob" Brotherton is hanging up his mallet at the Big Horn Polo Club, one of the oldest active polo clubs in the U.S. Historians have described the club where "local cowboys play the game with sons of lords."

Wyoming’s Oldest Polo Player ‘Bullet’ Bob Brotherton Hanging Up His Mallet

Business & Tourism

The first time Farmstead Cider went after old apples in Jackson Hole, it was just for the flavor. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"It soon became about the bears. "}]

Every fall as apples drop and ferment in the backyards and ghost orchards of Jackson Hole, grizzlies and black bears do what comes naturally. They follow their noses straight into trouble — calorie-rich fruits that taste oh-so-good when you’re a bear desperate to fatten up for winter. 

The first harvest, though, was all about the homesick wives, Farmstead Cider’s co-owner Orion Bellorado said. They had grown up on the East Coast, where apple harvests are a big deal. 

“We started harvesting the apples in our neighborhood off of peoples’ trees that were kind of derelict,” he said. “And they were tiny, so we pressed a bunch of juice and made some cider out of it.”

The party was great and word soon got around. 

“Someone from the county found out about it and said, ‘Hey, you should really put in for this community grant to start a business,” Bellorado recalled. “‘Because we’ve really been having issues with bears.’”

That was in 2016, and the business has been going ever since, bottling 5,000 to 7,000 gallons of native-yeast cider a year and selling it across Wyoming as well as other states such as Washington and Montana. 

Wyoming was once thick with apples. In fact, it was a top apple producer. Now those forgotten apple trees are being rediscovered by small cider houses. "They're everywhere," said one cider house owner. "Lander was called Apple Town before Lander."

One More For The Road: Sunday, May 5, 2024

In case you missed it

More in One More For The Road

One More For The Road: Monday, June 29, 2026

One More For The Road: Sunday, June 28, 2026

One More For The Road: Saturday, June 27, 2026

One More For The Road: Friday, June 26, 2026

Most read