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Out our way, the ups and downs of riding rough country call for extra care. I still remember helping out at an old deserted cemetery in Wyoming and one of the old timers told me how the grave we were clearing belonged to an 18-year-old cowhand who had not checked his cinch. Chasing a runaway steer, his saddle loosened, slid sideways, and he was dragged to his death.
Believe me, I learned to check my cinch regularly. I tightened it as much as I could when I first saddled up and then I walked old Doc around a bit and checked it again. Not uncommonly, I found Doc had puffed out his belly when I f...
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