Rye was a cowboy who had followed in the footsteps of his father and his father before him. The cowboy way of life seemed to be fading for society, but not for Rye. Cattle drives had been replaced by *CAFOs, where the cows lived and died in long buildings, never being given a chance to live a cow’s life; instead relegated to being a living and breathing product.
Rye was a man who liked to be on the move, and he needed a reason. He didn’t want to live a life cooped up in a house like CAFO product.
The first time Rye saw helicopters hunting wild mustang, something deep began to stir within him. Even his black stallion, Licorice, felt it and began to buck and gallop wildly as he heard the gunshots. He watched the mustangs clump and veer from the predator above, and he watched them stumble and fall with the sniper rifle’s accuracy. Rye decided he would become their savior.
Thirty-some years prior, Rye had gone out and parked with a pretty equestrienne he’d met at the jukebox one night at The Plug Mule. The outcome of that romp was a daughter named Tess. Rye had kept in touch with her over the years and taught her his horse whispering ways. Tess was as tough as her dad and as assertive as her mom.
Rye called Tess that night about the mustang slaughter and asked if she could help. She said yes and Rye knew her agreeing to help was not an empty gesture. Between the two of them leading the anti mustang slaughter campaign, the evil practice was on its way to being outlawed.
Learn more about the federal government’s Bureau of Land Management practices in regards to Wild Mustang here.