Ray Fitzgerald

                                                                Ray Fitzgerald 

                                                                           by

                                                                   Mike Capron

Ray was born September 14, 1931 and he passed on March 25th, 2024.   I met Ray in the mid seventies just after he moved to Van Horn from Sanderson. He was in the United States Border Patrol and did a good job of scouring the countryside for Illegal aliens working in his assigned area.  The ranch I was working on was in his assigned area and I got acquainted with Ray soon after he came to Van Horn. The ranch I was working on was 50 miles from Van Horn. I thought that was far enough from his home and office that we probably wouldn’t get to see Ray too often. But I was wrong and Ray and I got very well acquainted. We had a lot in common and would enjoy the times we got together.  He was a great story teller and loved to tell stories of growing up in Oregon.  He was an Old Time hard core Buckaroo and I loved to hear his stories of the old-timers. He would day-work on the local ranches and we got to work together a lot. He was died-in-the-wool Buckaroo. Always rode his old Hamley saddle and chink leggings with silver mounted bit and spurs, the first I had ever seen. Old Time Buckaroos were a little different then from what we see now.  Like all of us, they went through some fashion trends.  All I had ever been around was Crockett and Renaldo, not much silver mounted on them.  We were both ex-marines and shared lots of common views about America.  I always enjoyed his views and ideas on how to work cattle and treat your fellow man. We had some differences but we both were agreeable enough to overlook them.  We had a lot of good times.  He always had a pistol and was a great shot. We were working on the Fig.2 Ranch and camped in the old HQ house. Wilson and myself were washing dishes in the sink for the cook,Bob Hedrick. The old house wasn’t used much on a regular basis, and there were some mice living in our camp house. Ray got his pistol out and was making it uncomfortable for the mice to live in our new camp house. He was easing around the house looking for a good shot with his pistol on one of the mice. Wilson and I had our backs turned to him when he came though the kitchen door and spotted a mouse hiding behind the refrigerator. He took careful aim and shot the mouse. I wasn’t long home from Viet Nam and still would hit a dead run if I heard a close by gunshot. I tried to climb into the sink when I heard  Ray kill the mouse. I didn’t have much to say to him but I was planning a retaliation. I always carried a ball of wax with me to mould and make little creatures, practicing my art. The next day while riding and working cattle, the thought came to me that Ray might need some more mice to hunt. So I made a little wax mouse and when we came in for the day, I made it a point to slip my little wax rat behind the same refrigerator that he had shot the other one. And I went around and told everyone the trick I was working on for Ray, to find another rat to shoot.  We were all watching when Ray went and got his pistol after Supper. He was searching in all the hiddy holes for another mouse. Sure enough when he came to the refrigerator he closely looked behind it, and there was a mouse.  He took careful aim and shot my wax mouse, which immediately skidded out to the middle of the kitchen floor. He went over and carefully picked him up and put him in the trash bucket. Of course we were all laughing and some one said, “Ray you went and shot Mike’s Wax Rat.” At that point Ray went to the trash and dug the wax mouse out.  He did a quick survey of the wax mouse and said, “Well I thought he got stiff pretty quick but I hit him with 6 rat pellets.”   That didn’t end the mouse hunting but we all got used to a little gunfire in camp.