Mack Hughes was one of the last of the Hashknife Cowboys. When he hired out for the outfit in the 1920s he didn’t even own a pair of boots. He wanted a pair so bad he could taste it but all his meager wages had to go to help his family. He was spending the winter feeding the bulls up by Chevlon Canyon on the plateau between Winslow and the Mogollon Rim. Jobs were scarce as horse flies in December and he was lucky to be holding a job of any kind. In fact, he was expecting to get laid off any da
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