When his hired hand stomped off in a huff that chilled November day in 1895, foreman Jim Potts knew it would be up to him to take care of his band of sheep. Potts headed to their grazing spot near the North Fork of the Powder River, just north of Kaycee, Wyoming. He watched his “woolies” work their way south across the range that had been recently brushed with a thin sheet of new snow, before he trudged toward three large sandstone buttes. From there, he thought he could best keep an ey


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