During the fall of 1966, a group of us came up with the idea of going to a place called Stewart Gulch, on the Boise Front. The group consisted of Harry, LeRoy, Uncle Lewie, Bob Quarles, and me, Paul Marlatt. Bob was not one of our regular hunting companions but was invited to go along by Uncle Lewie, and anyone he invites is always welcome to go with us anytime. We met at an old corral site, just off the Bogus Basin Road at a place where Stewart Gulch comes down the hill from the upper country. There are usually deer around somewhere but would hide during the daytime.
Harry, LeRoy, and Uncle Lewie went one way up a ridge while I reluctantly took Bob with me. I had met Bob before but did not really know him very well. I had no way of knowing what kind of a hunter he was. Somehow, I was assigned the job of taking Bob with me and hopefully showing him a deer. I figured if I kept him close by, he would not shoot me or one of the other guys. We walked most of the morning going up a long ridge checking brush patches and draws as we went. There were a few tracks here and there, but no deer to be seen. The other guys seemed to disappear, after they left the trucks. I didn’t see them all morning. On the way back, my partner drifted away from me and made a bee line for the trees. I was not compromised anyway, so I let him go, thinking if I shot something he would come back to help me pack it out. I walked down into a steep draw with some willows and high bitter brush everywhere. Out of the willows, bounded a nice two-point buck. He went straight up the hill not thirty yards away. I tried to shoot him in the head, because he was so close, but kept missing him. L figured l better put him down before he went too far. He stopped part way up the hill turning broadside to me. I then shot him in the heart, also breaking his front shoulder because of the way he was standing looking around. I proceeded to clean out the buck, still hoping someone would appear over the ridge, to help. I soon gave up on getting help. I would get him as close to the trucks as I could alone. I made a pack out of him by tying the legs on each side together. The broken shoulder didn’t help matters a bit, because it made him sloppy to carry. I can pack a lot of weight, so I hauled him on my back and down the hill I went. I found a game trail to walk on which helped but I still had to sit down to rest often. He still weighed more than a hundred pounds dressed in his head off. I had been packing on him for an hour or more by the time I reached the bottom of the hill to the creek. Going was a lot easier on flat land and soon I could see the trucks at the corrals above me. I could also see all the guys sitting on the ground, waiting for me to show up. I was within hollering distance by then, so I threw the deer down and told them to come down to help finish the pack out. I was tired. Harry and LeRoy quickly came to my aid, but the guy I had to hunt with was too tired to help out. Uncle Lewie wasn’t expected to come down, so he waited there for us to return. I was really tired from wrestling the deer as far as I had. Harry and LeRoy took turns on the packing, and we were at the corrals in no time at all. I asked Bob where he was when I was shooting the buck and his excuse was that he was tired and wanted to go to the truck. Needless to say, I never hunted with him again. We made the trip home in a few minutes. I took my buck over to Harry’s garage to skin him out and get him bagged to hang for a few days to cool out. Harry and I would cut him into steaks ourselves. I gave Uncle Lewie and LeRoy some packages of steak for their help. Harry and I split the rest of it between ourselves. It was a good eating piece of venison, but I really earned it this time.