Written by Art Gardner:

Harvey and Henry Hartman, were a couple of old bachelors who lived on their homestead up the draw south of the Martin brother’s homestead. When Don was about 13 years old, Harvey and Henry asked Don to stay at their cabin for a short while to see that their horses had water while they were gone on a trip. They told him they would give him a certain little horse they had in exchange for his services. Don stayed as agreed. I don’t know how he did, as I learned later that their pastime on a rainy day was to turn the bedding back on their mattress and cremate the bed bugs living in the seams with a lighted match. Anyhow, when they got back they informed Don that he wasn’t getting any horse. So I went to see them. Henry was at their camp on Douglas Mountain, at Esther Campbell’s mother’s homestead. They never had much success as horse runners, but they were on the mountain trying. Henry said they no longer had the little horse Don was supposed to get, and they had no other that would be suitable. Don had told me they had an old obsolete high cantle saddle that he would settle for as payment. Henry agreed that he could have it. But in a short time when Don went over to their place with a borrowed horse to get the saddle, they had changed their minds. No saddle.

This was in the summer of 1934. At that time I was camped on land I had filed on, and was cutting and peeling logs for a homestead cabin. In a couple of days I rode off the mountain one day with Leona Maddox who was on her way to Craig. I had her drop me off a mile or so from the Hartman’s cabin and I walked down through the cedars to their cabin. There was no one at home so I took the saddle and carried it out a half a mile or more from their place and cached it in the fork of a cedar to pick up someday soon when I got a ride with Leona Maddux or someone. I figured this being a mail delivery day, one of the Hartman’s would be at the Post Office. When I walked in there, Harvey was there waiting for his mail, as were several others. That is exactly what I wanted…witnesses. I told Harvey I had taken the saddle, and why. He said, “Well, we will see about that.” I heard afterwards he went to town and told his sad story to the Sheriff. But the Sheriff wasn’t interested in any bickering between neighbors out there in Brown’s Park. Anyhow, he never came out to get me as Harvey had wanted him to do.

For years after that, whenever I met Harvey on the street in Craig I would say: “Hello Harvey.” And Harvey would stalk on by looking straight ahead. Until one day I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the Midwest Café talking to Buck Tisdel and Duke Hughes. When Harvey came along, Buck and Duke spoke to Harvey, who had stopped, and I spoke as usual. Harvey spoke to Buck and Duke, but I didn’t exist and was completely ignored. Duke, who knew nothing of our little disagreement, said: “What’s the matter with you Harvey? Don’t you know enough to speak to a man when he speaks to you?” Then Harvey recognized my existence and spoke to me. After that he always spoke to me and later would even visit with me when we met in town. That spoiled a little bit of my fun in life. It had always amused me to say: “Hello Harvey,” and see him stalk past looking straight ahead.