Not sure if this qualifies, but when I was a kid there was an older gentleman who lived 2 houses down from us, to us kids he was just old, deaf, broke-down,& somewhat cantankerous. Some years later I learned he started out breaking mustangs when he was 12, was driving a team a year later. He used to ride thru town, there was a dog who came after his horse more than once, one day he shook out a loop and dabbed it on the dog as it came out. He started on a trot, (real cowboys don't run their horse without a good reason) dragging the dog a couple of blocks, hoisted the dog up to his level and turned it loose. No more problems from that dog. He hauled freight to mining camps and hauled ore out with horses and a freight wagon. I was lucky enough to be offerred his wagon years later, we have it still. Also have some horseshoes he made from bar stock and an old romal he braided.
When he was 92, the family put him in the care center. I was visiting him, he grabbed me by the arm and said "Wasn't I always good to you? GET ME OUTA HERE!" Pretty tough to watch that go down.
The cowboys name was Albert Mattson and he lived in Ely, Nevada.
