American Rancher X - Part 1


mexsignSign on the other side of American Rancher X's fence




We got out and horsed around. Grizz and Reloader did their comedy routine, and I shot the comedy video. We all took more photos around the sign. The whole 15 minutes wasn't too terribly silly, but it certainly wasn't up to operational standards, especially security-wise. Fuck it, we were on simple ranch land in motherfucking Arizona, USA. We mounted back up and followed the dirt road, parallel to the ramshackle fence, east over a hill. Cresting it and rolling down, we noticed our second vehicle hadn't followed over. Nailer, its driver, suddenly appeared at the top, waving his arms. Something was wrong. We doubled back.

grizzrfenceReloader, back to camera, Grizz, having climbed American Rancher X's gate into Mexico


"That's the fuckin' rancher. He wants us to get off his ranch. He says we're gonna get him killed."

"Yeah?" I responded to Nailer.



"He says we're in the middle of some bad shit here."

"Yeah? I wanna go to talk to this fuckin' guy." I grabbed a pen and a little notebook and jumped out of the Jeep. As I closed the 30 meters between us, I caught the rancher's attention. He stiffened back on his horse, pulled his hat off his head, closed it to his heart, and then swept it out to his right until his arm was at a full 90 degrees. That arm suddenly appeared to be ordering me out as I closed the last few steps and he first spoke to me, "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to leave, because they're watching us right now, and they will kill me."


“Well, first of all," I started as I stopped, "This is your land, so we'll just go if you want us gone, you don't have to give us an explanation." I stuck my hand up to shake his. "But my name's Pat Dollard, and I'm a journalist, and I'm tryin' to figure out just what the fuck's going on down here," I said, as we shook and he introduced himself, "X."

"I'm just tryin' to get the truth, because I don't think anybody's down here, really getting it, or down here at all."

grizz12Grizz, in Mexico, saluting something

"No, no they aren't."



"I'd like to get your story, and get it up on one of Andrew Breitbart's websites. Andrew runs the sites Big Government and ...."

"I know who he is," he interrupted with a tight nod.

"So, are you telling me fucking cartel guys are looking at us right now?"

"Yeah. And they see you, and they don't know what the fuck you're here for, but they presume you're here to steal their money and their drugs. And if you do, after they've seen me talking to you, I'm dead. And maybe they just don't want to wait that long, and they drop us both right now."

X was country, but at the same time, sharp as a New Orleans street hustler, and a tough little fucker, I could just tell. You've seen enough shit, and been around enough men who deal with it, and you get a read for them, fast.

"No shit."

"No shit."

"With binos, on us, right now?"


"Where in the fuck are they?"

Nodding to a different hill with each mentioned location, "Right there, right there, and right there.”


“Look," he said, leaning forward on his horse, "here's how it works." And we were off to the races...


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