More importantly, he had seen the consequences of ignoring his own employees.
One evening, he called his foreman into the ranch office.
The foreman entered cautiously.
For months, their relationship had been strained.
The older rancher motioned toward a chair.
"Sit down."
The foreman sat.
The rancher looked at a stack of records on his desk.
"I went through the reports."
"Which reports?"
"The ones you gave me during the outbreak."
The foreman waited.
"The warnings about crowding. The recommendations from the veterinarian. The maintenance issues."
The rancher rubbed his forehead.
"You were right about some things."
The foreman's expression barely changed.
"Sir?"
"I should have listened."
There was a long silence.
Finally, the foreman said, "I wasn't trying to embarrass you."
"I know."
"I was trying to keep cattle alive."
The rancher nodded slowly.
"I know that now."
He turned toward the window.
Outside, several workers were repairing one of the feeding areas.
"We've always done things a certain way around here," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"I thought that meant they were the right ways."
The foreman leaned forward.
"Some of them were."
The rancher looked at him.
"But not all," the foreman continued.
The older man let out a breath.
"No. Not all."
That conversation changed something between them.
It did not erase the losses.
It did not repair the ranch overnight.
But it allowed the people responsible for animal care to begin speaking honestly without fearing the owner's anger.
Over the following months, the rancher made substantial changes.
He followed veterinary advice more closely.
He improved recordkeeping.
He altered several crowded winter holding arrangements.
He paid greater attention to water, bedding, ventilation, and the stress caused by unnecessary livestock movement.
He also began asking his employees questions instead of treating their observations as challenges to his authority.
At first, the workers were suspicious.
Then cautiously hopeful.
Eventually, some began believing the changes might last.
The rancher was still stubborn.
He still raised his voice.
He still disliked being contradicted.
But when an employee said a sick animal needed attention, he no longer laughed.
One afternoon, his foreman found him standing alone near a calf pen.
The rancher was watching a young animal nuzzle its mother's side.
"You know what bothers me most?" he asked.
The foreman shook his head.
"That girl saw something I didn't."
The foreman considered his answer.
"She paid attention to something you had already dismissed."
The rancher nodded.
"That's worse."
He leaned against the fence.
"I treated her like a fool because she was young and poor."