In the cow camps, Tom Horn was regarded as a hero, as the same kind of champion he was when he entered and invariably won the local rodeos. The hands and their bosses saw him as a lone knight of the range, waging a dedicated crusade against a lawless new society that was threatening a beloved way of life. The wailing, guitar strumming minstrels of the cattle kingdom made up songs about him.

By 1898, rustling losses had been driven down to the lowest level ever seen in Wyoming.