The Great West, vast and rude, brought forth men also vast and rude. We
pass today over parts of that matchless region, and we see the red hills
and ragged mountain-fronts cut and crushed into huge indefinite shapes,
to which even a small imagination may give a human or more than human
form. It would almost seem that the same great hand which chiseled out
these monumental forms had also laid its fingers upon the people of this
region and fashioned them rude and ironlike, in harmony with the stern
faces set about them.
Of all the babes of that primeval mother, the West, the cowboy was
perhaps her dearest because he was her last. Some of her children lived
for centuries; this one for not a triple decade before he began to
be old. What was really the life of this child of the wild region of
America, and what were the conditions of the experience that bore him,
can never be fully known by those who have not seen the West with wide
eyes--for the cowboy was simply a part of the West. He who does not
understand the one can never understand the other.
If we care truly to see the cowboy as he was and seek to give our wish
the dignity of a real purpose, we should study him in connection with
his surroundings and in relation to his work. Then we shall see him not
as a curiosity but as a product--not as an eccentric driver of horned
cattle but as a man suited to his times.
Large tracts of that domain where once the cowboy reigned supreme have
been turned into farms by the irrigator's ditch or by the dry-farmer's
plan. The farmer in overalls is in many instances his own stockman
today. On the ranges of Arizona, Wyoming, and Texas and parts of Nevada
we may find the cowboy, it is true, even today: but he is no longer the
Homeric figure that once dominated the plains. In what we say as to
his trade, therefore, or his fashion in the practice of it, we speak
in terms of thirty or forty years ago, when wire was unknown, when the
round-up still was necessary, and the cowboy's life was indeed that of
the open.
By the costume we may often know the man. The cowboy's costume was
harmonious with its surroundings. It was planned upon lines of
such stern utility as to leave no possible thing which we may call
dispensable. The typical cowboy costume could hardly be said to contain
a coat and waistcoat. The heavy woolen shirt, loose and open at the
neck, was the common wear at all seasons of the year excepting winter,
and one has often seen cowboys in the winter-time engaged in work about
the yard or corral of the ranch wearing no other cover for the upper
part of the body but one or more of these heavy shirts. If the cowboy
wore a coat he would wear it open and loose as much as possible. If
he wore a "vest" he would wear it slouchily, hanging open or partly
unbuttoned most of the time. There was a reason for this slouchy habit.
The cowboy would say that the vest closely buttoned about the body would
cause perspiration, so that the wearer would quickly chill upon ceasing
exercise. If the wind were blowing keenly when the cowboy dismounted to
sit upon the ground for dinner, he would button up his waistcoat and be
warm. If it were very cold he would button up his coat also.
The cowboy's boots were of fine leather and fitted tightly, with light
narrow soles, extremely small and high heels. Surely a more irrational
foot-covering never was invented; yet these tight, peaked cowboy boots
had a great significance and may indeed be called the insignia of a
calling. There was no prouder soul on earth than the cowboy. He was
proud of being a horseman and had a contempt for all human beings who
walked. On foot in his tight-toed boots he was lost; but he wished it
to be understood that he never was on foot. If we rode beside him and
watched his seat in the big cow saddle we found that his high and narrow
heels prevented the slipping forward of the foot in the stirrup, into
which he jammed his feet nearly full length. If there was a fall, the
cowboy's foot never hung in the stirrup. In the corral roping,
afoot, his heels anchored him. So he found his little boots not so
unserviceable and retained them as a matter of pride. Boots made for
the cowboy trade sometimes had fancy tops of bright-colored leather. The
Lone Star of Texas was not infrequent in their ornamentation.
The curious pride of the horseman extended also to his gloves. The
cowboy was very careful in the selection of his gloves. They were made
of the finest buckskin, which could not be injured by wetting. Generally
they were tanned white and cut with a deep cuff or gauntlet from which
hung a little fringe to flutter in the wind when he rode at full speed
on horseback.
The cowboy's hat was one of the typical and striking features of his
costumes. It was a heavy, wide, white felt hat with a heavy leather
band buckled about it. There has been no other head covering devised so
suitable as the Stetson for the uses of the Plains, although high and
heavy black hats have in part supplanted it today among stockmen. The
boardlike felt was practically indestructible. The brim flapped a little
and, in time, was turned up and perhaps held fast to the crown by a
thong. The wearer might sometimes stiffen the brim by passing a thong
through a series of holes pierced through the outer edge. He could
depend upon his hat in all weathers. In the rain it was an umbrella; in
the sun a shield; in the winter he could tie it down about his ears with
his handkerchief.
Loosely thrown about the cowboy's shirt collar was a silk kerchief. It
was tied in a hard knot in front, and though it could scarcely be said
to be devoted to the uses of a neck scarf, yet it was a great comfort to
the back of the neck when one was riding in a hot wind. It was sure to
be of some bright color, usually red. Modern would-be cowpunchers do not
willingly let this old kerchief die, and right often they over-play it.
For the cowboy of the "movies," however, let us register an unqualified
contempt. The real range would never have been safe for him.
A peculiar and distinctive feature of the cowboy's costume was his
"chaps" (_chaparejos_). The chaps were two very wide and full-length
trouser-legs made of heavy calfskin and connected by a narrow belt
or strap. They were cut away entirely at front and back so that they
covered only the thigh and lower legs and did not heat the body as
a complete leather garment would. They were intended solely as a
protection against branches, thorns, briers, and the like, but they were
prized in cold or wet weather. Sometimes there was seen, more often on
the southern range, a cowboy wearing chaps made of skins tanned with
the hair on; for the cowboy of the Southwest early learned that goatskin
left with the hair on would turn the cactus thorns better than any other
material. Later, the chaps became a sort of affectation on the part of
new men on the range; but the old-time cowboy wore them for use, not as
a uniform. In hot weather he laid them off.
In the times when some men needed guns and all men carried them, no
pistol of less than 44-caliber was tolerated on the range, the solid
framed 45-caliber being the one almost universally used. The barrel
was eight inches long, and it shot a rifle cartridge of forty grains
of powder and a blunt-ended bullet that made a terrible missile. This
weapon depended from a belt worn loose resting upon the left hip and
hanging low down on the right hip so that none of the weight came upon
the abdomen. This was typical, for the cowboy was neither fancy gunman
nor army officer. The latter carries the revolver on the left, the butt
pointing forward.
An essential part of the cow-puncher's outfit was his "rope." This was
carried in a close coil at the side of the saddle-horn, fastened by one
of the many thongs scattered over the saddle. In the Spanish country
it was called _reata_ and even today is sometimes seen in the Southwest
made of rawhide. In the South it was called a _lariat_. The modern rope
is a well-made three-quarter-inch hemp rope about thirty feet in length,
with a leather or rawhide eye. The cowboy's quirt was a short heavy
whip, the stock being of wood or iron covered with braided leather and
carrying a lash made of two or three heavy loose thongs. The spur in the
old days had a very large rowel with blunt teeth an inch long. It was
often ornamented with little bells or oblongs of metal, the tinkling of
which appealed to the childlike nature of the Plains rider. Their use
was to lock the rowel.
His bridle--for, since the cowboy and his mount are inseparable, we
may as well speak of his horse's dress also--was noticeable for its
tremendously heavy and cruel curbed bit, known as the "Spanish bit." But
in the ordinary riding and even in the exciting work of the old round-up
and in "cutting out," the cowboy used the bit very little, nor exerted
any pressure on the reins. He laid the reins against the neck of the
pony opposite to the direction in which he wished it to go, merely
turning his hand in the direction and inclining his body in the same
way. He rode with the pressure of the knee and the inclination of the
body and the light side-shifting of both reins. The saddle was the
most important part of the outfit. It was a curious thing, this saddle
developed by the cattle trade, and the world has no other like it. Its
great weight--from thirty to forty pounds--was readily excusable when
one remembers that it was not only seat but workbench for the cowman.
A light saddle would be torn to pieces at the first rush of a maddened
steer, but the sturdy frame of a cow-saddle would throw the heaviest
bull on the range. The high cantle would give a firmness to the cowboy's
seat when he snubbed a steer with a sternness sufficient to send it
rolling heels over head. The high pommel, or "horn," steel-forged and
covered with cross braids of leather, served as anchor post for this
same steer, a turn of the rope about it accomplishing that purpose at
once. The saddle-tree forked low down over the pony's back so that the
saddle sat firmly and could not readily be pulled off. The great broad
cinches bound the saddle fast till horse and saddle were practically one
fabric. The strong wooden house of the old heavy stirrup protected
the foot from being crushed by the impact of the herd. The form of the
cow-saddle has changed but little, although today one sees a shorter
seat and smaller horn, a "swell front" or roll, and a stirrup of open
"ox-bow" pattern.
The round-up was the harvest of the range. The time of the calf round-up
was in the spring after the grass had become good and after the calves
had grown large enough for the branding. The State Cattle Association
divided the entire State range into a number of round-up districts.
Under an elected round-up captain were all the bosses in charge of the
different ranch outfits sent by men having cattle in the round-up. Let
us briefly draw a picture of this scene as it was.
Each cowboy would have eight or ten horses for his own use, for he had
now before him the hardest riding of the year. When the cow-puncher went
into the herd to cut out calves he mounted a fresh horse, and every few
hours he again changed horses, for there was no horse which could long
endure the fatigue of the rapid and intense work of cutting. Before the
rider stretched a sea of interwoven horns, waving and whirling as the
densely packed ranks of cattle closed in or swayed apart. It was
no prospect for a weakling, but into it went the cow-puncher on his
determined little horse, heeding not the plunging, crushing, and
thrusting of the excited cattle. Down under the bulks of the herd, half
hid in the whirl of dust, he would spy a little curly calf running,
dodging, and twisting, always at the heels of its mother; and he would
dart in after, following the two through the thick of surging and
plunging beasts. The sharp-eyed pony would see almost as soon as his
rider which cow was wanted and he needed small guidance from that time
on. He would follow hard at her heels, edging her constantly toward the
flank of the herd, at times nipping her hide as a reminder of his own
superiority. In spite of herself the cow would gradually turn out
toward the edge, and at last would be swept clear of the crush, the calf
following close behind her. There was a whirl of the rope and the calf
was laid by the heels and dragged to the fire where the branding irons
were heated and ready.
Meanwhile other cow-punchers are rushing calves to the branding.
The hubbub and turmoil increase. Taut ropes cross the ground in many
directions. The cutting ponies pant and sweat, rear and plunge. The
garb of the cowboy is now one of white alkali which hangs gray in his
eyebrows and moustache. Steers bellow as they surge to and fro. Cows
charge on their persecutors. Fleet yearlings break and run for the open,
pursued by men who care not how or where they ride.
We have spoken in terms of the past. There is no calf round-up of the
open range today. The last of the roundups was held in Routt County,
Colorado, several years ago, so far as the writer knows, and it had only
to do with shifting cattle from the summer to the winter range.
After the calf round-up came the beef round-up, the cowman's final
harvest. This began in July or August. Only the mature or fatted animals
were cut out from the herd. This "beef cut" was held apart and driven on
ahead from place to place as the round-up progressed. It was then driven
in by easy stages to the shipping point on the railroad, whence the long
trainloads of cattle went to the great markets.
In the heyday of the cowboy it was natural that his chief amusements
should be those of the outdoor air and those more or less in line with
his employment. He was accustomed to the sight of big game, and so had
the edge of his appetite for its pursuit worn off. Yet he was a hunter,
just as every Western man was a hunter in the times of the Western game.
His weapons were the rifle, revolver, and rope; the latter two were
always with him. With the rope at times he captured the coyote, and
under special conditions he has taken deer and even antelope in this
way, though this was of course most unusual and only possible under
chance conditions of ground and cover. Elk have been roped by cowboys
many times, and it is known that even the mountain sheep has been so
taken, almost incredible as that may seem. The young buffalo were easy
prey for the cowboy and these he often roped and made captive. In fact
the beginnings of all the herds of buffalo now in captivity in this
country were the calves roped and secured by cowboys; and these few
scattered individuals of a grand race of animals remain as melancholy
reminders alike of a national shiftlessness and an individual skill and
daring.
The grizzly was at times seen by the cowboys on the range, and if it
chanced that several cowboys were together it was not unusual to give
him chase. They did not always rope him, for it was rarely that the
nature of the country made this possible. Sometimes they roped him and
wished they could let him go, for a grizzly bear is uncommonly active
and straightforward in his habits at close quarters. The extreme
difficulty of such a combat, however, gave it its chief fascination for
the cowboy. Of course, no one horse could hold the bear after it was
roped, but, as one after another came up, the bear was caught by neck
and foot and body, until at last he was tangled and tripped and hauled
about till he was helpless, strangled, and nearly dead. It is said that
cowboys have so brought into camp a grizzly bear, forcing him to half
walk and half slide at the end of the ropes. No feat better than this
could show the courage of the plainsman and of the horse which he so
perfectly controlled.
Of such wild and dangerous exploits were the cowboy's amusements on the
range. It may be imagined what were his amusements when he visited the
"settlements." The cow-punchers, reared in the free life of the open
air, under circumstances of the utmost freedom of individual action,
perhaps came off the drive or round-up after weeks or months of unusual
restraint or hardship, and felt that the time had arrived for them
to "celebrate." Merely great rude children, as wild and untamed and
untaught as the herds they led, they regarded their first look at the
"settlements" of the railroads as a glimpse of a wider world. They
pursued to the uttermost such avenues of new experience as lay before
them, almost without exception avenues of vice. It is strange that the
records of those days should be chosen by the public to be held as the
measure of the American cowboy. Those days were brief, and they are
long since gone. The American cowboy atoned for them by a quarter of a
century of faithful labor.
The amusements of the cowboy were like the features of his daily
surroundings and occupation--they were intense, large, Homeric. Yet,
judged at his work, no higher type of employee ever existed, nor
one more dependable. He was the soul of honor in all the ways of his
calling. The very blue of the sky, bending evenly over all men alike,
seemed to symbolize his instinct for justice. Faithfulness and manliness
were his chief traits; his standard--to be a "square man."
Not all the open range will ever be farmed, but very much that was long
thought to be irreclaimable has gone under irrigation or is being more
or less successfully "dry-farmed." The man who brought water upon the
arid lands of the West changed the entire complexion of a vast country
and with it the industries of that country. Acres redeemed from the
desert and added to the realm of the American farmer were taken from the
realm of the American cowboy.
The West has changed. The curtain has dropped between us and its wild
and stirring scenes. The old days are gone. The house dog sits on the
hill where yesterday the coyote sang. There are fenced fields and in
them stand sleek round beasts, deep in crops such as their ancestors
never saw. In a little town nearby is the hurry and bustle of modern
life. This town is far out upon what was called the frontier, long after
the frontier has really gone. Guarding its ghost here stood a little
army post, once one of the pillars, now one of the monuments of the
West.
Out from the tiny settlement in the dusk of evening, always facing
toward where the sun is sinking, might be seen riding, not so long
ago, a figure we should know. He would thread the little lane among the
fences, following the guidance of hands other than his own, a thing he
would once have scorned to do. He would ride as lightly and as easily
as ever, sitting erect and jaunty in the saddle, his reins held high and
loose in the hand whose fingers turn up gracefully, his whole body free
yet firm in the saddle with the seat of the perfect horseman. At the
boom of the cannon, when the flag dropped fluttering down to sleep, he
would rise in his stirrups and wave his hat to the flag. Then, toward
the edge, out into the evening, he would ride on. The dust of his riding
would mingle with the dusk of night. We could not see which was the
one or the other. We could only hear the hoofbeats passing, boldly and
steadily still, but growing fainter, fainter, and more faint. *
* For permission to use in this chapter material from the
author's "The Story of the Cowboy," acknowledgment is made to D.
Appleton & Co.