THE ATASCOSA
For the next few days we paralleled the coast, except when forced
inland by various arms of the Laguna Madre. When about a week out from
the Arroyo Colorado, we encountered the Salt Lagoon, which threw us at
least fifty miles in from the coast. Here we had our last view of salt
water, and the murmurings of the Gulf were heard no more. Our route
now led northward through what were then the two largest ranches in
Texas, the “Running W” and Laurel Leaf, which sent more cattle up the
trail, bred in their own brand, than any other four ranches in the
Lone Star State. We were nearly a week passing through their ranges,
and on reaching Santa Gertruda ranch learned that three trail herds,
of over three thousand head each, had already started in these two
brands, while four more were to follow.
So far we had been having splendid luck in securing water for the
herd, once a day at least, and often twice and three times. Our herd
was becoming well trail-broken by this time, and for range cattle had
quieted down and were docile and easy to handle. Flood’s years of
experience on the trail made him a believer in the theory that
stampedes were generally due to negligence in not having the herd full
of grass and water on reaching the bed ground at night. Barring
accidents, which will happen, his view is the correct one, if care has
been used for the first few weeks in properly breaking the herd to the
trail. But though hunger and thirst are probably responsible for more
stampedes than all other causes combined, it is the unexpected which
cannot be guarded against. A stampede is the natural result of fear,
and at night or in an uncertain light, this timidity might be imparted
to an entire herd by a flash of lightning or a peal of thunder, while
the stumbling of a night horse, or the scent of some wild animal,
would in a moment’s time, from frightening a few head, so infect a
herd as to throw them into the wildest panic. Amongst the thousands of
herds like ours which were driven over the trail during its brief
existence, none ever made the trip without encountering more or less
trouble from runs. Frequently a herd became so spoiled in this manner
that it grew into a mania with them, so that they would stampede on
the slightest provocation,--or no provocation at all.
A few days after leaving Santa Gertruda Ranch, we crossed the Nueces
River, which we followed up for several days, keeping in touch with it
for water for the herd. But the Nueces, after passing Oakville, makes
an abrupt turn, doubling back to the southwest; and the Atascosa, one
of its tributaries, became our source of water supply. We were
beginning to feel a degree of overconfidence in the good behavior of
our herd, when one night during the third week out, an incident
occurred in which they displayed their running qualities to our
complete satisfaction.
It occurred during our guard, and about two o’clock in the morning.
The night was an unusually dark one and the atmosphere was very humid.
After we had been on guard possibly an hour, John Officer and I riding
in one direction on opposite sides of the herd, and The Rebel circling
in the opposite, Officer’s horse suddenly struck a gopher burrow with
his front feet, and in a moment horse and rider were sprawling on the
ground. The accident happened but a few rods from the sleeping herd,
which instantly came to their feet as one steer, and were off like a
flash. I was riding my Nigger Boy, and as the cattle headed toward me,
away from the cause of their fright, I had to use both quirt and rowel
to keep clear of the onrush. Fortunately we had a clear country near
the bed ground, and while the terrified cattle pressed me close, my
horse kept the lead. In the rumbling which ensued, all sounds were
submerged by the general din; and I was only brought to the
consciousness that I was not alone by seeing several distinct flashes
from six-shooters on my left, and, realizing that I also had a gun,
fired several times in the air in reply. I was soon joined by Priest
and Officer, the latter having lost no time in regaining his seat in
the saddle, and the three of us held together some little distance,
for it would have been useless to attempt to check or turn this
onslaught of cattle in their first mad rush.
The wagon was camped about two hundred yards from the bed ground, and
the herd had given ample warning to the boys asleep, so that if we
three could hold our position in the lead, help would come to us as
soon as the men in camp could reach their horses. Realizing the wide
front of the running cattle, Priest sent Officer to the left and
myself to the right, to point in the leaders in order to keep the herd
from splitting or scattering, while he remained in the centre and led
the herd. I soon gained the outside of the leaders, and by dropping
back and coming up the line, pointed them in to the best of my
ability. I had repeated this a number of times, even quirting some
cattle along the outside, or burning a little powder in the face of
some obstinate leader, when across the herd and to the rear I saw a
succession of flashes like fireflies, which told me the boys were
coming to our assistance.
Running is not a natural gait with cattle, and if we could only hold
them together and prevent splitting up, in time they would tire, while
the rear cattle could be depended on to follow the leaders. All we
could hope to do was to force them to run straight, and in this
respect we were succeeding splendidly, though to a certain extent it
was a guess in the dark. When they had run possibly a mile, I noticed
a horseman overtake Priest. After they had ridden together a moment,
one of them came over to my point, and the next minute our foreman was
racing along by my side. In his impatience to check the run, he took
me with him, and circling the leaders we reached the left point, by
which time the remainder of the outfit had come up. Now massing our
numbers, we fell on the left point, and amid the flash of guns
deflected their course for a few moments. A dozen men, however, can
cover but a small space, and we soon realized that we had turned only
a few hundred head, for the momentum of the main body bore steadily
ahead. Abandoning what few cattle we had turned, which, owing to their
running ability, soon resumed their places in the lead, we attempted
to turn them to the left. Stretching out our line until there was a
man about every twenty feet, we threw our force against the right
point and lead in the hope of gradually deviating their course. For a
few minutes the attempt promised to be successful, but our cordon was
too weak and the cattle went through between the riders, and we soon
found a portion of our forces on either side of the herd, while a few
of the boys were riding out of the rush in the lead.
On finding our forces thus divided, the five or six of us who remained
on the right contented ourselves by pointing in the leaders, for the
cattle, so far as we could tell, were running compactly. Our foreman,
however, was determined to turn the run, and after a few minutes’ time
rejoined us on the right, when under his leadership we circled the
front of the herd and collected on the left point, when, for a third
time, we repeated the same tactics in our efforts to turn the
stampede. But in this, which was our final effort, we were attempting
to turn them slowly and on a much larger circle, and with a promise of
success. Suddenly in the dark we encountered a mesquite thicket into
which the lead cattle tore with a crashing of brush and a rattle of
horns that sent a chill up and down my spine. But there was no time to
hesitate, for our horses were in the thicket, and with the herd
closing in on us there was no alternative but to go through it, every
man for himself. I gave Nigger a free rein, shutting my eyes and
clutching both cantle and pommel to hold my seat; the black responded
to the rowel and tore through the thicket, in places higher than my
head, and came out in an open space considerably in the lead of the
cattle.
This thicket must have been eight or ten rods wide, and checked the
run to a slight extent; but as they emerged from it, they came out in
scattering flies and resumed their running. Being alone, and not
knowing which way to turn, I rode to the right and front and soon
found myself in the lead of quite a string of cattle. Nigger and I
were piloting them where they listed, when Joe Stallings, hatless
himself and his horse heaving, overtook me, and the two of us gave
those lead cattle all the trouble we knew how. But we did not attempt
to turn them, for they had caught their wind in forcing the thicket,
and were running an easy stroke. Several times we worried the leaders
into a trot, but as other cattle in the rear came up, we were
compelled to loosen out and allow them to resume their running, or
they would have scattered on us like partridges. At this stage of the
run, we had no idea where the rest of the outfit were, but both of us
were satisfied the herd had scattered on leaving the mesquite thicket,
and were possibly then running in half a dozen bunches like the one we
were with.
Stallings’s horse was badly winded, and on my suggestion, he dropped
out on one side to try to get some idea how many cattle we were
leading. He was gone some little time, and as Nigger cantered along
easily in the lead, I managed to eject the shells from my six-shooter
and refill the cylinder. On Joe’s overtaking me again, he reported
that there was a slender column of cattle, half a mile in length,
following. As one man could easily lead this string of the herd until
daybreak, I left Stallings with them and rode out to the left nearly a
quarter of a mile, listening to hear if there were any cattle running
to the left of those we were leading. It took me but a few minutes to
satisfy myself that ours was the outside band on the left, and after I
rejoined Joe, we made an effort to check our holding.
There were about fifty or sixty big steers in the lead of our bunch,
and after worrying them into a trot, we opened in their front with our
six-shooters, shooting into the ground in their very faces, and were
rewarded by having them turn tail and head the other way. Taking
advantage of the moment, we jumped our horses on the retreating
leaders, and as fast as the rear cattle forged forward, easily turned
them. Leaving Joe to turn the rear as they came up, I rode to the
lead, unfastening my slicker as I went, and on reaching the turned
leaders, who were running on an angle from their former course,
flaunted my “fish” in their faces until they reentered the rear guard
of our string, and we soon had a mill going which kept them busy, and
rested our horses. Once we had them milling, our trouble, as far as
running was concerned, was over, for all two of us could hope to do
was to let them exhaust themselves in this endless circle.
It then lacked an hour of daybreak, and all we could do was to ride
around and wait for daylight. In the darkness preceding dawn, we had
no idea of the number of our bunch, except as we could judge from the
size and compactness of the milling cattle, which must have covered an
acre or more. The humidity of the atmosphere, which had prevailed
during the night, by dawn had changed until a heavy fog, cutting off
our view on every hand, left us as much at sea as we had been
previously. But with the break of day we rode through our holding a
number of times, splitting and scattering the milling cattle, and as
the light of day brightened, we saw them quiet down and go to grazing
as though they had just arisen from the bed ground. It was over an
hour before the fog lifted sufficiently to give us any idea as to our
whereabouts, and during the interim both Stallings and myself rode to
the nearest elevation, firing a number of shots in the hope of getting
an answer from the outfit, but we had no response.
When the sun was sufficiently high to scatter the mists which hung in
clouds, there was not an object in sight by which we could determine
our location. Whether we had run east, west, or south during the night
neither of us knew, though both Stallings and myself were satisfied
that we had never crossed the trail, and all we did know for a
certainty was that we had between six and seven hundred head of
cattle. Stallings had lost his hat, and I had one sleeve missing and
both outside pockets torn out of my coat, while the mesquite thorns
had left their marks on the faces of both of us, one particularly ugly
cut marking Joe’s right temple. “I’ve worn leggins for the last ten
years,” said Stallings to me, as we took an inventory of our
disfigurements, “and for about ten seconds in forcing that mesquite
thicket was the only time I ever drew interest on my investment.
They’re a heap like a six-shooter--wear them all your life and never
have any use for them.”
With a cigarette for breakfast, I left Joe to look after our bunch,
and after riding several miles to the right, cut the trail of quite a
band of cattle. In following up this trail I could easily see that
some one was in their lead, as they failed to hold their course in any
one direction for any distance, as free cattle would. After following
this trail about three miles, I sighted the band of cattle, and on
overtaking them, found two of our boys holding about half as many as
Stallings had. They reported that The Rebel and Bob Blades had been
with them until daybreak, but having the freshest horses had left them
with the dawn and ridden away to the right, where it was supposed the
main body of the herd had run. As Stallings’s bunch was some three or
four miles to the rear and left of this band, Wyatt Roundtree
suggested that he go and pilot in Joe’s cattle, as he felt positive
that the main body were somewhere to our right. On getting directions
from me as to where he would find our holding, he rode away, and I
again rode off to the right, leaving Rod Wheat with their catch.
The sun was now several hours high, and as my black’s strength was
standing the test bravely, I cross-cut the country and was soon on
another trail of our stampeded cattle. But in following this trail, I
soon noticed two other horsemen preceding me. Knowing that my services
would be too late, I only followed far enough to satisfy myself of the
fact. The signs left by the running cattle were as easy to follow as a
public road, and in places where the ground was sandy, the sod was cut
up as if a regiment of cavalry had charged across it. On again bearing
off to the right, I rode for an elevation which ought to give me a
good view of the country. Slight as this elevation was, on reaching
it, I made out a large band of cattle under herd, and as I was on the
point of riding to them, saw our wagon and saddle horses heave in
sight from a northwest quarter. Supposing they were following up the
largest trail, I rode for the herd, where Flood and two of the boys
had about twelve hundred cattle. From a comparison of notes, our
foreman was able to account for all the men with the exception of two,
and as these proved to be Blades and Priest, I could give him a
satisfactory explanation as to their probable whereabouts. On my
report of having sighted the wagon and _remuda_, Flood at once ordered
me to meet and hurry them in, as not only he, but Strayhorn and
Officer, were badly in need of a change of mounts.
I learned from McCann, who was doing the trailing from the wagon, that
the regular trail was to the west, the herd having crossed it within a
quarter of a mile after leaving the bed ground. Joining Honeyman, I
took the first horse which came within reach of my rope, and with a
fresh mount under me, we rushed the saddle horses past the wagon and
shortly came up with our foreman. There we rounded in the horses as
best we could without the aid of the wagon, and before McCann arrived,
all had fresh mounts and were ready for orders. This was my first trip
on the trail, and I was hungry and thirsty enough to hope something
would be said about eating, but that seemed to be the last idea in our
foreman’s mind. Instead, he ordered me to take the two other boys with
me, and after putting them on the trail of the bunch which The Rebel
and Blades were following, to drift in what cattle we had held on our
left. But as we went, we managed to encounter the wagon and get a
drink and a canteen of water from McCann before we galloped away on
our mission. After riding a mile or so together, we separated, and on
my arrival at the nearest bunch, I found Roundtree and Stallings
coming up with the larger holding. Throwing the two hunches together,
we drifted them a free clip towards camp. We soon sighted the main
herd, and saw across to our right and about five miles distant two of
our men bringing in another hunch. As soon as we turned our cattle
into the herd, Flood ordered me, on account of my light weight, to
meet this bunch, find out where the last cattle were, and go to their
assistance.
With a hungry look in the direction of our wagon, I obeyed, and on
meeting Durham and Borrowstone, learned that the outside bunch on the
right, which had got into the regular trail, had not been checked
until daybreak. All they knew about their location was that the up
stage from Oakville had seen two men with Circle Dot cattle about five
miles below, and had sent up word by the driver that they had
something like four hundred head. With this meagre information, I rode
away in the direction where one would naturally expect to find our
absent men, and after scouring the country for an hour, sighted a
single horseman on an elevation, whom from the gray mount I knew for
Quince Forrest. He was evidently on the lookout for some one to pilot
them in. They had been drifting like lost sheep ever since dawn, but
we soon had their cattle pointed in the right direction, and Forrest
taking the lead, Quarternight and I put the necessary push behind
them. Both of them cursed me roundly for not bringing them a canteen
of water, though they were well aware that in an emergency like the
present, our foreman would never give a thought to anything but the
recovery of the herd. Our comfort was nothing; men were cheap, but
cattle cost money.
We reached the camp about two o’clock, and found the outfit cutting
out range cattle which had been absorbed into the herd during the run.
Throwing in our contingent, we joined in the work, and though Forrest
and Quarternight were as good as afoot, there were no orders for a
change of mounts, to say nothing of food and drink. Several hundred
mixed cattle were in the herd, and after they had been cut out, we
lined our cattle out for a count. In the absence of Priest, Flood and
John Officer did the counting, and as the hour of the day made the
cattle sluggish, they lined through between the counters as though
they had never done anything but walk in their lives. The count showed
sixteen short of twenty-eight hundred, which left us yet over three
hundred out. But good men were on their trail, and leaving two men on
herd, the rest of us obeyed the most welcome orders of the day when
Flood intimated that we would “eat a bite and go after the rest.”
As we had been in our saddles since one or two o’clock the morning
before, it is needless to add that our appetites were equal to the
spread which our cook had waiting for us. Our foreman, as though
fearful of the loss of a moment’s time, sent Honeyman to rustle in the
horses before we had finished our dinners. Once the _remuda_ was
corralled, under the rush of a tireless foreman, dinner was quickly
over, and fresh horses became the order of the moment. The Atascosa,
our nearest water, lay beyond the regular trail to the west, and
leaving orders for the outfit to drift the herd into it and water,
Flood and myself started in search of our absent men, not forgetting
to take along two extra horses as a remount for Blades and Priest. The
leading of these extra horses fell to me, but with the loose end of a
rope in Jim Flood’s hand as he followed, it took fast riding to keep
clear of them.
After reaching the trail of the missing cattle, our foreman set a pace
for five or six miles which would have carried us across the Nueces by
nightfall, and we were only checked by Moss Strayhorn riding in on an
angle and intercepting us in our headlong gait. The missing cattle
were within a mile of us to the right, and we turned and rode to them.
Strayhorn explained to us that the cattle had struck some recent
fencing on their course, and after following down the fence several
miles had encountered an offset, and the angle had held the squad
until The Rebel and Blades overtook them. When Officer and he reached
them, they were unable to make any accurate count, because of the
range cattle amongst them, and they had considered it advisable to
save horseflesh, and not cut them until more help was available. When
we came up with the cattle, my bunkie and Blades looked wistfully at
our saddles, and anticipating their want, I untied my slicker, well
remembering the reproof of Quarternight and Forrest, and produced a
full canteen of water,--warm of course, but no less welcome.
No sooner were saddles shifted than we held up the bunch, cut out the
range cattle, counted, and found we had some three hundred and thirty
odd Circle Dots,--our number more than complete. With nothing now
missing, Flood took the loose horses and two of the boys with him and
returned to the herd, leaving three of us behind to bring in this last
contingent of our stampeded cattle. This squad were nearly all large
steers, and had run fully twenty miles, before, thanks to an angle in
a fence, they had been checked. As our foreman galloped away, leaving
us behind, Bob Blades said,--
“Hasn’t the boss got a wiggle on himself today! If he’d made this old
world, he’d have made it in half a day, and gone fishing in the
afternoon--if his horses had held out.”
We reached the Atascosa shortly after the arrival of the herd, and
after holding the cattle on the water for an hour, grazed them the
remainder of the evening, for if there was any virtue in their having
full stomachs, we wanted to benefit from it. While grazing that
evening, we recrossed the trail on an angle, and camped in the most
open country we could find, about ten miles below our camp of the
night before. Every precaution was taken to prevent a repetition of
the run; our best horses were chosen for night duty, as our regular
ones were too exhausted; every advantage of elevation for a bed ground
was secured, and thus fortified against accident, we went into camp
for the night. But the expected never happens on the trail, and the
sun arose the next morning over our herd grazing in peace and
contentment on the flowery prairies which border on the Atascosa.