BACK TO TEXAS
The nearest railroad point from the Blackfoot Agency was Silver Bow,
about a hundred and seventy-five miles due south, and at that time the
terminal of the Utah Northern Railroad. Everything connected with the
delivery having been completed the previous day, our camp was astir
with the dawn in preparation for departure on our last ride together.
As we expected to make not less than forty miles a day on the way to
the railroad, our wagon was lightened to the least possible weight.
The chuck-box, water kegs, and such superfluities were dropped, and
the supplies reduced to one week’s allowance, while beds were
overhauled and extra wearing apparel of the outfit was discarded. Who
cared if we did sleep cold and hadn’t a change to our backs? We were
going home and would have money in our pockets.
“The first thing I do when we strike that town of Silver Bow,” said
Bull Durham, as he was putting on his last shirt, “is to discard to
the skin and get me new togs to a finish. I’ll commence on my little
pattering feet, which will require fifteen-dollar moccasins, and then
about a six-dollar checked cottonade suit, and top off with a
seven-dollar brown Stetson. Then with a few drinks under my belt and a
rim-fire cigar in my mouth, I’d admire to meet the governor of Montana
if convenient.”
Before the sun was an hour high, we bade farewell to the Blackfoot
Agency and were doubling back over the trail, with Lovell in our
company. Our first night’s camp was on the Muddy and the second on the
Sun River. We were sweeping across the tablelands adjoining the main
divide of the Rocky Mountains like the chinook winds which sweep that
majestic range on its western slope. We were a free outfit; even the
cook and wrangler were relieved; their little duties were divided
among the crowd and almost disappeared. There was a keen rivalry over
driving the wagon, and McCann was transferred to the hurricane deck of
a cow horse, which he sat with ease and grace, having served an
apprenticeship in the saddle in other days. There were always half a
dozen wranglers available in the morning, and we traveled as if under
forced marching orders. The third night we camped in the narrows
between the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains, and on the evening
of the fourth day camped several miles to the eastward of Helena, the
capital of the territory.
Don Lovell had taken the stage for the capital the night before; and
on making camp that evening, Flood took a fresh horse and rode into
town. The next morning he and Lovell returned with the superintendent
of the cattle company which had contracted for our horses and outfit
on the Republican. We corralled the horses for him, and after roping
out about a dozen which, as having sore backs or being lame, he
proposed to treat as damaged and take at half price, the _remuda_ was
counted out, a hundred and forty saddle horses, four mules, and a
wagon constituting the transfer. Even with the loss of two horses and
the concessions on a dozen others, there was a nice profit on the
entire outfit over its cost in the lower country, due to the foresight
of Don Lovell in mounting us well. Two of our fellows who had borrowed
from the superintendent money to redeem their six-shooters after the
horse race on the Republican, authorized Lovell to return him the
loans and thanked him for the favor. Everything being satisfactory
between buyer and seller, they returned to town together for a
settlement, while we moved on south towards Silver Bow, where the
outfit was to be delivered.
Another day’s easy travel brought us to within a mile of the railroad
terminus; but it also brought us to one of the hardest experiences of
our trip, for each of us knew, as we unsaddled our horses, that we
were doing it for the last time. Although we were in the best of
spirits over the successful conclusion of the drive; although we were
glad to be free from herd duty and looked forward eagerly to the
journey home, there was still a feeling of regret in our hearts which
we could not dispel. In the days of my boyhood I have shed tears when
a favorite horse was sold from our little ranch on the San Antonio,
and have frequently witnessed Mexican children unable to hide their
grief when need of bread had compelled the sale of some favorite horse
to a passing drover. But at no time in my life, before or since, have
I felt so keenly the parting between man and horse as I did that
September evening in Montana. For on the trail an affection springs up
between a man and his mount which is almost human. Every privation
which he endures his horse endures with him,--carrying him through
falling weather, swimming rivers by day and riding in the lead of
stampedes by night, always faithful, always willing, and always
patiently enduring every hardship, from exhausting hours under saddle
to the sufferings of a dry drive. And on this drive, covering nearly
three thousand miles, all the ties which can exist between man and
beast had not only become cemented, but our _remuda_ as a whole had
won the affection of both men and employer for carrying without
serious mishap a valuable herd all the way from the Rio Grande to the
Blackfoot Agency. Their bones may be bleaching in some coulee by now,
but the men who knew them then can never forget them or the part they
played in that long drive.
Three men from the ranch rode into our camp that evening, and the next
morning we counted over our horses to them and they passed into
strangers’ hands. That there might be no delay, Flood had ridden into
town the evening before and secured a wagon and gunny bags in which to
sack our saddles; for while we willingly discarded all other effects,
our saddles were of sufficient value to return and could be checked
home as baggage. Our foreman reported that Lovell had arrived by stage
and was awaiting us in town, having already arranged for our
transportation as far as Omaha, and would accompany us to that city,
where other transportation would have to be secured to our
destination. In our impatience to get into town, we were trudging in
by twos and threes before the wagon arrived for our saddles, and had
not Flood remained behind to look after them, they might have been
abandoned.
There was something about Silver Bow that reminded me of Frenchman’s
Ford on the Yellowstone. Being the terminal of the first railroad into
Montana, it became the distributing point for all the western portion
of that territory, and immense ox trains were in sight for the
transportation of goods to remoter points in the north and west. The
population too was very much the same as at Frenchman’s, though the
town in general was an improvement over the former, there being some
stability to its buildings. As we were to leave on an eleven o’clock
train, we had little opportunity to see the town, and for the short
time at our disposal, barber shops and clothing stores claimed our
first attention. Most of us had some remnants of money, while my
bunkie was positively rich, and Lovell advanced us fifty dollars
apiece, pending a final settlement on reaching our destination.
Within an hour after receiving the money, we blossomed out in new
suits from head to heel. Our guard hung together as if we were still
on night herd, and in the selection of clothing the opinion of the
trio was equal to a purchase. The Rebel was very easily pleased in his
selection, but John Officer and myself were rather fastidious. Officer
was so tall it was with some little difficulty that a suit could be
found to fit him, and when he had stuffed his pants in his boots and
thrown away the vest, for he never wore either vest or suspenders, he
emerged looking like an Alpine tourist, with his new pink shirt and
nappy brown beaver slouch hat jauntily cocked over one ear. As we
sauntered out into the street, Priest was dressed as became his years
and mature good sense, while my costume rivaled Officer’s in
gaudiness, and it is safe to assert two thirds of our outlay had gone
for boots and hats.
Flood overtook us in the street, and warned us to be on hand at the
depot at least half an hour in advance of train time, informing us
that he had checked our saddles and didn’t want any of us to get left
at the final moment. We all took a drink together, and Officer assured
our foreman that he would be responsible for our appearance at the
proper time, “sober and sorry for it.” So we sauntered about the
straggling village, drinking occasionally, and on the suggestion of
The Rebel, made a cow by putting in five apiece and had Officer play
it on faro, he claiming to be an expert on the game. Taking the purse
thus made up, John sat into a game, while Priest and myself, after
watching the play some minutes, strolled out again and met others of
our outfit in the street, scarcely recognizable in their killing rigs.
The Rebel was itching for a monte game, but this not being a cow town
there was none, and we strolled next into a saloon, where a piano was
being played by a venerable-looking individual,--who proved quite
amiable, taking a drink with us and favoring us with a number of
selections of our choosing. We were enjoying this musical treat when
our foreman came in and asked us to get the boys together. Priest and
I at once started for Officer, whom we found quite a winner, but
succeeded in choking him off on our employer’s order, and after the
checks had been cashed, took a parting drink, which made us the last
in reaching the depot. When we were all assembled, our employer
informed us that he only wished to keep us together until embarking,
and invited us to accompany him across the street to Tom Robbins’s
saloon.
On entering the saloon, Lovell inquired of the young fellow behind the
bar, “Son, what will you take for the privilege of my entertaining
this outfit for fifteen minutes?”
“The ranch is yours, sir, and you can name your own figures,”
smilingly and somewhat shrewdly replied the young fellow, and promptly
vacated his position.
“Now, two or three of you rascals get in behind there,” said old man
Don, as a quartet of the boys picked him up and set him on one end of
the bar, “and let’s see what this ranch has in the way of
refreshment.”
McCann, Quarternight, and myself obeyed the order, but the fastidious
tastes of the line in front soon compelled us to call to our
assistance both Robbins and the young man who had just vacated the bar
in our favor.
“That’s right, fellows,” roared Lovell from his commanding position,
as he jingled a handful of gold coins, “turn to and help wait on these
thirsty Texans; and remember that nothing’s too rich for our blood
to-day. This outfit has made one of the longest cattle drives on
record, and the best is none too good for them. So set out your best,
for they can’t cut much hole in the profits in the short time we have
to stay. The train leaves in twenty minutes, and see that every rascal
is provided with an extra bottle for the journey. And drop down this
way when you get time, as I want a couple of boxes of your best cigars
to smoke on the way. Montana has treated us well, and we want to leave
some of our coin with you.”