SAN JACINTO DAY
A few days later, when Uncle Lance returned from San Antonio, we had a
confidential talk, and he decided not to send me with the McLeod check
to the San Miguel. He had reasons of his own, and I was dispatched to
the Frio instead, while to Enrique fell the pleasant task of a similar
errand to Santa Maria. In order to grind an axe, Glenn Gallup was sent
down to Wilson’s with the settlement for the Ramirena cattle, which
Uncle Lance made the occasion of a jovial expression of his theory of
love-making. “Don’t waste any words with old man Nate,” said he, as he
handed Glenn the check; “but build right up to Miss Jule. Holy snakes,
boy, if I was your age I would make her dizzy with a big talk. Tell her
you’re thinking of quitting Las Palomas and driving a trail herd
yourself next year. Tell it big and scary. Make her eyes fairly bulge
out, and when you can’t think of anything else, tell her she’s pretty.”
I spent a day or two at the Booth ranch, and on my return found the Las
Palomas outfit in the saddle working our horse stock. Yearly we made up
new _manadas_ from the two-year-old fillies. There were enough young
mares to form twelve bands of about twenty-five head each. In selecting
these we were governed by standard colors, bays, browns, grays, blacks,
and sorrels forming separate _manadas,_ while all mongrel colors went
into two bands by themselves. In the latter class there was a tendency
for the colors of the old Spanish stock,—coyotes, and other hybrid
mixtures,—after being dormant for generations, to crop out again. In
breaking these fillies into new bands, we added a stallion a year or
two older and of acceptable color, and they were placed in charge of a
trusty vaquero, whose duty was to herd them for the first month after
being formed. The Mexican in charge usually took the band round the
circuit of the various ranchitas, corralling his charge at night,
drifting at will, so that by the end of the month old associations
would be severed, and from that time the stallion could be depended on
as herdsman.
In gathering the fillies, we also cut out all the geldings three years
old and upward to break for saddle purposes. There were fully two
hundred of these, and the month of April was spent in saddle-breaking
this number. They were a fine lot of young horses, and under the master
eye of two perfect horsemen, our _segundo_ and employer, every horse
was broken with intelligence and humanity. Since the day of their
branding as colts these geldings had never felt the touch of a human
hand; and it required more than ordinary patience to overcome their
fear, bring them to a condition of submission, and make serviceable
ranch horses out of them. The most difficult matter was in overcoming
their fear. It was also necessary to show the mastery of man over the
animal, though this process was tempered with humanity. We had several
circular, sandy corrals into which the horse to be broken was admitted
for the first saddling. As he ran round, a lasso skillfully thrown
encircled his front feet and he came down on his side. One fore foot
was strapped up, a hackamore or bitless bridle was adjusted in place,
and he was allowed to arise. After this, all depended on the patience
and firmness of the handler. Some horses yielded to kind advances and
accepted the saddle within half an hour, not even offering to pitch,
while others repelled every kindness and fought for hours. But in
handling the gelding of spirit, we could always count on the help of an
extra saddler.
While this work was being done, the herd of geldings was held close at
hand. After the first riding, four horses were the daily allowance of
each rider. With the amount of help available, this allowed twelve to
fifteen horses to the man, so that every animal was ridden once in
three or four days. Rather than corral, we night-herded, penning them
by dawn and riding our first horse before sun-up. As they gradually
yielded, we increased our number to six a day and finally before the
breaking was over to eight. When the work was finally over they were
cut into _remudas_ of fifty horses each, furnished a gentle bell mare,
when possible with a young colt by her side, and were turned over to a
similar treatment as was given the fillies in forming _manadas._ Thus
the different _remudas_ at Las Palomas always took the name of the bell
mare, and when we were at work, it was only necessary for us to hobble
the princess at night to insure the presence of her band in the
morning.
When this month’s work was two thirds over, we enjoyed a holiday. All
good Texans, whether by birth or adoption, celebrate the twenty-first
of April,—San Jacinto Day. National holidays may not always be observed
in sparsely settled communities, but this event will remain a great
anniversary until the sons and daughters of the Lone Star State lose
their patriotism or forget the blessings of liberty. As Shepherd’s
Ferry was centrally located, it became by common consent the
meeting-point for our local celebration. Residents from the Frio and
San Miguel and as far south on the home river as Lagarto, including the
villagers of Oakville, usually lent their presence on this occasion.
The white element of Las Palomas was present without an exception. As
usual, Miss Jean went by ambulance, starting the afternoon before and
spending the night at a ranch above the ferry. Those remaining made a
daybreak start, reaching Shepherd’s by ten in the morning.
While on the way from the ranch to the ferry, I was visited with some
misgivings as to whether Esther McLeod had yet returned from San
Antonio. At the delivery of San Miguel’s cattle at Las Palomas, Miss
Jean had been very attentive to Tony Hunter, Esther’s brother-in-law,
and through him she learned that Esther’s school closed for the summer
vacation on the fifteenth of April, and that within a week afterward
she was expected at home. Shortly after our reaching the ferry, a
number of vehicles drove in from Oakville. One of these conveyances was
an elaborate six-horse stage, owned by Bethel & Oxenford, star route
mail contractors between San Antonio and Brownsville, Texas. Seated by
young Oxenford’s side in the driver’s box sat Esther McLeod, while
inside the coach was her sister, Mrs. Martin, with the senior member of
the firm, his wife, and several other invited guests. I had heard
something of the gallantry of young Jack Oxenford, who was the nephew
of a carpet-bag member of Congress, and prided himself on being the
best whip in the country. In the latter field I would gladly have
yielded him all honors, but his attentions to Esther were altogether
too marked to please either me or my employer. I am free to admit that
I was troubled by this turn of affairs. The junior mail contractor made
up in egotism what he lacked in appearance, and no doubt had money to
burn, as star route mail contracting was profitable those days, while I
had nothing but my monthly wages. To make matters more embarrassing, a
blind man could have read Mrs. Martin’s approval of young Oxenford.
The programme for the forenoon was brief—a few patriotic songs and an
oration by a young lawyer who had come up from Corpus Christi for the
occasion. After listening to the opening song, my employer and I took a
stroll down by the river, as we were too absorbed in the new
complications to pay proper attention to the young orator.
“Tom,” said Uncle Lance, as we strolled away from the grove, “we are up
against the real thing now. I know young Oxenford, and he’s a dangerous
fellow to have for a rival, if he really is one. You can’t tell much
about a Yankee, though, for he’s usually egotistical enough to think
that every girl in the country is breaking her neck to win him. The
worst of it is, this young fellow is rich—he’s got dead oodles of money
and he’s making more every hour out of his mail contracts. One good
thing is, we understand the situation, and all’s fair in love and war.
You can see, though, that Mrs. Martin has dealt herself a hand in the
game. By the dough on her fingers she proposes to have a fist in the
pie. Well, now, son, we’ll give them a run for their money or break a
tug in the effort. Tom, just you play to my lead to-day and we’ll see
who holds the high cards or knows best how to play them. If I can cut
him off, that’ll be your chance to sail in and do a little
close-herding yourself.”
We loitered along the river bank until the oration was concluded, my
employer giving me quite an interesting account of my rival. It seems
that young Oxenford belonged to a family then notoriously prominent in
politics. He had inherited quite a sum of money, and, through the
influence of his congressional uncle, had been fortunate enough to form
a partnership with Bethel, a man who knew all the ropes in mail
contracting. The senior member of the firm knew how to shake the tree,
while the financial resources of the junior member and the political
influence of his uncle made him a valuable man in gathering the plums
on their large field of star route contracts. Had not exposure
interrupted, they were due to have made a large fortune out of the
government.
On our return to the picnic grounds, the assembly was dispersing for
luncheon. Miss Jean had ably provided for the occasion, and on reaching
our ambulance on the outer edge of the grove, Tiburcio had coffee all
ready and the boys from the home ranch began to straggle in for dinner.
Miss Jean had prevailed on Tony Hunter and his wife, who had come down
on horseback from the San Miguel, to take luncheon with us, and from
the hearty greetings which Uncle Lance extended to the guests of his
sister, I could see that the owner and mistress of Las Palomas were
diplomatically dividing the house of McLeod. I followed suit, making
myself agreeable to Mrs. Hunter, who was but very few years the elder
of Esther. Having spent a couple of nights at their ranch, and feeling
a certain comradeship with her husband, I decided before dinner was
over that I had a friend and ally in Tony’s wife. There was something
romantic about the young matron, as any one could see, and since the
sisters favored each other in many ways, I had hopes that Esther might
not overvalue Jack Oxenford’s money.
After luncheon, as we were on our way to the dancing arbor, we met the
Oakville party with Esther in tow. I was introduced to Mrs. Martin,
who, in turn, made me acquainted with her friends, including her
sister, perfectly unconscious that we were already more than mere
acquaintances. From the demure manner of Esther, who accepted the
introduction as a matter of course, I surmised she was concealing our
acquaintance from her sister and my rival. We had hardly reached the
arbor before Uncle Lance created a diversion and interested the mail
contractors with a glowing yarn about a fine lot of young mules he had
at the ranch, large enough for stage purposes. There was some doubt
expressed by the stage men as to their size and weight, when my
employer invited them to the outskirts of the grove, where he would
show them a sample in our ambulance team. So he led them away, and I
saw that the time had come to play to my employer’s lead. The music
striking up, I claimed Esther for the first dance, leaving Mrs. Martin,
for the time being, in charge of her sister and Miss Jean. Before the
first waltz ended I caught sight of all three of the ladies mingling in
the dance. It was a source of no small satisfaction to me to see my two
best friends, Deweese and Gallup, dancing with the married sisters,
while Miss Jean was giving her whole attention to her partner, Tony
Hunter. With the entire Las Palomas crowd pulling strings in my
interest, and Father, in the absence of Oxenford, becoming extremely
gracious, I grew bold and threw out my chest like the brisket on a beef
steer.
I permitted no one to separate me from Esther. We started the second
dance together, but no sooner did I see her sister, Mrs. Martin, whirl
by us in the polka with Dan Happersett, than I suggested that we drop
out and take a stroll. She consented, and we were soon out of sight,
wandering in a labyrinth of lover’s lanes which abounded throughout
this live-oak grove. On reaching the outskirts of the picnic grounds,
we came to an extensive opening in which our saddle horses were
picketed. At a glance Esther recognized Wolf, the horse I had ridden
the Christmas before when passing their ranch. Being a favorite saddle
horse of the old ranchero, he was reserved for special occasions, and
Uncle Lance had ridden him down to Shepherd’s on this holiday. Like a
bird freed from a cage, the ranch girl took to the horses and insisted
on a little ride. Since her proposal alone prevented my making a
similar suggestion, I allowed myself to be won over, but came near
getting caught in protesting. “But you told me at the ranch that Wolf
was one of ten in your Las Palomas mount,” she poutingly protested.
“He is,” I insisted, “but I have loaned him to Uncle Lance for the
day.”
“Throw the saddle on him then—I’ll tell Mr. Lovelace when we return
that I borrowed his horse when he wasn’t looking.”
Had she killed the horse, I felt sure that the apology would have been
accepted; so, throwing saddles on the black and my own mount, we were
soon scampering down the river. The inconvenience of a man’s saddle, or
the total absence of any, was a negligible incident to this daughter of
the plains. A mile down the river, we halted and watered the horses.
Then, crossing the stream, we spent about an hour circling slowly about
on the surrounding uplands, never being over a mile from the picnic
grounds. It was late for the first flora of the season, but there was
still an abundance of blue bonnets. Dismounting, we gathered and wove
wreaths for our horses’ necks, and wandered picking the Mexican
strawberries which grew plentifully on every hand.
But this was all preliminary to the main question. When it came up for
discussion, this one of Quirk’s boys made the talk of his life in
behalf of Thomas Moore. Nor was it in vain. When Esther apologized for
the rudeness her mother had shown me at her home, that afforded me the
opening for which I was longing. We were sitting on a grassy hummock,
weaving garlands, when I replied to the apology by declaring my
intention of marrying her, with or without her mother’s consent.
Unconventional as the declaration was, to my surprise she showed
neither offense nor wonderment. Dropping the flowers with which we were
working, she avoided my gaze, and, turning slightly from me, began
watching our horses, which had strayed away some distance. But I gave
her little time for meditation, and when I aroused her from her
reverie, she rose, saying, “We’d better go back—they’ll miss us if we
stay too long.”
Before complying with her wish, I urged an answer; but she, artfully
avoiding my question, insisted on our immediate return. Being in a
quandary as to what to say or do, I went after the horses, which was a
simple proposition. On my return, while we were adjusting the garlands
about the necks of our mounts, I again urged her for an answer, but in
vain. We stood for a moment between the two horses, and as I lowered my
hand on my knee to afford her a stepping-stone in mounting, I thought
she did not offer to mount with the same alacrity as she had done
before. Something flashed through my addled mind, and, withdrawing the
hand proffered as a mounting block, I clasped the demure maiden closely
in my arms. What transpired has no witnesses save two saddle horses,
and as Wolf usually kept an eye on his rider in mounting, I dropped the
reins and gave him his freedom rather than endure his scrutiny. When we
were finally aroused from this delicious trance, the horses had strayed
away fully fifty yards, but I had received a favorable answer, breathed
in a voice so low and tender that it haunts me yet.
As we rode along, returning to the grove, Esther requested that our
betrothal be kept a profound secret. No doubt she had good reasons, and
it was quite possible that there then existed some complications which
she wished to conceal, though I avoided all mention of any possible
rival. Since she was not due to return to her school before September,
there seemed ample time to carry out our intentions of marrying. But as
we jogged along, she informed me that after spending a few weeks with
her sister in Oakville, it was her intention to return to the San
Miguel for the summer. To allay her mother’s distrust, it would be
better for me not to call at the ranch. But this was easily compensated
for when she suggested making several visits during the season with the
Vaux girls, chums of hers, who lived on the Frio about thirty miles due
north of Las Palomas. This was fortunate, since the Vaux ranch and ours
were on the most friendly terms.
We returned by the route by which we had left the grounds. I repicketed
the horses and we were soon mingling again with the revelers, having
been absent little over an hour. No one seemed to have taken any notice
of our absence. Mrs. Martin, I rejoiced to see, was still in tow of her
sister and Miss Jean, and from the circle of Las Palomas courtiers who
surrounded the ladies, I felt sure they had given her no opportunity
even to miss her younger sister. Uncle Lance was the only member of our
company absent, but I gave myself no uneasiness about him, since the
mail contractors were both likewise missing. Rejoining our friends and
assuming a nonchalant air, I flattered myself that my disguise was
perfect.
During the remainder of the afternoon, in view of the possibility that
Esther might take her sister, Mrs. Martin, into our secret and win her
as an ally, I cultivated that lady’s acquaintance, dancing with her and
leaving nothing undone to foster her friendship. Near the middle of the
afternoon, as the three sisters, Miss Jean, and I were indulging in
light refreshment at a booth some distance from the dancing arbor, I
sighted my employer, Dan Happersett, and the two stage men returning
from the store. They passed near, not observing us, and from the
defiant tones of Uncle Lance’s voice, I knew they had been tampering
with the ‘private stock’ of the merchant at Shepherd’s. “Why,
gentlemen,” said he, “that ambulance team is no exception to the
quality of mules I’m raising at Las Palomas. Drive up some time and
spend a few days and take a look at the stock we’re breeding. If you
will, and I don’t show you fifty mules fourteen and a half hands or
better, I’ll round up five hundred head and let you pick fifty as a
pelon for your time and trouble. Why, gentlemen, Las Palomas has sold
mules to the government.”
On the return of our party to the arbor, Happersett claimed a dance
with Esther, thus freeing me. Uncle Lance was standing some little
distance away, still entertaining the mail contractors, and I edged
near enough to notice Oxenford’s florid face and leery eye. But on my
employer’s catching sight of me, he excused himself to the stage men,
and taking my arm led me off. Together we promenaded out of sight of
the crowd. “How do you like my style of a man herder?” inquired the old
matchmaker, once we were out of hearing. “Why, Tom, I’d have held those
mail thieves until dark, if Dan hadn’t drifted in and given me the
wink. Shepherd kicked like a bay steer on letting me have a second
quart bottle, but it took that to put the right glaze in the young
Yank’s eye. Oh, I had him going south all right! But tell me, how did
you and Esther make it?”
We had reached a secluded spot, and, seating ourselves on an old fallen
tree trunk, I told of my success, even to the using of his horse. Never
before or since did I see Uncle Lance give way to such a fit of
hilarity as he indulged in over the perfect working out of our plans.
With his hat he whipped me, the ground, the log on which we sat, while
his peals of laughter rang out like the reports of a rifle. In his fit
of ecstasy, tears of joy streaming from his eyes, he kept repeating
again and again, “Oh, sister, run quick and tell pa to come!”
As we neared the grounds returning, he stopped me and we had a further
brief confidential talk together. I was young and egotistical enough to
think that I could defy all the rivals in existence, but he cautioned
me, saying: “Hold on, Tom. You’re young yet; you know nothing about the
weaker sex, absolutely nothing. It’s not your fault, but due to your
mere raw youth. Now, listen to me, son: Don’t underestimate any rival,
particularly if he has gall and money, most of all, money. Humanity is
the same the world over, and while you may not have seen it here among
the ranches, it is natural for a woman to rave over a man with money,
even if he is only a pimply excuse for a creature. Still, I don’t see
that we have very much to fear. We can cut old lady McLeod out of the
matter entirely. But then there’s the girl’s sister, Mrs. Martin, and I
look for her to cut up shameful when she smells the rat, which she’s
sure to do. And then there’s her husband to figure on. If the ox knows
his master’s crib, it’s only reasonable to suppose that Jack Martin
knows where his bread and butter comes from. These stage men will stick
up for each other like thieves. Now, don’t you be too crack sure. Be
just a trifle leary of every one, except, of course, the Las Palomas
outfit.”
I admit that I did not see clearly the reasoning behind much of this
lecture, but I knew better than reject the advice of the old matchmaker
with his sixty odd years of experience. I was still meditating over his
remarks when we rejoined the crowd and were soon separated among the
dancers. Several urged me to play the violin; but I was too busy
looking after my own fences, and declined the invitation. Casting about
for the Vaux girls, I found the eldest, with whom I had a slight
acquaintance, being monopolized by Theodore Quayle and John Cotton,
friendly rivals and favorites of the young lady. On my imploring the
favor of a dance, she excused herself, and joined me on a promenade
about the grounds, missing one dance entirely. In arranging matters
with her to send me word on the arrival of Esther at their ranch, I
attempted to make her show some preference between my two comrades,
under the pretense of knowing which one to bring along, but she only
smiled and maintained an admirable neutrality.
After a dance I returned the elder Miss Vaux to the tender care of John
Cotton, and caught sight of my employer leaving the arbor for the
refreshment booth with a party of women, including Mrs. Martin and
Esther McLeod, to whom he was paying the most devoted attention.
Witnessing the tireless energy of the old matchmaker, and in a quarter
where he had little hope of an ally, brought me to thinking that there
might be good cause for alarm in his warnings not to be overconfident.
Miss Jean, whom I had not seen since luncheon, aroused me from my
reverie, and on her wishing to know my motive for cultivating the
acquaintance of Miss Vaux and neglecting my own sweetheart, I told her
the simple truth. “Good idea, Tom,” she assented. “I think I’ll just
ask Miss Frances home with me to spend Sunday. Then you can take her
across to the Frio on horseback, so as not to offend either John or
Theodore. What do you think?”
I thought it was a good idea, and said so. At least the taking of the
young lady home would be a pleasanter task for me than breaking horses.
But as I expressed myself so, I could not help thinking, seeing Miss
Jean’s zeal in the matter, that the matchmaking instinct was equally
well developed on both sides of the Lovelace family.
The afternoon was drawing to a close. The festivities would conclude by
early sundown. Miss Jean would spend the night again at the halfway
ranch, returning to Las Palomas the next morning; we would start on our
return with the close of the amusements. Many who lived at a distance
had already started home. It lacked but a few minutes of the closing
hour when I sought out Esther for the “Home, Sweet Home” waltz, finding
her in company of Oxenford, chaperoned by Mrs. Martin, of which there
was need. My sweetheart excused herself with a poise that made my heart
leap, and as we whirled away in the mazes of the final dance, rivals
and all else passed into oblivion. Before we could realize the change
in the music, the orchestra had stopped, and struck into “My Country,
’tis of Thee,” in which the voice of every patriotic Texan present
swelled the chorus until it echoed throughout the grove, befittingly
closing San Jacinto Day.