A PROSPEROUS YEAR
An open winter favored the cattle on the Medicine River. My partners
in Kansas wrote me encouragingly, and plans were outlined for
increasing our business for the coming summer. There was no activity
in live stock during the winter in Texas, and there would be no
trouble in putting up herds at prevailing prices of the spring before.
I spent an inactive winter, riding back and forth to my ranch, hunting
with hounds, and killing an occasional deer. While visiting at Council
Grove the fall before, Major Hunter explained to our silent partner
the cheapness of Texas lands. Neither one of my associates cared to
scatter their interests beyond the boundaries of their own State, yet
both urged me to acquire every acre of cheap land that my means would
permit. They both recited the history and growth in value of the lands
surrounding The Grove, telling me how cheaply they could have bought
the same ten years before,--at the government price of a dollar and a
quarter an acre,--and that already there had been an advance of four
to five hundred per cent. They urged me to buy scrip and locate land,
assuring me that it was only a question of time until the people
of Texas would arise in their might and throw off the yoke of
Reconstruction.
At home general opinion was just the reverse. No one cared for more
land than a homestead or for immediate use. No locations had been made
adjoining my ranch on the Clear Fork, and it began to look as if I had
more land than I needed. Yet I had confidence enough in the advice of
my partners to reopen negotiations with my merchant friend at Austin
for the purchase of more land scrip. The panic of the fall before had
scarcely affected the frontier of Texas, and was felt in only a few
towns of any prominence in the State. There had been no money in
circulation since the war, and a financial stringency elsewhere made
little difference among the local people. True, the Kansas cattle
market had sent a little money home, but a bad winter with drovers
holding cattle in the North, followed by a panic, had bankrupted
nearly every cowman, many of them with heavy liabilities in Texas.
There were very few banks in the State, and what little money there
was among the people was generally hoarded to await the dawn of a
brighter day.
My wife tells a story about her father, which shows similar conditions
prevailing during the civil war. The only outlet for cotton in Texas
during the rebellion was by way of Mexico. Matamoros, near the mouth
of the Rio Grande, waxed opulent in its trade of contrabrand cotton,
the Texas product crossing the river anywhere for hundreds of miles
above and being freighted down on the Mexican side to tide-water. The
town did an immense business during the blockade of coast seaports,
twenty-dollar gold pieces being more plentiful then than nickels are
to-day, the cotton finding a ready market at war prices and safe
shipment under foreign flags. My wife's father was engaged in the
trade of buying cotton at interior points, freighting it by ox trains
over the Mexican frontier, and thence down the river to Matamoros.
Once the staple reached neutral soil, it was palmed off as a local
product, and the Federal government dared not touch it, even though
they knew it to be contrabrand of war. The business was transacted in
gold, and it was Mr. Edwards's custom to bury the coin on his return
from each trading trip. My wife, then a mere girl and the oldest
of the children at home, was taken into her father's confidence
in secreting the money. The country was full of bandits, either
government would have confiscated the gold had they known its
whereabouts, and the only way to insure its safety was to bury it.
After several years trading in cotton, Mr. Edwards accumulated
considerable money, and on one occasion buried the treasure at night
between two trees in an adjoining wood. Unexpectedly one day he had
occasion to use some money in buying a cargo of cotton, the children
were at a distant neighbor's, and he went into the woods alone to
unearth the gold. But hogs, running in the timber, had rooted up the
ground in search of edible roots, and Edwards was unable to locate the
spot where his treasure lay buried. Fearful that possibly the money
had been uprooted and stolen, he sent for the girl, who hastily
returned. As my wife tells the story, great beads of perspiration were
dripping from her father's brow as the two entered the woods. And
although the ground was rooted up, the girl pointed out the spot,
midway between two trees, and the treasure was recovered without a
coin missing. Mr. Edwards lost confidence in himself, and thereafter,
until peace was restored, my wife and a younger sister always buried
the family treasure by night, keeping the secret to themselves, and
producing the money on demand.
The merchant at Austin reported land scrip plentiful at fifteen
to sixteen dollars a section. I gave him an order for two hundred
certificates, and he filled the bill so promptly that I ordered
another hundred, bringing my unlocated holdings up to six hundred
sections. My land scrip was a standing joke between my wife and me,
and I often promised her that when we built a house and moved to
the Clear Fork, if the scrip was still worthless she might have the
certificates to paper a room with. They were nicely lithographed, the
paper was of the very best quality, and they went into my wife's trunk
to await their destiny. Had it been known outside that I held such an
amount of scrip, I would have been subjected to ridicule, and no doubt
would have given it to some surveyor to locate on shares. Still I had
a vague idea that land at two and a half cents an acre would never
hurt me. Several times in the past I had needed the money tied up in
scrip, and then I would regret having bought it. After the loss of
my entire working capital by Texas fever, I was glad I had foresight
enough to buy a quantity that summer. And thus I swung like a pendulum
between personal necessities and public opinion; but when those
long-headed Yankee partners of mine urged me to buy land, I felt once
more that I was on the right track and recovered my grasp. I might
have located fifty miles of the valley of the Clear Fork that winter,
but it would have entailed some little expense, the land would then
have been taxable, and I had the use of it without outlay or trouble.
An event of great importance to the people of Texas occurred during
the winter of 1873-74. The election the fall before ended in dispute,
both great parties claiming the victory. On the meeting of the
legislature to canvass the vote, all the negro militia of the
State were concentrated in and around the capitol building. The
Reconstruction régime refused to vacate, and were fighting to
retain control; the best element of the people were asserting in no
unmistakable terms their rights and bloodshed seemed inevitable. The
federal government was appealed to, but refused to interfere. The
legislature was with the people, and when the latter refused to be
intimidated by a display of force, those in possession yielded the
reins, and Governor Coke was inaugurated January 15, 1874; and thus
the prediction of my partners, uttered but a few mouths before, became
history.
Major Hunter came down again about the last of February. Still
unshaken in his confidence in the future of Texas, he complimented me
on securing more land scrip. He had just returned from our camps on
the Medicine River, and reported the cattle coming through in splendid
condition. Gray wolves had harassed the herd during the early winter;
but long-range rifles and poison were furnished, and our men waged a
relentless war on these pirates along the Medicine. Cattle in Texas
had wintered strong, which would permit of active operations beginning
earlier than usual, and after riding the range for a week we were
ready for business. It was well known in all the surrounding country
that we would again be in the market for trail cattle, and offerings
were plentiful. These tenders ran anywhere from stock cattle to heavy
beeves; but the market which we were building up with farmers at
Council Grove required young two and three year old steers. It again
fell to my province to do the buying, and with the number of brands
for sale in the country I expected, with the consent of my partners,
to make a new departure. I was beginning to understand the advantages
of growing cattle. My holdings of mixed stock on the Clear Fork had
virtually cost me nothing, and while they may have been unsalable, yet
there was a steady growth and they were a promising source of income.
From the results of my mavericking and my trading operations I had
been enabled to send two thousand young steers up the trail the spring
before, and the proceeds from their sale had lifted me from the slough
of despond and set me on a financial rock. Therefore my regard for the
eternal cow was enhancing.
Home prices were again ten dollars for two-year-old steers and
twelve for threes. Instead of buying outright at these figures, my
proposition was to buy individually brands of stock cattle, and turn
over all steers of acceptable ages at prevailing prices to the firm of
Hunter, Anthony & Co. in making up trail herds. We had already agreed
to drive ten thousand head that spring, and my active partner readily
saw the advantages that would accrue where one had the range and
outfit to take care of the remnants of mixed stock. My partners were
both straining their credit at home, and since it was immaterial to
them, I was given permission to go ahead. This method of buying
might slightly delay the starting of herds, and rather than do so I
contracted for three thousand straight threes in Erath County. This
herd would start ten days in advance of any other, which would give
us cattle on the market at Wichita with the opening of the season. My
next purchase was two brands whose range was around the juncture of
the main Brazos and Clear Fork, adjoining my ranch. These cattle
were to be delivered at our corrals, as, having received the
three-year-olds from both brands the spring before, I had a good idea
how the stock ought to classify. A third brand was secured up the
Clear Fork, adjacent to my range, supposed to number about three
thousand, from which nothing had been sold in four years. This latter
contingent cost me five dollars a head, but my boys knew the brand
well enough to know that they would run forty per cent steer cattle.
In all three cases I bought all right and title to the brand, giving
them until the last day of March to gather, and anything not tendered
for count on receiving, the tail went with the hide.
From these three brands I expected to make up the second herd easily.
With no market for cattle, it was safe to count on a brand running one
third steers or better, from which I ought to get twenty-five per cent
of age for trail purposes. Long before any receiving began I bought
four more brands outright in adjoining counties, setting the day for
receiving on the 5th of April, everything to be delivered on my ranch
on the Clear Fork. There were fully twenty-five thousand cattle in
these seven brands, and as I had bought them all half cash and the
balance on six months' time, it behooved me to be on the alert and
protect my interests. A trusty man was accordingly sent from my ranch
to assist in the gathering of each of the four outside brands, to be
present at all round-ups, to see that no steer cattle were held back,
and that the dropping calves were cared for and saved. This precaution
was not taken around my ranch, for any animal which failed to be
counted my own men would look out for by virtue of ownership of the
brand. My saddle horses were all in fine condition, and were cut into
remudas of ninety head each, two new wagons were fitted up, and all
was ready to move.
The Erath County herd was to be delivered to us on the 20th of March.
George Edwards was to have charge, and he and Major Hunter started in
ample time to receive the cattle, the latter proving an apt scholar,
while the former was a thorough cowman. In the mean time I had made up
a second outfit, putting a man who had made a number of trips with me
as foreman in charge, and we moved out to the Clear Fork. The first
herd started on the 22d, Major Hunter accompanying it past the Edwards
ranch and then joining us on my range. We had kept in close touch with
the work then in progress along the Brazos and Clear Fork, and it was
probable that we might be able to receive in advance of the appointed
day. Fortunately this happened in two cases, both brands overrunning
all expectations in general numbers and the quantity of steer cattle.
These contingents were met, counted, and received ten miles from the
ranch, nothing but the steers two years old and upward being brought
in to the corrals. The third brand, from west on the Clear Fork, came
in on the dot, and this also surprised me in its numbers of heavy
steer cattle. From the three contingents I received over thirteen
thousand head, nearly four thousand of which were steers of trail age.
On the first day of April we started the second herd of thirty-five
hundred twos and threes, the latter being slightly in the majority,
but we classified them equally. Major Hunter was pleased with the
quality of the cattle, and I was more than satisfied with results, as
I had nearly five hundred heavy steers left which would easily qualify
as beeves. Estimating the latter at what they ought to net me at
Wichita, the remnants of stock cattle cost me about a dollar and a
half a head, while I had received more cash than the amount of the
half payment.
The beef steers were held under herd to await the arrival of the other
contingents. If they fell short in twos and threes, I had hopes of
finding an outlet for my beeves with the last herd. The young stuff
and stock cattle were allowed to drift back on their own ranges, and
we rested on our oars. We had warning of the approach of outside
brands, several arriving in advance of appointment, and they were
received at once. As before, every brand overran expectations, with no
shortage in steers. My men had been wide awake, any number of mature
beeves coming in with the mixed stock. As fast as they arrived we
cut all steers of desirable age into our herd of beeves, sending the
remnant up the river about ten miles to be put under loose herd for
the first month. Fifteen-thousand cattle were tendered in the four
brands, from which we cut out forty-six hundred steers of trail age.
The numbers were actually embarrassing, not in stock cattle, but in
steers, as our trail herd numbered now over five thousand. The outside
outfits were all detained a few days for a settlement, lending their
assistance, as we tally-marked all the stock cattle before sending
them up the river to be put under herd. This work was done in a chute
with branding irons, running a short bar over the holding-brand, the
object being to distinguish animals received then from what might be
gathered afterward. There were nearly one hundred men present, and
with the amount of help available the third herd was ready to start on
the morning of the 6th. It numbered thirty-five hundred, again nearly
equal in twos and threes, my ranch foreman having charge. With the
third herd started, the question arose what to do with the remnant of
a few over sixteen hundred beeves. To turn them loose meant that with
the first norther that blew they would go back to their own range.
Major Hunter suggested that I drive an individual herd. I tried to
sell him an interest in the cattle, but as their ages were unsuited to
his market, he pleaded bankruptcy, yet encouraged me to fill up the
herd and drive them on my own account.
Something had to be done. I bought sixty horses from the different
outfits then waiting for a settlement, adding thirty of my own to the
remuda, made up an outfit from the men present, rigged a wagon, and
called for a general round-up of my range. Two days afterward we had
fifteen hundred younger steers of my own raising in the herd, and on
the 10th of the month the fourth one moved out. A day was lost in
making a general settlement, after which Major Hunter and I rode
through the mixed cattle under herd, finding them contentedly
occupying nearly ten miles of the valley of the Clear Fork. Calves
were dropping at the rate of one hundred a day, two camps of five men
each held them on an ample range, riding lines well back from the
valley. The next morning we turned homeward, passing my ranch and
corrals, which but a few days before were scenes of activity, but now
deserted even by the dogs. From the Edwards ranch we were driven in to
Fort Worth, and by the middle of the month reached Wichita.
No herds were due to arrive for a month. My active partner continued
on to his home at The Grove, and I started for our camps on the
Medicine River. The grass was coming with a rush, the cattle were
beginning to shed their winter coats, and our men assured me that the
known loss amounted to less than twenty head. The boys had spent an
active winter, only a few storms ever bunching the cattle, with less
than half a dozen contingents crossing the established lines. Even
these were followed by our trailers and brought back to their own
range; and together with wolfing the time had passed pleasantly. An
incident occurred at the upper camp that winter which clearly shows
the difference between the cow-hand of that day and the modern
bronco-buster. In baiting for wolves, many miles above our range, a
supposed trail of cattle was cut by one of the boys, who immediately
reported the matter to our Texas trailer at camp. They were not our
cattle to a certainty, yet it was but a neighborly act to catch them,
so the two men took up the trail. From appearances there were not over
fifteen head in the bunch, and before following them many miles, the
trailer became suspicious that they were buffalo and not cattle. He
trailed them until they bedded down, when he dismounted and examined
every bed. No cow ever lay down without leaving hair on its bed, so
when the Texan had examined the ground where half a dozen had slept,
his suspicions were confirmed. Declaring them buffalo, the two men
took up the trail in a gallop, overtaking the band within ten miles
and securing four fine robes. There is little or no difference in the
tracks of the two animals. I simply mention this, as my patience has
been sorely tried with the modern picturesque cowboy, who is merely an
amateur when compared with the men of earlier days.
I spent three weeks riding the range on the Medicine. The cattle had
been carefully selected, now four and five years old, and if the
season was favorable they would be ready for shipment early in the
fall. The lower camp was abandoned in order to enlarge the range
nearly one third, and after providing for the wants of the men, I rode
away to the southeast to intercept the Chisholm trail where it crossed
the Kansas line south of Wichita. The town of Caldwell afterward
sprang up on the border, but at this time among drovers it was known
as Stone's Store, a trading-post conducted by Captain Stone, afterward
a cowman, and already mentioned in these memoirs. Several herds had
already passed on my arrival; I watched the trail, meeting every
outfit for nearly a week, and finally George Edwards came snailing
along. He reported our other cattle from seven to ten days behind,
but was not aware that I had an individual herd on the trail. Edwards
moved on to Wichita, and I awaited the arrival of our second outfit.
A brisk rivalry existed between the solicitors for Ellsworth and
Wichita, every man working faithfully for his railroad or town, and at
night they generally met in social session over a poker game. I never
played a card for money now, not that my morals were any too good, but
I was married and had partners, and business generally absorbed me to
such an extent that I neglected the game.
I met the second herd at Pond Creek, south in the Cherokee Outlet, and
after spending a night with them rode through to Wichita in a day and
night. We went into camp that year well up the Arkansas River, as two
outfits would again hold the four herds. Our second outfit arrived at
the chosen grazing grounds on time, the men were instantly relieved,
and after a good carouse in town they started home. The two other
herds came in without delay, the beeves arriving on the last of the
month. Barely half as many cattle would arrive from Texas that summer,
as many former drovers from that section were bankrupt on account of
the panic of the year before. Yet the market was fairly well supplied
with offerings of wintered Texans, the two classes being so distinct
that there was very little competition between them. My active partner
was on hand early, reporting a healthy inquiry among former customers,
all of whom were more than pleased with the cattle supplied them the
year before. By being in a position to extend a credit to reliable
men, we were enabled to effect sales where other drovers dared not
venture.
Business opened early with us. I sold fifteen hundred of my heaviest
beeves to an army contractor from Wyoming. My active partner sold the
straight three-year-old herd from Erath County to an ex-governor from
Nebraska, and we delivered it on the Republican River in that State.
Small bunches of from three to five hundred were sold to farmers, and
by the first of August we had our holdings reduced to two herds in
charge of one outfit. When the hipping season began with our customers
at The Grove, trade became active with us at Wichita. Scarcely a week
passed but Major Hunter sold a thousand or more to his neighbors,
while I skirmished around in the general market. When the outfit
returned from the Republican River, I took it in charge, went down
on the Medicine, and cut out a thousand beeves, bringing them to the
railroad and shipping them to St. Louis. I never saw fatter cattle
in my life. When we got the returns from the first consignment, we
shipped two trainloads every fortnight until our holding's on the
Medicine were reduced to a remnant. A competent bookkeeper was
employed early in the year, and in keeping our accounts at Wichita,
looking after our shipments, keeping individual interests, by brands,
separate from the firm's, he was about the busiest man connected with
the summer's business. Aside from our drive of over thirteen thousand
head, we bought three whole herds, retailing them in small quantities
to our customers, all of which was profitable. I bought four whole
remudas on personal account, culled out one hundred and fifty head
and sold them at a sacrifice, sending home the remaining two hundred
saddle horses. I found it much cheaper and more convenient to buy my
supply of saddle stock at trail terminals than at home. Once railroad
connections were in operation direct between Kansas and Texas, every
outfit preferred to go home by rail, but I adhered to former methods
for many years.
In summing up the year's business, never were three partners more
surprised. With a remnant of nearly one hundred beeves unfit for
shipment, the Medicine River venture had cleared us over two hundred
per cent, while the horses on hand were worth ten dollars a head more
than what they had cost, owing to their having wintered in the North.
The ten thousand trail cattle paid splendidly, while my individual
herd had sold out in a manner, leaving the stock cattle at home clear
velvet. A programme was outlined for enlarging our business for the
coming year, and every dollar of our profits was to be reinvested in
wintering and trailing cattle from Texas. Next to the last shipment,
the through outfit went home, taking the extra two hundred saddle
horses with it, the final consignment being brought in to Wichita for
loading out by our ranch help. The shipping ended in October. My last
work of the year was the purchase of seven thousand three-year-old
steers, intended for our Medicine River range. We had intentionally
held George Edwards and his outfit for this purpose, and cutting the
numbers into two herds, the Medicine River lads led off for winter
quarters. We had bought the cattle worth the money, but not at a
sacrifice like the year before, neither would we expect such profits.
It takes a good nerve, but experience has taught me that in land and
cattle the time of the worst depression is the time to buy. Major
Hunter accompanied the herds to their winter quarters, sending Edwards
with his outfit, after their arrival on the Medicine, back to Texas,
while I took the train and reached home during the first week in
November.