THE CENTENNIAL YEAR
I returned to Texas early in January. Quite a change had come over
the situation since my leaving home the spring before. Except on the
frontier, business was booming in the new towns, while a regular
revolution had taken place within the past month in land values. The
cheapness of wild lands had attracted outside capital, resulting in
a syndicate being formed by Northern capitalists to buy up the
outstanding issue of land scrip. The movement had been handled
cautiously, and had possibly been in active operation for a year or
more, as its methods were conducted with the utmost secrecy. Options
had been taken on all scrip voted to corporations in the State and
still in their possession, agents of the syndicate were stationed at
all centres where any amount was afloat, and on a given day throughout
the State every certificate on the market was purchased. The next
morning land scrip was worth fifty dollars a section, and on my return
one hundred dollars a certificate was being freely bid, while every
surveyor in the State was working night and day locating lands for
individual holders of scrip.
This condition of affairs was largely augmented by a boom in sheep.
San Antonio was the leading wool market in the State, many clips
having sold as high as forty cents a pound for several years past on
the streets of that city. Free range and the high price of wool was
inviting every man and his cousin to come to Texas and make his
fortune. Money was feverish for investment in sheep, flock-masters
were buying land on which to run their bands, and a sheepman was an
envied personage. Up to this time there had been little or no occasion
to own the land on which the immense flocks grazed the year round, yet
under existing cheap prices of land nearly all the watercourses in the
immediate country had been taken up. Personally I was dumfounded at
the sudden and unexpected change of affairs, and what nettled me most
was that all the land adjoining my ranch had been filed on within the
past month. The Clear Fork valley all the way up to Fort Griffin had
been located, while every vacant acre on the mother Brazos, as far
north as Belknap, was surveyed and recorded. I was mortified to think
that I had been asleep, but then the change had come like a thief
in the night. My wife's trunk was half full of scrip, I had had a
surveyor on the ground only a year before, and now the opportunity had
passed.
But my disappointment was my wife's delight, as there was no longer
any necessity for keeping secret our holdings in land scrip. The
little tin trunk held a snug fortune, and next to the babies, my
wife took great pride in showing visitors the beautiful lithographed
certificates. My ambition was land and cattle, but now that the scrip
had a cash value, my wife took as much pride in those vouchers as if
the land had been surveyed, recorded, and covered with our own herds.
I had met so many reverses that I was grateful for any smile of
fortune, and bore my disappointment with becoming grace. My ranch
had branded over eight thousand calves that fall, and as long as it
remained an open range I had room for my holdings of cattle. There was
no question but that the public domain was bountiful, and if it were
necessary I could go farther west and locate a new ranch. But it
secretly grieved me to realize that what I had so fondly hoped for had
come without warning and found me unprepared. I might as well have
held title to half a million acres of the Clear Fork Valley as a
paltry hundred and fifty sections.
Little time was given me to lament over spilt milk. On the return from
my first trip to the Clear Fork, reports from the War and Interior
departments were awaiting me. Two contracts to the army and four to
Indian agencies had been awarded us, all of which could be filled with
through cattle. The military allotments would require six thousand
heavy beeves for delivery on the upper Missouri River in Dakota,
while the nation's wards would require thirteen thousand cows at four
different agencies in the Indian Territory. My active partner was due
in Fort Worth within a week, while bonds for the faithful fulfillment
of our contracts would be executed by our silent partner at
Washington, D.C. These awards meant an active year to our firm, and
besides there was our established trade around The Grove, which we had
no intention of abandoning. The government was a sure market, and as
long as a healthy demand continued in Kansas for young cattle, the
firm of Hunter, Anthony & Co. would be found actively engaged in
supplying the same.
Major Hunter arrived under a high pressure of enthusiasm. By
appointment we met in Fort Worth, and after carefully reviewing the
situation we took train and continued on south to San Antonio. I had
seen a herd of beeves, a few years before, from the upper Nueces
River, and remembered them as good heavy cattle. There were two
dollars a head difference, even in ages among younger stock, between
the lower and upper counties in the State, and as it was pounds
quantity that we wanted for the army, it was our intention to look
over the cattle along the Nueces River before buying our supply of
beeves. We met a number of acquaintances in San Antonio, all of whom
recommended us to go west if in search of heavy cattle, and a few days
later we reached Uvalde County. This was the section from which the
beeves had come that impressed me so favorably; I even remembered
the ranch brands, and without any difficulty we located the owners,
finding them anxious to meet buyers for their mature surplus cattle.
We spent a week along the Frio, Leona, and Nueces rivers, and closed
contracts on sixty-one hundred five to seven year old beeves. The
cattle were not as good a quality as prairie-raised north Texas stock,
but the pounds avoirdupois were there, the defects being in their
mongrel colors, length of legs, and breadth of horns, heritages from
the original Spanish stock. Otherwise they were tall as a horse,
clean-limbed as a deer, and active on their feet, and they looked like
fine walkers. I estimated that two bits a head would drive them to
Red River, and as we bought them at three dollars a head less than
prevailing prices for the same-aged beeves north of or parallel to
Fort Worth, we were well repaid for our time and trouble.
We returned to San Antonio and opened a bank account. The 15th of
March was agreed on to receive. Two remudas of horses would have to
be secured, wagons fitted up, and outfits engaged. Heretofore I had
furnished all horses for trail work, but now, with our enlarging
business, it would be necessary to buy others, which would be done at
the expense of the firm. George Edwards was accordingly sent for, and
met us at Waco. He was furnished a letter of credit on our San Antonio
bank, and authorized to buy and equip two complete outfits for the
Uvalde beeves. Edwards was a good judge of horses, there was an
abundance of saddle stock in the country, and he was instructed to buy
not less than one hundred and twenty-five head for each remuda, to
outfit his wagons with four-mule teams, and announce us as willing to
engage fourteen men to the herd. Once these details were arranged for,
Major Hunter and myself bought two good horses and struck west for
Coryell County, where we had put up two herds the spring before. Our
return met with a flood of offerings, prices of the previous year
still prevailed, and we let contracts for sixty-five hundred
three-year-old steers and an equal number of dry and barren cows. We
paid seven dollars a head for the latter, and in order to avoid any
dispute at the final tender it was stipulated that the offerings
must be in good flesh, not under five nor over eight years old, full
average in weight, and showing no evidence of pregnancy. Under local
customs, "a cow was a cow," and we had to be specific.
We did our banking at Waco for the Coryell herds. Hastening north, our
next halt was in Hood County, where we bought thirty-three hundred
two-year-old steers and three thousand and odd cows. This completed
eight herds secured--three of young steers for the agricultural
regions, and five intended for government delivery. We still lacked
one for the Indian Bureau, and as I offered to make it up from my
holdings, and on a credit, my active partner consented. I was putting
in every dollar at my command, my partners were borrowing freely at
home, and we were pulling together like a six-mule team to make
a success of the coming summer's work. It was now the middle of
February, and my active partner went to Fort Worth, where I did my
banking, to complete his financial arrangements, while I returned to
the ranch to organize the forces for the coming campaign. All the
latter were intrusted to me, and while I had my old foremen at my beck
and call, it was necessary to employ five or six new ones. With our
deliveries scattered from the Indian Territory to the upper Missouri
River, as well as our established trade at The Grove, two of us could
not cover the field, and George Edwards had been decided on as the
third and trusted man. In a practical way he was a better cowman than
I was, and with my active Yankee partner for a running mate they made
a team that would take care of themselves in any cow country.
A good foreman is a very important man in trail work. The drover or
firm may or may not be practical cowmen, but the executive in the
field must be the master of any possible situation that may arise,
combining the qualities of generalship with the caution of an
explorer. He must be a hail-fellow among his men, for he must command
by deserving obedience; he must know the inmost thoughts of his herd,
noting every sign of alarm or distress, and willingly sacrifice any
personal comfort in the interest of his cattle or outfit. I had a few
such men, boys who had grown up in my employ, several of whom I would
rather trust in a dangerous situation with a herd than take active
charge myself. No concern was given for their morals, but they must
be capable, trustworthy, and honest, as they frequently handled large
sums of money. All my old foremen swore by me, not one of them would
accept a similar situation elsewhere, and in selecting the extra trail
bosses their opinion was valued and given due consideration.
Not having driven anything from my ranch the year before, a fine herd
of twos, threes, and four-year-old steers could easily be made up. It
was possible that a tenth and individual herd might be sent up the
country, but no movement to that effect was decided on, and my regular
ranch hands had orders only to throw in on the home range and gather
outside steer cattle and dry cows. I had wintered all my saddle horses
on the Clear Fork, and once the foremen were decided on, they repaired
to the ranch and began outfitting for the start. The Coryell herds
were to be received one week later than the beef cattle, and the
outfits would necessarily have to start in ample time to meet us
on our return from the upper Nueces River country. The two foremen
allotted to Hood County would start a week later still, so that we
would really move north with the advance of the season in receiving
the cattle under contract. Only a few days were required in securing
the necessary foremen, a remuda was apportioned to each, and credit
for the commissary supplies arranged for, the employment of the men
being left entirely to the trail bosses. Taking two of my older
foremen with me, I started for Fort Worth, where an agreeable surprise
awaited me. We had been underbidden at the War Department on both our
proposals for northern wintered beeves. The fortunate bidder on one
contract was refused the award,--for some duplicity in a former
transaction, I learned later,--and the Secretary of War had approached
our silent partner to fill the deficiency. Six weeks had elapsed,
there was no obligation outstanding, and rather than advertise and
relet the contract, the head of the War Department had concluded to
allot the deficiency by private award. Major Hunter had been burning
the wires between Fort Worth and Washington, in order to hold the
matter open until I came in for a consultation. The department had
offered half a cent a pound over and above our previous bid, and we
bribed an operator to reopen his office that night and send a message
of acceptance. We had ten thousand cattle wintering on the Medicine
River, and it would just trim them up nicely to pick out all the
heavy, rough beeves for filling an army contract.
When we had got a confirmation of our message, we proceeded on south,
accompanied by the two foremen, and reached Uvalde County within a
week of the time set for receiving. Edwards had two good remudas in
pastures, wagons and teams secured, and cooks and wranglers on hand,
and it only remained to pick the men to complete the outfits. With
three old trail foremen on the alert for good hands while the
gathering and receiving was going on, the help would be ready in
ample time to receive the herds. Gathering the beeves was in active
operation on our arrival, a branding chute had been built to
facilitate the work, and all five of us took to the saddle in
assisting ranchmen in holding under herd, as we permitted nothing to
be corralled night or day. The first herd was completed on the 14th,
and the second a day later, both moving out without an hour's delay,
the only instructions being to touch at Great Bend, Kansas, for final
orders. The cattle more than came up to expectations, three fourths of
them being six and seven years old, and as heavy as oxen. There was
something about the days of the open range that left its impression on
animals, as these two herds were as uniform in build as deer, and I
question if the same country to-day has as heavy beeves.
Three days were lost in reaching Coryell County, where our outfits
were in waiting and twenty others were at work gathering cattle. The
herds were made up and started without a hitch, and we passed on to
Hood County, meeting every date promptly and again finding the trail
outfits awaiting us. Leaving my active partner and George Edwards to
receive the two herds, I rode through to the Clear Fork in a single
day. A double outfit had been at work for the past two weeks gathering
outside cattle and had over a thousand under herd on my arrival.
Everything had worked out so nicely in receiving the purchased herds
that I finally concluded to send out my steers, and we began gathering
on the home range. By making small round-ups, we disturbed the young
calves as little as possible. I took charge of the extra outfit and my
ranch foreman of his own, one beginning on the west end of my range,
the other going north and coming down the Brazos. At the end of a week
the two crews came together with nearly eight thousand cattle under
herd. The next day we cut out thirty-five hundred cows and started
them on the trail, turning free the remnant of she stuff, and began
shaping up the steers, using only the oldest in making up thirty-two
hundred head. There were fully two thousand threes, the remainder
being nearly equally divided between twos and fours. No road branding
was necessary; the only delay in moving out was in provisioning a
wagon and securing a foreman. Failing in two or three quarters, I
at last decided on a young fellow on my ranch, and he was placed in
charge of the last herd. Great Bend was his destination, I instructed
him where to turn off the Chisholm trail,--north of the Salt Fork in
the Cherokee Outlet,--and he started like an army with banners.
I rejoined my active partner at Fort Worth. The Hood County cattle had
started a week before, so taking George Edwards with us, we took train
for Kansas. Major Hunter returned to his home, while Edwards and I
lost no time in reaching the Medicine River. A fortnight was spent in
riding our northern range, when we took horses and struck out for Pond
Creek in the Outlet. The lead herds were due at this point early in
May, and on our arrival a number had already passed. A road house and
stage stand had previously been established, the proprietor of which
kept a register of passing herds for the convenience of owners. None
of ours were due, yet we looked over the "arrivals" with interest, and
continued on down the trail to Red Fork. The latter was a branch of
the Arkansas River, and at low water was inclined to be brackish,
and hence was sometimes called the Salt Fork, with nothing to
differentiate it from one of the same name sixty miles farther north.
There was an old Indian trading post at Red Fork, and I lay over there
while Edwards went on south to meet the cows. His work for the summer
was to oversee the deliveries at the Indian agencies, Major Hunter
was to look after the market at The Bend, and I was to attend to the
contracts at army posts on the upper Missouri. Our first steer herd to
arrive was from Hood County, and after seeing them safely on the Great
Bend trail at Pond Creek, I waited for the other steer cattle from
Coryell to arrive. Both herds came in within a day of each other,
and I loitered along with them, finally overtaking the lead one when
within fifty miles of The Bend. In fair weather it was a delightful
existence to loaf along with the cattle; but once all three herds
reached their destination, two outfits held them, and I took the Hood
County lads and dropped back on the Medicine. Our ranch hands had
everything shaped up nicely, and by working a double outfit and making
round-ups at noon, when the cattle were on water, we quietly cut
out three thousand head of our biggest beeves without materially
disturbing our holdings on that range. These northern wintered cattle
were intended for delivery at Fort Abraham Lincoln on the Missouri
River in what is now North Dakota. The through heavy beeves from
Uvalde County were intended for Fort Randall and intermediate posts,
some of them for reissue to various Indian agencies. The reservations
of half a dozen tribes were tributary to the forts along the upper
Missouri, and the government was very liberal in supplying its wards
with fresh beef.
The Medicine River beeves were to be grazed up the country to Fort
Lincoln. We passed old Fort Larned within a week, and I left the
outfit there and returned to The Bend. The outfit in charge of the
wintered cattle had orders to touch at and cross the Missouri River at
Fort Randall, where I would meet them again near the middle of July.
The market had fairly opened at Great Bend, and I was kept busy
assisting Major Hunter until the arrival of the Uvalde beef herds.
Both came through in splendid condition, were admired by every buyer
in the market, and passed on north under orders to graze ten miles a
day until reaching their destination. By this time the whereabouts of
all the Indian herds were known, yet not a word had reached me from
the foreman of my individual cattle after crossing into the Nations.
It was now the middle of June, and there were several points en
route from which he might have mailed a letter, as did all the other
foremen. Herds, which crossed at Red River Station a week after my
steers, came into The Bend and reported having spoken no "44" cattle
en route. I became uneasy and sent a courier as far south as the state
line, who returned with a comfortless message. Finally a foreman in
the employ of Jess Evens came to me and reported having taken dinner
with a "44" outfit on the South Canadian; that the herd swam the river
that afternoon, after which he never hailed them again. They were my
own dear cattle, and I was worrying; I was overdue at Fort Randall,
and in duty bound to look after the interests of the firm. Major
Hunter came to the rescue, in his usual calm manner, and expressed his
confidence that all would come out right in the end; that when the
mystery was unraveled the foreman would be found blameless.
I took a night train for the north, connected with a boat on the
Missouri River, and by finally taking stage reached Fort Randall. The
mental worry of those four days would age an ordinary man, but on my
arrival at the post a message from my active partner informed me that
my cattle had reached Dodge City two weeks before my leaving. Then the
scales fell from my eyes, as I could understand that when inquiries
were made for the Salt Fork, some wayfarer had given that name to
the Red Fork; and the new Dodge trail turned to the left, from the
Chisholm, at Little Turkey, the first creek crossed after leaving the
river. The message was supplemented a few days later by a letter,
stating that Dodge City would possibly be a better market than the
Bend, and that my interests would be looked after as well as if I were
present. A load was lifted from my shoulders, and when the wintered
cattle passed Randall, the whole post turned out to see the beef herd
on its way up to Lincoln. The government line of forts along the
Missouri River had the whitest lot of officers that it was ever my
good fortune to meet. I was from Texas, my tongue and colloquialisms
of speech proclaimed me Southern-born, and when I admitted having
served in the Confederate army, interest and attention was only
heightened, while every possible kindness was simply showered on me.
The first delivery occurred at Fort Lincoln. It was a very simple
affair. We cut out half a dozen average beeves, killed, dressed, and
weighed them, and an honest average on the herd was thus secured. The
contract called for one and a half million pounds on foot; our tender
overran twelve per cent; but this surplus was accepted and paid for.
The second delivery was at Fort Pierre and the last at Randall, both
of which passed pleasantly, the many acquaintances among army men that
summer being one of my happiest memories. Leaving Randall, we put in
to the nearest railroad point returning, where thirty men were sent
home, after which we swept down the country and arrived at Great Bend
during the last week in September. My active partner had handled
his assignment of the summer's work in a masterly manner, having
wholesaled my herd at Dodge City at as good figures as our other
cattle brought in retail quantities at The Bend. The former point had
received three hundred and fifty thousand Texas cattle that summer,
while every one conceded that Great Bend's business as a trail
terminal would close with that season. The latter had handled nearly a
quarter-million cattle that year, but like Abilene, Wichita, and other
trail towns in eastern Kansas, it was doomed to succumb to the advance
guard of pioneer settlers.
The best sale of the year fell to my active partner. Before the
shipping season opened, he sold, range count, our holdings on the
Medicine River, including saddle stock, improvements, and good will.
The cattle might possibly have netted us more by marketing them, but
it was only a question of time until the flow of immigration would
demand our range, and Major Hunter had sold our squatter's rights
while they had a value. A new foreman had been installed on our giving
up possession, and our old one had been skirmishing the surrounding
country the past month for a new range, making a favorable report on
the Eagle Chief in the Outlet. By paying a trifling rental to the
Cherokee Nation, permission could be secured to hold cattle on these
lands, set aside as a hunting ground. George Edwards had been rotting
all summer in issuing cows at Indian agencies, but on the first of
October the residue of his herds would be put in pastures or turned
free for the winter. Major Hunter had wound up his affairs at The
Bend, and nothing remained but a general settlement of the summer's
work. This took place at Council Grove, our silent partner and Edwards
both being present. The profits of the year staggered us all. I was
anxious to go home, the different outfits having all gone by rail or
overland with the remudas, with the exception of the two from Uvalde,
which were property of the firm. I had bought three hundred extra
horses at The Bend, sending them home with the others, and now nothing
remained but to stock the new range in the Cherokee Outlet. Edwards
and my active partner volunteered for this work, it being understood
that the Uvalde remudas would be retained for ranch use, and that
not over ten thousand cattle were to be put on the new range for the
winter. Our silent partner was rapidly awakening to the importance of
his usefulness in securing future contracts with the War and Indian
departments, and vaguely outlining the future, we separated to three
points of the compass.