THE FRUITS OF CONSPIRACY
With a loss of fully fifteen thousand cattle staring me in the face, I
began planning to recuperate the fortunes of the company. The cattle
convention, which was then over, was conspicuous by the absence of all
Northern buyers. George Edwards had attended the meeting, was cautious
enough to make no contracts for the firm, and fully warned me of
the situation. I was in a quandary; with an idle treasury of over a
million, my stewardship would be subject to criticism unless I became
active in the interests of my company. On the other hand, a dangerous
cloud hung over the range, and until that was removed I felt like a
man who was sent for and did not want to go. The falling market in
Texas was an encouragement, but my experience of the previous winter
had had a dampening effect, and I was simply drifting between adverse
winds. But once it was known that I had returned home, my old
customers approached me by letter and personally, anxious to sell and
contract for immediate delivery. Trail drovers were standing aloof,
afraid of the upper markets, and I could have easily bought double my
requirements without leaving the ranch. The grass was peeping here and
there, favorable reports came down from the reservation, and still I
sat idle.
The appearance of Major Hunter acted like a stimulus. Reports about
the new administration were encouraging--not from our silent partner,
who was not in sympathy with the dominant party, but from other
prominent stockholders who were. The original trio--the little major,
our segundo, and myself--lay around under the shade of the trees
several days and argued the possibilities that confronted us on trail
and ranch. Edwards reproached me for my fears, referring to the time,
nineteen years before, when as common hands we fought our way across
the Staked Plain and delivered the cattle safely at Fort Sumner. He
even taunted me with the fact that our employers then never hesitated,
even if half the Comanche tribe were abroad, roving over their old
hunting grounds, and that now I was afraid of a handful of army
followers, contractors, and owners of bar concessions. Edwards knew
that I would stand his censure and abuse as long as the truth was
told, and with the major acting as peacemaker between us I was finally
whipped into line. With a fortune already in hand, rounding out my
forty-fifth year, I looted the treasury by contracting and buying
sixty thousand cattle for my company.
The surplus horses were ordered down from above, and the spring
campaign began in earnest. The old firm was to confine its operations
to fine steers, handling my personal contribution as before, while I
rallied my assistants, and we began receiving the contracted cattle at
once. Observation had taught me that in wintering beeves in the North
it was important to give the animals every possible moment of time to
locate before the approach of winter. The instinct of a dumb beast is
unexplainable yet unerring. The owner of a horse may choose a range
that seems perfect in every appointment, but the animal will spurn the
human selection and take up his abode on some flinty hills, and there
thrive like a garden plant. Cattle, especially steers, locate slowly,
and a good summer's rest usually fortifies them with an inward coat of
tallow and an outward one of furry robe, against the wintry storms.
I was anxious to get the through cattle to the new range as soon as
practicable, and allowed the sellers to set their dates as early as
possible, many of them agreeing to deliver on the reservation as soon
as the middle of May. Ten wagons and a thousand horses came down
during the last days of March, and early in April started back with
thirty thousand cattle at company risk.
All animals were passed upon on the Texas range, and on their arrival
at the pasture there was little to do but scatter them over the ranch
to locate. I reached the reservation with the lead herd, and was glad
to learn from neighboring cowmen that a suggestion of mine, made the
fall before, had taken root. My proposition was to organize all the
cattlemen on the Cheyenne and Arapahoe reservation into an association
for mutual protection. By coöperation we could present a united front
to our enemies, the usurpers, and defy them in their nefarious schemes
of exacting tribute. Other ranges besides ours had suffered by fire
and fence-cutters during the winter just passed, and I returned to
find my fellow cowmen a unit for organization. A meeting was called at
the agency, every owner of cattle on the reservation responded, and an
association was perfected for our mutual interest and protection. The
reservation was easily capable of carrying half a million cattle, the
tribes were pleased with the new order of things, and we settled down
with a feeling of security not enjoyed in many a day.
But our tranquil existence received a shock within a month, when a
cowboy from a neighboring ranch, and without provocation, was shot
down by Indian police in a trader's store at the agency. The young
fellow was a popular Texan, and as nearly all the men employed on the
reservation came from the South, it was with difficulty that our boys
were restrained from retaliating. Those from Texas had little or no
love for an Indian anyhow, and nothing but the plea of policy in
preserving peaceful relations with the tribes held them in check. The
occasional killing of cattle by Indians was overlooked, until they
became so bold as to leave the hides and heads in the pasture, when
an appeal was made to the agent. But the aborigine, like his white
brother, has sinful ways, and the influence of one evil man can
readily combat the good advice of half a dozen right-minded ones, and
the Quaker agent found his task not an easy one. Cattle were being
killed in remote and unfrequented places, and still we bore with it,
the better class of Indians, however, lending their assistance to
check the abuse. On one occasion two boys and myself detected a band
of five young bucks skinning a beef in our pasture, and nothing but my
presence prevented a clash between my men and the thieves. But it
was near the wild-plum season, and as we were making preparations
to celebrate that event, the killing of a few Indians might cause
distrust, and we dropped out of sight and left them to the enjoyment
of their booty. It was pure policy on my part, as we could shame
or humble the Indian, and if the abuse was not abated, we could
remunerate ourselves by with-holding from the rent money the value of
cattle killed.
Our organization for mutual protection was accepted by our enemies as
a final defiance. A pirate fights as valiantly as if his cause were
just, and, through intermediaries, the gauntlet was thrown back in
our faces and notice served that the conflict had reached a critical
stage. I never discussed the issue direct with members of the clique,
as they looked upon me as the leader in resisting their levy of
tribute, but indirectly their grievances were made known. We were
accused of having taken the bread out of their very mouths, which was
true in a sense, but we had restored it tenfold where it was entitled
to go,--among the Indians. With the exception of an occasional bottle
of whiskey, none of the tribute money went to the tribes, but was
divided among the usurpers. They waxed fat in their calling and were
insolent and determined, while our replies to all overtures looking to
peace were firm and to the point. Even at that late hour I personally
knew that the clique had strength in reserve, and had I enjoyed the
support of my company, would willingly have stood for a compromise.
But it was out of the question to suggest it, and, trusting to the new
administration, we politely told them to crack their whips.
The _fiesta_ which followed the plum gathering was made a notable
occasion. All the cowmen on the reservation had each contributed a
beef to the barbecue, the agent saw to it that all the principal
chiefs of both tribes were present, and after two days of feasting,
the agent made a Quaker talk, insisting that the bond between the
tribes and the cowmen must be observed to the letter. He reviewed at
length the complaints that had reached him of the killing of cattle,
traceable to the young and thoughtless, and pointed out the patience
of the cattlemen in not retaliating, but in spreading a banquet
instead to those who had wronged them. In concluding, he warned them
that the patience of the white man had a limit, and, while they hoped
to live in peace, unless the stealing of beef was stopped immediately,
double the value of the cattle killed would be withheld from the next
payment of grass money. It was in the power of the chiefs present to
demand this observance of faith among their young men, if the bond
to which their signatures were attached was to be respected in the
future. The leading chiefs of both tribes spoke in defense, pleading
their inability to hold their young men in check as long as certain
evil influences were at work among their people. The love of gambling
and strong drink was yearly growing among their men, making them
forget their spoken word, until they were known as thieves and liars.
The remedy lay in removing these evil spirits and trusting the tribes
to punish their own offenders, as the red man knew no laws except his
own.
The festival was well worth while and augured hopefully for the
future. Clouds were hovering on the horizon, however, and, while at
Ogalalla, I received a wire that a complaint had been filed against
us at the national capital, and that the President had instructed the
Lieutenant-General of the Army to make an investigation. Just what the
inquiry was to be was a matter of conjecture; possibly to determine
who was supplying the Indians with whiskey, or probably our friends at
Washington were behind the movement, and the promised shake-up of army
followers in and around Fort Reno was materializing. I attended to
some unsettled business before returning, and, on my arrival at the
reservation, a general alarm was spreading among the cattle interests,
caused by the cock-sure attitude of the usurpers and a few casual
remarks that had been dropped. I was appealed to by my fellow cowmen,
and, in turn, wired our friends at Washington, asking that our
interests be looked after and guarded. Pending a report, General P.H.
Sheridan arrived with a great blare of trumpets at Fort Reno for
the purpose of holding the authorized investigation. The general's
brother, Michael, was the recognized leader of the clique of army
followers, and was interested in the bar concessions under the sutler.
Matters, therefore, took on a serious aspect. All the cowmen on the
reservation came in, expecting to be called before the inquiry, as it
was then clear that a fight must be made to protect our interests. No
opportunity, however, was given the Indians or cattlemen to present
their side of the question, and when a committee of us cowmen called
on General Sheridan we were cordially received and politely informed
that the investigation was private. I believe that forty years have so
tempered the animosities of the Civil War that an honest opinion is
entitled to expression. And with due consideration to the record of a
gallant soldier, I submit the question, Were not the owners of half a
million cattle on the Cheyenne and Arapahoe reservation entitled to a
hearing before a report was made that resulted in an order for their
removal?
I have seen more trouble at a country dance, more bloodshed in a
family feud, than ever existed or was spilled on the Cheyenne and
Arapahoe reservation. The Indians were pleased, the lessees were
satisfied, yet by artfully concealing the true cause of any and all
strife, a report, every word of which was as sweet as the notes of
a flute, was made to the President, recommending the removal of the
cattle. It was found that there had been a gradual encroachment on the
liberties of the tribes; that the rental received from the surplus
pasture lands had a bad tendency on the morals of the Indians,
encouraging them in idleness; and that the present system retarded
all progress in agriculture and the industrial arts. The report was
superficial, religiously concealing the truth, but dealing with broad
generalities. Had the report emanated from some philanthropical
society, it would have passed unnoticed or been commented on as an
advance in the interest of a worthy philanthropy but taken as a whole,
it was a splendid specimen of the use to which words can be put in
concealing the truth and cloaking dishonesty.
An order of removal by the President followed the report. Had we been
subjects of a despotic government and bowed our necks like serfs, the
matter would have ended in immediate compliance with the order. But we
prided ourselves on our liberties as Americans, and an appeal was to
be made to the first citizen of the land, the President of the United
States. A committee of Western men were appointed, which would be
augmented by others at the national capital, and it was proposed to
lay the bare facts in the chief executive's hands and at least ask
for a modification of the order. The latter was ignorant in its
conception, brutal and inhuman in its intent, ending in the threat
to use the military arm of the government, unless the terms and
conditions were complied with within a given space of time. The
Cheyenne and Arapahoe Cattle Company, alone, not to mention the other
members of our association equally affected, had one hundred and
twenty-five thousand head of beeves and through steers on its range,
and unless some relief was granted, a wayfaring man though a fool
could see ruin and death and desolation staring us in the face.
Fortunately Major Hunter had the firm's trail affairs so well in hand
that Edwards could close up the business, thus relieving my active
partner to serve on the committee, he and four others offering to act
in behalf of our association in calling on the President. I was
among the latter, the only one in the delegation from Texas, and we
accordingly made ready and started for Washington.
Meanwhile I had left orders to start the shipping with a vengeance.
The busy season was at hand on the beef ranges, and men were scarce;
but I authorized the foreman to comb the country, send to Dodge if
necessary, and equip ten shipping outfits and keep a constant string
of cattle moving to the markets. We had about sixty-five thousand
single and double wintered beeves, the greater portion of which were
in prime condition; but it was the through cattle that were worrying
me, as they were unfit to ship and it was too late in the season to
relocate them on a new range. But that blessed hope that springs
eternal in the human breast kept us hopeful that the President had
been deceived into issuing his order, and that he would right all
wrongs. The more sanguine ones of the Western delegation had matters
figured down to a fraction; they believed that once the chief
executive understood the true cause of the friction existing on the
reservation, apologies would follow, we should all be asked to remain
for lunch, and in the most democratic manner imaginable everything
would be righted. I had no opinions, but kept anticipating the worst;
for if the order stood unmodified, go we must and in the face of
winter and possibly accompanied by negro troops. To return to Texas
meant to scatter the cattle to the four winds; to move north was to
court death unless an open winter favored us.
On our arrival at Washington, all senators and congressmen
shareholders in our company met us by appointment. It was an inactive
season at the capital, and hopes were entertained that the President
would grant us an audience at once; but a delay of nearly a week
occurred. In the mean time several conferences were held, at which a
general review of the situation was gone over, and it was decided to
modify our demands, asking for nothing personally, only a modification
of the order in the interest of humanity to dumb animals. Before our
arrival, a congressman and two senators, political supporters of
the chief executive, had casually called to pay their respects, and
incidentally inquired into the pending trouble between the cattlemen
and the Cheyenne and Arapahoe Indians. Reports were anything but
encouraging; the well-known obstinacy of the President was admitted;
it was also known that he possessed a rugged courage in pursuance of
an object or purpose. Those who were not in political sympathy with
the party in power characterized the President as an opinionated
executive, and could see little or no hope in a personal appeal.
However, the matter was not to be dropped. The arrival of a deputation
of cattlemen from the West was reported by the press, their purposes
fully, set forth, and in the interim of waiting for an appointment,
all of us made hay with due diligence. Major Hunter and I had a
passing acquaintance at both the War and Interior departments, and
taking along senators and representatives in political sympathy with
the heads of those offices, we called and paid our respects. A number
of old acquaintances were met, hold-overs from the former régime, and
a cordial reception was accorded us. Now that the boom in cattle was
over, we expressed a desire to resume our former business relations
as contractors with the government. At both departments, the existent
trouble on the Indian reservations was well known, and a friendly
inquiry resulted, which gave us an opportunity to explain our position
fully. There was a hopeful awakening to the fact that there had been a
conspiracy to remove us, and the most friendly advances of assistance
were proffered in setting the matter right. Public opinion is a strong
factor, and with the press of the capital airing our grievances daily,
sympathy and encouragement were simply showered down upon us.
Finally an audience with the President was granted. The Western
delegation was increased by senators and representatives until the
committee numbered an even dozen. Many of the latter were personal
friends and ardent supporters of the chief executive. The rangemen
were introduced, and we proceeded at once to the matter at issue. A
congressman from New York stated the situation clearly, not mincing
his words in condemning the means and procedure by which this order
was secured, and finally asking for its revocation, or a modification
that would permit the evacuation of the country without injury to the
owners and their herds. Major Hunter, in replying to a question of the
President, stated our position: that we were in no sense intruders,
that we paid our rental in advance, with the knowledge and sanction of
the two preceding Secretaries of the Interior, and only for lack of
precedent was their indorsement of our leases withheld. It soon became
evident that countermanding the order was out of the question, as
to vacillate or waver in a purpose, right or wrong, was not a
characteristic of the chief executive. Our next move was for a
modification of the order, as its terms required us to evacuate that
fall, and every cowman present accented the fact that to move cattle
in the mouth of winter was an act that no man of experience would
countenance. Every step, the why and wherefore, must be explained to
the President, and at the request of the committee, I went into detail
in making plain what the observations of my life had taught me of the
instincts and habits of cattle,--why in the summer they took to
the hills, mesas, and uplands, where the breezes were cooling and
protected them from insect life; their ability to foretell a storm in
winter and seek shelter in coulees and broken country. I explained
that none of the cattle on the Cheyenne and Arapahoe reservation
were native to that range, but were born anywhere from three to five
hundred miles to the south, fully one half of them having arrived
that spring; that to acquaint an animal with its new range, in cattle
parlance to "locate" them, was very important; that every practical
cowman moved his herds to a new range with the grass in the spring, in
order that ample time should be allowed to acclimate and familiarize
them with such shelters as nature provided to withstand the storms of
winter. In concluding, I stated that if the existent order could be so
modified as to permit all through cattle and those unfit for market
to remain on their present range for the winter, we would cheerfully
evacuate the country with the grass in the spring. If such relief
could be consistently granted, it would no doubt save the lives of
hundreds and thousands of cattle.
The President evidently was embarrassed by the justice of our prayer.
He consulted with members of the committee, protesting that he should
be spared from taking what would be considered a backward step, and
after a stormy conference with intimate friends, lasting fully an
hour, he returned and in these words refused to revoke or modify his
order: "If I had known," said he, "what I know now, I never would have
made the order; but having made it, I will stand by it."
Laying aside all commercial considerations, we had made our entreaty
in behalf of dumb animals, and the President's answer angered a
majority of the committee. I had been rebuked too often in the past
by my associates easily to lose my temper, and I naturally looked at
those whose conscience balked at paying tribute, while my sympathies
were absorbed for the future welfare of a quarter-million cattle
affected by the order. We broke into groups in taking our leave,
and the only protest that escaped any one was when the York State
representative refused the hand of the executive, saying, "Mr.
President, I have my opinion of a man who admits he is wrong and
refuses to right it." Two decades have passed since those words,
rebuking wrong in high places, were uttered, and the speaker has since
passed over to the silent majority. I should feel that these memoirs
were incomplete did I not mention the sacrifice and loss of prestige
that the utterance of these words cost, for they were the severance of
a political friendship that was never renewed.
The autocratic order removing the cattle from the Cheyenne and
Arapahoe reservation was born in iniquity and bore a harvest unequaled
in the annals of inhumanity. With the last harbor of refuge closed
against us, I hastened back and did all that was human to avert the
impending doom, every man and horse available being pressed into
service. Our one hope lay in a mild winter, and if that failed us the
affairs of the company would be closed by the merciless elements. Once
it was known that the original order had not been modified, and
in anticipation of a flood of Western cattle, the markets broke,
entailing a serious commercial loss. Every hoof of single and double
wintered beeves that had a value in the markets was shipped regardless
of price, while I besought friends in the Cherokee Strip for a refuge
for those unfit and our holding of through cattle. Fortunately the
depreciation in live stock and the heavy loss sustained the previous
winter had interfered with stocking the Outlet to its fall capacity,
and by money, prayers, and entreaty I prevailed on range owners and
secured pasturage for seventy-five thousand head. Long before the
shipping season ended I pressed every outfit belonging to the firm on
the Eagle Chief into service, and began moving out the through cattle
to their new range. Squaw winter and snow-squalls struck us on the
trail, but with a time-limit hanging over our heads, and rather than
see our cattle handled by nigger soldiers, we bore our burdens, if not
meekly, at least in a manner consistent with our occupation. I have
always deplored useless profanity, yet it was music to my ears to
hear the men arraign our enemies, high and low, for our present
predicament. When the last beeves were shipped, a final round-up was
made, and we started out with over fifty thousand cattle in charge of
twelve outfits. Storms struck us en route, but we weathered them, and
finally turned the herds loose in the face of a blizzard.
The removed cattle, strangers in a strange land, drifted to the fences
and were cut to the quick by the biting blasts. Early in January the
worst blizzard in the history of the plains swept down from the north,
and the poor wandering cattle were driven to the divides and frozen
to death against the line fences. Of all the appalling sights that an
ordinary lifetime on the range affords, there is nothing to compare
with the suffering and death that were daily witnessed during the
month of January in the winter of 1885-86. I remained on the range,
and left men at winter camps on every pasture in which we had stock,
yet we were powerless to relieve the drifting cattle. The morning
after the great storm, with others, I rode to a south string of fence
on a divide, and found thousands of our cattle huddled against it,
many frozen to death, partially through and hanging on the wire. We
cut the fences in order to allow them to drift on to shelter, but the
legs of many of them were so badly frozen that, when they moved, the
skin cracked open and their hoofs dropped off. Hundreds of young
steers were wandering aimlessly around on hoofless stumps, while their
tails cracked and broke like icicles. In angles and nooks of the
fence, hundreds had perished against the wire, their bodies forming
a scaling ladder, permitting late arrivals to walk over the dead and
dying as they passed on with the fury of the storm. I had been a
soldier and seen sad sights, but nothing to compare to this; the
moaning of the cattle freezing to death would have melted a heart of
adamant. All we could do was to cut the fences and let them drift, for
to halt was to die; and when the storm abated one could have walked
for miles on the bodies of dead animals. No pen could describe the
harrowing details of that winter; and for years afterward, or until
their remains had a commercial value, a wayfarer could have traced
the south-line fences by the bleaching bones that lay in windrows,
glistening in the sun like snowdrifts, to remind us of the closing
chapter in the history of the Cheyenne and Arapahoe Cattle Company.