CATTLE RANCHING IN ARIZONA
Leave for United States of America--Iowa--New Mexico--Real Estate
Speculation--Gambling--Billy the Kid--Start Ranching in
Arizona--Description of Country--Apache and other
Indians--Fauna--Branding Cattle--Ranch
Notes--Mexicans--Politics--Summer Camp--Winter Camp--Fishing and
Shooting--Indian Troubles.
My health seemed to have reached a more serious condition than imagined;
and so on the advice of my friends, but with much regret, I decided to
henceforth cast my lot in a more bracing climate. Having no profession,
and hating trade in any form, the choice was limited and confined to
live stock or crop farming of one kind or another.
Accordingly, after six months at home and on complete recovery of
health, I took my way to the United States of America, first to Lemars
in Iowa, where was a well-known colony of Britishers, said Britishers
consisting almost entirely of the gentlemen class, some with much money,
some with little, none of them with much knowledge of practical business
life or affairs, all of them with the idea of social superiority over
the natives, which they very foolishly showed. Sport, not work, occupied
their whole time and attention. Altogether it seemed that this was no
place for one who had to push his fortunes. The climate, too, seemed to
be far from agreeable, in summer being very hot, in winter very cold;
so, with another man, I decided to go further west and south, to the
sheep and cattle country of New Mexico; not that I had any knowledge of
sheep or cattle, hardly knowing the one from the other; but the nature
of Ranch life (Ranch with a big R) and the romance attaching to it had
much to do with my determination.
Arrived in New Mexico I went to live with a sheepman--a practical
sheepman from Australia--to study the industry and see how I liked it.
In the neighbourhood was a cattle ranch and a lot of cowboys. I saw much
of _their_ life, and was so attracted by it that the sheep proposition
was finally abandoned as unsuitable. Still, I was very undecided, knew
little of the ways of the country and still less of the cattle business.
I moved to the small town of Las Vegas, then about the western end of
the Santa Fé railroad. Here I stayed six months, making acquaintances
and listening to others' experiences.
Las Vegas was then a true frontier town. It was "booming," full of life
and all kinds of people, money plentiful, saloons, gambling-dens and
dance-halls "wide open." Real Estate was moving freely, prices
advancing, speculation rife, and--I caught the infection! A few
successful deals gave me courage and tempted me further. I became a real
gambler. On some deals I made tremendous profits. I even owned a saloon
and gambling-hall, which paid me a huge rental and gave me my drinks
free! The world looked "easy."
Not content with Las Vegas, I followed the road to Albuquerque and
Socorro, had some deals there and spent my evenings playing poker, faro
and monte with the best and "toughest" of them. Santa Fé, the capital,
was then as much a "hell" as Las Vegas.
Let me try to describe one of these gambling resorts. A long, low room,
probably a saloon, with the pretentious bar in front; tables on either
side of the room, and an eager group round each one, the game being
roulette, faro, highball, poker, crapps or monte. The dealers, or
professional gamblers, are easily distinguished. Their dress consists
invariably of a well-laundered "biled" (white) shirt, huge diamond stud
in front, no collar or tie, perhaps a silk handkerchief tied loosely
round the neck, and an open unbuttoned waistcoat. They are necessarily
cool, wide-awake, self-possessed men. All in this room are chewing
tobacco and distributing the results freely on the floor. Now and then
the dealers call for drinks all round, perhaps to keep the company
together and encourage play. But poker, the royal game, the best of all
gambling games, is generally played in a retired room, where quietness
and some privacy are secured. Mere idlers and "bums" are not wanted
around; perhaps the room is a little cleaner, but the floor is littered,
if the game has lasted long, with dozens of already used and abandoned
packs of cards. At Las Vegas the majority of the players were cowboys
and cattlemen; at Socorro miners and prospectors; at Albuquerque all
kinds; at Santa Fé politicians and officials and Mexicans, but Chinamen,
always a few Chinamen, everywhere; and what varied types of men one rubs
shoulders with! The cowpunchers, probably pretty well "loaded" (tipsy),
the "prominent" lawyer, the horny-handed miner, the inscrutable "John";
the scout, or frontier man, with hair long as a woman's; the half-breed
Mexican or greaser elbowing a don of pure Castilian blood; the men all
"packing" guns (six-shooters), some in the pocket, some displayed
openly. The dealer, of course, has his lying handy under the table; but
shooting scrapes are rare. If there is any trouble it will be settled
somewhere else afterwards.
But things took a turn; slackness, then actual depression in Real Estate
values set in, and oh! how quickly. Like many others, I got scared and
hastened to "get out." It was almost too late, not quite. On cleaning
up, my financial position was just about the same as at the beginning of
the campaign. It was a lesson, a valuable experience; but I admit that
Real Estate speculation threw a glamour over me that still remains. It
is the way to wealth for the man who knows how to go about it.
About this time two Englishmen arrived in Las Vegas, and we soon got
acquainted. One could easily see that they were not tenderfeet. On the
contrary, they appeared to be shrewd, practical men of affairs. They had
been cattle ranching up north for some years, had a good knowledge of
the business, and were "good fellows." They had come south to look out a
cattle ranch and continue in the business. They wanted a little more
capital, which seemed my opportunity, and the upshot was that we formed
a partnership, for good or for ill, which lasted for many years (over
twelve), but which was never financially successful. Considering my
entire ignorance of cattle affairs, and having abounding confidence in
my two partners, I agreed to leave the entire control and management in
their hands.
It was about this time (1883) that I was fortunate enough to meet at
Fort Sumner the then great Western celebrity, "Billy the Kid." Billy was
a young cowboy who started wrong by using his gun on some trivial
occasion. Like all, or at least many, young fellows of his age he wanted
to appear a "bad man." One shooting scrape led to another; he became an
outlaw; cattle troubles, and finally the Lincoln County War, in which he
took a leading part, gave him every opportunity for his now murdering
propensities, so that soon the tally of his victims amounted to some
twenty-five lives. The Lincoln County New Mexico "War," in which it is
believed that first to last over 200 men were killed, was purely a
cattleman's war, but the most terrible and bloody that ever took place
in the West. New Mexico was at that time probably the most lawless
country in the world.
Only a month after my meeting Billy in Fort Sumner he was killed there,
not in his "boots," but in his stockings, by Sheriff Pat Garret. He was
shot practically in his bed and given no "show." His age when killed was
only twenty-three years. There were afterwards many other "kids" emulous
of Billy's renown, because of which, and their youthfulness, they were
always the most dangerous of men.
Our senior partner, not satisfied with New Mexico, went out to Arizona
for a look round, liked the prospect, and decided to locate there, so we
moved out accordingly. Arizona (Arida Zona) was at this time a
practically new and unoccupied territory; that is, though there were a
few Mexicans, a few Mormons and a great many Indians, a few sheep and
fewer cattle, it could not be called a settled country, and most of the
grazing land was in a virgin state.
My partner had bought out a Mexican's rights, his cattle, water-claims,
ranches, etc., located at the Cienega in Apache county, near the
head-waters of the Little Colorado River. To close the deal part payment
in advance had to be made; and to ensure promptness the paper was given
to my care to be delivered to the seller as quickly as possible.
Accordingly I travelled by train to the nearest railroad point,
Holbrook, found an army ambulance about to convey the commanding officer
to Camp Apache, and he was good enough to allow me to accompany him part
of the way. It was a great advantage to me, as otherwise there was no
conveyance, nor had I a horse or any means of getting to the ranch,
about eighty miles. Judging from the colonel's armed guard and the fact
of travelling at night, it occurred to me that something was wrong, and
on questioning him he told me that he would not take any "chances," that
the Apaches were "out" on the war-path, but that they never attacked in
the dark. This lent more interest to the trip, though it was interesting
enough to me simply to see the nature of the country where we had
decided to make our home. We got through all right. Next morning I hired
a horse and reached the ranch the same day.
As this was to be our country for many years to come, it will be well to
describe its physical features, etc. Arizona, of course, is a huge
territory, some 400 by 350 miles. It embraces pure unadulterated desert
regions in the west; a large forest tract in the centre; the rest has a
semi-arid character, short, scattering grass all over it; to the eye of
a stranger a dreary and desolate region! The east central part, where we
were, has a general elevation of 4000 to 6000 feet above sea-level, so
that the fierce summer heat is tempered to some extent, especially after
sundown. In winter there were snowstorms and severe cold, but the snow
did not lie long, except in the mountains, where it reached a depth of
several feet.
The Little Colorado River (Colorado Chiquito), an affluent of the
Greater River, had its headquarters in the mountains, south of our
ranch. It was a small stream, bright and clear, and full of speckled
trout in its upper part; lower down most of the time dry; at other times
a flood of red muddy water, or a succession of small, shallow pools of a
boggy, quicksandy nature, that ultimately cost us many thousands of
cattle. The western boundary of Arizona is the Big Colorado River.
Where the Santa Fé railroad crosses it at the Needles is one of the
hottest places in North America. In summer the temperature runs up to as
high as 120 degrees Fahr., and I have even heard it asserted to go to
125 degrees in the shade; and I cannot doubt it, as even on our own
ranch the thermometer often recorded 110 degrees; that at an elevation
of 4000 feet, whereas the Needles' elevation above sea-level is only a
few hundreds. At Jacobabad, India, the greatest heat recorded is 126
degrees, and at Kashan, in Persia, a month--August--averaged 127
degrees, supposed to be the hottest place on earth.
Above the Needles begins or ends the very wonderful Grand Cañon,
extending north for 270 miles, its depth in places being as much as 6000
feet, and that at certain points almost precipitously. The wonderful
colouring of the rocks, combined with the overpowering grandeur of it,
make it one of the most impressive and unique sights of the world.
Now, stop and think what that is--2000 yards! say a mile; and imagine
the effect on a stranger when he first approaches it, which he will
generally do without warning--nothing, absolutely nothing, to indicate
the presence of this wonderful gorge till he arrives at its very brink.
Its aspect is always changing according to the hour of day, the period
of the year, the atmospheric conditions. The air is dry and bracing at
all times; and as pure, clear and free from dust or germs as probably
can be found anywhere on earth. The panorama may be described as
"_wunderschön_." Anyone of sensibility will sit on the rock-rim for
hours, possibly days, in dumb contemplation of the beauty and immensity.
No one has yet, not even the most eloquent writer, been quite able to
express his feelings and sentiments, though many have attempted to do so
in the hotel register; some of the greatest poets and thinkers admitting
in a few lines their utter inability. Our Colorado Chiquito in its lower
parts has an equally romantic aspect.
Close to our ranch was another of Nature's wonders, a petrified forest,
quite unique in that the exposed tree trunks are solid masses of agate,
chalcedony, jasper, opal and other silicate crystals, the variety of
whose colouring, with their natural brilliancy, makes a wonderfully
beautiful combination. These trees are supposed to have been the Norfolk
Island pine, a tree now extinct, are of large dimensions, all prostrate,
lying in no particular order, and all broken up into large or smaller
sections. Many carloads have been removed and shipped to Eastern
factories, where the sections are sawn through and polished, and the
most lovely table tops, etc., imaginable produced. One must beware of
rattlesnakes when prowling about these "ruins."
To complete the physical description of Arizona territory something must
be said of the pine-clad mountain range to the south of us. The bulk of
this area constituted the Apache Indian Reservation. It was reserved for
these Indians as a hunting-ground as well as a home. No one else was
allowed to settle within its boundaries, or graze their sheep or cattle
there. It was truly a hunter's paradise, being largely covered with
forest trees, broken here and there by open parks and glades and meadow
lands, drained by streams of clear cool water, which combining, produced
a few considerable-sized rivers, "hotching" with trout, unsophisticated
and so simple in their natures that it seemed a positive shame to take
advantage of them. These mountains were the haunt of the elk, the
big-horned sheep, black-and white-tailed deer, grizzly, cinnamon, silver
tip, and brown and black bears; the porcupine, racoon and beaver; also
the prong-horned antelope, though it is more of a plains country animal.
But more of this some other time.
The Apache Indians (Apache is not their proper name, but Tinneh; the
former was given to them by the Mexicans and signifies "enemy") were
and are the most dreaded of all the redskin tribes. They always have
been warlike and perhaps naturally cruel, and at the time of our arrival
in the country they had about attained their most bloodthirsty and
murderous character. Shocking ill-treatment by white skalawags and
United States officials had changed their nature; but more about them
also by-and-by.
North of us were the numerous and powerful Navajo Indians. They were not
so much dreaded by us, their Reservation being further away, and they
then being of a peaceful disposition, devoted to horse and sheep
breeding and the manufacture of blankets.
These are the famous Navajo blankets so often seen in English homes,
valued for the oddness of their patterns and colours, but used in
Arizona mainly as saddle blankets. The majority of them are coarsely
made and of little intrinsic value; but others, made for the chiefs or
other special purposes, are finely woven, very artistic, and sell for
large sums of money. Rain will not penetrate them and they make
excellent bed coverings.
These Navajoes used to declare that they would never quit the war-path
till a certain "Dancing Man" appeared, and that they would never be
conquered till then. An American officer, named Backus, at Fort
Defiance, constructed a dummy man, who danced by the pulling of wires,
and showed him to the Indians. They at once accepted him as their
promised visitor, and have since then never gone on the war-path. This
may seem an incredible tale, but is a fact.
Also near us were the Zuni Indians, who, like the Pueblo Indians, lived
in stone-built communal houses, had entirely different customs to those
of the Apaches and Navajoes, and are perhaps the debased descendants of
a once powerful and advanced nation. Whilst speaking of Indians, it may
be said that the plains tribes, such as the Comanches, believe in the
immortality of the soul and the future life. All will attain it, all
will reach the Happy Hunting-Ground, unless prevented by such accidents
as being scalped, which results in annihilation of the soul.
Is it not strange that though these barbarians believe in the
immortality of the soul yet our materialistic Old Testament never even
suggests a future life; and it seems that no Jew believes or ever was
taught to believe in it.
Indian self-torture is to prove one's endurance of pain. A broad knife
is passed through the pectoral muscles, and a horse-hair rope inserted,
by which they must swing from a post till the flesh is torn through.
Indians will never scalp a negro; it is "bad medicine." By the way, is
not scalping spoken of in the Book of Maccabees as a custom of the Jews
and Syrians? The tit-bits of a butchered carcass are, to the Indians,
the intestines, a speciality being the liver with the contents of the
gall bladder sprinkled over it! Horses, dogs, wolves and skunks are
greatly valued for food.
Amongst certain tribes Hiawatha was a Messiah of divine origin, but born
on earth. He appeared long ago as a teacher and prophet, taught them
picture-writing, healing, etc.; gave them the corn plant and pipe; he
was an ascetic; told them of the Isles of the Blessed and promised to
come again. In Mexico Quetzalcohuatl was a similar divine visitor,
prophet and teacher.
But to return to our own immediate affairs. At a reasonable price we
bought out another cattleman, his ranches, cattle and saddle horses. As
required by law, we also adopted and recorded a cattle brand. Our first
business was to brand our now considerable herd, which entailed an
immense amount of very hard work. This in later years would have been no
very great undertaking, but at that time "squeezers" and branding
"chutes" were not known. Our corrals were primitive and not suited for
the work, and our cattle extraordinarily wild and not accustomed to
control of any kind. Indeed, the men we had bought out had sold to us
for the simple reason that they could not properly handle them. The
four-legged beasties had got beyond their control, and many of them had
almost become wild animals. These cattle, too, had very little of the
"improved" character in them. Well-bred bulls had never been introduced.
Some of the bulls we found had almost reached their allotted
span--crusty old fellows indeed and scarred in many a battle;
"moss-heads" we called them, and the term was well applied, for their
hoary old heads gave the idea of their being covered with moss.
Most of the cattle had never been in a corral in their lives, and some
of the older steers were absolute "outlaws," magnificent creatures, ten
to twelve years of age, with immense spreading horns, sleek and glossy
sides, and quite unmanageable. They could not be got into a herd, or if
got in, would very soon walk out again. Eventually some had to be shot
on the range like any wild animal, simply to get rid of them; but they
at least afforded us many a long and wild gallop.
There was one great steer in particular, reckoned to be ten or twelve
years old, quite a celebrity in fact on account of his unmanageableness,
his independence and boldness, which we had frequently seen and tried
to secure, but hitherto without success. He had a chum, another outlaw,
and they grazed in a particular part of the range far from the haunts of
their kin and of man. Three of us undertook to make one more effort to
secure him. At the headquarters ranch we had gathered a herd of cattle
and we proposed to try and run the steer in that direction, where the
other boys would be on the lookout and would head him into the round-up.
Two of us were to go out and find the steer and start him homewards; I
myself undertook to wait about half-way, and when they came in sight to
take up the running and relieve them. They found him all right about
twenty miles out, turned him and started him. No difficulty so far. He
ran with the ease of a horse, and he was still going as he willed,
without having the idea of being coerced. Meantime I had been taking it
easy, lolling on the ground, my horse beside me with bridle down.
Suddenly the sound of hoof-beats and a succession of yells warned me to
"prepare to receive cavalry." Through a cleft in a hill I could see the
quarry coming at a mad gallop directly for me, the two men pounding
along behind. I had just time and no more to tighten girth and get into
the saddle when he was on me, and my horse being a bit drowsy it needed
sharp digging of the spurs to get out of the way. I forget how many
miles the boys said they had already run him, but it was a prodigious
distance and we were still eight miles from the ranch. The steer was
getting hot, it began to suspect something, and to feel the pressure. As
he came down on me he looked like a mountain, his eyes were bright, he
was blowing a bit, and looked particularly nasty. When in such a
condition it does not do to overpress, as, if you do, the chances are
the steer will wheel round, challenge you and get on the fight. Much
circumspection is needed. He will certainly charge you if you get too
near, and on a tired horse he would have the advantage. So you must e'en
halt and wait--not get down, that would be fatal--wait five minutes it
may be, ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour, till the gentleman cools
off a bit. Then you start him off again, not so much driving him now, he
won't be driven, but guiding his course towards the herd. In this case
we succeeded beautifully, though at the end he had to be raced once
more. And so he was finally headed into the round-up; but dear me, he
only entered it from curiosity. No round-up for him indeed! no corral
and no going to market! He entered the herd, took a look round, a sniff
and a smell, and was off again out at the other side as if the devil was
after him, and indeed he wasn't far wrong. The chase was abandoned and
his majesty doomed later on to a rifle bullet wherever found.
Our principal and indeed only corral at that time was of solid stone
walls, a "blind" corral, and most difficult to get any kind of cattle
into. While pushing them in, each man had his "rope" down ready to at
once drop it over the horns of any animal attempting to break back. Thus
half our force would sometimes be seen tying down these truants, which
were left lying on the ground to cool their tempers till we had time to
attend to them; and it is a fact that some of these individuals,
especially females, died where they lay, apparently of broken hearts or
shame at their subjection. They showed no sign of injury by rough usage,
only their damnable tempers, rage and chagrin were responsible for their
deaths.
Inside the corral everything, of course, had to be roped and thrown to
be branded. It was rough and even dangerous work, and individual
animals, again generally cows, would sometimes make desperate charges,
and even assist an unfortunate "puncher" in scaling the walls. In after
years we built proper corrals, and in the course of time, by frequent
and regular handling, the cattle became more docile and better-mannered.
For one thing, they were certainly easily gathered. When we wanted to
round them up we had only to ride out ten or twenty miles, swing round
and "holler," when all the cattle within sight or hearing would at once
start on the run for the ranch. These were not yet domesticated cattle
in that they always wanted to run and never to walk. Indeed, once
started it was difficult to hold them back. This was not very conducive
to the accumulation of tallow on their generally very bare bones.
I well remember the first bunch of steers sold off the ranch, which were
driven to Fort Wingate, to make beef for the soldiers. About two hundred
head of steers, from six to twelve years of age, all black, brown,
brindle or yellow, ne'er a red one amongst them; magnificently horned,
in fair flesh, perfect health and spirits; such steers you could not
"give away" to-day; but we got sixty dollars apiece for them and were
well rid of them; and how they walked! The ponies could hardly keep up
with them; and what cowman does not know the pleasure of driving fast
walking beef cattle? Ne'er a "drag" amongst them! You had only to
"point" them and let them "hit the trail"; but a stampede at night was
all the more a terrific affair, though even in such a case if they got
away they would keep together, and when you found one you found them
all. Such a bunch of magnificent, wild, proud-looking steer creatures
will never be seen again, in America at least, because you cannot get
them now of such an age, nor of such primitive colours; colours that, I
believe, the best-bred cattle would in course of long years and many
generations' neglect revert to.
The method adopted when an obstreperous steer made repeated attempts to
leave the herd was to send a bullet through his horn, which gave him
something to think about and shake his head over. No doubt it hurt him
terribly, but it generally was an effective check to his waywardness.
And when some old hoary-headed bull wanted to "gang his ain gait" a
piece of cactus tossed on to his back, whence it was difficult to shake
off, would give him also something to think about.
Another small herd we some time later disposed of were equally good
travellers, and indeed were driven from the ranch in one day to Camp
Apache, another military post, a distance of over 40 miles. In this case
the trail was through forest country where there was no "holding"
ground, so they had to be pushed through.
Our herd increased and throve fairly well for a number of years till
other "outfits" began to throw cattle into the country, and sheepmen
began to dispute our right to certain grazing lands. We did not quite
realize it at the time, but it was the beginning of the end. We had gone
into a practically virgin country, controlled an immense area, and the
stock throve accordingly. But others were jealous of our success, threw
in their cattle as already said, and their sheep, and ultimately we
swamped one another. The grass was eaten down, over-grazed, droughts
came, prices broke, and so the end. From 500 our annual calf brand
mounted to 4000; halted there, and gradually dropped back to the
original tally. Our cattle, from poverty, bogged in the river, or
perished from hunger. This was all due to the barbarous grazing system
under which we worked, the United States refusing to sell or lease land
for grazing purposes; consequently, except at the end of a gun, one had
no control over his range. Cattle versus sheep wars resulted, stealing
became rampant and success impossible.
Among other sales made was that of some 1500 steers, of all ages, which
we drove right up to the heart of Colorado and disposed of at good
prices. This drive was marked by a serious stampede, on a dark night in
rough country, by which two of the boys got injured, though happily not
seriously. Then another time we made an experimental shipment of 500 old
steers to California, to be grazed and fattened on alfalfa. They were
got through all right and put in an alfalfa field, and I remained in
charge of them. Our cattle were not accustomed to wire fences, or being
penned up in a small enclosure, and of course had never seen alfalfa; so
for a week or more they did nothing but walk round the fence, trampling
the belly-high lucerne to the ground. Gradually, however, they got to
eating it, and in six weeks began to pick up. Briefly stated, this
adventure was a financial failure. Like the cattle I had been myself an
entire stranger to the wonderful alfalfa plant, and I never tired
marvelling at its exuberance of growth and its capacity for supporting
animal life. The heat in San Joachin Valley in high summer is almost
overpowering, and vegetable growth under irrigation quite phenomenal.
Alfalfa was cut some six or seven times in the season; each time a heavy
crop. After taking cattle out of one pasture, then grazed bare, it was
only three weeks till the plant was in full growth again, in full
flower, two feet high and ready for the reception of more live stock.
The variety of animal life subsisting on alfalfa was extraordinary. All
kinds of domestic stock throve on it and liked it. In our field, besides
cattle, were geese, ducks, turkeys, rabbits and hares in thousands,
doves and quails in flocks, and gophers innumerable; frogs, toads, rats
and mice; while bees, wasps, butterflies and moths, and myriads of
other insects were simply pushing one another out of the way. It was a
wonderful study.
In Utah much difficulty was found in growing clover. This was accounted
for by the fact that there were no old maids in that polygamous country.
Old maids naturally were not allowed! And there being none, there were
of course no cats to kill the mice that eat the bumble-bees' nests;
thus, no bumble-bees to fertilize it, therefore no clover. Old maids
have found their function.
Figs could not be grown successfully in California till the Smyrna wasp
had been imported to fertilize the flower.
And while talking of bees: on the Mississippi River bee-keepers are in
the habit of drifting their broods on rafts up the river, following the
advance of spring and thus securing fresh fields and pastures new of the
young spring blossoms; which is somewhat similar to the Chinaman's habit
of carrying his ducks (he does love ducks), thousands of them, on rafts
and boats up and down the broad Yangtse to wherever the richest grazing
and grub-infested beds may be found.
I should not forget to say that care must be used in putting cattle on
alfalfa. At some seasons it is more dangerous than at others. A number
of these steers "bloated," and I had to stick them with a knife promptly
to save their lives. A new experience to me, but I soon "caught on."
But something must be said about our little county town, San Juan,
county seat of Apache County in which we were located. St Johns
consisted of one general store, three or four saloons, a drug store, a
newspaper office, court-house, jail, etc. A small settlement of Mormons,
who confined themselves to farming on the narrow river bottom, and an
equal number of Mexicans, an idle and mischievous riffraff, though one
or two of them had considerable herds of sheep, and others were county
officials. County affairs were dreadfully mismanaged and county funds
misused. For our own protection we had to take part in politics, form an
Opposition, and after a long struggle, in which my partners did noble
service, we carried an election, put in our own officials, secured
control of the county newspaper, and had things as we wanted them. But
it was a bitter fight, and the old robber gang, who had run the county
for years, were desperate in their resentment. Unfortunately, this
resentment was basely and maliciously shown by an attempt, successful
but happily not fatal, to poison one of my partners. He had a long and
grim fight with death, but his indomitable will pulled him through. I
myself, though I had little to do with politics, had a narrow escape
from a somewhat similar fate. Living at that time, in winter, at what
was called the Meadows Camp, I usually had a quarter of beef hung in the
porch. Frost kept it sweet and sound for a long period, and every day it
was my practice to cut off a steak for consumption. There were two cats,
fortunately, and a slice was often thrown to them. One morning I first
gave them their portion, then cut my own. In a few minutes the
unfortunate animals were in the throes of strychnine poisoning and died
in short order. It was a shock to me and a warning.
The Mexicans continued for some time to be mean and threatening.
Bush-whacking at night was attempted, and they even threatened an attack
on our headquarters ranch; but we were a pretty strong outfit, had our
own sheriff, and by-and-by a number of good friends.
In our district rough country and timber prevented the cattle drifting
very much. In winter they naturally sought the lower range; in summer
they went to the mountains. Headquarters was about half-way between. It
was finally arranged that I should take charge of the lower winter camp
during winter and the mountain camp during summer. My partners mostly
remained at headquarters. In summer time, from April to the end of
October, this arrangement suited me very well indeed; in fact, it was
made at my own suggestion; and the life, though a solitary one for long
periods, suited me to the ground and I enjoyed it immensely. Practically
I lived alone, which was also my own wish, as it was disagreeable to
have anyone coming into my one-roomed cottage, turning things over and
making a mess. I did my own cooking, becoming almost an expert, and have
ever since continued to enjoy doing so. Of course I could have had one
of the boys to live with me; but no matter what good fellows cowboys
generally are, their being in very close companionship is not agreeable,
some of their habits being beastly. Thus it came about that my life was
a very solitary one, as it had been in India, and as it afterwards
continued to be in New Mexico and Texas. Few visitors came to my camp in
summer or winter. Now and then I was gladdened by a visit of one or
other of my partners, one of whom, however, cared nothing for fishing or
shooting, and the other was much of the time entirely absent from the
country. During our short periodical round-ups of course I attended the
"work" with the rest; but to spend one whole month, as I did once,
without not only not conversing with, but absolutely not seeing a human
being, is an experience that has probably come to very few men indeed.
However, as said before, life in the White Mountains of Arizona was very
enjoyable. Peaks ran up to 10,000 feet; and the elevation of my camp
was about 8000 feet. Round about were extensive open parks and meadows,
delightfully clear creeks and streams; grass a foot high, vast stretches
of pine timber, deep and rocky cañons, etc., etc.
When we first shoved our cattle up there the whole country was a virgin
one, no settlements or houses, no roads of any kind, except one or two
Indian hunting trails, no cattle, sheep or horses. There were, as
already stated, elk, mountain sheep, antelope, deer, bears, panthers,
porcupines, coons, any amount of wild turkey, spruce grouse, green
pigeons, quail, etc., etc. There were virgin rivers of considerable
size, swarming with trout, many of which it was my luck to first explore
and cast a fly into. Most of this lovely country, as said before, was
part of the Apache Indian Reservation, on which no one was allowed to
trespass; but the boundary line was ill-defined and it was difficult to
keep our cattle out of the forbidden territory. Indeed, we did not try
to do so.
The Indian settlement was at Fort Apache, some thirty miles from my
camp. These people, having such an evil reputation, are worthy of a few
more notes. Such tales of cruelty and savagery were told of them as to
be almost incredible. They were the terror of Arizona and New Mexico,
yet they were not entirely to blame. Government ill-treatment of
Cochise, the great chief of the Chiricaua Apaches, had set the whole
tribe on the war-path for ten years. A military company, called the
Tombstone Toughs, was organized in Southern Arizona to wipe them out,
but accomplished nothing. Finally, America's greatest Indian fighter,
General Crook, was sent to campaign in Arizona in 1885. The celebrated
chiefs, Geronimo and Natchez, broke out again and killed some
twenty-nine white people in New Mexico and thirty-six in Arizona before
Crook pushed them into the Sierra Madre Mountains in Sonora, where at
last Geronimo surrendered. Victorio was an equally celebrated Apache
war-chief and was out about the same time. Fortunately these last raids
were always made on the south side of the Reservation. We were happily
on the north side, and though we had frequent scares they never gave us
serious trouble. So here were my duties and my pleasures.
The saddle horses when not in use were in my care. The cattle also, of
course, needed looking after. I was in the saddle all day. Frequently it
would be my delight to take a pack-horse and go off for a week or two
into the wildest parts of the Reservation, camp, and fish and shoot
everything that came along, but the shooting was chiefly for the pot.
Young wild turkeys are a delicacy unrivalled, and I became so expert in
knowing their haunts that I could at any time go out and get a supply.
One of my ponies was trained to turkey hunting. He seemed to take a
delight in it. As soon as we sighted a flock, off he would go and take
me up to shooting range, then stop and let me get two barrels in, and
off again after them if more were needed. Turkeys run at a great rate
and will not rise unless you press them.
Big game shooting never appealed to me much. My last bear, through lack
of cartridges to finish him, went off with a broken back, dragging
himself some miles to where I found him again next morning. It so
disgusted me as to put me off wishing to kill for killing's sake ever
afterwards. A wounded deer or antelope, or a young motherless fawn, is a
most pitiable sight.
There was, and perhaps still is, no better bear country in America than
the Blue River district on the border of Arizona and New Mexico. On
these shooting and fishing trips I was nearly always alone, and many
times experienced ridiculous scares. Camping perhaps in a deep cañon, a
rapid stream rushing by, the wind blowing through the tall pines, the
horses tethered to tree stumps, a menagerie-like smell of bears
frequently quite apparent, your bed on Mother Earth without tent or
covering, if your sleep be not very sound you will conjure up all sorts
of amazing things. Perhaps the horses take fright and run on their
ropes.
[Illustration: ROPING A GRIZZLY. (By C. M. Russell.)]
You get up to soothe them and find them in a lather of sweat and scared
to a tremble. What they saw, or, like men, imagined they saw or heard in
the black darkness, you cannot tell. Still you are in an Indian country
and perhaps thirty miles from anywhere. Many a night I swore I should
pack up and go home at daylight, but when daylight came and all again
seemed serene and beautiful--how beautiful!--all fear would be
forgotten; I would cook my trout or fry the breast of a young turkey,
and with hot fresh bread and bacon grease, and strong coffee.--Why,
packing up was unthought of!
One of my nearest neighbours was an old frontiers-man and Government
scout. He had married an Apache squaw, been adopted into the tribe
(White Mountain Apaches) and possessed some influence. He liked
trout-fishing, so once or twice I accompanied him with his party, said
party consisting of his wife and all her relatives--indeed most of the
tribe. The young bucks scouted and cut "sign" for us (another branch of
the Apaches being then on the war-path), the women washed clothes, did
the cooking, cleaned and smoked the fish, etc. These Indians were
rationed with beef by the Government, while they killed no doubt quite a
number of our cattle, and even devoured eagerly any decomposed carcass
found on the range; but they preferred the flesh of horses, mules and
donkeys, detesting pork and fish.
In these mountains in summer a serious pest was a green-headed fly,
which worried the cattle so much that about noon hour they would all
congregate in a very close herd out in the open places for
self-protection. No difficulty then in rounding up; even antelope and
deer would mix with them. When off on a fishing and hunting trip it was
my custom to set fire to a dead tree trunk, in the smoke of which my
horses would stand for hours at a time, even scorching their fetlocks.
In these mountains, too, was a place generally called the "Boneyard,"
its history being that some cattleman, stranger to the country, turned
his herd loose there and tried to hold them during the winter. A heavy
snowfall of several feet snowed the cattle in so that they could not be
got out or anything be done with them. The whole herd was lost and next
spring nothing but a field of bones was visible.
At another time and place a lot of antelope were caught in deep snow and
frozen to death. A more remarkable case was that of a bunch of horses
which became snowed in, the snow being so deep they could not break a
way out. The owner with great difficulty managed to rescue them, when it
was found they had actually chawed each other's tails and manes off.
Indian dogs have a great antipathy to white men, likewise our own dogs
towards Indians, which our horses also share in. Horses also have a
dread of bears. Once when riding a fine and high-strung horse a bear
suddenly appeared in front. Knowing that my mount, as soon as he smelt
the bear, would become uncontrollable, I quickly shot the bear from the
saddle, and immediately the scared horse bolted.
To preserve trout I sometimes kippered them and hung them up to dry.
Quickly the wasps would attack them, and, if not prevented, would in a
short space of time leave absolutely nothing but a skeleton hanging to
the string. It was later demonstrated that cattle, too, thought them a
delicacy, no doubt for the salt or sugar ingredients. Snakes also have a
weakness for fish, and I have seen them approach my trout when thrown on
the river bank and drag them off for their own consumption.
While fishing or shooting one must always be on the careful lookout for
rattlesnakes. In the rough cañons and river banks the biggest rattlers
are found, and you may jump, tumble or scramble on the back of one and
run great chance of being bitten. On the open prairie, where smaller
rattlers are very plentiful, they always give you warning with their
unique, unmistakable rattle. Once, on stooping down to tear up by the
roots a dangerous poison weed, in grasping the plant my hand also
grasped a rattlesnake. I dropped it quick enough to escape injury, but
the cold sweat fairly broke out all over me. The bite is always painful,
but not always necessarily fatal.
"Rustlers" is the common name given to cattle or horse thieves. Arizona
had her full share of them. That territory was the last resort of
outlaws from other and more civilized states. Many of our own "hands"
were such men. Few of them dare use their own proper names; having
committed desperate crimes in other states, such as Texas, they could
not return there. Strange to say, the worst of these "bad" men often
made the best of ranch hands. Cowboys as a class, that is, the genuine
cowboys of days gone by, were a splendid lot of fellows, smart,
intelligent, self-reliant and resourceful, also hard and willing
workers. If they liked you, they would stay with you in any kind of
trouble and be thoroughly loyal. No such merry place on earth as the cow
camp, where humour, wit and repartee abounded. The fact of every man
being armed, and in these far-off days probably a deadly shot, tended to
keep down rowdyism and quarrelling. If serious trouble did come up, it
was settled then and there quickly and decisively, wrongly or rightly.
Let me instance a case.
In round-up camp one day a few hot words were suddenly heard, guns began
to play, result--one man killed outright and two wounded. The case of
one of the wounded boys was rather peculiar. His wound was in the thigh
and amputation was necessary. Being a general favourite, we, myself and
partners, took turns nursing him, dressing his wounds and cheering him
up as well as we could. He rapidly recovered, put on flesh and was in
high spirits, and, as the doctor said, quite out of danger; but one day
this big strong young fellow took it into his foolish head that he was
going to die. Nothing would persuade him to the contrary, and so die he
did, and that without any waste of time. In preparing a body for burial
it is the custom, a burial rite indeed, not to wrap the corpse in a
shroud, but to dress it in a complete ordinary costume, a brand-new suit
of black clothes, white shirt, socks, etc., etc.--whether boots or not I
forget, but rather think so--dress him probably better than the poor
fellow was ever dressed before, and in this manner he was laid in the
ground. The man who started the shooting was named "Windy M'Gee,"
already an outlaw, but then cook for our mess wagon. Shortly afterwards
he killed a prominent lawyer in our little town, or at least we
suspected him strongly, though another man suffered for the crime; but
such incidents as these were too common to attract world-wide
attention.
On another occasion one of our men got shot in the thigh, by whom or how
I do not now remember, but he was a different sort of man from the boy
just mentioned. We knew him to be quite a brave, nervy man in action,
having been in one of our fighting scrapes with rustlers; but as a
patient he showed a most cowardly disposition, developing a ferocious
temper, rejecting medical advice, cursing everybody who came around, so
that he lay for months at our charge, until we really got to wish that
he would carry out his threat of self-destruction. He did not, but he
was crippled for life and did not leave a friend behind.
[Illustration: A SHOOTING SCRAPE. (By C. M. Russell.)]
Then, too, the cowboy, in matter of accoutrements, was a very splendid
fellow indeed. His saddle was gaily decorated with masses of silver, in
the shape of buttons, buckles and trimmings, etc. Likewise his bridle
and bit; his spurs were works of loving art from the hands of the
village metal-worker, and likewise heavily plated with silver. The
rowels were huge but blunt-pointed, and had little metal bells attached.
His boots cost him near a month's pay, always made to careful order,
with enormously high and narrow heels, as high as any fashionable
woman's; his feet were generally extremely small, because of his
having lived in the saddle from early boyhood up. He wore a heavy
woollen shirt, with a gorgeous and costly silk handkerchief tied loosely
round his neck. His head-covering was a very large grey felt hat, a
"genuine Stetson," which cost him from five to twenty dollars, never
less. To keep the big hat in place a thong or cord is tied around and
below the back of the head instead of under the chin, experience having
proved it to be much more effective in that position. His six-shooter
had plates of silver on the handle, and his scabbard was covered with
silver buttons. It should be said that a saddle, such as we all used,
cost from forty to sixty dollars, and weighed generally about forty
pounds, not counting saddle blankets. Sometimes the saddle had only one
"cinch" or girth, generally two, one of which reached well back under
the flank. Such heavy saddles were necessary for heavy work, roping big
cattle, etc. The stirrups were then generally made of wood, very big and
broad in sole and very heavy, sometimes covered with tapaderos, huge
leather caps to save the feet from thorns in heavy brush, and protect
them from cold in severe weather.
To protect our legs we wore over the trousers heavy leather chaparejos,
sometimes of bear or buffalo hide. Let it be noted that a genuine
cowpuncher never rolls his shirt sleeves up, as depicted in romancing
novels. Indeed he either protects his wrists with leather wristlets, or
wears long gauntlet gloves. Mounted on his favourite horse, his was a
gay cavalier figure, and at the "Baillie" he felt himself to be
irresistible to the shy and often very pretty Mexican señoritas. There
you have a pretty faithful picture of the cowboy of twenty-five years
ago.
It remains to say something of the "shooting irons." In the days of
which I write there was no restriction to the bearing of arms. Every man
carried a six-shooter. We, and most of our outfit, habitually carried a
carbine or rifle as well as the smaller weapon. The carbine was carried
in a scabbard, slung from the horn, under the stirrup flap, and so under
the leg. This method kept the weapon steady and left both arms free. By
raising the leg it was easily got at, and it interfered in no way with
the use of the lariat (La Riata). The hang of the six-shooter required
more particular consideration; when needed it would be needed _badly_,
and therefore must be easily drawn, with no possible chance of a hitch.
The butt of a revolver must point forwards and not backwards, as shown
in the accompanying illustration, a portrait of one of our men as he
habitually appeared at work. We ourselves did not go the length of
wearing three belts of cartridges and two six-shooters; but two belts
were needed, one for the rifle and the other for the smaller weapon.
Some of the boys were always getting into scrapes and seemed to enjoy
protracted fights with the Mexicans. There must be no flap to the
scabbard, and the point must be tied by a leather thong around the thigh
to keep it in correct position; and of course it was hung on the right
side and low down on the hip, so as to be easily got at. Only when
riding fast was a small loop and silver button passed through the
trigger guard to prevent the gun from jolting out and being lost. The
chambers were always kept full and the weapons themselves in perfect
working order. Very "bad" men tied back or removed the trigger
altogether, cocking and releasing the hammer with the thumb, or
"fanning" it with the left hand. This permitted of very rapid firing, so
that the "aar would be plumb full of lead."
[Illustration: ONE OF OUR MEN. (To show the hand of six-shooter.)]
As an instance of quick shooting, two of our neighbours had threatened
to kill each other at sight: and we were all naturally interested in the
results. When the meeting did take place, quite unpremeditated, no
doubt, each man saw the other about the same instant, but one of them
was just a little the quicker, and put a bullet through his enemy's
heart. It was a mortal wound of course; but before the unlucky man fell
he was also able to "get his work in," and both fell dead at the same
instant. This was no duel. The first to fire had the advantage, but the
"dead" man was too quick for him, and he did not escape. If I remember
right, a good riddance.
There was one other way of "packing a gun." It was called the Arizona
way. Legal gentlemen, some gamblers, and others who for various reasons
wished to appear unarmed, simply put the pistol in the coat side pocket,
and in use fired from that position through the pocket. It was not often
so used, but I have known cases of it. In this way it was difficult to
know whether a man was "heeled" (armed) or not. Of course our usual
weapon, the long Colt 45° six-shooter could not be so used, being too
cumbrous.
[Illustration: 1883 IN ARIZONA. AUTHOR AND PARTY.]