RANCH HAPPENINGS
Ranch life is often full of thrilling incidents and adventures. The
cowboy in his travels about the country looking after cattle, hunting
wild game or, in turn, being hunted by yet wilder Indians, finds plenty
of novelty and excitement to break any fancied monotony which might be
considered as belonging to ranch life. In a number of visits to the
range country during the past twenty years, the writer has had an
opportunity to observe life on a ranch, and experience some of its
exciting adventures.
One day in the summer of 1891, Dave Drew, our foreman, Tedrow, one of
the cowboys, and myself, made a trip into East Canon in the Dos Cabezas
mountains, in search of some large unbranded calves which had been seen
running there. We rode leisurely along for some time and passed
several small bunches of cattle without finding what we were looking
for. As we neared a bend in the canon, Dave, who rode in advance, saw
some cattle lying in the shade of a grove of live oak trees. Instantly
he spurred his horse into a run and chased after the cattle at full
speed, at the same time looking back and shouting that he saw two
mavericks and for us to hurry up and help catch them. It was a bad
piece of ground to cover and we found it difficult to make progress or
to even keep each other in sight. Tedrow hurried up as fast as he
could while I brought up the rear.
In trying to get through in the direction that Dave had gone, we tried
to make a short cut in order to gain time, but soon found our way
completely blocked by immense boulders and dense thickets of cat-claw
bushes, which is a variety of mesquite covered with strong, sharp,
curved thorns. We turned back to find a better road and after some
time spent in hunting an opening we discovered a dim trail which soon
led us into a natural park of level ground hidden among the foothills.
Here we found Dave who alone had caught and tied down both the calves
and was preparing to start a fire to heat the branding irons. What he
had done seemed like magic and was entirely incomprehensible to an
inexperienced tenderfoot.
Dave explained afterwards that to be successful in such a race much
depended on taking the cattle by surprise, and then by a quick, bold
dash start them running up the mountain, when it was possible to
overtake and rope them; but if once started to running down hill it was
not only unsafe to follow on horseback but in any event the cattle were
certain to escape. Taking them by surprise seemed to bewilder them and
before they could collect their scattered senses, so to speak, and
scamper off, the work of capture was done.
Another adventure, which did not end so fortunately for met happened in
the fall of I 887 when the country was yet comparatively new to the
cattle business. I rode out one day in company with a cowboy to look
after strays and, incidentally, to watch for any game that might chance
to cross our path. We rode through seemingly endless meadows of fine
gramma grass and saw the sleek cattle feeding on plenty and enjoying
perfect contentment. Game, also, seemed to be abundant but very shy
and as we were not particularly hunting that kind of stock, we forebore
giving chase or firing at long range.
After riding about among the hills back of the Pinaleno ranch and not
finding anything we concluded to return home. On starting back we
separated and took different routes, going by two parallel ravines in
order to cover more ground in our search. I had not gone far until I
found the cattle we were looking for going to water on the home trail.
Jogging on slowly after them and enjoying the beauty of the landscape,
I unexpectedly caught a glimpse of a deer lying down under a mesquite
tree on the brow of a distant hill. I was in plain sight of the deer,
which was either asleep or heedless of danger as it paid no attention
whatever to my presence.
Deer and antelope soon become accustomed to horses and cattle and often
mix and feed familiarly with the stock grazing on the open range. The
deer did not change its position as I quietly rode by and out of sight
behind the hill. There I dismounted and stalked the quarry on foot,
cautiously making my way up the side of the hill to a point where I
would be within easy shooting distance. As I stood up to locate the
deer it jumped to its feet and was ready to make off, but before it
could start a shot from my Winchester put a bullet through its head,
and it scarcely moved after it fell. The deer was in good condition
and replenished our depleted ranch larder with some choice venison
steaks. The head, also, was a fine one the horns being just out of
velvet and each antler five pointed, was saved and mounted.
The shot and my lusty halloo soon brought my cowboy friend to the spot.
Together we eviscerated the animal and prepared to pack it to camp on
my horse. As we were lifting it upon his back the bronco gave a
vicious kick which hit me in the left knee and knocked me down. The
blow, though severe, glanced off so that no bone was broken. What made
the horse kick was a mystery as he was considered safe and had carried
deer on other occasions. But a bronco, like a mule, is never
altogether reliable, particularly as to the action of its heels. With
some delay in getting started and in somewhat of a demoralized
condition we mounted and rode home.
Soon after the accident I had a chill which was followed by a fever and
there was much pain and swelling in the knee that was hit. A ranch
house, if it happens to be a "stag camp" as ours was, is a cheerless
place in which to be sick, but everything considered, I was fortunate
in that it was not worse. By the liberal use of hot water and such
other simples as the place afforded I was soon better; but not until
after several months' treatment at home did the injured knee fully
recover its normal condition.
The excitement of running cattle or hunting game on the open range in
those days was mild in comparison to the panicky feeling which
prevailed during every Indian outbreak. The experience of many years
had taught the people of Arizona what to expect at such a time and the
utter diabolical wickedness of the Apaches when out on the warpath.
During the early eighties many such raids occurred which were
accompanied by all the usual horrors of brutality and outrage of which
the Apaches are capable.
When it became known in the fall of 1885 that Geronimo was again off
the reservation and out on another one of his bloody raids the people
became panic-stricken. Some left the Territory until such time when
the Indian question would be settled and the Government could guarantee
freedom from Indian depredations. Those who remained either fled to
some near town or fort for protection, or prepared to defend themselves
in their own homes as best they could.
What else could the settlers in a new country do? They had everything
invested in either mines or cattle and could not afford to leave their
property without making some effort to save it even if it had to be
done at the risk of their own lives. They had no means of knowing when
or where the stealthy Apaches would strike and could only wait for the
time in uncertainty and suspense. Many who were in this uncomfortable
predicament managed to escape any harm, but others fell victims to
savage hatred whose death knell was sounded in the crack of the deadly
rifle.
Some personal experiences may help to illustrate this feeling of panic,
as I happened to be at the ranch during the time and know how it was
myself.
One day in the month of October, 1885, while Geronimo was making his
raid through southern Arizona, my brother and I rode through Railroad
Pass from Pinaleno ranch to the Lorentz Place, a distance of fifteen
miles. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon that we ascended to
the top of a hill to take observations and see if anything was
happening out of the ordinary. We saw nothing unusual until we were
about to leave when we noticed somewhat of a commotion on the old
Willcox and Bowie wagon road which parallels the Southern Pacific
track. The distance was too great to see distinctly with the naked
eye, but looking through our field glasses, which we always carried
when out riding, we could plainly see three loaded wagons standing in
the road. The drivers had evidently unhitched their teams and, mounted
upon the horses' backs, were riding furiously in a cloud of dust down
the road towards Bowie.
I asked the judge, who was a resident and supposed to be familiar with
the customs of the country while I was only a tenderfoot, what their
actions meant. He admitted that he did not understand their conduct
unless it was that they had concluded that they could not make Willcox
on that day and were returning to some favorable camp ground which they
had passed on their way up, to spend the night; but the manner of their
going was certainly peculiar. After watching them disappear down the
road we rode on and reached our destination in safety.
The incident was forgotten until a few days later when we were in
Willcox a friend inquired what had become of the Indians which had
lately been seen on our range. We replied that we had not seen any
Indians nor known of any that had been there. He then related to us
how only a few days before three freighters had seen two Indians ride
upon a hill and halt. The sight of Indians was enough and their only
care after that was to get away from them. They quickly unhitched
their horses from the wagons and rode ten miles to Bowie where they
gave the alarm and spent the night. The next morning, having heard
nothing more from the Indians during the night, they took fresh courage
and ventured to return to their wagons, which they found as they had
left them unmolested, when they continued their journey.
When the freighters were asked why they did not stand off the
Indians they said that they only had one gun and not knowing how many
more redskins there might be decided that to retreat was the better
part of valor. It was my brother and I whom they had seen and mistaken
for Indians.
A few days after this event I had a similar scare of my own and after
it was over I could sympathize with the poor, frightened freighters. I
was alone at the ranch house packing up and preparing to leave for
home. While thus occupied I chanced to go to the open door and looking
out, to my dismay, I saw Indians. "My heart jumped into my mouth" and
for a moment I felt that my time had surely come. Two men were seen
riding horseback over the foot hills followed by a pack animal. As I
stood watching them and took time to think, it occurred to me that I
might be mistaken, and that the men were not Indians after all. As
they drew nearer I saw that they were dressed like white men and,
therefore, could not be Indians; but my scare while it lasted was
painfully real. The men proved to be two neighboring ranchmen who were
out looking for lost cattle.
In this raid, the Apaches, after leaving their reservation in the White
mountains, traveled south along the Arizona and New Mexico line,
killing people as they went, until they reached Stein's Pass. From
there they turned west, crossed the San Simon valley and disappeared in
the Chiricahua mountains. When next seen they had crossed over the
mountains and attacked Riggs' ranch in Pinery canon, where they wounded
a woman, but were driven off.
The next place that they visited was the Sulphur Spring ranch of the
Chiricahua Cattle Company, where they stole a bunch of horses. The
cowboys at the ranch had received warning that there were Indians about
and had brought in the horse herd from the range and locked them in the
corral. The Apaches came in the night and with their usual adroitness
and cunning stole the corral empty. The first intimation which the
inmates had that the ranch had been robbed was when the cowboys went in
the morning to get their horses they found them gone.
From the Sulphur Spring ranch they crossed the Sulphur Spring valley in
the direction of Cochise's stronghold in the Dragoon mountains. Before
reaching the mountains they passed Mike Noonan's ranch where they shot
its owner, who was a lone rancher and had lived alone in the valley
many years. He was found dead in his door yard with a bullet hole in
the back of his head. He evidently did not know that the Indians were
near and was seemingly unconscious of any danger when he was killed.
The Indians were not seen again after entering the stronghold until
they crossed the line into Mexico, where they were pursued by United
States soldiers. After a long, stern chase Geronimo surrendered
himself and followers to General Miles, who brought them back to
Arizona. As prisoners they were all loaded into cars at Bowie and
taken to Florida. The general in command thought it best to take them
clear out of the country in order to put an effectual stop to their
marauding. Later they were removed to the Indian Territory where they
now live.
The rest of the Apaches remain in Arizona and live on the San Carlos
reservation on the Gila river where they are being inducted into
civilization. Since the disturbing element among them has been removed
there has been no more trouble. They seem to have settled down with a
sincere purpose to learn the white man's way and are quiet and
peaceable. They are laborers, farmers and stockmen and are making
rapid progress in their new life.