who makes an efficient officer, he will be strictly in line for the
office of United States Marshal of western Kansas and all the Indian
Territory. You see, Mr. Seigerman, in our company we have as
stock-holders three congressmen and one United States senator. I have
seen it in the papers myself, and it is a common remark Down East, so
I’m told, that the weather is chilly when an Ohio man gets left. Now
with these men of our company interested in you, there would be no
refusing them the appointment. Why, it would give you the naming of
fifty deputies—good easy money in every one of them. You could sit back
in a well-appointed government office and enjoy the comforts of life.
Now, Mr. Seigerman, we will see you often, but let me suggest that your
acceptance be as soon as possible, for if you positively decline to
enter the race, we must look in some other quarter for an available
man.” Leaving these remarks for Seigerman’s reflections, he walked out
of the room.
As Seigerman started to follow, Baugh tapped him on the shoulder to
wait, as he had something to say to him. Baugh now confirmed everything
said, using the German language. He added, “Now, my friend Stubb is too
modest to admit who his people really are, but the Ohio Cattle Company
is practically the Standard Oil Company, but they don’t want it known.
It’s a confidence that I’m placing in you, and request you not to
repeat it. Still, you know what a syndicate they are and the influence
they carry. That very little man who has been talking to you has better
backing than any cow-boss in the West. He’s a safe, conservative fellow
to listen to.”
When they had rejoined Stubb in the bar-room, Baugh said to Seigerman,
“Don’t you think you can give us your answer by Friday next, so your
name can be announced in the papers, and an active canvass begun
without further loss of time?”
“Shentlemens, I’ll dry do,” said Louie, “but you will not dake a drink
mit me once again, aind it?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Seigerman,” replied Stubb.
“He gave me a very fine cigar yesterday; you’ll like them if you try
one,” said Baugh to Stubb. “Let it be a cigar to-day, Mr. Seigerman.”
As Baugh struck a match to light his cigar, he said to Stubb, “I’m
coming up to stop with Mr. Seigerman to-morrow. Why don’t you join us?”
“I vould be wery much bleased to haf you mine guest,” said Louie, every
inch the host.
“This is a very home-like looking place,” remarked Stubb. “I may come
up; I’ll come around Sunday and take dinner with you, anyhow.”
“Do, blease,” urged Louie.
There was a great deal to be said, and it required two languages to
express it all, but finally the “Dreibund” parted. The next day Baugh
moved into his new quarters, and the day following Stubb was so pleased
with his Sunday dinner that he changed at once.
“I’m expecting a man from Kansas City to-morrow,” said Baugh to Louie
on Sunday morning, “who will know the sentiment existing in cattle
circles in that city. He’ll be in on the morning train.”
Stubb, in the mean time, had coached Arab as to what he should say. As
Baugh and he had covered the same ground, it was thought best to have
Arab Ab the heeler, the man who could deliver the vote to order.
So Monday morning after the train was in, the original trio entered,
and Arab was introduced. The back room was once more used as a council
chamber where the “Fierbund” held an important session.
“I didn’t think there was so much interest being taken,” began Arab Ab,
“until my attention was called to it yesterday by the president and
secretary of our company in Kansas City. I want to tell you that the
cattle interests in that city are aroused. Why, our secretary showed me
the figures from his books; and in the ‘Tin Cup’ brand alone we shipped
out three hundred and twelve beeves short, out of twenty-nine hundred
and ninety-six bought two years ago. My employers, Mr. Seigerman, are
practical cowmen, and they know that those steers never left the range
without help. Nothing but lead or Texas fever can kill a beef. We
haven’t had a case of fever on our range for years, nor a winter in
five years that would kill an old cow. Why, our president told me if
something wasn’t done they would have to abandon this country and go
where they could get protection. His final orders were to do what I
could to get an eligible man as a candidate, which, I’m glad to hear
from my friends here, we have hopes of doing. Then when the election
comes off, we must drop everything and get every man to claim a
residence in this county and vote him here. I’ll admit that I’m no good
as a wire-puller, but when it comes to getting out the voters, there’s
where you will find me as solid as a bridge abutment.
“Why, Mr. Seigerman, when I was skinning mules for Creech & Lee,
contractors on the Rock Island, one fall, they gave me my orders, which
was to get every man on the works ready to ballot. I lined them up and
voted them like running cattle through a branding-chute to put on a
tally-mark or vent a brand. There were a hundred and seventy-five of
those dagoes from the rock-cut; I handled them like dipping sheep for
the scab. My friends here can tell you how I managed voting the bonds
at a little town east of here. I had my orders from the same people I’m
working for now, to get out the cow-puncher element in the Strip for
the bonds. The bosses simply told me that what they wanted was a
competing line of railroad. And as they didn’t expect to pay the
obligations, only authorize them,—the next generation could attend to
the paying of them,—we got out a full vote. Well, we ran in from four
to five hundred men from the Strip, and out of over seven hundred
ballots cast, only one against the bonds. We hunted the town all over
to find the man that voted against us; we wanted to hang him! The only
trouble I had was to make the boys think it was a straight up
Democratic play, as they were nearly all originally from Texas. Now, my
friends here have told me that they are urging you to accept the
nomination for sheriff. I can only add that in case you consent, my
people stand ready to give their every energy to this coming campaign.
As far as funds are concerned to prosecute the election of an
acceptable sheriff to the cattle interests, we would simply be flooded
with it. It would be impossible to use one half of what would be forced
on us. One thing I can say positively, Mr. Seigerman: they wouldn’t
permit you to contribute one cent to the expense of your election.
Cattle-men are big-hearted fellows—they are friends worth having, Mr.
Seigerman.”
Louie drew a long breath, and it seemed that a load had been lifted
from his mind by these last remarks of Arab’s.
“How many men are there in the Strip?” asked Arab of the others.
“On all three divisions of the last round-up there were something like
two thousand,” replied Baugh. “And this county adjoins the Cattle
Country for sixty miles on the north,” said Arab, still continuing his
musing, “or one third of the Strip. Well, gentlemen,” he went on,
waking out of his mental reverie and striking the table with his fist,
“if there’s that many men in the country below, I’ll agree to vote one
half of them in this county this fall.”
“Hold on a minute, aren’t you a trifle high on your estimate?” asked
Stubb, the conservative, protestingly.
“Not a man too high. Give them a week’s lay-off, with plenty to drink
at this end of the string, and every man will come in for fifty miles
either way. The time we voted the bonds won’t be a marker to this
election.”
“He’s not far wrong,” said Baugh to Stubb. “Give the rascals a chance
for a holiday like that, and they will come from the south line of the
Strip.”
“That’s right, Mr. Seigerman,” said Arab. “They’ll come from the west
and south to a man, and as far east as the middle of the next county. I
tell you they will be a thousand strong and a unit in voting. Watch my
smoke on results!”
“Well,” said Stubb, slowly and deliberately, “I think it’s high time we
had Mr. Seigerman’s consent to make the race. This counting of our
forces and the sinews of war is good enough in advance; but I must
insist on an answer from Mr. Seigerman. Will you become our candidate?”
“Shentlemens, how can I refuse to be one sheriff? The cattle-mens must
be protec. I accep.”
The trio now arose, and with a round of oaths that would have made the
captain of a pirate ship green with envy swore Seigerman had taken a
step he would never regret. After the hearty congratulation on his
acceptance, they reseated themselves, when Louie, in his gratitude,
insisted that on pleasant occasions like this he should be permitted to
offer some refreshments of a liquid nature.
“I never like to indulge at a bar,” said Stubb. “The people whom I work
for are very particular regarding the habits of their trusted men.”
“It might be permissible on occasions like this to break certain
established rules,” suggested Baugh, “besides, Mr. Seigerman can bring
it in here, where we will be unobserved.”
“Very well, then,” said Stubb, “I waive my objections for sociability’s
sake.”
When Louie had retired for this purpose, Baugh arose to his full
dignity and six foot three, and said to the other two, bowing, “Your
uncle, my dears, will never allow you to come to want. Pin your faith
to the old man. Why, we’ll wallow in the fat of the land until the
grass comes again, gentle Annie. Gentlemen, if you are gentlemen, which
I doubt like hell, salute the victor!” The refreshment was brought in,
and before the session adjourned, they had lowered the contents of a
black bottle of private stock by several fingers.
The announcement of the candidacy of Mr. Louis Seigerman in the next
week’s paper (by aid of the accompanying fiver which went with the
“copy”) encouraged the editor, that others might follow, to write a
short, favorable editorial. The article spoke of Mr. Seigerman as a
leading citizen, who would fill the office with credit to himself and
the community. The trio read this short editorial to Louie daily for
the first week. All three were now putting their feet under the table
with great regularity, and doing justice to the vintage on invitation.
The back room became a private office for the central committee of
four. They were able political managers. The campaign was beginning to
be active, but no adverse reports were allowed to reach the candidate’s
ears. He actually had no opposition, so the reports came in to the
central committee.
It was even necessary to send out Arab Ab to points on the railroad to
get the sentiments of this and that community, which were always
favorable. Funds for these trips were forced on them by the candidate.
The thought of presenting a board bill to such devoted friends never
entered mine host’s mind. Thus several months passed.
The warm sun and green blades of grass suggested springtime. The boys
had played the rôle as long as they cared to. It had served the purpose
that was intended. But they must not hurt the feelings of Seigerman, or
let the cause of their zeal become known to their benefactor and
candidate for sheriff. One day report came in of some defection and a
rival candidate in the eastern part of the county. All hands
volunteered to go out. Funds were furnished, which the central
committee assured their host would be refunded whenever they could get
in touch with headquarters, or could see some prominent cowman.
At the end of a week Mr. Seigerman received a letter. The excuses
offered at the rich man’s feast were discounted by pressing orders. One
had gone to Texas to receive a herd of cattle, instead of a few oxen,
one had been summoned to Kansas City, one to Ohio. The letter concluded
with the assurance that Mr. Seigerman need have no fear but that he
would be the next sheriff.
The same night that the letter was received by mine host, this tale was
retold at a cow-camp in the Strip by the trio. The hard winter was
over.
At the county convention in May, Seigerman’s name was presented. On
each of three ballots he received one lone vote. When the news reached
the boys in the Strip, they dubbed this one vote “Seigerman’s Per
Cent,” meaning the worst of anything, and that expression became a
byword on the range, from Brownsville, Texas, to the Milk River in
Montana.
III
“BAD MEDICINE”
The evening before the Cherokee Strip was thrown open for settlement, a
number of old timers met in the little town of Hennessey, Oklahoma.
On the next day the Strip would pass from us and our employers, the
cowmen. Some of the boys had spent from five to fifteen years on this
range. But we realized that we had come to the parting of the ways.
This was not the first time that the government had taken a hand in
cattle matters. Some of us in former days had moved cattle at the
command of negro soldiers, with wintry winds howling an accompaniment.
The cowman was never a government favorite. If the Indian wards of the
nation had a few million acres of idle land, “Let it lie idle,” said
the guardian. Some of these civilized tribes maintained a fine system
of public schools from the rental of unoccupied lands. Nations, like
men, revive the fable of the dog and the ox. But the guardian was
supreme—the cowman went. This was not unexpected to most of us. Still,
this country was a home to us. It mattered little if our names were on
the pay-roll or not, it clothed and fed us.
We were seated around a table in the rear of a saloon talking of the
morrow. The place was run by a former cowboy. It therefore became a
rendezvous for the craft. Most of us had made up our minds to quit
cattle for good and take claims.
“Before I take a claim,” said Tom Roll, “I’ll go to Minnesota and peon
myself to some Swede farmer for my keep the balance of my life. Making
hay and plowing fire guards the last few years have given me all the
taste of farming that I want. I’m going to Montana in the spring.”
“Why don’t you go this winter? Is your underwear too light?” asked Ace
Gee. “Now, I’m going to make a farewell play,” continued Ace. “I’m
going to take a claim, and before I file on it, sell my rights, go back
to old Van Zandt County, Texas, this winter, rear up my feet, and tell
it to them scarey. That’s where all my folks live.”
“Well, for a winter’s stake,” chimed in Joe Box, “Ace’s scheme is all
right. We can get five hundred dollars out of a claim for simply
staking it, and we know some good ones. That sized roll ought to winter
a man with modest tastes.”
“You didn’t know that I just came from Montana, did you, Tom?” asked
Ace. “I can tell you more about that country than you want to know.
I’ve been up the trail this year; delivered our cattle on the
Yellowstone, where the outfit I worked for has a northern range. When I
remember this summer’s work, I sometimes think that I will burn my
saddle and never turn or look a cow in the face again, nor ride
anything but a plow mule and that bareback.
“The people I was working for have a range in Tom Green County, Texas,
and another one in Montana. They send their young steers north to
mature—good idea, too!—but they are not cowmen like the ones we know.
They made their money in the East in a patent medicine—got scads of it,
too. But that’s no argument that they know anything about a cow. They
have a board of directors—it is one of those cattle companies. Looks
like they started in the cattle business to give their income a healthy
outlet from the medicine branch. They operate on similar principles as
those soap factory people did here in the Strip a few years ago. About
the time they learn the business they go broke and retire.
“Our boss this summer was some relation to the wife of some of the
medicine people Down East. As they had no use for him back there, they
sent him out to the ranch, where he would be useful.
“We started north with the grass. Had thirty-three hundred head of twos
and threes, with a fair string of saddle stock. They run the same brand
on both ranges—the broken arrow. You never saw a cow-boss have so much
trouble; a married woman wasn’t a circumstance to him, fretting and
sweating continually. This was his first trip over the trail, but the
boys were a big improvement on the boss, as we had a good outfit of men
along. My idea of a good cow-boss is a man that doesn’t boss any; just
hires a first-class outfit of men, and then there is no bossing to do.
“We had to keep well to the west getting out of Texas; kept to the west
of Buffalo Gap. From there to Tepee City is a dry, barren country. To
get water for a herd the size of ours was some trouble. This new
medicine man got badly worried several times. He used his draft book
freely, buying water for the cattle while crossing this stretch of
desert; the natives all through there considered him the softest snap
they had met in years. Several times we were without water for the
stock two whole days. That makes cattle hard to hold at night. They
want to get up and prowl—it makes them feverish, and then’s when they
are ripe for a stampede. We had several bobles crossing that strip of
country; nothing bad, just jump and run a mile or so, and then mill
until daylight. Then our boss would get great action on himself and
ride a horse until the animal would give out—sick, he called it. After
the first little run we had, it took him half the next day to count
them; then he couldn’t believe his own figures.
“A Val Verde County lad who counted with him said they were all
right—not a hoof shy. But the medicine man’s opinion was the reverse.
At this the Val Verde boy got on the prod slightly, and expressed
himself, saying, ‘Why don’t you have two of the other boys count them?
You can’t come within a hundred of me, or yourself either, for that
matter. I can pick out two men, and if they differ five head, it’ll be
a surprise to me. The way the boys have brought the cattle by us, any
man that can’t count this herd and not have his own figures differ more
than a hundred had better quit riding, get himself some sandals, and a
job herding sheep. Let me give you this pointer: if you are not anxious
to have last night’s fun over again, you’d better quit counting and get
this herd full of grass and water before night, or you will be cattle
shy as sure as hell’s hot.’
“‘When I ask you for an opinion,’ answered the foreman, somewhat
indignant, ‘such remarks will be in order. Until then you may keep your
remarks to yourself.’
“‘That will suit me all right, old sport,’ retorted Val Verde; ‘and
when you want any one to help you count your fat cattle, get some of
the other boys—one that’ll let you doubt his count as you have mine,
and if he admires you for it, cut my wages in two.’
“After the two had been sparring with each other some little time,
another of the boys ventured the advice that it would be easy to count
the animals as they came out of the water; so the order went forward to
let them hit the trail for the first water. We made a fine stream,
watering early in the afternoon. As they grazed out from the creek we
fed them through between two of the boys. The count showed no cattle
short. In fact, the Val Verde boy’s count was confirmed. It was then
that our medicine man played his cards wrong. He still insisted that we
were cattle out, thus queering himself with his men. He was gradually
getting into a lone minority, though he didn’t have sense enough to
realize it. He would even fight with and curse his horses to impress us
with his authority. Very little attention was paid to him after this,
and as grass and water improved right along nothing of interest
happened.
“While crossing ‘No-Man’s-Land’ a month later,—I was on herd myself at
the time, a bright moonlight night,—they jumped like a cat shot with
No. 8’s, and quit the bed-ground instanter. There were three of us on
guard at the time, and before the other boys could get out of their
blankets and into their saddles the herd had gotten well under headway.
Even when the others came to our assistance, it took us some time to
quiet them down. As this scare came during last guard, daylight was on
us before they had quit milling, and we were three miles from the
wagon. As we drifted them back towards camp, for fear that something
might have gotten away, most of the boys scoured the country for miles
about, but without reward. When all had returned to camp, had
breakfasted, and changed horses, the counting act was ordered by Mr.
Medicine. Our foreman naturally felt that he would have to take a hand
in this count, evidently forgetting his last experience in that line.
He was surprised, when he asked one of the boys to help him, by
receiving a flat refusal.
“‘Why won’t you count with me?’ he demanded.
“‘Because you don’t possess common cow sense enough, nor is the crude
material in you to make a cow-hand. You found fault with the men the
last count we had, and I don’t propose to please you by giving you a
chance to find fault with me. That’s why I won’t count with you.’
“‘Don’t you know, sir, that I’m in authority here?’ retorted the
foreman.
“‘Well, if you are, no one seems to respect your authority, as you’re
pleased to call it, and I don’t know of any reason why I should. You
have plenty of men here who can count them correctly. I’ll count them
with any man in the outfit but yourself.’
“‘Our company sent me as their representative with this herd,’ replied
the foreman, ‘while you have the insolence to disregard my orders. I’ll
discharge you the first moment I can get a man to take your place.’
“‘Oh, that’ll be all right,’ answered the lad, as the foreman rode
away. He then tackled me, but I acted foolish, ’fessing up that I
couldn’t count a hundred. Finally he rode around to a quiet little
fellow, with pox-marks on his face, who always rode on the point, kept
his horses fatter than anybody, rode a San José saddle, and was called
Californy. The boss asked him to help him count the herd.
“‘Now look here, boss,’ said Californy, ‘I’ll pick one of the boys to
help me, and we’ll count the cattle to within a few head. Won’t that
satisfy you?’
“‘No, sir, it won’t. What’s got into you boys?’ questioned the foreman.
“‘There’s nothing the matter with the boys, but the cattle business has
gone to the dogs when a valuable herd like this will be trusted to
cross a country for two thousand miles in the hands of a man like
yourself. You have men that will pull you through if you’ll only let
them,’ said the point-rider, his voice mild and kind as though he were
speaking to a child.
“‘You’re just like the rest of them!’ roared the boss. ‘Want to act
contrary! Now let me say to you that you’ll help me to count these
cattle or I’ll discharge, unhorse, and leave you afoot here in this
country! I’ll make an example of you as a warning to others.’
“‘It’s strange that I should be signaled out as an object of your wrath
and displeasure,’ said Californy. ‘Besides, if I were you, I wouldn’t
make any examples as you were thinking of doing. When you talk of
making an example of me as a warning to others,’ said the pox-marked
lad, as he reached over, taking the reins of the foreman’s horse firmly
in his hand, ‘you’re a simpering idiot for entertaining the idea, and a
cowardly bluffer for mentioning it. When you talk of unhorsing and
leaving me here afoot in a country a thousand miles from nowhere, you
don’t know what that means, but there’s no danger of your doing it. I
feel easy on that point. But I’m sorry to see you make such a fool of
yourself. Now, you may think for a moment that I’m afraid of that
ivory-handled gun you wear, but I’m not. Men wear them on the range,
not so much to emphasize their demands with, as you might think. If it
were me, I’d throw it in the wagon; it may get you into trouble. One
thing certain, if you ever so much as lay your hand on it, when you are
making threats as you have done to-day, I’ll build a fire in your face
that you can read the San Francisco “Examiner” by at midnight. You’ll
have to revise your ideas a trifle; in fact, change your tactics.
You’re off your reservation bigger than a wolf, when you try to run
things by force. There’s lots better ways. Don’t try and make talk
stick for actions, nor use any prelude to the real play you wish to
make. Unroll your little game with the real thing. You can’t throw
alkaline dust in my eyes and tell me it’s snowing. I’m sorry to have to
tell you all this, though I have noticed that you needed it for a long
time.’
“As he released his grip on the bridle reins, he continued, ‘Now ride
back to the wagon, throw off that gun, tell some of the boys to take a
man and count these cattle, and it will be done better than if you
helped.’
“‘Must I continue to listen to these insults on every hand?’ hissed the
medicine man, livid with rage.
“‘First remove the cause before you apply the remedy; that’s in your
line,’ answered Californy. ‘Besides, what are you going to do about it?
You don’t seem to be gifted with enough cow-sense to even use a
modified amount of policy in your every-day affairs,’ said he, as he
rode away to avoid hearing his answer.
“Several of us, who were near enough to hear this dressing-down of the
boss at Californy’s hands, rode up to offer our congratulations, when
we noticed that old Bad Medicine had gotten a stand on one of the boys
called ‘Pink.’ After leaving him, he continued his ride towards the
wagon. Pink soon joined us, a broad smile playing over his homely
florid countenance.