THE BROTHERS CLAIM A RANGE
The next morning Straw dallied about until Dell brought up the crippled
cattle. They were uniform in size; rest was the one thing needful, and
it now would be theirs amid bountiful surroundings. They were driven up
among the others, now scattered about in plain sight in the valley
above, presenting a morning scene of pastoral contentment.
"Even the calves are playing this morning," said Straw to Forrest, as
the former entered the tent. "A few cattle surely make this valley look
good. What you want to do now is to keep on drawing more. Don't allow no
outfit to pass without chipping in, at least give them the chance, and
this trail hospital will be on velvet in no time. Of course, all Lovell
outfits will tear their shirts boosting the endowment fund, but that
needn't bar the other herds. Some outfits may have no cattle, but they
can chip in a sore-back or crippled pony. My idea is to bar no one, and
if they won't come in, give them a chance to say they don't want to.
You ought to send word back to Dodge; any foreman going east or west
from there would give you his strays."
The conception of a trail refuge had taken root. The supply points were
oases for amusement, but a halfway haven for the long stretches of
unsettled country, during the exodus of Texas cattle to the Northwest,
was an unknown port. The monotony of from three to five months on the
trail, night and day work, was tiring to men, while a glass of milk or
even an hour in the shade was a distinct relief. Straw was reluctant to
go, returning to make suggestions, by way of excuse, and not until
forced by the advancing day did he mount and leave to overtake his herd.
Again the trio was left alone. Straw had given Forrest a list of brands
and a classification of the cattle contributed, and a lesson in reading
brands was given the boys. "Brands read from left to right," said
Forrest to the pair of attentive listeners, "or downward. If more than
one brand is on an animal, the upper one is the holding or one in which
ownership is vested. Character brands are known by name, and are used
because difficult to alter. There is scarcely a letter in the alphabet
that a cattle thief can't change. When a cow brute leaves its home
range, it's always a temptation to some rustler to alter the brand, and
characters are not so easily changed."
The importance of claiming the range was pressing, and now that cattle
were occupying it, the opportunity presented itself. A notice was
accordingly written, laying claim to all grazing rights, from the Texas
and Montana trail crossing on Beaver to the headwaters of the same,
including all its tributaries, by virtue of possession and occupancy
vested in the claimants, Wells Brothers. "How does that sound?" inquired
Forrest, its author, giving a literal reading of the notice. "Nothing
small or stingy about that, eh? When you're getting, get a-plenty."
"But where are we to get the cattle to stock such a big country?"
pondered Joel. "It's twenty miles to the head of this creek."
"We might as well lay big plans as little ones. Here's where we make a
spoon or spoil a horn. Saddle a horse and post this notice down at the
trail crossing. Sink a stake where every one can see it, and nail your
colors to the sign-board. We are the people, and must be respected."
Joel hastened away to post the important notice. Dell was detailed on
sentinel duty, on lookout for another herd, but each trip he managed to
find some excuse to ride among the cattle. "What's the brand on my white
cow?" inquired Forrest, the object leading up to another peculiarity
in color.
"I couldn't _read_ it," said Dell, airing his range parlance.
"No? Well, did you ever see a white cow with a black face?" inquired the
wounded man, coming direct to the matter at issue.
"Not that I remember; why?"
"Because there never lived such a colored cow. Nature has one color that
she never mars. You can find any colored cow with a white face, but
you'll never find a milk-white cow with a colored face. That line is
drawn, and you want to remember it. You'll never shoot a wild swan with
a blue wing, or see yellow snowflakes fall, or meet a pure white cow
with a black face. Hereafter, if any one attempts to send you on a
wild-goose chase, to hunt such a cow, tell them that no such animal ever
walked this earth."
Joel returned before noon. No sign of an approaching herd was sighted by
the middle of the afternoon, and the trio resigned themselves to random
conversation.
"Dell," said Forrest, "it's been on my mind all day to ask you why you
picked a yearling yesterday when you had a chance to take a cow. Straw
laughed at you."
"Because Joel said red cattle were worth a dollar a head more than any
other color."
"Young man," inquired Forrest of Joel, "what's your authority for that
statement?"
"Didn't you pick me a red cow yesterday, and didn't you admit to Mr.
Straw that red cattle were worth the most?" said Joel, in defense of
his actions.
"And you rushed away and palmed my random talking off on Dell as
original advice? You'll do. Claiming a little more than you actually
know will never hurt you any. Now here's a prize for the best brand
reader: The boy who brings me a correct list of brands, as furnished by
Straw, gets my white cow and calf as a reward. I want the road and ranch
brand on the cripples, and the only or holding brand on the others. Now,
fool one another if you can. Ride through them slowly, and the one who
brings me a perfect list is my bully boy."
The incentive of reward stimulated the brothers to action. They
scampered away on ponies, not even waiting to saddle, and several hours
were spent in copying brands. These included characters, figures, and
letters, and to read them with skill was largely a matter of practice.
Any novice ought to copy brands, but in this instance the amateur's list
would be compared with that of an experienced trail foreman, a neutral
judge from which there was no appeal.
The task occupied the entire evening. Forrest not only had them read,
but looked over each copy, lending impartial assistance in reading
characters that might baffle a boy. There were some half dozen of the
latter in Straw's list, a _turkey track_ being the most difficult to
interpret, but when all characters were fully understood, Joel still had
four errors to Dell's three. The cripples were found to be correct in
each instance, and were exempt from further disturbance. Forrest now
insisted that to classify, by enumerating each grade, would assist in
locating the errors, which work would have to be postponed
until morning.
The boys were thoroughly in earnest in mastering the task. Forrest
regaled them with examples of the wonderful expertness of the Texans in
reading brands and classifying cattle. "Down home," said he, "we have
boys who read brands as easily as a girl reads a novel. I know men who
can count one hundred head of mixed cattle, as they leave a corral, or
trail along, and not only classify them but also give you every brand
correctly. Now, that's the kind of cowmen I aim to make out of you boys,
and to-morrow morning you must get these brands accurate. What
was that?"
Both boys sprang to the tent opening and listened. It sounded like a
shot, and within a few moments was seconded by a distant hail.
"Some one must be lost," suggested Joel. "He's down the creek."
"Lost your grandmother!" exclaimed Forrest. "We're all lost in this
country. Here, fire this six-shooter in the air, and follow it up with a
Comanche yell. Dell, build a little fire on the nearest knoll. It's more
than likely some trail man hunting this camp."
The signal-fire was soon burning. The only answer vouchsafed was some
fifteen minutes later, when the clatter of an approaching horse was
distinctly heard. A lantern shone through the tent walls, and the prompt
hail of the horseman proved him no stranger. "Is Quince Forrest here?"
he inquired, as his horse shied at the tent.
"He is. Come in, Dorg," said Forrest, recognizing by his voice the
horseman without to be Dorg Seay, one of Don Lovell's foremen. "Come in
and let us feast our eyes on your handsome face."
Seay peeped within and timidly entered. "Well," said he, pulling at a
straggling mustache, "evidently it isn't as bad as reported. Priest
wrote back to old man Don that you had attempted suicide--unfortunate in
love was the reason given--and I have orders to inquire into your health
or scatter flowers on your grave. Able to sit up and take notice?--no
complications, I hope?"
"When did you leave Dodge?" inquired Forrest, ignoring Seay's
persiflage.
"About a week ago. A telegram was waiting me on the railroad, and I rode
through this afternoon. If this ranch boasts anything to eat, now would
be an awful nice time to mention it."
Seay's wants were looked after.
"How many herds between here and the railroad?" inquired Forrest,
resuming the conversation.
"Only one ahead of mine. In fact, I'm foreman of both herds--live with
the lead one and occasionally go back and see my own. It all depends on
who feeds best."
"And when will your herd reach the Beaver?" continued Forrest.
"I left orders to water my lead herd in the Beaver at three o'clock
to-morrow, and my own dear cattle will be at their heels. My outfit acts
as rear-guard to Blocker's herd."
These men, in the employ of the same drover, had not seen each other in
months, and a fire of questions followed, and were answered. The
chronicle of the long drive, of accident by flood and field, led up to
the prospects for a northern demand for cattle.
"The market has barely opened in Dodge," said Seay, in reply to a
question. "Unless the herds are sold or contracted, very few will leave
Dodge for the Platte River before the first of July. Old man Don isn't
driving a hoof that isn't placed, so all his herds will pass Ogalalla
before the first of the month. The bulk of the drive going north of the
Platte will come next month. With the exception of scattering herds, the
first of August will end the drive."
The men talked far into the night. When they were left alone in the
tent, Forrest unfolded his plans for starting the boys in life.
"We found them actually on their uppers," said he; "they hadn't tasted
meat in months, and were living on greens and garden truck. It's a good
range, and we must get them some cattle. The first year may be a little
tough, but by drawing on all of Lovell's wagons for the necessary
staples, we can provision them until next spring. You must leave some
flour and salt and beans and the like."
"Beans!" echoed Seay. "That will surely tickle my cook. Did you ever
notice that the farther north it goes, a Texas trail outfit gets
tastier? Let it start out on bacon and beans and blackstrap, and after
the herd crosses the Platte, the varmints want prairie chicken and fried
trout. Tasty! Why, those old boys develop an elegant taste for dainties.
Nothing but good old beef ever makes them even think of home again. Yes,
my cook will give you his last bean, and make a presentation
speech gratis."
Forrest's wound had begun to mend, the soreness and swelling had left
the knee joint, and the following morning Seay spent in making crutches.
Crude and for temporary use, the wounded man tried them out, and by
assistance reached the entrance, where he was eased into an old family
rocking-chair in the shade of the tent.
"This has been the dream of my life," said he, "to sit like some old
patriarch in my tent door and count my cattle. See that white cow
yonder?" pointing with a crutch. "Well, she belongs to your uncle John
Quincy. And that reminds me that she and her calf are up as a reward to
complete the roll of brands. Boys, are you ready?"
The revised lists were submitted for inspection. Compared with the one
rendered by Straw, there was still a difference in Dell's regarding a
dun cow, while Joel's list varied on three head. Under the
classification the errors were easily located, and summoning the
visiting foreman, Forrest explained the situation.
"I'll have to appoint you umpire in deciding this matter. Here's the
roll furnished by Nat Straw, and you'll compare it with Dell and Joel's.
Of course, old Nat didn't care a whoopee about getting the list perfect,
and my boy may be right on that dun cow. Joel differs on a
three-year-old, a heifer, and a yearling steer. Now, get them straight,
because we're expecting to receive more cattle this evening. Pass on
these brands before you leave to meet your herd this afternoon. And
remember, there's a cow and calf at stake for whichever one of these
boys first gets the roll correct."
After dinner the three rode away for a final inspection. The cattle were
lazy and logy from water, often admitting of riding within a rod, thus
rendering the brands readable at a glance. Dell led the way to the dun
cow, but before Seay could pass an opinion, the boy called for his list
in possession of the man. "Let me take my roll a minute," said he, "and
I'll make the correction. It isn't a four bar four, it's four equals
four; there's two bars instead of one. The cow and calf is mine. That
gives me three."
The lust of possession was in Dell's voice. The reward had been fairly
earned, and turning to the other cattle in dispute, Joel's errors were
easily corrected. All three were in one brand, and the mere failure to
note the lines of difference between the figure eight and the letter S
had resulted in repeating the mistake. Seay amused himself by pointing
out different animals and calling for their brands, and an envious
rivalry resulted between the brothers, in their ability to read
range script.
"A good eye and a good memory," said Seay, as they rode homeward, "are
gifts to a cowman. A brand once seen is hardly ever forgotten. Twenty
years hence, you boys will remember all these brands. One man can read
brands at twice the distance of another, and I have seen many who could
distinguish cattle from horses, with the naked eye, at a distance of
three miles. When a man learns to know all there is about cattle, he
ought to be getting gray around the edges."
Forrest accepted the umpire's report. "I thought some novice might trip
his toe on that equality sign," said he. "There's nothing like having
studied your arithmetic. Dell's been to school, and it won him a cow and
calf when he saw the sign used as a brand. I wonder how he is on
driving mules."
"I can drive them," came the prompt reply.
"Very well. Hook up the old team. I'm sending you down to the trail
crossing to levy on two commissary wagons. Take everything they give you
and throw out a few hints for more. This afternoon we begin laying in a
year's provisions. It may be a cold winter, followed by a late spring,
and there's nothing like having enough. Relieve them of all their dried
fruits, and make a strong talk for the staples of life. I may want to
winter here myself, and a cow camp should make provision for more or
less company."
Seay lent his approval. "Hitch up and rattle along ahead of me," said
he. "The wagons may reach the crossing an hour or two ahead of the
herds, and I'll be there to help you trim them down to light
traveling form."
It proved an active afternoon. The wagon was started for the trail
crossing, followed by Seay within half an hour. Joel was in a quandary,
between duty and desire, as he was anxious to see the passing herds, yet
a bond of obligation to the wounded man required his obedience. Forrest
had noticed the horse under saddle, the impatience of the boy, but
tactfully removed all uneasiness.
"I have been trying to figure out," said he, "how I could spare you this
afternoon, as no doubt you would like to see the herds, but we have so
much to do at home. Now that I can hobble out, you must get me four
poles, and we will strip this fly off the tent and make a sunshade out
of it--make an arbor in front of our quarters. Have the props ready, and
in the morning Seay will show you how to stretch a tarpaulin for a
sunshade. And then along towards evening, you must drift our little
bunch of cattle at least a mile up the creek. I'm expecting more this
evening, and until we learn the brands on this second contingent, they
must be kept separate. And then, since we've claimed it, we want to make
a showing of occupying the range, by scattering the cattle over it.
Within a month, our cows must rest in the shade of Hackberry Grove and
be watering out of those upper springs. When you take a country, the
next thing is to hold it."
Something to do was a relief to Joel. Willow stays, for the arbor, were
cut, the bark peeled off, and the poles laid ready at hand. When the
cattle arose, of their own accord, from the noonday rest, the impatient
lad was allowed to graze them around the bend of the creek. There was
hardly enough work to keep an active boy employed, and a social hour
ensued. "Things are coming our way," said Forrest. "This man Seay will
just about rob Blocker's outfit. When it comes to making a poor mouth,
that boy Dorg is in a class by himself. Dell will just about have a
wagon load. You boys will have to sleep in the tent hereafter."
It proved so. The team returned an hour before sunset, loaded to the
carrying capacity of the wagon. Not only were there remnants in the
staples of life, but kegs of molasses and bags of flour and beans, while
a good saddle, coils of rope, and a pair of new boots which, after a
wetting, had proven too small for the owner, were among the assets. It
was a motley assortment of odds and ends, a free discard of two trail
outfits, all of which found an acceptable lodgment at the new ranch.
"They're coming up to supper," announced Dell to Forrest. "Mr. Blocker's
foreman knows you, and sent word to get up a spread. He says that when
he goes visiting, he expects his friends to not only put on the little
and big pot, but kill a chicken and churn. He's such a funny fellow. He
made me try on those boots, and when he saw they would fit, he ordered
their owner, one of Mr. Seay's men, to give them to me or he would fight
him at sunrise."
"Had them robbing each other for us, eh?" said Forrest, smiling. "Well,
that's the kind of friend to have when settling up a new country. This
ranch is like a fairy story. Here I sit and wave my crutch for a wand,
and everything we need seems to just bob up out of the plain. Cattle
coming along to stock a ranch, old chum coming to supper, in fact,
everything coming our way. Dell, get up a banquet--who cares
for expense!"
It was barely dusk when the second contingent of cattle passed above the
homestead and were turned loose for the night. As before, the cripples
had been dropped midway, and would be nursed up the next morning. With
the assistance of crutches, Forrest managed to reach the opening, and by
clinging to the tent-pole, waved a welcome to the approaching trail men.
Blocker's foreman, disdaining an invitation to dismount, saluted his
host. "There's some question in my mind," said he, "as to what kind of a
dead-fall you're running up here, but if it's on the square, there goes
my contribution to your hospital. Of course, the gift carries the
compliments of my employer, Captain John. That red-headed boy delivered
my messages, I reckon? Well, now, make out that I'm somebody that's come
a long way, and that you're tickled to death to see me, and order the
fatted calf killed. Otherwise, I won't even dismount."