INDEPENDENCE
The trail outfit reached the railroad a day in advance of the beeves.
Shipping orders were sent to the station agent in advance, and on the
arrival of the herd the two outfits made short shift in classifying it
for market and corralling the different grades of cattle.
Mr. Stoddard had been located at Trail City. Once the shipment was
safely within the corral, notice was wired the commission firm,
affording time for reply before the shipment would leave in the morning.
An early call at the station was rewarded by receipt of a wire from the
west. "Read that," said the foreman, handing the telegram to Joel;
"wants all three of us to come into the city."
"Of course," commented Joel, returning the message. "It's clear enough.
There's an understanding between us. At the earliest convenience, after
the delivery of the herd, we were to meet and draw up the final papers.
We'll all go in with this shipment."
"And send the outfits across country to Trail City?"
"Throw the remudas together and let them start the moment the cattle
train leaves. We can go back with Mr. Stoddard and meet the outfits at
the new trail market."
"That's the ticket," said the trail boss. "I'm dead tired of riding
horses and eating at a wagon. Give me the plush cushions and let me put
my little feet under a table once more."
The heavy cattle train was promised a special schedule. The outfits
received their orders, and at the usual hour in the morning, the
shipment started to market. Weathered brown as a saddle, Dell was
walking on clouds, lending a hand to the shipper in charge, riding on
the engine, or hungering for the rare stories with which the trail
foreman regaled the train crew. The day passed like a brief hour, the
train threading its way past corn fields, country homes, and scorning to
halt at the many straggling villages that dotted the route.
It was a red-letter day in the affairs of Wells Brothers. The present,
their fifth shipment of the year, a total of over nineteen hundred
beeves, was en route to market. Another day, and their operations in
cattle, from a humble beginning to the present hour, could be condensed
into a simple statement. The brothers could barely wait the intervening
hours, and when the train reached the market and they had retired for
the night, speculation ran rife in planning the future. And amid all
their dreams and air castles, in the shadowy background stood two simple
men whose names were never mentioned except in terms of loving
endearment.
Among their many friends, Quince Forrest was Dell's hero. "They're all
good fellows," he admitted, "but Mr. Quince is a prince. He gave us our
start in cattle. Our debt to him--well, we can never pay it. And he
never owned a hoof himself."
"We owe Mr. Paul just as much," protested Joel. "He showed us our
chance. When pa died, the settlers on the Solomon talked of making bound
boys of us. Mr. Paul was the one who saw us as we are to-day."
"I wish mother could have lived to see us now--shipping beeves by the
train-load--and buying cattle by the thousand."
An eager market absorbed the beeves, and before noon they had crossed
the scale. A conference, jubilant in its nature, took place during the
afternoon, in the inner office of the commission firm. The execution of
a new contract was a mere detail; but when the chief bookkeeper handed
in a statement covering the shipments of this and the previous year, a
lull in the gayety was followed by a moment of intense interest. The
account showed a balance of sixty-odd thousand dollars in favor of
Wells Brothers!
"Give them a letter of credit for their balance," said Mr. Stoddard,
amid the general rejoicing. "And get us some passes; we're all going out
to Trail City to-night. There's a few bargains on that market, and the
boys want to stock their range fully."
"Yours obediently," said the old factor, beaming on his patrons. "And if
the boys have any occasion to use any further funds, don't hesitate to
draw on us. The manner in which they have protected their credit
entitles them to our confidence. Our customers come first. Their
prosperity is our best asset. A great future lies before you boys, and
we want a chance to help you reach it. Keep in touch with us; we may
hear of something to your advantage."
"In case we need it, can you get us another permit to bring Texas cattle
into Kansas?" eagerly inquired Joel.
"Try us," answered the old man, with a knowing look. "We may not be able
to, but in securing business, railroads look years ahead."
A jolly party of cowmen left for Trail City that night. Morning found
their train creeping up the valley of the Arkansas. The old trail market
of Dodge, deserted and forlorn-looking among the wild sunflower, was
passed like a way station. The new market was only a mile over the state
line, in Colorado, and on nearing their destination the party
drew together.
"I've only got a remnant of a herd left," said Mr. Stoddard, "and I want
you to understand that there's no obligation to even look at them. Mr.
Lovell's at his beef ranch in Dakota, and his men have not been seen
since the herds passed north in June. But I'll help you buy any cattle
you want."
In behalf of the brothers, Joel accepted the offer. "These Texas
cattle," he continued, "reach their maturity the summer following their
fourth year. Hereafter, as fast as possible, we want to shape up our
holdings so as to double-winter all our beef cattle. For that reason, we
prefer to buy two-year-olds. We'll look at your remnant; there would be
no occasion to rebrand, which is an advantage."
The train reached Trail City on time. The town was of mushroom
growth--a straggling business street with fancy fronts, while the outer
portions of the village were largely constructed of canvas. The Arkansas
River passed to the south, numerous creeks put in to the main stream,
affording abundant water to the herds on sale, while a bountiful range
surrounded the market. Shipping pens, branding chutes, and every
facility for handling cattle were complete.
The outfits were not expected in for another day. In the mean time, it
became rumored about that the two boys who had returned with Mr.
Stoddard and his trail foreman were buyers for a herd of cattle. The
presence of the old cowman threw a barrier of protection around the
brothers, except to his fellow drovers, who were made acquainted with
his protégés and their errand freely discussed.
"These boys are customers of mine," announced Mr. Stoddard to a group of
his friends. "I sold them a herd at Dodge last year, and another at
Ogalalla this summer. Range on the Beaver, in northwest Kansas. Just
shipped out their last train of beeves this week. Had them on
yesterday's market. From what I gather, they can use about three
thousand to thirty-five hundred head. At least their letter of credit is
good for those numbers. Sorry I ain't got the cattle myself. They
naturally look to me for advice, and I feel an interest in the boys.
Their outfit ought to be in by to-morrow."
Mr. Stoddard's voucher placed the brothers on a firm footing, and every
attention was shown the young cowmen. An afternoon and a morning's
drive, and the offerings on the trail market had been carefully looked
over, including the remnant of Mr. Stoddard. Only a few herds possessed
their original numbers, none of which were acceptable to the buyers,
while the smaller ones frequently contained the desired grade and age.
"Let me put you boys in possession of some facts," urged Mr. Stoddard,
in confidence to the brothers. "Most of us drovers are tired out,
disgusted with the slight demand for cattle, and if you'll buy out our
little remnants and send us home--well, we'd almost let you name the
price. Unless my herds are under contract, this is my last year on
the trail."
The remnant of Mr. Stoddard's herd numbered around seven hundred head.
They were largely twos, only a small portion of threes, and as an
inducement their owner offered to class them at the lesser age, and
priced them at the same figures as those delivered on the Beaver. On
range markets, there was a difference in the selling value of the two
ages, amounting to three dollars a head; and as one third of the cattle
would have classed as threes, Joel waived his objection to their ages.
"We'll take your remnant on one condition," said he. "Start your outfits
home, but you hang around until we make up our herd."
"That's my intention, anyhow," replied Mr. Stoddard. "My advice would be
to pick up these other remnants. Two years on a steer makes them all
alike. You have seen cripple and fagged cattle come out of the kinks,
and you know the advantage of a few cows; keeps your cattle quiet and on
the home range. You might keep an eye open for any bargains in
she stuff."
"That's just what Jack Sargent says," said Dell; "that we ought to have
a cow to every ten or fifteen steers."
"Sargent's our foreman," explained Joel. "He's a Texan, and knows cattle
right down to the split in their hoof. With his and your judgment, we
ought to make up a herd of cattle in a few days."
The two outfits came in on the evening of the fourth day. The next
morning the accepted cattle were counted and received, the through
outfits relieved, the remudas started overland under a detail, and the
remainder of the men sent home by rail. In acquiring a nucleus, Wells
Brothers fell heir to a temporary range and camp, which thereafter
became their headquarters.
A single day was wasted in showing the different remnants to Sargent,
and relieved of further concern, Mr. Stoddard lent his best efforts to
bring buyer and seller together. Barter began in earnest, on the
different fragments acceptable in age and quality. Prices on range
cattle were nearly standard, at least established for the present, and
any yielding on the part of drovers was in classing and conceding ages.
Bargaining began on the smaller remnants, and once the buyers began to
receive and brand, there was a flood of offerings, and the herd was made
up the second day. The ---- Y was run on the different remnants as fast
as received, and when completed, the herd numbered a few over
thirty-four hundred head. The suggestion to add cows to their holdings
was not overlooked, and in making up the herd, two fragments, numbering
nearly five hundred, were purchased.
"The herd will be a trifle unwieldy," admitted Sargent, "but we're only
going to graze home. And unless we get a permit, we had better hold
over the line in Colorado until after the first frost."
"Don't worry about the permit," admonished Mr. Stoddard; "it's sure."
"We'll provision the wagon for a month," said Joel, "and that will take
us home, with or without a bill of health."
The commissary was stocked, three extra men were picked up, and the herd
started northward over the new Ogalalla trail. A week later it crossed
the Kansas Pacific Railroad, when Joel left the herd, returning to their
local station. A haying outfit was engaged, placed under the direction
of Manly, and after spending a few days at headquarters, the young
cowman returned to the railroad.
The expected permit was awaiting him. There was some slight danger in
using it, without first removing their wintered cattle; and after a
conference with Manly, it was decided to scout out the country between
their range and the Colorado line. The first herd of cattle had located
nicely, one man being sufficient to hold the dead-line; and taking a
pack horse, Joel and Manly started to explore the country between the
upper tributaries of the Beaver and the Colorado line.
A rifle was taken along to insure venison. Near the evening of the first
day, a band of wild horses was sighted, the trail of which was
back-tracked to a large lake in the sand hills. On resuming their scout
in the morning, sand dunes were scaled, admitting of an immense survey
of country, but not until evening was water in any quantity encountered.
The scouts were beginning to despair of finding water for the night,
when an immense herd of antelope was sighted, crossing the plain at an
easy gallop and disappearing among the dunes. Following up the game
trail, a perfect chain of lakes, a mile in length, was found at sunset.
A venison was shot and a fat camp for the night assured.
The glare of the plain required early observation. The white haze, heat
waves, and mirages were on every hand, blotting out distinct objects
during the day. On leaving the friendly sand hills, the horsemen bore
directly for the timber on the Republican, which was sighted the third
morning, and reached the river by noon.
No sign or trace of cattle was seen. The distance between the new and
old trail was estimated at one hundred miles, and judging from their
hours in the saddle, the scouts hoped to reach the new crossing on the
river that evening. The mid-day glare prevented observations; and as
they followed the high ground along the Republican, at early evening
indistinct objects were made out on the border of a distant mirage.
The scouts halted their horses. On every hand might be seen the optical
illusions of the plain. Beautiful lakes, placid and blue, forests and
white-capped mountains, invited the horsemen to turn aside and rest. But
the allurement of the mirage was an old story, and holding the objects
in view, they jogged on, halting from time to time as the
illusions lifted.
Mirages arise at evening. At last, in their normal proportions, the
objects of concern moved to and fro. "They're cattle!" shouted Manly.
"We're near a ranch, or it's the herd!"
"Yonder's a smoke-cloud!" excitedly said Joel. "See it! in the valley!
above that motte of cotton-woods!"
"It's a camp! Come on!"
The herd had every appearance of being under control. As the scouts
advanced, the outline of an immense loose herd was noticeable, and on a
far, low horizon, a horseman was seen on duty. On reaching the cattle, a
single glance was given, when the brands told the remainder of
the story.
A detail of men was met leaving camp. Sargent was among them, and after
hearty greetings were over, Joel outlined the programme: "After leaving
the Republican," said he, "there's water between here and home in two
places. None of them are over thirty miles apart--a day and a half's
drive. I have a bill of health for these cattle, and turn the herd down
the river in the morning."
The new trail crossing was only a few miles above on the river. The herd
had arrived three days before, and finding grass and water in abundance,
the outfit had gone into camp, awaiting word from home. There was no
object in waiting any great distance from headquarters, and after a
day's travel down the Republican, a tack was made for the sand hills.
A full day's rest was allowed the herd on the chain of lakes. By
watering early, a long drive was made during the afternoon, followed by
a dry camp, and the lagoon where the wild horses had been sighted was
reached at evening the next day.
It was yet early in September, and for fear of fever, it was decided to
isolate the herd until after the first frost. The camp was within easy
touch of headquarters; and leaving Sargent and five men, the commissary,
and half the remuda, the remainder returned to the Beaver valley. The
water would hold the cattle, and even if a month elapsed before frost
lifted the ban, the herd would enjoy every freedom.
The end of the summer's work was in sight. The men from the Republican
were paid for their services, commended for their faithfulness, and went
their way. Preparations for winter were the next concern; and while
holding the dead-line, plans for two new line-camps were outlined, one
below the old trail crossing and the other an emergency shelter on the
Prairie Dog. Forage had been provided at both points, and in outlining
the winter lines, Joel submitted his idea for Manly's approval.
"Sargent thinks we can hold the cattle on twenty miles of the Beaver
valley," said he, sketching the range on the ground at his feet. "We'll
have to ride lines again, and in case the cattle break through during a
storm, we can work from our emergency camp on the Prairie Dog. In case
that line is broken, we can drop down to the railroad and make another
attempt to check any drift. And as a last resort, whether we hold the
line or not, we'll send an outfit as far south as the Arkansas River,
and attend the spring round-ups from there north to the Republican. We
have the horses and men, and no one can throw out a wider drag-net than
our outfit. Let the winter come as it will; we can ride to the lead
when spring comes."
The future of Wells Brothers rested on sure foundations. Except in its
new environment, their occupation was as old as the human race, our
heroes being merely players in a dateless drama. They belonged to a
period in the development of our common country, dating from a day when
cattle were the corner-stone of one fourth of our national domain. They
and their kind were our pioneers, our empire builders; for when a cowman
pushed into some primal valley and possessed it with his herd, his ranch
became an outpost on our frontier. The epoch was truly Western; their
ranges were controlled without investment, their cattle roamed the
virgin pastures of an unowned land.
Over twenty-five years have passed since an accident changed the course
of the heroes of this story. Since that day of poverty and uncertain
outlook, the brothers have been shaken by adversity, but have arisen
triumphant over every storm. From their humble beginning, chronicled
here, within two decades the brothers acquired no less than seven
ranches in the Northwest, while their holdings of cattle often ran in
excess of one hundred thousand head. The trail passed away within two
years of the close of this narrative; but from their wide acquaintance
with former drovers, cattle with which to restock their ranches were
brought north by rail. Their operations covered a wide field, requiring
trusty men; and with the passing of the trail, their first sponsors
found ready employment with their former protégés. And to-day, in the
many irrigation projects of the brothers, in reclaiming the arid
regions, among the directors of their companies the names of J.Q.
Forrest and John P. Priest may be found.
A new generation now occupies the Beaver valley. In the genesis of the
West, the cowman, the successor of the buffalo and Indian, gave way to
the home-loving instinct of man. The sturdy settler crept up the valley,
was repulsed again and again by the plain, only to renew his assault
until success crowned his efforts. It was then that the brothers saw
their day and dominion passing into the hands of another. But instead of
turning to new fields, they remained with the land that nurtured and
rewarded them, an equally promising field opening in financing vast
irrigation enterprises and in conserving the natural water supply.
Joel and Dell Wells live in the full enjoyment of fortunes wrested from
the plain. They are still young men, in the prime of life, while the
opportunities of a thrifty country invite their assistance and
leadership on every hand. They are deeply interested in every
development of their state, preferring those avenues where heroic
endeavor calls forth their best exertion, save in the political arena.
Joel Wells was recently mentioned as an acceptable candidate for
governor of his adopted state, but declined, owing to the pressure of
personal interests. In urging his nomination, a prominent paper, famed
for its support of state interests, in a leading editorial, paid one of
our heroes the following tribute:--
"... What the state needs is a business man in the executive chair. We
are all stockholders in common, yet the ship of state seems adrift,
without chart or compass, pilot or captain. In casting about for a
governor who would fully meet all requirements, one name stands alone.
Joel Wells can give M---- a business administration. Educated in the
rough school of experience, he has fought his way up from a poor boy on
the plains to an enviable leadership in the many industries of the
state. He could bring to the executive office every requirement of the
successful business man, and impart to his administration that mastery
which marks every enterprise of Wells Brothers...."
The golden age is always with us. If a moral were necessary to adorn
this story, it would be that no poor boy need despair of his chance in
life. The future holds as many prizes as the past. Material nature is
prodigal in its bounty, and whether in the grass under our feet, or in
harnessing the waterfall, we make or mar our success.