A LONELY RIDE OF ELEVEN HUNDRED MILES.
After laying around the ranch a couple of weeks, Mr. Moore put me in
charge of a scouting outfit and sent me out on the South Plains to drift
about all winter, watching for cattle thieves, etc.; also to turn back
any cattle that might slip by the "sign riders" and drift across the
Plains.
During that winter we, that is my crowd, went to church several times. A
little Colony of Christians headed by the Rev. Cahart, had settled on
the head of Salt Fork, a tributary of Red river, and built a church
house in which the little crowd, numbering less than fifty souls would
congregate every Sunday and pray.
That same little church house now ornaments the thriving little city of
Clarendon, County seat of Donley County. The old inhabitants point to it
with pride when telling of how it once stood solitary and alone out on
the great buffalo range two hundred miles from nowhere.
The Colony had come from Illinois and drifted away out there beyond the
outskirts of civilization to get loose from that demon whisky. And early
that coming spring a lot of ruffians started a saloon in their midst. A
meeting was called in the little church house and resolutions passed to
drive them out, if in no other way, with powder and lead. They pulled
their freight and I am proud to state that I had a hand in making them
pull it; for the simple reason that they had no business encroaching
upon those good people's rights.
When spring opened Mr. Moore called me in from the Plains and put me in
charge of a rounding-up outfit, which consisted of twelve riders and a
cook.
To begin rounding-up, we went over to Canyon Paladuro, where Chas.
Goodnight had a ranch, and where a great many of the river cattle had
drifted during the winter. There was about a hundred men and seven or
eight wagons in the outfit that went over. We stopped over Sunday in the
little Christian Colony and went to church. The Rev. Cahart preached
about the wild and woolly Cow Boy of the west; how the eastern people
had him pictured off as a kind of animal with horns, etc. While to him,
looking down from his dry goods box pulpit into the manly faces of
nearly a hundred of them, they looked just like human beings, minus the
standing collar, etc.
About the first of July, Moore sent me to Nickerson, Kansas, with a herd
of eight hundred shipping steers. My outfit consisted of five men, a
chuck wagon, etc. Our route lay over a wild strip of country where there
was no trails nor scarcely any ranches--that is, until reaching the
southern line of Kansas.
We arrived at Nickerson after being on the road two months. "Deacon"
Bates, Mr. Beals partner, was there waiting for us. He had come through
with several herds that had left the ranch a month ahead of us. He was
still holding some of the poorest ones, south of town, where he had a
camp established.
After loading my wagon with a fresh supply of grub, Mr. Bates, or the
"Deacon" as he was more commonly called, sent me back over the trail he
and his outfits had come, to gather lost steers--some they had lost
coming through.
I was gone about a month and came back with eighteen head. We had a soft
trip of it, as most of our hard work was such as buying butter, eggs,
etc., from the scattering grangers along the Kansas border. We never
missed a meal on the trip, and always had the best the country afforded,
regardless of cost. Deacon Bates was always bragging on some of his
bosses, how cheap they could live, etc. I just thought I would try him
this time, being in a country where luxuries were plentiful, and see if
he wouldn't blow on me as being a person with good horse sense. An
animal of course, as we all know, will eat the choicest grub he can get;
and why not man, when he is credited with having more sense than the
horse, one of the most intellectual animals that exists?
On our return to Nickerson, I concluded to quit and spend the winter
with mother, whom I received letters from every now and then begging me
to come home. As I wasn't certain of coming back, I thought it best to
go overland and take Whisky-peet along, for I couldn't even bear the
_thought_ of parting with him; and to hire a car to take him around by
rail would be too costly.
I got all ready to start and then went to Deacon Bates for a settlement.
He took my account book and, after looking it over, said: "Why, Dum-it
to h--l, I can't pay no such bills as those! Why, Dum-it all, old Jay
Gould would groan under the weight of these bills!" He then went on to
read some of the items aloud. They ran as follows: Cod-fish $10; eggs
$40; butter $70; milk $5; bacon $150; flour $200; canned fruits $400;
sundries $600, etc., etc. Suffice it to say, the old gent told me in
plain Yankee English that I would have to go to Chicago and settle with
Mr. Beals. I hated the idea of going to Chicago, for I knew my
failings--I was afraid I wouldn't have money enough left when I got back
to pay my expenses home.
That same evening a letter came from Mr. Beals stating that he had just
received a letter from Moore, at the ranch, in which he informed him
that there were two more herds on the trail for Nickerson, and, as it
was getting so near winter, for Joe Hargraves, better known as
"Jinglebob Joe," and I to go and turn them to Dodge City, the nearest
shipping point.
After putting Whisky-peet and my "Missouri" mare, one I had bought to
use as a pack-horse going home, in care of an old granger to be fed and
taken good care of until my return, Joe and I struck out with only one
horse apiece--just the ones we were riding.
On our arrival in Dodge I pulled out for Chicago, to get a settlement,
with the first train load we shipped. I took my saddle, bridle, spurs,
etc. along and left them in Atchison, Mo., the first point we stopped to
feed at, until my return.
Arriving in Chicago, I told Mr. Beals that I was going home to spend the
winter, and therefore wanted to settle up.
He set 'em up to a fine Havana and then proceeded. Every time he came to
one of those big bills, which caused the Deacon's eyes to bulge out, he
would grunt and crack about a forty-cent smile, but never kicked.
When he had finished there was a few hundred dollars to my credit. He
then asked me if I could think of anything else that I had forgotten to
charge the "company" with? Of course I couldn't, because I didn't have
time; his question was put to me too sudden. If I could have had a few
hours to myself, to figure the thing up just right, I think I could have
satisfied the old Gent.
I remained in the city three days taking in the sights and feeding the
hungry little boot blacks. When leaving, Mr. Beals informed me that he
was going to buy a lot of southern Texas cattle, to put on his Panhandle
ranch, the coming spring, and if I wanted a job, to hold myself in
readiness to boss one of the herds up the trail for him. Of course that
just suited me, providing I couldn't make up my mind to remain at home.
Landing in Nickerson I hired a horse and went out to the old granger's
ranch where I had left my two ponies. They were both fat and feeling
good.
Before starting out on my little journey of only eleven hundred miles, I
bought a pack-saddle and cooking outfit--that is, just a frying pan,
small coffee pot, etc. I used the mare for a pack animal and rode
Whisky-peet. I had just six dollars left when I rode out of Nickerson.
I went through Fort Reno and Fort Sill, Indian territory and crossed Red
river into Texas on the old military road, opposite Henrietta.
When within ten miles of Denton, Texas, on Pecan creek, Whisky-peet
became lame--so much so that he could scarcely walk. I was stopping over
night with a Mr. Cobb, and next morning I first noticed his lameness.
I lacked about twenty-five cents of having enough to pay Mr. Cobb for my
night's lodging that morning. I had sold my watch for five dollars a
short while before and now that was spent.
Whisky-peet being too lame to travel, I left him with Mr. Cobb while I
rode into Denton to try and make a raise of some money.
I tried to swap my mare off for a smaller animal and get some boot, but
every one seemed to think that she had been stolen; I being so anxious
to swap.
I rode back to Mr. Cobb's that night in the same fix, financially, as
when I left that morning.
The next day I made a raise of some money. Mr. Cobb and I made a saddle
swap, he giving me twenty dollars to boot. He and I also swapped
bridles, I getting four dollars and a half to boot. One of his little
boys then gave me his saddle and one dollar and a half for my
pack-saddle, which had cost me ten dollars in Nickerson. I then had lots
of money.
Whisky-peet soon got over his lameness, having just stuck a little snag
into the frog of his foot, which I succeeded in finding and pulling out
before it had time to do serious damage, and I started on my journey
again.
On arriving in Denton that time, a negro struck me for a horse swap
right away. I got a three year old pony and six dollars in money for my
mare; the pony suited just as well for a pack animal as the mare.
The next day after leaving Denton, I stopped in a negro settlement and
won a fifty-dollar horse, running Whisky-peet against a sleepy looking
grey. I had up twenty dollars in money and my Winchester, a fine silver
mounted gun. I won the race by at least ten open feet, but the negroes
tried to swindle me out of it.
While riding along that evening three negroes rode up and claimed the
horse I had won. They claimed that the parties who bet him off had no
right to him, as they just had borrowed him from one of them to ride to
the Settlement that morning. I finally let them have him for twenty
dollars.
I went through the following towns after leaving Denton: Ft. Worth,
Clenborn, Hillsborough, Waco, Herrene, Bryant, Brenham and Columbus;
besides scores of smaller places.
I rode up to mother's little shanty on Cashe's creek after being on the
road just a month and twelve days.
To say that mother was glad to see me would only half express it. She
bounced me the first thing about not coming back the next fall after
leaving as I had promised. I had been gone nearly four years.