LOST ON THE STAKED PLAINS.
About a week after my return to White Oaks, I received a letter from Mr.
Moore stating that I need not go to Arizona to look after the Slaughter
herd as he had hired a United States Deputy Marshal by the name of John
W. Poe, now Sheriff of Lincoln County, New Mexico, to go around by rail
and tend to the matter. But when Poe arrived there the herd had been
sold and driven to Old Mexico, so that we never knew whether there were
any Panhandle cattle in it or not, except what I learned from the
mexican, which appeared to me very good evidence, that there were.
On the tenth day of March, while taking it easy waiting for the first of
April to arrive so that we could round up the Cohglin range according to
agreement, I received a confidential letter from Mr. Geo. Nesbeth of the
Cohglin ranch, giving me a broad hint that Mr. Cohglin was getting rid
of our cattle as fast as possible, before the first of April should
arrive.
The letter arrived in the evening and next morning I took "Big foot"
along and struck out for "Stanton"--after giving Chambers and Emory
orders to load up the wagon with grub and corn, and follow.
"Big-foot" and I arrived in the Post about three o'clock in the
afternoon and went through the Cohglin slaughter pens, finding several
freshly butchered "L. X." hides, which went to show that I had been
duped, and that the hint from Nesbeth was true. We then rode down the
"Bonetta" River nine miles to Lincoln, to go through the hides there and
to look for a herd we expected the old fellow had hidden out somewhere
along the river.
We stopped in "Stanton" that night and next morning struck out on the
White Oaks road to meet the wagon and turn it towards Three Rivers.
We met the outfit at the mouth of Nogal canyon and camped for dinner.
It was sixty miles around by the road to Cohglin's ranch, the route the
wagon would have to go and about twenty-five or thirty on a straight
line over the White Mountains.
After dinner "Big-foot" and I struck out over the mountains, while Emory
and Chambers went around by the road to pilot the cook, etc.
About twelve o'clock that night, after a very hard ride over one of the
roughest strips of snow covered countries a man ever saw, we arrived at
the Cohglin ranch.
We found the corral full of cattle, but, being very dark, couldn't tell
whose they were.
Mr. and Mrs. Nesbeth got up out of bed and gave us a cold supper; and he
also gave us a few pointers in regard to his employer's doings, etc. He
informed me that Bill Gentry, the boss, had just began, that day,
gathering the remaining Panhandle cattle, that might still be left on
the range, to take to the "Stanton" slaughter pens. Hence those cattle
in the corral.
After breakfast Gentry and his seven "Greasers" turned the herd out of
the corral with the intention of keeping right on with his work. There
was only five head of "L. X.'s," all large steers, in the bunch and I
told Gentry that I would have to take charge of those and also gather up
the rest that were on his range. He couldn't agree to that, he said, for
his orders from Cohglin were, not to give up any of the Panhandle
cattle, etc. I told him that I didn't care what his orders were, as I
was bound to have the cattle.
Just about the time we were arguing the case the rest of my outfit hove
in sight; they had been traveling all night.
After camping the wagon we all went out to the herd, which the mexicans
were guarding and proceeded to cutting our five head out. Gentry tried
to get me to wait until he could send for Cohglin, he having already
dispatched a mexican to Tulerosa after him, but I wouldn't reason the
matter at all, as I was mad about the way I had been served.
We went right to work after cutting out the five head, rounding up the
whole range in search of more, but after three days hard work we only
succeeded in finding three head more. But we left there with nine head,
the ninth one being one of Cohglin's own steers which we butchered in
the Oaks on our arrival back there, for the benefit of our many friends
whom had been depending on us all winter for their fresh beef. Thus I
had the satisfaction of getting even with the old fellow to the extent
of one steer and a fat hog which we had butchered and stowed away in
the wagon the night before leaving.
The mexican that Gentry sent to Tulerosa with the dispatch had to go on
down to Las Cruces, on the Rio Grande, Cohglin having started down there
the day before; hence we not having the old fellow to contend with.
After looking over the "Carezo" range, which was owned by Catron and
Waltz and several small mexican ranges, we pulled into White Oaks with
lots of experience but very few cattle.
On arriving in the "Oaks" I wrote to Mr. Moore telling him all about the
way in which Cohglin had taken advantage of me, etc. Also advised him to
have the old fellow prosecuted as I had sufficient evidence to send him
to the "Pen," etc.
Mr. Moore on getting my letter, sent John Poe, the United States Deputy
Marshal that he had sent to Tombstone, Arizona, over to have Cohglin
arrested and put through the mill.
On leaving the "Oaks" for good, I bought a wagon load of corn, chuck,
etc. for which I gave orders on the "L. X." company, not having any
money left. The merchants had by this time, become acquainted with me,
so that my name to an order was just the same as cash to them.
From the "Oaks" I pulled due east, around the "Capitan" mountains to
Roswell on the Pecos River. I overhauled scores of little mexican
ranches scattered through the mountains on my route, but failed to find
any of our stock. At Roswell though we found two large steers which
swelled our little herd to ten head.
From Roswell we went to John Chisholm's ranch on the head of South
Spring River; and got there just in time as he was rigging up his outfit
for spring work. They were going to start down the Reo Pecos to the
Texas line, next day, to begin work and I concluded we had better work
with them, in search of Panhandle cattle which might have drifted across
the Plains.
I took my outfit back to Roswell, five miles, where I made arrangements
with Capt. J. C. Lea, who kept a store, to board one of my men whom I
wanted to leave there to take care of the ten head of steers until my
return, not caring to drive them two hundred miles down the river and
then back again.
Not having grub enough to last on the trip I bought a supply from the
accommodating Capt. Lea, who took my note for pay. He also sold me two
horses on the same terms.
We were absent two weeks on this trip, but failed to find any of our
cattle. We came back with the satisfaction though of knowing that there
wasn't any in that part of the world.
On our arrival back to Roswell we learned of the "Kid's" escape from
Lincoln after having killed his two guards. That night Lon Chambers wore
a different hat; he had swapped his star-spangled mexican sombraro off
to one of Chisholm's men. This hat had been presented to Tom O'Phalliard
by the "Kid," hence Chambers not wanting it in his possession for fear
he might run across the "Kid." Chambers of course denied the above,
saying that he never thought of such a thing, but traded it off just
because it, being so heavy, made his head ache. But that was too thin we
thought under the circumstances. Any of us would have done the same
though, no doubt, knowing that the "Kid" had sworn vengeance against all
of O'Phalliard's "murderers" as he termed them.
We found Emory and the ten steers doing finely. Tom hated to see us back
for he was having such a soft time. All he had to do was turn the
steers out of the corral, mornings, and then round-up and pen them at
night again.
After drawing on the whole-souled Capt. Lea again for more grub, etc.,
we pulled up the Reo Pecos--looking through all the cattle on our
route--to Ft. Sumner, a distance of one hundred miles.
We laid over in Sumner two days and went to a mexican fandango both
nights, at the Maxwell mansion in which the "Kid" was killed shortly
afterwards. The "Kid" was in the building while the dance was going on
but we didn't know it at the time. The way I found it out, I had
escorted a young woman, after the dance, one night, to her room, which
was in the same building as the dance, and she bid me good night without
asking me in. I thought it strange but never said anything. That fall
when I came back there she explained matters, by saying that the "Kid"
was in her room at the time, reading. I had noticed that she stood
outside of the door until I had turned the corner out of sight. She also
explained that: The "Kid" had the door locked and she had to give a
private rap to get him to open it.
From Ft. Sumner we pulled due east on the Los Potales road, on our way
to scour out the "Sand Hills" according to Moore's instruction in one
of his letters to me at White Oaks. Before leaving the Post, the last
settlement or store that we would come to before reaching the Canadian
River, I sold one of the horses bought from Capt. Lea, for thirty-five
dollars and laid in a small supply of grub with the money. Not being
acquainted there my credit wasn't good, hence having to sell the horse.
Two days out from Ft. Sumner we came to the little rock house, at
Stinking Springs, where the "Kid" and his companions held out so long
without fire, food or water. Chambers and Emory of course had to explain
and point out every place of interest, to "Big-foot Wallace," the
mexican cook, Frank, or Francisco, and myself.
The second day after leaving Stinking Springs, we came to the "Kid's"
noted "Castle" at Los Potales, on the western edge of the great "Llano
Estacado."
Los Potales is a large alkali Lake, the water of which is unfit for man
or beast. But on the north side of the lake is two nice, cool springs
which gurgle forth from a bed of rock, near the foot of "Kid's"
Castle--a small cave in the cliff. In front of the cave is a stone
corral about fifty feet square; and above the cave on the level plain
is several hitching posts. Outside of those things mentioned there is
nothing but a level prairie just as far as the eye can reach.
We found about one hundred head of cattle, mostly from the Canadian
River, but a few from as far north as Denver Col., at "Potales," which
improved the appearance of our little herd considerably.
From there we went to the Coyote lake, twelve miles further east, where
we found about fifty head more cattle, a mixed lot like the first. They
were almost as wild as deer.
We then pulled into the Sand Hills, which extend over a scope of country
from ten to fifty miles wide, and two hundred long--that is, two hundred
miles north and south.
After about ten days hard work we came out onto the Plains again, our
herd having increased to about twenty-five hundred head. We were
undoubtedly a worn out crowd--horses and all. To do that amount of work
we should have had at least five more men, and three or four more horses
apiece. We only had one horse apiece, besides one extra, and the four
work mules, which we had to press into double duty by using them to
guard the cattle at night.
The next day about noon, after getting out of the Sand Hills, we came to
a buffalo-hunter's camp on the head of Yellow-house canyon, a tributary
to the Brazos River. There was one man in camp, the other one being away
on a hunt. Our cattle being nearly dead for water, there being none
there, with the exception of a small spring, just large enough to allow
one animal to drink at a time, I asked the hunter to give me directions
to the nearest water from there, on our route.
Pointing to a cluster of sand hills about fifteen miles to the east, he
said: "You will find Running Water, the head of Canyon Blanco, just
eight miles east of those sand hills." As we learned, after it was too
late, he should have said; eight miles _north_ of the sand hills,
instead of _east_. We were all acquainted with the country from Running
Water north, but had never been south of it; hence us having to depend
on the "locoed" buffalo-hunter's directions.
We camped for the night within a few miles of the sand hills. The cattle
were restless all night, on account of being thirsty, which caused us
all to lose sleep and rest.
The next morning, after eating a hasty breakfast, we let the moaning
herd string out towards the big red sun which was just making its
appearance.
Giving the boys orders to keep headed east, and telling the cook to
follow behind the herd with his wagon, I struck out ahead on my tired
and weak pony, Croppy, to find the water, which was "so near, and yet so
far."
I rode about fifteen miles, and still no water. I then dismounted to
wait for the herd to come in sight, but changed my notion and galloped
on five miles further, thinking maybe the hunter might have meant
eighteen miles instead of eight. The five miles was reached and still
nothing but a dry, level plain, with no indications of water ahead, as
far as I could see.
Thinking maybe I had bore too far to the south, I then rode five or six
miles to the north, but with the same result. I then, after letting
Croppy blow awhile started back towards the herd at a slow gait.
Finally a cloud of dust appeared, and shortly after, the herd hove in
sight. The poor cattle were coming in a trot, their tongues hanging out
a foot.
The way the boys cursed and abused that poor old hunter, at a distance,
was a sin, after I had told them of our luck. Chambers wanted to go
right back and eat the poor "locoed" human up alive without salt or
pepper. But I pacified him by saying that maybe he had made a mistake of
a few miles, meant eighty instead of eight. At any rate we continued
right on, east.
About noon our ten-gallon keg run dry, and then we began to feel
ticklish, scared, or whatever you wish to call it. But about three
o'clock, we spied a bunch of mustangs off to the right, about five
miles, and on galloping over to where they had been, before seeing me, I
found a small pool of muddy rain water, which they had been wallowing
in.
After letting Croppy fill up, and eating a drink of the muddy stuff
myself, I struck back to let the other boys come on and fill up; also
sent the cook to fill the keg, and to water his mules, I kept the herd,
they being anxious to travel in search of water, pointed east, by
myself, while the rest of the boys were absent.
We traveled till midnight and then pitched camp to get something to eat.
After getting supper cooked, it was almost an impossibility to find
time to eat it, as the herd kept milling and trotting around like so
many crazy animals.
We remained there all night, and next morning used the last drop of
water to make coffee. We found the keg, after draining it, to be about
half full of solid mud.
I concluded that we had gone far enough east, so, that morning changed
our course to north.
About eleven o'clock, while the hot June sun was coming down with
vengeance, we struck a large lake about a mile wide. If ever a crowd was
happy it was us. The poor cattle drank till some of them fell down and
was unable to move.
We laid there resting up until the next day after dinner. Our grub had
given out by this time, therefore we had nothing to eat but coffee and
beef "straight."
When we left the lake our course was due north.
About noon the next day we came to the head of Canyon Blanco, twelve
miles below Running Water, consequently we turned west, and traveled
twelve miles up the dry canyon before pitching camp.
From there we turned due north again and traveled two days before
striking any more water.
On arriving at Terra Blanco, fifty miles south of the Canadian river we
struck Mr. Summerfield, and his outfit, from whom we borrowed grub
enough to last us home. There were also two "L. X." boys in the
Summerfield camp, and they, having five good horses apiece, divided with
us. Our ponies were just about completely peetered out.
We landed at the "L. X." ranch on the 22nd day of June, with the herd of
twenty-five hundred head of cattle, after having been absent just seven
months, to a day.