prevailing during the civil war. The only outlet for cotton in Texas
during the rebellion was by way of Mexico. Matamoros, near the mouth
of the Rio Grande, waxed opulent in its trade of contrabrand cotton,
the Texas product crossing the river anywhere for hundreds of miles
above and being freighted down on the Mexican side to tide-water. The
town did an immense business during the blockade of coast seaports,
twenty-dollar gold pieces being more plentiful then than nickels are
to-day, the cotton finding a ready market at war prices and safe
shipment under foreign flags. My wife's father was engaged in the
trade of buying cotton at interior points, freighting it by ox trains
over the Mexican frontier, and thence down the river to Matamoros.
Once the staple reached neutral soil, it was palmed off as a local
product, and the Federal government dared not touch it, even though
they knew it to be contrabrand of war. The business was transacted in
gold, and it was Mr. Edwards's custom to bury the coin on his return
from each trading trip. My wife, then a mere girl and the oldest
of the children at home, was taken into her father's confidence
in secreting the money. The country was full of bandits, either
government would have confiscated the gold had they known its
whereabouts, and the only way to insure its safety was to bury it.
After several years trading in cotton, Mr. Edwards accumulated
considerable money, and on one occasion buried the treasure at night
between two trees in an adjoining wood. Unexpectedly one day he had
occasion to use some money in buying a cargo of cotton, the children
were at a distant neighbor's, and he went into the woods alone to
unearth the gold. But hogs, running in the timber, had rooted up the
ground in search of edible roots, and Edwards was unable to locate the
spot where his treasure lay buried. Fearful that possibly the money
had been uprooted and stolen, he sent for the girl, who hastily
returned. As my wife tells the story, great beads of perspiration were
dripping from her father's brow as the two entered the woods. And
although the ground was rooted up, the girl pointed out the spot,
midway between two trees, and the treasure was recovered without a
coin missing. Mr. Edwards lost confidence in himself, and thereafter,
until peace was restored, my wife and a younger sister always buried
the family treasure by night, keeping the secret to themselves, and
producing the money on demand.

The merchant at Austin reported land scrip plentiful at fifteen
to sixteen dollars a section. I gave him an order for two hundred
certificates, and he filled the bill so promptly that I ordered
another hundred, bringing my unlocated holdings up to six hundred
sections. My land scrip was a standing joke between my wife and me,
and I often promised her that when we built a house and moved to
the Clear Fork, if the scrip was still worthless she might have the
certificates to paper a room with. They were nicely lithographed, the
paper was of the very best quality, and they went into my wife's trunk
to await their destiny. Had it been known outside that I held such an
amount of scrip, I would have been subjected to ridicule, and no doubt
would have given it to some surveyor to locate on shares. Still I had
a vague idea that land at two and a half cents an acre would never
hurt me. Several times in the past I had needed the money tied up in
scrip, and then I would regret having bought it. After the loss of
my entire working capital by Texas fever, I was glad I had foresight
enough to buy a quantity that summer. And thus I swung like a pendulum
between personal necessities and public opinion; but when those
long-headed Yankee partners of mine urged me to buy land, I felt once
more that I was on the right track and recovered my grasp. I might
have located fifty miles of the valley of the Clear Fork that winter,
but it would have entailed some little expense, the land would then
have been taxable, and I had the use of it without outlay or trouble.

An event of great importance to the people of Texas occurred during
the winter of 1873-74. The election the fall before ended in dispute,
both great parties claiming the victory. On the meeting of the
legislature to canvass the vote, all the negro militia of the
State were concentrated in and around the capitol building. The
Reconstruction regime refused to vacate, and were fighting to
retain control; the best element of the people were asserting in no
unmistakable terms their rights and bloodshed seemed inevitable. The
federal government was appealed to, but refused to interfere. The
legislature was with the people, and when the latter refused to be
intimidated by a display of force, those in possession yielded the
reins, and Governor Coke was inaugurated January 15, 1874; and thus
the prediction of my partners, uttered but a few mouths before, became
history.

Major Hunter came down again about the last of February. Still
unshaken in his confidence in the future of Texas, he complimented me
on securing more land scrip. He had just returned from our camps on
the Medicine River, and reported the cattle coming through in splendid
condition. Gray wolves had harassed the herd during the early winter;
but long-range rifles and poison were furnished, and our men waged a
relentless war on these pirates along the Medicine. Cattle in Texas
had wintered strong, which would permit of active operations beginning
earlier than usual, and after riding the range for a week we were
ready for business. It was well known in all the surrounding country
that we would again be in the market for trail cattle, and offerings
were plentiful. These tenders ran anywhere from stock cattle to heavy
beeves; but the market which we were building up with farmers at
Council Grove required young two and three year old steers. It again
fell to my province to do the buying, and with the number of brands
for sale in the country I expected, with the consent of my partners,
to make a new departure. I was beginning to understand the advantages
of growing cattle. My holdings of mixed stock on the Clear Fork had
virtually cost me nothing, and while they may have been unsalable, yet
there was a steady growth and they were a promising source of income.
From the results of my mavericking and my trading operations I had
been enabled to send two thousand young steers up the trail the spring
before, and the proceeds from their sale had lifted me from the slough
of despond and set me on a financial rock. Therefore my regard for the
eternal cow was enhancing.

Home prices were again ten dollars for two-year-old steers and
twelve for threes. Instead of buying outright at these figures, my
proposition was to buy individually brands of stock cattle, and turn
over all steers of acceptable ages at prevailing prices to the firm of
Hunter, Anthony & Co. in making up trail herds. We had already agreed
to drive ten thousand head that spring, and my active partner readily
saw the advantages that would accrue where one had the range and
outfit to take care of the remnants of mixed stock. My partners were
both straining their credit at home, and since it was immaterial to
them, I was given permission to go ahead. This method of buying
might slightly delay the starting of herds, and rather than do so I
contracted for three thousand straight threes in Erath County. This
herd would start ten days in advance of any other, which would give
us cattle on the market at Wichita with the opening of the season. My
next purchase was two brands whose range was around the juncture of
the main Brazos and Clear Fork, adjoining my ranch. These cattle
were to be delivered at our corrals, as, having received the
three-year-olds from both brands the spring before, I had a good idea
how the stock ought to classify. A third brand was secured up the
Clear Fork, adjacent to my range, supposed to number about three
thousand, from which nothing had been sold in four years. This latter
contingent cost me five dollars a head, but my boys knew the brand
well enough to know that they would run forty per cent steer cattle.
In all three cases I bought all right and title to the brand, giving
them until the last day of March to gather, and anything not tendered
for count on receiving, the tail went with the hide.

From these three brands I expected to make up the second herd easily.
With no market for cattle, it was safe to count on a brand running one
third steers or better, from which I ought to get twenty-five per cent
of age for trail purposes. Long before any receiving began I bought
four more brands outright in adjoining counties, setting the day for
receiving on the 5th of April, everything to be delivered on my ranch
on the Clear Fork. There were fully twenty-five thousand cattle in
these seven brands, and as I had bought them all half cash and the
balance on six months' time, it behooved me to be on the alert and
protect my interests. A trusty man was accordingly sent from my ranch
to assist in the gathering of each of the four outside brands, to be
present at all round-ups, to see that no steer cattle were held back,
and that the dropping calves were cared for and saved. This precaution
was not taken around my ranch, for any animal which failed to be
counted my own men would look out for by virtue of ownership of the
brand. My saddle horses were all in fine condition, and were cut into
remudas of ninety head each, two new wagons were fitted up, and all
was ready to move.

The Erath County herd was to be delivered to us on the 20th of March.
George Edwards was to have charge, and he and Major Hunter started in
ample time to receive the cattle, the latter proving an apt scholar,
while the former was a thorough cowman. In the mean time I had made up
a second outfit, putting a man who had made a number of trips with me
as foreman in charge, and we moved out to the Clear Fork. The first
herd started on the 22d, Major Hunter accompanying it past the Edwards
ranch and then joining us on my range. We had kept in close touch with
the work then in progress along the Brazos and Clear Fork, and it was
probable that we might be able to receive in advance of the appointed
day. Fortunately this happened in two cases, both brands overrunning
all expectations in general numbers and the quantity of steer cattle.
These contingents were met, counted, and received ten miles from the
ranch, nothing but the steers two years old and upward being brought
in to the corrals. The third brand, from west on the Clear Fork, came
in on the dot, and this also surprised me in its numbers of heavy
steer cattle. From the three contingents I received over thirteen
thousand head, nearly four thousand of which were steers of trail age.
On the first day of April we started the second herd of thirty-five
hundred twos and threes, the latter being slightly in the majority,
but we classified them equally. Major Hunter was pleased with the
quality of the cattle, and I was more than satisfied with results, as
I had nearly five hundred heavy steers left which would easily qualify
as beeves. Estimating the latter at what they ought to net me at
Wichita, the remnants of stock cattle cost me about a dollar and a
half a head, while I had received more cash than the amount of the
half payment.

The beef steers were held under herd to await the arrival of the other
contingents. If they fell short in twos and threes, I had hopes of
finding an outlet for my beeves with the last herd. The young stuff
and stock cattle were allowed to drift back on their own ranges, and
we rested on our oars. We had warning of the approach of outside
brands, several arriving in advance of appointment, and they were
received at once. As before, every brand overran expectations, with no
shortage in steers. My men had been wide awake, any number of mature
beeves coming in with the mixed stock. As fast as they arrived we
cut all steers of desirable age into our herd of beeves, sending the
remnant up the river about ten miles to be put under loose herd for
the first month. Fifteen-thousand cattle were tendered in the four
brands, from which we cut out forty-six hundred steers of trail age.
The numbers were actually embarrassing, not in stock cattle, but in
steers, as our trail herd numbered now over five thousand. The outside
outfits were all detained a few days for a settlement, lending their
assistance, as we tally-marked all the stock cattle before sending
them up the river to be put under herd. This work was done in a chute
with branding irons, running a short bar over the holding-brand, the
object being to distinguish animals received then from what might be
gathered afterward. There were nearly one hundred men present, and
with the amount of help available the third herd was ready to start on
the morning of the 6th. It numbered thirty-five hundred, again nearly
equal in twos and threes, my ranch foreman having charge. With the
third herd started, the question arose what to do with the remnant of
a few over sixteen hundred beeves. To turn them loose meant that with
the first norther that blew they would go back to their own range.
Major Hunter suggested that I drive an individual herd. I tried to
sell him an interest in the cattle, but as their ages were unsuited to
his market, he pleaded bankruptcy, yet encouraged me to fill up the
herd and drive them on my own account.

Something had to be done. I bought sixty horses from the different
outfits then waiting for a settlement, adding thirty of my own to the
remuda, made up an outfit from the men present, rigged a wagon, and
called for a general round-up of my range. Two days afterward we had
fifteen hundred younger steers of my own raising in the herd, and on
the 10th of the month the fourth one moved out. A day was lost in
making a general settlement, after which Major Hunter and I rode
through the mixed cattle under herd, finding them contentedly
occupying nearly ten miles of the valley of the Clear Fork. Calves
were dropping at the rate of one hundred a day, two camps of five men
each held them on an ample range, riding lines well back from the
valley. The next morning we turned homeward, passing my ranch and
corrals, which but a few days before were scenes of activity, but now
deserted even by the dogs. From the Edwards ranch we were driven in to
Fort Worth, and by the middle of the month reached Wichita.

No herds were due to arrive for a month. My active partner continued
on to his home at The Grove, and I started for our camps on the
Medicine River. The grass was coming with a rush, the cattle were
beginning to shed their winter coats, and our men assured me that the
known loss amounted to less than twenty head. The boys had spent an
active winter, only a few storms ever bunching the cattle, with less
than half a dozen contingents crossing the established lines. Even
these were followed by our trailers and brought back to their own
range; and together with wolfing the time had passed pleasantly. An
incident occurred at the upper camp that winter which clearly shows
the difference between the cow-hand of that day and the modern
bronco-buster. In baiting for wolves, many miles above our range, a
supposed trail of cattle was cut by one of the boys, who immediately
reported the matter to our Texas trailer at camp. They were not our
cattle to a certainty, yet it was but a neighborly act to catch them,
so the two men took up the trail. From appearances there were not over
fifteen head in the bunch, and before following them many miles, the
trailer became suspicious that they were buffalo and not cattle. He
trailed them until they bedded down, when he dismounted and examined
every bed. No cow ever lay down without leaving hair on its bed, so
when the Texan had examined the ground where half a dozen had slept,
his suspicions were confirmed. Declaring them buffalo, the two men
took up the trail in a gallop, overtaking the band within ten miles
and securing four fine robes. There is little or no difference in the
tracks of the two animals. I simply mention this, as my patience has
been sorely tried with the modern picturesque cowboy, who is merely an
amateur when compared with the men of earlier days.

I spent three weeks riding the range on the Medicine. The cattle had
been carefully selected, now four and five years old, and if the
season was favorable they would be ready for shipment early in the
fall. The lower camp was abandoned in order to enlarge the range
nearly one third, and after providing for the wants of the men, I rode
away to the southeast to intercept the Chisholm trail where it crossed
the Kansas line south of Wichita. The town of Caldwell afterward
sprang up on the border, but at this time among drovers it was known
as Stone's Store, a trading-post conducted by Captain Stone, afterward
a cowman, and already mentioned in these memoirs. Several herds had
already passed on my arrival; I watched the trail, meeting every
outfit for nearly a week, and finally George Edwards came snailing
along. He reported our other cattle from seven to ten days behind,
but was not aware that I had an individual herd on the trail. Edwards
moved on to Wichita, and I awaited the arrival of our second outfit.
A brisk rivalry existed between the solicitors for Ellsworth and
Wichita, every man working faithfully for his railroad or town, and at
night they generally met in social session over a poker game. I never
played a card for money now, not that my morals were any too good, but
I was married and had partners, and business generally absorbed me to
such an extent that I neglected the game.

I met the second herd at Pond Creek, south in the Cherokee Outlet, and
after spending a night with them rode through to Wichita in a day and
night. We went into camp that year well up the Arkansas River, as two
outfits would again hold the four herds. Our second outfit arrived at
the chosen grazing grounds on time, the men were instantly relieved,
and after a good carouse in town they started home. The two other
herds came in without delay, the beeves arriving on the last of the
month. Barely half as many cattle would arrive from Texas that summer,
as many former drovers from that section were bankrupt on account of
the panic of the year before. Yet the market was fairly well supplied
with offerings of wintered Texans, the two classes being so distinct
that there was very little competition between them. My active partner
was on hand early, reporting a healthy inquiry among former customers,
all of whom were more than pleased with the cattle supplied them the
year before. By being in a position to extend a credit to reliable
men, we were enabled to effect sales where other drovers dared not
venture.

Business opened early with us. I sold fifteen hundred of my heaviest
beeves to an army contractor from Wyoming. My active partner sold the
straight three-year-old herd from Erath County to an ex-governor from
Nebraska, and we delivered it on the Republican River in that State.
Small bunches of from three to five hundred were sold to farmers, and
by the first of August we had our holdings reduced to two herds in
charge of one outfit. When the hipping season began with our customers
at The Grove, trade became active with us at Wichita. Scarcely a week
passed but Major Hunter sold a thousand or more to his neighbors,
while I skirmished around in the general market. When the outfit
returned from the Republican River, I took it in charge, went down
on the Medicine, and cut out a thousand beeves, bringing them to the
railroad and shipping them to St. Louis. I never saw fatter cattle
in my life. When we got the returns from the first consignment, we
shipped two trainloads every fortnight until our holding's on the
Medicine were reduced to a remnant. A competent bookkeeper was
employed early in the year, and in keeping our accounts at Wichita,
looking after our shipments, keeping individual interests, by brands,
separate from the firm's, he was about the busiest man connected with
the summer's business. Aside from our drive of over thirteen thousand
head, we bought three whole herds, retailing them in small quantities
to our customers, all of which was profitable. I bought four whole
remudas on personal account, culled out one hundred and fifty head
and sold them at a sacrifice, sending home the remaining two hundred
saddle horses. I found it much cheaper and more convenient to buy my
supply of saddle stock at trail terminals than at home. Once railroad
connections were in operation direct between Kansas and Texas, every
outfit preferred to go home by rail, but I adhered to former methods
for many years.

In summing up the year's business, never were three partners more
surprised. With a remnant of nearly one hundred beeves unfit for
shipment, the Medicine River venture had cleared us over two hundred
per cent, while the horses on hand were worth ten dollars a head more
than what they had cost, owing to their having wintered in the North.
The ten thousand trail cattle paid splendidly, while my individual
herd had sold out in a manner, leaving the stock cattle at home clear
velvet. A programme was outlined for enlarging our business for the
coming year, and every dollar of our profits was to be reinvested in
wintering and trailing cattle from Texas. Next to the last shipment,
the through outfit went home, taking the extra two hundred saddle
horses with it, the final consignment being brought in to Wichita for
loading out by our ranch help. The shipping ended in October. My last
work of the year was the purchase of seven thousand three-year-old
steers, intended for our Medicine River range. We had intentionally
held George Edwards and his outfit for this purpose, and cutting the
numbers into two herds, the Medicine River lads led off for winter
quarters. We had bought the cattle worth the money, but not at a
sacrifice like the year before, neither would we expect such profits.
It takes a good nerve, but experience has taught me that in land and
cattle the time of the worst depression is the time to buy. Major
Hunter accompanied the herds to their winter quarters, sending Edwards
with his outfit, after their arrival on the Medicine, back to Texas,
while I took the train and reached home during the first week in
November.




CHAPTER XII

CLEAR FORK AND SHENANDOAH


I arrived home in good time for the fall work. The first outfit
relieved at Wichita had instructions to begin, immediately on reaching
the ranch, a general cow-hunt for outside brands. It was possible that
a few head might have escaped from the Clear Fork range and returned
to their old haunts, but these would bear a tally-mark distinguishing
them from any not gathered at the spring delivery. My regular ranch
hands looked after the three purchased brands adjoining our home
range, but an independent outfit had been working the past four months
gathering strays and remnants in localities where I had previously
bought brands. They went as far south as Comanche County and picked
up nearly one hundred "Lazy L's," scoured the country where I had
purchased the two brands in the spring of 1872, and afterward confined
themselves to ranges from which the outside cattle were received that
spring. They had made one delivery on the Clear Fork of seven hundred
head before my return, and were then away on a second cow-hunt.

On my reaching the ranch the first contingent of gathered cattle were
under herd. They were a rag-tag lot, many of them big steers, while
much of the younger stuff was clear of earmark or brand until after
their arrival at the home corrals. The ranch help herded them by day
and penned them at night, but on the arrival of the independent outfit
with another contingent of fifteen hundred the first were freed and
the second put under herd. Counting both bunches, the strays numbered
nearly a thousand head, and cattle bearing no tally-mark fully as
many more, while the remainder were mavericks and would have paid the
expenses of the outfit for the past four months. I now had over thirty
thousand cattle on the Clear Fork, holding them in eleven brands, but
decided thereafter to run all the increase in the original "44." This
rule had gone into effect the fall previous, and I now proposed to run
it on all calves branded. Never before had I felt the necessity of
increasing my holdings in land, but with the number of cattle on hand
it behooved me to possess a larger acreage of the Clear Fork valley.
A surveyor was accordingly sent for, and while the double outfit was
branding the home calf crop, I located on the west end of my range a
strip of land ten miles long by five wide. At the east end of my ranch
another tract was located, five by ten miles, running north and taking
in all that country around the junction of the Clear Fork with the
mother Brazos. This gave me one hundred and fifty sections of land,
lying in the form of an immense Lazy L, and I felt that the expense
was justified in securing an ample range for my stock cattle.

My calf crop that fall ran a few over seven thousand head. They were
good northern Texas calves, and it would cost but a trifle to run them
until they were two-year-olds; and if demand continued in the upper
country, some day a trail herd of steers could easily be made up from
their numbers. I was beginning to feel rather proud of my land and
cattle; the former had cost me but a small outlay, while the latter
were clear velvet, as I had sold thirty-five hundred from their
increase during the past two years. Once the surveying and branding
was over, I returned to the Edwards ranch for the winter. The general
outlook in Texas was for the better; quite a mileage of railroad
had been built within the State during the past year, and new and
prosperous towns had sprung up along their lines. The political
situation had quieted down, and it was generally admitted that a
Reconstruction government could never again rear its head on Texas
soil. The result was that confidence was slowly being restored among
the local people, and the press of the State was making a fight for
recognition, all of which augured for a brighter future. Living on the
frontier and absent the greater portion of the time, I took little
interest in local politics, yet could not help but feel that the
restoration of self-government to the best elements of our people
would in time reflect on the welfare of the State. Since my advent in
Texas I had been witness to the growth of Fort Worth from a straggling
village in the spring of 1866 to quite a pretentious town in the fall
of 1874.

Ever since the partnership was formed I had been aware of and had
fostered the political ambitions of the firm's silent member. He had
been prominently identified with the State of Kansas since it was a
territory, had held positions of trust, and had been a representative
in Congress, and all three of us secretly hoped to see him advanced to
the United States Senate. We had fully discussed the matter on various
occasions, and as the fall elections had gone favorably, the present
was considered the opportune time to strike. The firm mutually
agreed to stand the expense of the canvass, which was estimated on a
reasonable basis, and the campaign opened with a blare of trumpets.
Assuming the role of a silent partner, I had reports furnished me
regularly, and it soon developed that our estimate on the probable
expense was too low. We had boldly entered the canvass, our man was
worthy, and I wrote back instructing my partners to spare no expense
in winning the fight. There were a number of candidates in the race
and the legislature was in session, when an urgent letter reached me,
urging my presence at the capital of Kansas. The race was narrowing to
a close, a personal consultation was urged, and I hastened north as
fast as a relay of horses and railroad trains could carry me. On my
arrival at Topeka the fight had almost narrowed to a financial one,
and we questioned if the game were worth the candle. Yet we were
already involved in a considerable outlay, and the consultation
resulted in our determination to win, which we did, but at an expense
of a little over four times the original estimate, which, however,
afterward proved a splendid investment.

I now had hopes that we might enlarge our operations in handling
government contracts. Major Hunter saw possibilities along the same
line, and our silent partner was awakened to the importance of
maintaining friendly relations with the Interior and War departments,
gathering all the details in contracting beef with the government for
its Indian agencies and army posts in the West. Up to date this had
been a lucrative field which only a few Texas drovers had ventured
into, most of the contractors being Northern and Eastern men, and
usually buying the cattle with which to fill the contracts near the
point of delivery. I was impatient to get into this trade, as the
Indian deliveries generally took cows, and the army heavy beef, two
grades of cattle that at present our firm had no certain demand for.
Also the market was gradually moving west from Wichita, and it was
only a question of a few years until the settlements of eastern Kansas
would cut us off from our established trade around The Grove. I
had seen Abilene pass away as a market, Wichita was doomed by the
encroachments of agriculture, and it behooved us to be alert for a new
outlet.

I made up my mind to buy more land scrip. Not that there had been
any perceptible improvement in wild lands, but the general outlook
justified its purchase. My agent at Austin reported scrip to be had
in ordinary quantities at former prices, and suggested that I supply
myself fully, as the new administration was an economical one, and
once the great flood of certificates issued by the last Reconstruction
regime were absorbed, an advance in land scrip was anticipated. I
accordingly bought three hundred sections more, hardly knowing what
to do with it, yet I knew there was an empire of fine grazing country
between my present home and the Pecos River. If ever the Comanches
were brought under subjection there would be ranches and room for all;
and our babies were principally boys.

Major Hunter came down earlier than usual. He reported a clear, cold
winter on the Medicine and no serious drift of cattle, and expressed
the belief that we would come through with a loss not exceeding one
per cent. This was encouraging, as it meant fat cattle next fall, fit
for any market in the country. It was yet too early to make any move
towards putting up herds for the trail, and we took train and went
down the country as far as Austin. There was always a difference in
cattle prices, running from one to two dollars a head, between the
northern and southern parts of the State. Both of us were anxious
to acquaint ourselves with the different grades, and made stops in
several intervening counties, looking at cattle on the range and
pricing them. We spent a week at the capital city and met all the
trail drovers living there, many of whom expected to put up herds for
that year southeast on the Colorado River. "Shanghai" Pierce had
for some time been a prominent figure in the markets of Abilene and
Wichita, driving herds of his own from the extreme coast country. But
our market required a better quality than coasters and Mexican cattle,
and we turned back up the country. Before leaving the capital, Major
Hunter and I had a long talk with my merchant friend over the land
scrip market, and the latter urged its purchase at once, if wanted, as
the issue afloat was being gradually absorbed. Already there had been
a noticeable advance in the price, and my partner gave me no
peace until I bought, at eighteen dollars a section, two hundred
certificates more. Its purchase was making an inroad on my working
capital, but the major frowned on my every protest, and I yielded out
of deference to his superior judgment.

Returning, we stopped in Bell County, where we contracted for fifteen
thousand two and three year old steers. They were good prairie-raised
cattle, and we secured them at a dollar a head less than the prices
prevailing in the first few counties south of Red River. Major Hunter
remained behind, arranging his banking facilities, and I returned home
after my outfits. Before leaving Bell County, I left word that we
could use fifty good men for the trail, but they would have to come
recommended by the ranchmen with whom we were dealing. We expected to
make up five herds, and the cattle were to be ready for delivery to
us between the 15th and 30th of March. I hastened home and out to the
ranch, gathered our saddle stock, outfitted wagons, and engaged all
my old foremen and twenty trusty men, and we started with a remuda
of five hundred horses to begin the operations of the coming summer.
Receiving cattle with me was an old story by this time, and frequently
matters came to a standstill between the sellers and ourselves. We
paid no attention to former customs of the country; all cattle had
to come up full-aged or go into the younger class, while inferior or
knotty stags were turned back as not wanted. Scarcely a day passed but
there was more or less dispute; but we proposed paying for them, and
insisted that all cattle tendered must come up to the specifications
of the contract. We stood firm, and after the first two herds were
received, all trouble on that score passed, and in making up the last
three herds there was actually a surplus of cattle tendered. We used a
road brand that year on all steers purchased, and the herds moved out
from two to three days apart, the last two being made up in Coryell,
the adjoining county north.

George Edwards had charge of the rear herd. There were fourteen days
between the first and the last starts, a fortnight of hard work, and
we frequently received from ten to thirty miles distant from the
branding pens. I rode almost night and day, and Edwards likewise,
while Major Hunter kept all the accounts and settled with the sellers.
As fast as one herd was ready, it moved out under a foreman and
fourteen men, one hundred saddle horses, and a well-stocked
commissary. We did our banking at Belton, the county seat, and after
the last herd started we returned to town and received quite an
ovation from the business men of the village. We had invested a
little over one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cattle in that
community, and a banquet was even suggested in our honor by some of
the leading citizens. Most of the contracts were made with merchants,
many of whom did not own a hoof of cattle, but depended on their
customers to deliver the steers. The business interests of the town
were anxious to have us return next year. We declined the proposed
dinner, as neither Major Hunter nor myself would have made a
presentable guest. A month or more had passed since I had left the
ranch on the Clear Fork, the only clothes I had were on my back, and
they were torn in a dozen places from running cattle in the brush. My
partner had been living in cow-camps for the past three weeks, and
preferred to be excused from receiving any social attentions. So we
thanked our friends and started for the railroad.

Major Hunter went through to The Grove, while I stopped at Fort Worth.
A buckboard from home was awaiting me, and the next morning I was at
the Edwards ranch. A relay team was harnessed in, and after counting
the babies I started for the Clear Fork. By early evening I was in
consultation with my ranch foreman, as it was my intention to drive an
individual herd if everything justified the venture. I never saw the
range on the Clear Fork look better, and the books showed that we
could easily gather two thousand twos and threes, while the balance of
the herd could be made up of dry and barren cows. All we lacked was
about thirty horses, and my ranch hands were anxious to go up the
trail; but after riding the range one day I decided that it would be
a pity to disturb the pastoral serenity of the valley. It was fairly
dotted with my own cattle; month-old calves were playing in groups,
while my horse frequently shied at new-born ones, lying like fawns
in the tall grass. A round-up at that time meant the separation of
mothers from their offspring and injury to cows approaching maternity,
and I decided that no commercial necessity demanded the sacrifice.
Then again it seemed a short-sighted policy to send half-matured
steers to market, when no man could bring the same animals to a full
development as cheaply as I could. Barring contagious diseases, cattle
are the healthiest creatures that walk the earth, and even on an open
range seldom if ever does one voluntarily forsake its birthplace.

I spent two weeks on the ranch and could have stayed the summer
through, for I love cattle. Our lead herd was due on the Kansas state
line early in May, so remaining at the Edwards ranch until the last
possible hour, I took train and reached Wichita, where my active
partner was awaiting me. He had just returned from the Medicine River,
and reported everything serene. He had made arrangements to have the
men attend all the country round-ups within one hundred miles of our
range. Several herds had already reached Wichita, and the next day I
started south on horseback to meet our cattle at Caldwell on the line,
or at Pond Creek in the Cherokee Outlet. It was going to be difficult
to secure range for herds within fifteen miles of Wichita, and the
opinion seemed general that this would be the last year that town
could hope to hold any portion of the Texas cattle trade. On arriving
at Pond Creek I found that fully half the herds were turning up that
stream, heading for Great Bend, Ellsworth, Ellis, and Nickerson, all
markets within the State of Kansas. The year before nearly one third
the drive had gone to the two first-named points, and now other towns
were offering inducements and bidding for a share of the present
cattle exodus.

Our lead herd arrived without an incident en route. The second one
came in promptly, both passing on and picking their way through the
border settlements to Wichita. I waited until the third one put in an
appearance, leaving orders for it and the two rear ones to camp on
some convenient creek in the Outlet near Caldwell. Arrangements were
made with Captain Stone for supplying the outfits, and I hurried on
to overtake the lead herds, then nearing Wichita. An ample range was
found but twenty miles up the Arkansas River, and the third day all
the Bell County men in the two outfits were sent home by train.
The market was much the same as the year before: one herd of three
thousand two-year-olds was our largest individual sale. Early in
August the last herd was brought from the state line and the through
help reduced to two outfits, one holding cattle at Wichita and the
other bringing in shipments of beeves from the Medicine River range.
The latter were splendid cattle, fatted to a finish for grass animals,
and brought top prices in the different markets to which they were
consigned. Omitting details, I will say it was an active year, as we
bought and sold fully as many more as our drive amounted to, while I
added to my stock of saddle horses an even three hundred head.

An amusing incident occurred with one of my men while holding cattle
that fall at Wichita. The boys were in and out of town frequently,
and one of them returned to camp one evening and informed me that he
wanted to quit work, as he intended to return to Wichita and kill a
man. He was a good hand and I tried to persuade him out of the idea,
but he insisted that it was absolutely necessary to preserve his
honor. I threatened to refuse him a horse, but seeing that menace and
persuasion were useless, I ordered him to pick my holdings of saddle
stock, gave him his wages due, and told him to be sure and shoot
first. He bade us all good-by, and a chum of his went with him. About
an hour before daybreak they returned and awoke me, when the aggrieved
boy said: "Mr. Anthony, I didn't kill him. No, I didn't kill him. He's
a good man. You bet he's a game one. Oh, he's a good man all right."
That morning when I awoke both lads were out on herd, and I had an
early appointment to meet parties in town. Major Hunter gave me the
story immediately on my arrival. The boys had located the offender in
a store, and he anticipated the fact that they were on his trail. As
our men entered the place, the enemy stepped from behind a pile of
clothing with two six-shooters leveled in their faces, and ordered a
clerk to relieve the pair of their pistols, which was promptly done.
Once the particulars were known at camp, it was looked upon as a good
joke on the lad, and whenever he was asked what he thought of Mr.
Blank, his reply invariably was, "He's a good man."

The drive that year to the different markets in Kansas amounted to
about five hundred thousand cattle. One half this number were handled
at Wichita, the surrounding country absorbing them to such an extent
that when it came time to restock our Medicine River range I was
compelled to go to Great Bend to secure the needed cattle. All saddle
horses, both purchased and my own remudas, with wagons, were sent to
our winter camps by the shipping crew, so that the final start for
Texas would be made from the Medicine River. It was the last of
October that the last six trains of beeves were brought in to the
railroad for shipment, the season's work drawing to an end. Meanwhile
I had closed contracts on ten thousand three-year-old steers at
"The Bend," so as fast as the three outfits were relieved of their
consignment of beeves they pulled out up the Arkansas River to receive
the last cattle of the year. It was nearly one hundred miles from
Wichita, and on the arrival of the shipping crews the herds were
received and started south for their winter range. Major Hunter and
I accompanied the herds to the Medicine, and within a week after
reaching the range the two through outfits started home with five
wagons and eight hundred saddle horses.

It was the latter part of November when we left our winter camps and
returned to The Grove for the annual settlement. Our silent partner
was present, and we broke the necks of a number of champagne bottles
in properly celebrating the success of the year's work. The wintered
cattle had cleared the Dutchman's one per cent, while every hoof in
the through and purchased herds was a fine source of profit. Congress
would convene within a week, and our silent partner suggested that all
three of us go down to Washington and attend the opening exercises. He
had already looked into the contracting of beef to the government, and
was particularly anxious to have my opinion on a number of contracts
to be let the coming winter. It had been ten years since I left my old
home in the Shenandoah Valley, my parents were still living, and all
I asked was time enough to write a letter to my wife, and buy some
decent clothing. The trio started in good time for the opening of
Congress, but once we sighted the Potomac River the old home hunger
came on me and I left the train at Harper's Ferry. My mother knew and
greeted me just as if I had left home that morning on an errand, and
had now returned. My father was breaking with years, yet had a
mental alertness that was remarkable and a commercial instinct that
understood the value of a Texas cow or a section of land scrip. The
younger members of the family gathered from their homes to meet
"Texas" Anthony, and for ten continuous days I did nothing but answer
questions, running from the color of the baby's eyes to why we did not
drive the fifteen thousand cattle in one herd, or how big a section of
country would one thousand certificates of land scrip cover. My visit
was broken by the necessity of conferring with my partners, so,
promising to spend Christmas with my mother, I was excused until that
date.

At the War and Interior departments I made many friends. I understood
cattle so thoroughly that there was no feature of a delivery to the
government that embarrassed me in the least. A list of contracts to be
let from each department was courteously furnished us, but not wishing
to scatter our business too wide, we submitted bids for six Indian
contracts and four for delivery to army posts on the upper Missouri
River. Two of the latter were to be northern wintered cattle, and we
had them on the Medicine River; but we also had a sure market on them,
and it was a matter of indifference whether we secured them or not.
The Indian contracts called for cows, and I was anxious to secure as
many as possible, as it meant a market for the aging she stuff on
my ranch. Heretofore this class had fulfilled their mission in
perpetuating their kind, had lived their day, and the weeds grew
rankly where their remains enriched the soil. The bids would not be
opened until the middle of January, and we should have notice at once
if fortunate in securing any of the awards. The holiday season was
approaching, Major Hunter was expected at home, and the firm separated
for the time being.




CHAPTER XIII

THE CENTENNIAL YEAR


I returned to Texas early in January. Quite a change had come over
the situation since my leaving home the spring before. Except on the
frontier, business was booming in the new towns, while a regular
revolution had taken place within the past month in land values. The
cheapness of wild lands had attracted outside capital, resulting in
a syndicate being formed by Northern capitalists to buy up the
outstanding issue of land scrip. The movement had been handled
cautiously, and had possibly been in active operation for a year or
more, as its methods were conducted with the utmost secrecy. Options
had been taken on all scrip voted to corporations in the State and
still in their possession, agents of the syndicate were stationed at
all centres where any amount was afloat, and on a given day throughout
the State every certificate on the market was purchased. The next
morning land scrip was worth fifty dollars a section, and on my return
one hundred dollars a certificate was being freely bid, while every
surveyor in the State was working night and day locating lands for
individual holders of scrip.

This condition of affairs was largely augmented by a boom in sheep.
San Antonio was the leading wool market in the State, many clips
having sold as high as forty cents a pound for several years past on
the streets of that city. Free range and the high price of wool was
inviting every man and his cousin to come to Texas and make his
fortune. Money was feverish for investment in sheep, flock-masters
were buying land on which to run their bands, and a sheepman was an
envied personage. Up to this time there had been little or no occasion
to own the land on which the immense flocks grazed the year round, yet
under existing cheap prices of land nearly all the watercourses in the
immediate country had been taken up. Personally I was dumfounded at
the sudden and unexpected change of affairs, and what nettled me most
was that all the land adjoining my ranch had been filed on within the
past month. The Clear Fork valley all the way up to Fort Griffin had
been located, while every vacant acre on the mother Brazos, as far
north as Belknap, was surveyed and recorded. I was mortified to think
that I had been asleep, but then the change had come like a thief