A Texas Cow Boy Part 10

After bidding aunt Mary and uncle "Jim" good-bye I struck out for Allen, Pool & Co.'s ranch on Simms' bayou. There I hired to a Mr. Joe Davis of Clear creek, who had the contract furnis.h.i.+ng beef to the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe R. R. which was just building out from Galveston.

About the first of September I mounted Ranger, a pony I swapped Boney-part for and lit out for Tresspalacious. My wound by that time was about well.

On arriving at Mr. "Tom" Kuykendall's at the head of Tresspalacious river, I learned that mother was at Mr. Morris', at the mouth of Cashe's creek, waiting for me. She had arrived there just a few days after my departure--for parts unknown, as no one knew where I was going.

You see after getting shot I wrote to mother telling her of the accident and also sending her some money, as I was in the habit of doing when flush. Hence, like a kind mother, she came out to be of service to me, but arrived too late.

It is needless to say we were glad to meet, for the first time in several long years.

I went right to work trying to rig up a home for her. She had brought some money with her and I sold a lot of Mavricks--some of those I branded the winter previous--for two dollars a head, therefore we both together had money enough to build and furnish a shanty.

As Mr. Morris was just going to Indianola in his schooner we sent by him after our lumber, etc. But before he got there the "big" storm, which swept nearly every soul from the Peninsula and nearly wiped Indianola out of existence, struck him and scattered his boat, money and everything he had aboard to the four winds of Heaven. He and his son "Tom" barely escaped with their own lives.

Mother and I experienced a share of the same storm too; we were still at Mr. Morris.' The storm came about ten o'clock at night and blew the Morris mansion down, leaving us, Mrs. Morris, her three children and a step-son, "Jim," mother and myself to paddle around in water up to our waists until morning.

When daylight came the Bay sh.o.r.e was lined with dead cattle just as far as the eye could reach; cattle that had blown into the water and drowned.

When Mr. Morris got back he started a new ranch up at the head of Cashe's creek, where I had camped the winter before and I built mother a shanty a few hundred yards from his, so she wouldn't get lonesome while I was away.

I built it out of an old torn down house that I bought from Mr. John Pierce on "tick" for I was then financially "busted."

Cattle didn't die very badly that coming winter, therefore I did not make much money. But towards spring I got my work in branding Mavricks.

Some days I would brand as high as fifteen or twenty head.

That spring there was a law pa.s.sed prohibiting the carrying of pistols and I was the first man to break the law, for which they socked a heavier fine to me than I was able to pay; but I found a good friend in the person of Mr. John Pierce who loaned me the desired amount without asking for it.

The first of April I hired to W. B. Grimes to go "up the trail" at thirty dollars per month. I bade mother good bye, promising to return, sure, that coming fall.

Our outfit consisted of twenty-five hundred head of old mossy-horn steers, a cook and twenty-five riders, including the boss, Asa Dawdy, with six head of good horses to the man.

Everything went on lovely with the exception of swimming swollen streams, fighting now and then among ourselves and a stampede every stormy night, until we arrived on the Canadian river in the Indian territory; there we had a little indian scare. When within a few miles of the river, Dawdy went on ahead to look up a good crossing; it wasn't long until we discovered a terrible dust on the trail between us and the river; it looked like it might be a cyclone coming, but instead of that it was our boss returning. He galloped up almost out of wind telling us to stop the herd and make preparations for war, as the woods along the river were covered with indians on the war path.

After getting everything in shape for war, he selected two of his best armed men, which happened to be Otto Draub and myself, to go back with him and try to make peace with the red devils. We scoured the woods out thoroughly, but only succeeded in finding one old, blind "buck." Asa had, no doubt, seen him and imagined the rest. From that time on though we were among indians all the time; and they used to try and scare Asa into giving them "wo-ha's," (cattle) but he wasn't one of the scaring kind--except when taken by surprise.

Everything went on smoothly again until we arrived at "Salt Fork" close to the Kansas line. It was raining and storming terribly when we hove in sight of the above named river. Asa went on ahead with the wagons--we having an extra one along then to haul wood and water in--to find a crossing, but on arriving there he found it very high, almost swimming; he succeeded in getting both wagons over though. He then galloped back to hurry the herd up.

We were just about a mile from the river when he came das.h.i.+ng up saying: "Whoop 'em up boys! for she's rising a foot every second."

When we got there she was "bank full" and still rising. It was at least half a mile to the opposite side and drift wood was coming down at a terrible rate, which made it dangerous to cross. But the wagons being over made it a ground hog case--or at least we thought so.

The old lead steers went right into the foaming water without a bit of trouble and of course the balance followed.

Henry Coats was in the lead of the herd, Asa Dawdy and Otto Draub on the left point, while negro "Gabe" and I kept them from turning to the right.

We were all--that is we fellows on the points--out in swimming water when Henry Coats' horse went under, which scared the leaders, causing the whole herd to turn back amidst terrible confusion. Coats came very near drowning. We worked for half an hour or more trying to get the herd to take water again, but failed. The river continued to rise until she was over a mile wide.

Suffice it to say, we remained there seven days without anything to eat except fresh meat without salt. It rained during the whole time nearly, so that we didn't get much sleep on account of having to stay with the cattle night and day.

The first grub we got was from a lot of soldiers camped on the opposite side of the wicked little stream "Wild Horse." They were waiting for it to go down so they could proceed to Wichita, Kansas, their destination.

The boss, Dawdy, a fellow by the name of Hastings and myself found the "blue coats" while out hunting a lot of steers lost the night before during a severe storm. We had spied the white tents off to the southward and pulled out for them, in a gallop.

On arriving within a few hundred yards we found out that a swift stream of muddy water laid between us.

They were camped right on the opposite bank from where we stood. Dawdy yelled over asking if they could spare some chuck? "Yes" was the quick response, "If you will come over after it."

Dawdy and Hastings both looked at me, as much as to say: "Charlie it all depends on you." I was considered an extra good swimmer.

After shedding my heaviest clothes--there being officers' wives in camp, so that I couldn't undress altogether--I put spurs to "Yankee-doodle"

and went into her. It was at least two hundred yards across, but I made it all O. K.

When the captain found out how long we had been without grub he ordered the cook to bring out some cold biscuits. He brought out a large pan full, and after I got my fists full, a lot of the soldiers took the balance and selecting a narrow place, threw them over one by one to Dawdy and Hastings.

After hiding a dozen or two fat Government biscuits under my belt, I began studying up a plan by which I could get some flour and salt, also coffee, over. At last I hit upon a plan: I got a wash-tub from the captain's wife and filling it full of such stuff as we needed, launched her out into the water; I swam by the side of it and landed on the opposite side about half a mile below where I started in at. I then took the tub back thanked our benefactors, mounted Yankee-doodle and pulled for the other sh.o.r.e feeling a thousand per cent. better.

We arrived at camp about sundown and the boys went to work baking bread by rolling the dough around a stick and holding it over the fire. Some of them sat up all night eating, trying to make up for lost time.

The sun came out next morning for the first time in eight long days and towards evening we made it across the river. The wagons we found at the "Pond Creek" ranch on the Kansas line. The cooks had been having a soft time.

CHAPTER XIV.

ON A TARE IN WICHITA, KANSAS.

On the fourth day of July, after being on the trail just three months, we landed on the "Ninnasquaw" river, thirty miles west of Wichita, Kansas.

Nearly all the boys, the boss included, struck out for Wichita right away to take the train for Houston, Texas, the nearest railroad point to their respective homes. Mr. Grimes paid their railroad fares according to custom in those days. I concluded I would remain until fall.

Mr. Grimes had come around by rail, consequently he was on hand to receive us. He already had several thousand steers--besides our herd--on hand; some that he drove up the year before and others he bought around there. He had them divided up into several different herds--about eight hundred to the herd--and scattered out into different places, that is each camp off by itself, from five to ten miles from any other. With each herd or bunch would be a cook and "chuck" wagon, four riders, a "boss" included--and five horses to the rider. During the day two men would "herd" or watch the cattle until noon and the other two until time to "bed" them, which would be about dark. By "bedding" we mean take them to camp, to a certain high piece of ground suitable for a "bed ground"

where they would all lie down until morning, unless disturbed by a storm or otherwise. The nights would be divided up into four equal parts--one man "on" at a time, unless storming, tormented with mosquitos or something of the kind, when every one except the cook would have to be "out" singing to them.

The herd I came up the trail with was split into three bunches and I was put with one of them under a man by the name of Phillups, but shortly afterwards changed and put with a Mr. Taylor.

I spent all my extra time when not on duty, visiting a couple of New York damsels, who lived with their parents five miles east of our camp.

They were the only young ladies in the neighborhood, the country being very thinly settled then, therefore the boys thought I was very "cheeky"--getting on courting terms with them so quick. One of them finally "put a head on me"--or in grammatical words, gave me a black eye--which chopped my visits short off; she didn't understand the Texas way of proposing for one's hand in marriage, was what caused the fracas.

She was cleaning roasting-ears for dinner when I asked her how she would like to jump into double harness and trot through life with me? The air was full of flying roasting-ears for a few seconds--one of them striking me over the left eye--and shortly afterwards a young Cow Puncher rode into camp with one eye in a sling. You can imagine the boys giving it to me about monkeying with civilized girls, etc.

After that I became very lonesome; had nothing to think of but my little Texas girl--the only one on earth I loved. While sitting "on herd" in the hot sun, or lounging around camp in the shade of the wagon--there being no trees in that country to supply us with shade--my mind would be on nothing but her. I finally concluded to write to her and find out just how I stood. As often as I had been with her I had never let her know my thoughts. She being only fourteen years of age, I thought there was plenty time. I wrote a long letter explaining everything and then waited patiently for an answer. I felt sure she would give me encouragement, if nothing more.

A month pa.s.sed by and still no answer. Can it be possible that she don't think enough of me to answer my letter? thought I. "No," I would finally decide, "she is too much of an angel to be guilty of such."

At last the supply wagon arrived from Wichita and among the mail was a letter for me. I was on herd that forenoon and when the other boys came out to relieve Collier and I, they told me about there being a letter in camp for me, written by a female, judging from the fine hand-writing on the envelope.

I was happy until I opened the letter and read a few lines. It then dropped from my fingers and I turned deathly pale. Mr. Collier wanted to know if some of my relations wasn't dead? Suffice it to say that the object of my heart was married to my old playmate Billy Williams. The letter went on to state that she had given her love to another and that she never thought I loved her only as a friend, etc. She furthermore went on advising me to grin and bear it, as there were just as good fish in the sea as ever was caught etc.

I wanted some one to kill me, so concluded to go to the Black hills--as everyone was flocking there then. Mr. Collier, the same man I traded the crippled horse to--agreed to go with me. So we both struck out for Wichita to settle up with daddy Grimes. Mr. Collier had a good horse of his own and so did I; mine was a California pony that I had given fifty-five dollars for quite awhile before. My intention was to take him home and make a race horse of him; he was only three years old and according to my views a "lightning striker."