Chapter I. Lance Lovelace

by Andy Adams

　　When I first found employment with Lance Lovelace, a Texas cowman, Ihad not yet attained my majority, while he was over sixty. Though nota native of Texas, "Uncle Lance" was entitled to be classed among itspioneers, his parents having emigrated from Tennessee along with a partyof Stephen F. Austin's colonists in 1821. The colony with which hispeople reached the state landed at Quintana, at the mouth of the BrazosRiver, and shared the various hardships that befell all the early Texansettlers, moving inland later to a more healthy locality. Thus theeducation of young Lovelace was one of privation. Like other boys inpioneer families, he became in turn a hewer of wood or drawer ofwater, as the necessities of the household required, in reclaiming thewilderness. When Austin hoisted the new-born Lone Star flag, and calledupon the sturdy pioneers to defend it, the adventurous settlers camefrom every quarter of the territory, and among the first who respondedto the call to arms was young Lance Lovelace. After San Jacinto, whenthe fighting was over and the victory won, he laid down his arms,and returned to ranching with the same zeal and energy. The firstlegislature assembled voted to those who had borne arms in behalf of thenew republic, lands in payment for their services. With this land scripfor his pay, young Lovelace, in company with others, set out for theterritory lying south of the Nueces. They were a band of daring spirits.The country was primitive and fascinated them, and they remained. Somesettled on the Frio River, though the majority crossed the Nueces, manygoing as far south as the Rio Grande. The country was as large as themen were daring, and there was elbow room for all and to spare. LanceLovelace located a ranch a few miles south of the Nueces River, and,from the cooing of the doves in the encinal, named it Las Palomas."When I first settled here in 1838," said Uncle Lance to me one morning,as we rode out across the range, "my nearest neighbor lived forty milesup the river at Fort Ewell. Of course there were some Mexican familiesnearer, north on the Frio, but they don't count. Say, Tom, but she was apurty country then! Why, from those hills yonder, any morning you couldsee a thousand antelope in a band going into the river to drink. Andwild turkeys? Well, the first few years we lived here, whole flocksroosted every night in that farther point of the encinal. And in thewinter these prairies were just flooded with geese and brant. If youwanted venison, all you had to do was to ride through those mesquitethickets north of the river to jump a hundred deer in a morning's ride.Oh, I tell you she was a land of plenty."The pioneers of Texas belong to a day and generation which has almostgone. If strong arms and daring spirits were required to conquer thewilderness, Nature seemed generous in the supply; for nearly all werestalwart types of the inland viking. Lance Lovelace, when I first methim, would have passed for a man in middle life. Over six feet inheight, with a rugged constitution, he little felt his threescoreyears, having spent his entire lifetime in the outdoor occupation of aranchman. Living on the wild game of the country, sleeping on the groundby a camp-fire when his work required it, as much at home in the saddleas by his ranch fireside, he was a romantic type of the strenuouspioneer.He was a man of simple tastes, true as tested steel in his friendships,with a simple honest mind which followed truth and right as unerringlyas gravitation. In his domestic affairs, however, he was unfortunate.The year after locating at Las Palomas, he had returned to his formerhome on the Colorado River, where he had married Mary Bryan, also of thefamily of Austin's colonists. Hopeful and happy they returned to theirnew home on the Nueces, but before the first anniversary of theirwedding day arrived, she, with her first born, were laid in the samegrave. But grief does not kill, and the young husband bore his loss asbrave men do in living out their allotted day. But to the hour of hisdeath the memory of Mary Bryan mellowed him into a child, and, whenunoccupied, with every recurring thought of her or the mere mention ofher name, he would fall into deep reverie, lasting sometimes for hours.And although he contracted two marriages afterward, they were simplymarriages of convenience, to which, after their termination, hefrequently referred flippantly, sometimes with irreverence, for theywere unhappy alliances.On my arrival at Las Palomas, the only white woman on the ranch was"Miss Jean," a spinster sister of its owner, and twenty years hisjunior. After his third bitter experience in the lottery of matrimony,evidently he gave up hope, and induced his sister to come out andpreside as the mistress of Las Palomas. She was not tall like herbrother, but rather plump for her forty years. She had large gray eyes,with long black eyelashes, and she had a trick of looking out from underthem which was both provoking and disconcerting, and no doubt many anadmirer had been deceived by those same roguish, laughing eyes. Everyman, Mexican and child on the ranch was the devoted courtier of MissJean, for she was a lovable woman; and in spite of her isolated life andthe constant plaguings of her brother on being a spinster, she fittedneatly into our pastoral life. It was these teasings of her brother thatgave me my first inkling that the old ranchero was a wily matchmaker,though he religiously denied every such accusation. With a remarkablecomplacency, Jean Lovelace met and parried her tormentor, but herbrother never tired of his hobby while there was a third person tolisten.Though an unlettered man, Lance Lovelace had been a close observer ofhumanity. The big book of Life had been open always before him, and hehad profited from its pages. With my advent at Las Palomas, there wereless than half a dozen books on the ranch, among them a copy of BretHarte's poems and a large Bible."That book alone," said he to several of us one chilly evening, as wesat around the open fireplace, "is the greatest treatise on humanityever written. Go with me to-day to any city in any country inChristendom, and I'll show you a man walk up the steps of his churchon Sunday who thanks God that he's better than his neighbor. But youneedn't go so far if you don't want to. I reckon if I could see myself,I might show symptoms of it occasionally. Sis here thanks God daily thatshe is better than that Barnes girl who cut her out of Amos Alexander.Now, don't you deny it, for you know it's gospel truth! And that bookis reliable on lots of other things. Take marriage, for instance. It isjust as natural for men and women to mate at the proper time, as it isfor steers to shed in the spring. But there's no necessity of making allthis fuss about it. The Bible way discounts all these modern methods.'He took unto himself a wife' is the way it describes such events. Butnow such an occurrence has to be announced, months in advance. And afterthe wedding is over, in less than a year sometimes, they are glad tosneak off and get the bond dissolved in some divorce court, like I didwith my second wife."All of us about the ranch, including Miss Jean, knew that the oldranchero's views on matrimony could be obtained by leading up to thequestion, or differing, as occasion required. So, just to hear him talkon his favorite theme, I said: "Uncle Lance, you must recollect this isa different generation. Now, I've read books"--"So have I. But it's different in real life. Now, in those novels youhave read, the poor devil is nearly worried to death for fear he'll notget her. There's a hundred things happens; he's thrown off the scentone day and cuts it again the next, and one evening he's in a heaven ofbliss and before the dance ends a rival looms up and there's hell topay,--excuse me, Sis,--but he gets her in the end. And that's the way itgoes in the books. But getting down to actual cases--when the money's onthe table and the game's rolling--it's as simple as picking a sire and adam to raise a race horse. When they're both willing, it don't requireany expert to see it--a one-eyed or a blind man can tell the symptoms.Now, when any of you boys get into that fix, get it over with as soon aspossible.""From the drift of your remarks," said June Deweese very innocently,"why wouldn't it be a good idea to go back to the old method of lettingthe parents make the matches?""Yes; it would be a good idea. How in the name of common sense couldyou expect young sap-heads like you boys to understand anything abouta woman? I know what I'm talking about. A single woman never shows hertrue colors, but conceals her imperfections. The average man is not tobe blamed if he fails to see through her smiles and Sunday humor. Now, Iwas forty when I married the second time, and forty-five the last whirl.Looks like I'd a-had some little sense, now, don't it? But I didn't. No,I didn't have any more show than a snowball in--Sis, hadn't you betterretire. You're not interested in my talk to these boys.--Well, if everany of you want to get married you have my consent. But you'd better getmy opinion on her dimples when you do. Now, with my sixty odd years, I'mworth listening to. I can take a cool, dispassionate view of a womannow, and pick every good point about her, just as if she was a cow horsethat I was buying for my own saddle."Miss Jean, who had a ready tongue for repartee, took advantage of thefirst opportunity to remark: "Do you know, brother, matrimony is asubject that I always enjoy hearing discussed by such an oracle asyourself. But did it never occur to you what an unjust thing it was ofProvidence to reveal so much to your wisdom and conceal the same from usbabes?"It took some little time for the gentle reproof to take effect, butUncle Lance had an easy faculty of evading a question when it wascontrary to his own views. "Speaking of the wisdom of babes," said he,"reminds me of what Felix York, an old '36 comrade of mine, once said.He had caught the gold fever in '49, and nothing would do but he andsome others must go to California. The party went up to Independence,Missouri, where they got into an overland emigrant train, bound for theland of gold. But it seems before starting, Senator Benton had made aspeech in that town, in which he made the prophecy that one day therewould be a railroad connecting the Missouri River with the PacificOcean. Felix told me this only a few years ago. But he said that allthe teamsters made the prediction a byword. When, crossing some of themountain ranges, the train halted to let the oxen blow, one bull-whackerwould say to another: 'Well, I'd like to see old Tom Benton gethis railroad over this mountain.' When Felix told me this hesaid--'There's a railroad to-day crosses those same mountain passes overwhich we forty-niners whacked our bulls. And to think I was a grown manand had no more sense or foresight than a little baby blinkin' its eyesin the sun.'"With years at Las Palomas, I learned to like the old ranchero. There wassomething of the strong, primitive man about him which compelled ayouth of my years to listen to his counsel. His confidence in me was acompliment which I appreciate to this day. When I had been in his employhardly two years, an incident occurred which, though only one of manysimilar acts cementing our long friendship, tested his trust.One morning just as he was on the point of starting on horseback tothe county seat to pay his taxes, a Mexican arrived at the ranch andannounced that he had seen a large band of javalina on the border ofthe chaparral up the river. Uncle Lance had promised his taxes by acertain date, but he was a true sportsman and owned a fine pack ofhounds; moreover, the peccary is a migratory animal and does not waitupon the pleasure of the hunter. As I rode out from the corrals to learnwhat had brought the vaquero with such haste, the old ranchero cried,"Here, Tom, you'll have to go to the county seat. Buckle this money beltunder your shirt, and if you lack enough gold to cover the taxes, you'llfind silver here in my saddle-bags. Blow the horn, boys, and get theguns. Lead the way, Pancho. And say, Tom, better leave the road aftercrossing the Sordo, and strike through that mesquite country," he calledback as he swung into the saddle and started, leaving me a sixty-mileride in his stead. His warning to leave the road after crossing thecreek was timely, for a ranchman had been robbed by bandits on that roadthe month before. But I made the ride in safety before sunset, payingthe taxes, amounting to over a thousand dollars.During all our acquaintance, extending over a period of twenty years,Lance Lovelace was a constant revelation to me, for he was original inall things. Knowing no precedent, he recognized none which had not theapproval of his own conscience. Where others were content to follow, heblazed his own pathways--immaterial to him whether they were followed byothers or even noticed. In his business relations and in his own way, hewas exact himself and likewise exacting of others. Some there are whomight criticise him for an episode which occurred about four years aftermy advent at Las Palomas.Mr. Whitley Booth, a younger man and a brother-in-law of the oldranchero by his first wife, rode into the ranch one evening, evidentlyon important business. He was not a frequent caller, for he was also aranchman, living about forty miles north and west on the Frio River, butwas in the habit of bringing his family down to the Nueces about twice ayear for a visit of from ten days to two weeks' duration. But this time,though we had been expecting the family for some little time, he camealone, remained over night, and at breakfast ordered his horse, as ifexpecting to return at once. The two ranchmen were holding a conferencein the sitting-room when a Mexican boy came to me at the corrals andsaid I was wanted in the house. On my presenting myself, my employersaid: "Tom, I want you as a witness to a business transaction. I'mlending Whit, here, a thousand dollars, and as we have never taken anynotes between us, I merely want you as a witness. Go into my room,please, and bring out, from under my bed, one of those largest bags ofsilver."The door was unlocked, and there, under the ranchero's bed,dust-covered, were possibly a dozen sacks of silver. Finding one taggedwith the required amount, I brought it out and laid it on the tablebetween the two men. But on my return I noticed Uncle Lance had turnedhis chair from the table and was gazing out of the window, apparentlyabsorbed in thought. I saw at a glance that he was gazing into the past,for I had become used to these reveries on his part. I had not beenexcused, and an embarrassing silence ensued, which was only broken as helooked over his shoulder and said: "There it is, Whit; count it if youwant to."But Mr. Booth, knowing the oddities of Uncle Lance, hesitated."Well--why--Look here, Lance. If you have any reason for not wanting toloan me this amount, why, say so.""There's the money, Whit; take it if you want to. It'll pay for thehundred cows you are figuring on buying. But I was just thinking: cantwo men at our time of life, who have always been friends, afford totake the risk of letting a business transaction like this possibly makeus enemies? You know I started poor here, and what I have made andsaved is the work of my lifetime. You are welcome to the money, but ifanything should happen that you didn't repay me, you know I wouldn'tfeel right towards you. It's probably my years that does it, but--now, Ialways look forward to the visits of your family, and Jean and I alwaysenjoy our visits at your ranch. I think we'd be two old fools to allowanything to break up those pleasant relations." Uncle Lance turned inhis chair, and, looking into the downcast countenance of Mr. Booth,continued: "Do you know, Whit, that youngest girl of yours reminds me ofher aunt, my own Mary, in a hundred ways. I just love to have your girlstear around this old ranch--they seem to give me back certain glimpsesof my youth that are priceless to an old man.""That'll do, Lance," said Mr. Booth, rising and extending his hand. "Idon't want the money now. Your view of the matter is right, and ourfriendship is worth more than a thousand cattle to me. Lizzie and thegirls were anxious to come with me, and I'll go right back and send themdown."