Chapter XIII. Hide Hunting

by Andy Adams

　　During the month of June only two showers fell, which revived the grassbut added not a drop of water to our tank supply or to the river. Whenthe coast winds which followed set in, all hope for rain passed foranother year. During the residence of the old ranchero at Las Palomas,the Nueces valley had suffered several severe drouths as disastrousin their effects as a pestilence. There were places in its miles ofmeanderings across our range where the river was paved with the bonesof cattle which had perished with thirst. Realizing that such disastersrepeat themselves, the ranch was set in order. That fall we branded thecalf crop with unusual care. In every possible quarter, we prepared forthe worst. A dozen wells were sunk over the tract and equipped withwindmills. There was sufficient water in the river and tanks during thesummer and fall, but by Christmas the range was eaten off until thecattle, ranging far, came in only every other day to slake their thirst.The social gayeties of the countryside received a check from thethreatened drouth. At Las Palomas we observed only the usual Christmasfestivities. Miss Jean always made it a point to have something extrafor the holiday season, not only in her own household, but also amongthe Mexican families at headquarters and the outlying ranchites. Among anumber of delicacies brought up this time from Shepherd's was a box ofFlorida oranges, and in assisting Miss Jean to fill the baskets for eachjacal, Aaron Scales opened this box of oranges and found a letter,evidently placed there by some mischievous girl in the packery fromwhich the oranges were shipped. There was not only a letter but avisiting card and a small photograph of the writer. This could only beaccepted by the discoverer as a challenge, for the sender surely knewthis particular box was intended for shipment to Texas, and banteringlyinvited the recipient to reply. The missive certainly fell upon fertilesoil, and Scales, by right of discovery, delegated to himself thepleasure of answering.Scales was the black sheep of Las Palomas. Born of a rich, aristocraticfamily in Maryland, he had early developed into a good-natured butreckless spendthrift, and his disreputable associates had contributed nosmall part in forcing him to the refuge of a cattle ranch. He had beenoffered every opportunity to secure a good education, but during hislast year in college had been expelled, and rather than face parentalreproach had taken passage in a coast schooner for Galveston, Texas.Then by easy stages he drifted westward, and at last, to his liking,found a home at Las Palomas. He made himself a useful man on the ranch,but, not having been bred to the occupation and with a tendency towaywardness, gave a rather free rein to the vagabond spirit whichpossessed him. He was a good rider, even for a country where everyone was a born horseman, but the use of the rope was an art he neverattempted to master.With the conclusion of the holiday festivities and on the return of theabsentees, a feature, new to me in cattle life, presented itself--hidehunting. Freighters who brought merchandise from the coast towns to themerchants of the interior were offering very liberal terms for returncargoes. About the only local product was flint hides, and of thesethere were very few, but the merchant at Shepherd's Ferry offered sogenerous inducements that Uncle Lance investigated the matter; theresult was his determination to rid his range of the old, logy,worthless bulls. Heretofore they had been allowed to die of old age, butten cents a pound for flint hides was an encouragement to remove thesecumberers of the range, and turn them to some profit. So we were orderedto kill every bull on the ranch over seven years old.In our round-up for branding, we had driven to the home range alloutside cattle indiscriminately. They were still ranging near, so thatat the commencement of this work nearly all the bulls in our brand werewatering from the Nueces. These old residenter bulls never ranged overa mile away from water, and during the middle of the day they could befound along the river bank. Many of them were ten to twelve years old,and were as useless on the range as drones in autumn to a colony ofhoney-bees. Las Palomas boasted quite an arsenal of firearms, of everymake and pattern, from a musket to a repeater. The outfit was dividedinto two squads, one going down nearly to Shepherd's, and the otherbeginning operations considerably above the Ganso. June Deweese took thedown-river end, while Uncle Lance took some ten of us with one wagon onthe up-river trip. To me this had all the appearance of a picnic. Butthe work proved to be anything but a picnic. To make the kill was mostdifficult. Not willing to leave the carcasses near the river, we usuallysought the bulls coming in to water; but an ordinary charge of powderand lead, even when well directed at the forehead, rarely killed andtended rather to aggravate the creature. Besides, as we were compelledin nearly every instance to shoot from horseback, it was almostimpossible to deliver an effective shot from in front. After one or moreunsuccessful shots, the bull usually started for the nearest thicket,or the river; then our ropes came into use. The work was very slow; forthough we operated in pairs, the first week we did not average a hide aday to the man; after killing, there was the animal to skin, the hide tobe dragged from a saddle pommel into a hide yard and pegged out to dry.Until we had accumulated a load of hides, Tiburcio Leal, our teamster,fell to me as partner. We had with us an abundance of our best horses,and those who were reliable with the rope had first choice of theremuda. Tiburcio was well mounted, but, on account of his years, wastimid about using a rope; and well he might be, for frequently we foundourselves in a humorous predicament, and sometimes in one so grave thathilarity was not even a remote possibility.The second morning of the hunt, Tiburcio and I singled out a big blackbull about a mile from the river. I had not yet been convinced thatI could not make an effective shot from in front, and, dismounting,attracted the bull's attention and fired. The shot did not even staggerhim and he charged us; our horses avoided his rush, and he started forthe river. Sheathing my carbine, I took down my rope and caught himbefore he had gone a hundred yards. As I threw my horse on his haunchesto receive the shock, the weight and momentum of the bull dragged mydouble-cinched saddle over my horse's head and sent me sprawling on theground. In wrapping the loose end of the rope around the pommel of thesaddle, I had given it a half hitch, and as I came to my feet my saddleand carbine were bumping merrily along after Toro. Regaining my horse, Isoon overtook Tiburcio, who was attempting to turn the animal back fromthe river, and urged him to "tie on," but he hesitated, offering me hishorse instead. As there was no time to waste, we changed horses likerelay riders. I soon overtook the animal and made a successful cast,catching the bull by the front feet. I threw Tiburcio's horse, like awheeler, back on his haunches, and, on bringing the rope taut, fetchedToro to his knees; but with the strain the half-inch manila rope snappedat the pommel like a twine string. Then we were at our wit's end, thebull lumbering away with the second rope noosed over one fore foot, andleaving my saddle far in the rear. But after a moment's hesitation mypartner and I doubled on him, to make trial of our guns, Tiburcio havinga favorite old musket while I had only my six-shooter. Tiburcio, on mystripped horse, overtook the bull first, and attempted to turn him, butEl Toro was not to be stopped. On coming up myself, I tried the sametactics, firing several shots into the ground in front of him butwithout deflecting the enraged bull from his course. Then I unloosed aMexican blanket from Tiburcio's saddle, and flaunting it in his face,led him like a matador inviting a charge. This held his attention untilTiburcio, gaining courage, dashed past him from the rear and planted amusket ball behind the base of his ear, and the patriarch succumbed.After the first few days' work, we found that the most vulnerablespot was where the spinal cord connects with the base of the brain. Awell-directed shot at this point, even from a six-shooter, never failedto bring Toro to grass; and some of us became so expert that we coulddeliver this favorite shot from a running horse. The trouble was toget the bull to run evenly. That was one thing he objected to, and yetunless he did we could not advantageously attack him with a six-shooter.Many of these old bulls were surly in disposition, and even when theydid run, there was no telling what moment they would sulk, stop withoutan instant's notice, and attempt to gore a passing horse.We usually camped two or three days at a place, taking in both sides ofthe river, and after the work was once well under way we kept our wagonbusy hauling the dry hides to a common yard on the river opposite LasPalomas. Without apology, it can be admitted that we did not confine ourkilling to the Las Palomas brand alone, but all cumberers on our rangemet the same fate. There were numerous stray bulls belonging to distantranches which had taken up their abode on the Nueces, all of which werefish to our net. We kept a brand tally of every bull thus killed; forthe primary motive was not one of profit, but to rid the range of thesedrones.When we had been at work some two weeks, we had an exciting chase oneafternoon in which Enrique Lopez figured as the hero. In coming in todinner that day, Uncle Lance told of the chase after a young ladinobull with which we were all familiar. The old ranchero's hatred to wildcattle had caused him that morning to risk a long shot at this outlaw,wounding him. Juan Leal and Enrique Lopez, who were there, had bothtried their marksmanship and their ropes on him in vain. Dragging downhorses and snapping ropes, the bull made his escape into a chaparralthicket. He must have been exceedingly nimble; for I have seen UncleLance kill a running deer at a hundred yards with a rifle. At any rate,the entire squad turned out after dinner to renew the attack. We saddledthe best horses in our remuda for the occasion, and sallied forthto the lair of the ladino bull, like a procession of professionalbull-fighters.The chaparral thicket in which the outlaw had taken refuge lay about amile and a half back from the river and contained about two acres. Onreaching the edge of the thicket, Uncle Lance called for volunteers tobeat the brush and rout out the bull. As this must be done on foot,responses were not numerous. But our employer relieved the embarrassmentby assigning vaqueros to the duty, also directing Enrique to take onepoint of the thicket and me the other, with instructions to use ourropes should the outlaw quit the thicket for the river. DetailingTiburcio, who was with us that afternoon, to assist him in leading theloose saddle horses, he divided the six other men into two squads underTheodore Quayle and Dan Happersett. When all was ready, Enrique andmyself took up our positions, hiding in the outlying mesquite brush;leaving the loose horses under saddle in the cover at a distance. Thethicket was oval in form, lying with a point towards the river, and weall felt confident if the bull were started he would make for the timberon the river. With a whoop and hurrah and a free discharge of firearms,the beaters entered the chaparral. From my position I could see Enriquelying along the neck of his horse about fifty yards distant; and I hadfully made up my mind to give that bucolic vaquero the first chance.During the past two weeks my enthusiasm for roping stray bulls hadundergone a change; I was now quite willing that all honors of theafternoon should fall to Enrique. The beaters approached without givingany warning that the bull had been sighted, and so great was the strainand tension that I could feel the beating of my horse's heart beneathme. The suspense was finally broken by one or two shots in rapidsuccession, and as the sound died away, the voice of Juan Leal rangout distinctly: "Cuidado por el toro!" and the next moment there was acracking of brush and a pale dun bull broke cover.For a moment he halted on the border of the thicket: then, as the din ofthe beaters increased, struck boldly across the prairie for the river.Enrique and I were after him without loss of time. Enrique made asuccessful cast for his horns, and reined in his horse; but when theslack of the rope was taken up the rear cinch broke, the saddle wasjerked forward on the horse's withers, and Enrique was compelled to freethe rope or have his horse dragged down. I saw the mishap, and, givingmy horse the rowel, rode at the bull and threw my rope. The loop neatlyencircled his front feet, and when the shock came between horse andbull, it fetched the toro a somersault in the air, but unhappily tookoff the pommel of my saddle. The bull was on his feet in a jiffy, andbefore I could recover my rope, Enrique, who had reset his saddle,passed me, followed by the entire squad. Uncle Lance had been a witnessto both mishaps, and on overtaking us urged me to tie on to the bullagain. For answer I could only point to my missing pommel; but every manin the squad had loosened his rope, and it looked as if they would allfasten on to the ladino, for they were all good ropers. Man after manthrew his loop on him; but the dun outlaw snapped the ropes as if theyhad been cotton strings, dragging down two horses with their riders andleaving them in the rear. I rode up alongside Enrique and offered him myrope, but he refused it, knowing it would be useless to try again withonly a single cinch on his saddle. The young rascal had a daring ideain mind. We were within a quarter mile of the river, and escape of theoutlaw seemed probable, when Enrique rode down on the bull, took up histail, and, wrapping the brush on the pommel of his saddle, turned hishorse abruptly to the left, rolling the bull over like a hoop, and ofcourse dismounting himself in the act. Then before the dazed animalcould rise, with the agility of a panther the vaquero sprang astride hisloins, and as he floundered, others leaped from their horses. Toro waspinioned, and dispatched with a shot.Then we loosened cinches to allow our heaving horses to breathe, andthrew ourselves on the ground for a moment's rest. "That's the best killwe'll make on this trip," said Uncle Lance as we mounted, leavingtwo vaqueros to take the hide. "I despise wild cattle, and I've beenhungering to get a shot at that fellow for the last three years.Enrique, the day the baby is born, I'll buy it a new cradle, and Tomshall have a new saddle and we'll charge it to Las Palomas--she's thegirl that pays the bills."Scarcely a day passed but similar experiences were related around thecamp-fire. In fact, as the end of the work came in view, they becamecommonplace with us. Finally the two outfits were united at the generalhide yard near the home ranch. Coils of small rope were brought fromheadquarters, and a detail of men remained in camp, baling the flinthides, while the remainder scoured the immediate country. A crude presswas arranged, and by the aid of a long lever the hides were compressedinto convenient space for handling by the freighters.When we had nearly finished the killing and baling, an unlooked-forincident occurred. While Deweese was working down near Shepherd's Ferry,report of our work circulated around the country, and his camp had beenfrequently visited by cattlemen. Having nothing to conceal, hehad showed his list of outside brands killed, which was perfectlysatisfactory in most instances. As was customary in selling cattle, weexpected to make report of every outside hide taken, and settle forthem, deducting the necessary expense. But in every community thereare those who oppose prevailing customs, and some who can always seesinister motives. One forenoon, when the baling was nearly finished, adelegation of men, representing brands of the Frio and San Miguel, rodeup to our hide yard. They were all well-known cowmen, and Uncle Lance,being present, saluted them in his usual hearty manner. In responseto an inquiry--"what he thought he was doing"--Uncle Lance jocularlyreplied:--"Well, you see, you fellows allow your old bulls to drift down on myrange, expecting Las Palomas to pension them the remainder of theirdays. But that's where you get fooled. Ten cents a pound for flint hidesbeats letting these old stagers die of old age. And this being an idleseason with nothing much to do, we wanted to have a little fun. Andwe've had it. But laying all jokes aside, fellows, it's a good idea toget rid of these old varmints. Hereafter, I'm going to make a killingoff every two or three years. The boys have kept a list of all straybrands killed, and you can look them over and see how many of yours wegot. We have baled all the stray hides separate, so they can be lookedover. But it's nearly noon, and you'd better all ride up to the ranchfor dinner--they feed better up there than we do in camp."Rather than make a three-mile ride to the house, the visitors tookdinner with the wagon, and about one o'clock Deweese and a vaquero camein, dragging a hide between them. June cordially greeted the callers,including Henry Annear, who represented the Las Norias ranch, though Isuppose it was well known to every one present that there was no lovelost between them. Uncle Lance asked our foreman for his list of outsidebrands, explaining that these men wished to look them over. Everythingseemed perfectly satisfactory to all parties concerned, and afterremaining in camp over an hour, Deweese and the vaquero saddled freshhorses and rode away. The visitors seemed in no hurry to go, so UncleLance sat around camp entertaining them, while the rest of us proceededwith our work of baling. Before leaving, however, the entire party incompany of our employer took a stroll about the hide yard, which wassome distance from camp. During this tour of inspection, Annear askedwhich were the bales of outside hides taken in Deweese's division,claiming he represented a number of brands outside of Las Norias. Thebales were pointed out and some dozen unbaled hides looked over. On acount the baled and unbaled hides were found to tally exactly with thelist submitted. But unfortunately Annear took occasion to insinuate thatthe list of brands rendered had been "doctored." Uncle Lance paid littleattention, though he heard, but the other visitors remonstrated withAnnear. This only seemed to make him more contentious. Finally matterscame to an open rupture when Annear demanded that the cordage be cut oncertain bales to allow him to inspect them. Possibly he was within hisrights, but on the Nueces during the seventies, to question a man's wordwas equivalent to calling him a liar; and liar was a fighting word allover the cattle range."Well, Henry," said Uncle Lance, rather firmly, "if you are notsatisfied, I suppose I'll have to open the bales for you, but before Ido, I'm going to send after June. Neither you nor any one else can castany reflections on a man in my employ. No unjust act can be charged inmy presence against an absent man. The vaqueros tell me that my foremanis only around the bend of the river, and I'm going to ask all yougentlemen to remain until I can send for him."John Cotton was dispatched after Deweese. Conversation meanwhile becamepolite and changed to other subjects. Those of us at work baling hideswent ahead as if nothing unusual was on the tapis. The visitors were allarmed, which was nothing unusual, for the wearing of six-shooters was ascommon as the wearing of hoots. During the interim, several level-headedvisitors took Henry Annear to one side, evidently to reason with him andurge an apology, for they could readily see that Uncle Lance was justlyoffended. But it seemed that Annear would listen to no one, and whilethey were yet conversing among themselves, John Cotton and our foremangalloped around the bend of the river and rode up to the yard. No doubtCotton had explained the situation, but as they dismounted Uncle Lancestepped between his foreman and Annear, saying:--"June, Henry, here, questions the honesty of your list of strays killed,and insists on our cutting the bales for his inspection." Turning toAnnear, Uncle Lance inquired, "Do you still insist on opening thebales?""Yes, sir, I do."Deweese stepped to one side of his employer, saying to Annear: "Youoffer to cut a bale here to-day, and I'll cut your heart out. Behind myback, you questioned my word. Question it to my face, you dirty sneak."Annear sprang backward and to one side, drawing a six-shooter in themovement, while June was equally active. Like a flash, two shots rangout. Following the reports, Henry turned halfway round, while Deweesestaggered a step backward. Taking advantage of the instant, Uncle Lancesprang like a panther on to June and bore him to the ground, while thevisitors fell on Annear and disarmed him in a flash. They were draggedstruggling farther apart, and after some semblance of sanity hadreturned, we stripped our foreman and found an ugly flesh wound crossinghis side under the armpit, the bullet having been deflected by a rib.Annear had fared worse, and was spitting blood freely, and the marks ofexit and entrance of the bullet indicated that the point of one lung hadbeen slightly chipped."I suppose this outcome is what you might call the amende honorable"smilingly said George Nathan, one of the visitors, later to Uncle Lance."I always knew there was a little bad blood existing between the boys,but I had no idea that it would flash in the pan so suddenly or I'd havestayed at home. Shooting always lets me out. But the question now is,How are we going to get our man home?"Uncle Lance at once offered them horses and a wagon, in case Annearwould not go into Las Palomas. This he objected to, so a wagon wasfitted up, and, promising to return it the next day, our visitorsdeparted with the best of feelings, save between the two belligerents.We sent June into the ranch and a man to Oakville after a surgeon, andresumed our work in the hide yard as if nothing had happened. SomewhereI have seen the statement that the climate of California was especiallyconducive to the healing of gunshot wounds. The same claim might be madein behalf of the Nueces valley, for within a month both the combatantswere again in their saddles.Within a week after this incident, we concluded our work and the hideswere ready for the freighters. We had spent over a month and had takenfully seven hundred hides, many of which, when dry, would weigh onehundred pounds, the total having a value of between five and sixthousand dollars. Like their predecessors the buffalo, the remains ofthe ladinos were left to enrich the soil; but there was no danger of theextinction of the species, for at Las Palomas it was the custom to allowevery tenth male calf to grow up a bull.