III. A SECOND TRIP TO PORT SUMNER

by Andy Adams

　　A SECOND TRIP TO FORT SUMNEROn the return trip we traveled mainly by night. The proceeds from thesale of the herd were in the wagon, and had this fact been known itwould have been a tempting prize for either bandits or Indians. Afterleaving Horsehead Crossing we had the advantage of the dark of themoon, as it was a well-known fact that the Comanches usually choosemoonlight nights for their marauding expeditions. Another thing in ourfavor, both going and returning, was the lightness of travel westward,it having almost ceased during the civil war, though in '66 it showeda slight prospect of resumption. Small bands of Indians were stillabroad on horse-stealing forays, but the rich prizes of wagon trainsbound for El Paso or Santa Fé no longer tempted the noble red manin force. This was favorable wind to our sail, but these plainsmendrovers predicted that, once traffic westward was resumed, theComanche and his ally would be about the first ones to know it. Theredskins were constantly passing back and forth, to and from theirreservation in the Indian Territory, and news travels fast even amongsavages.We reached the Brazos River early in August. As the second start wasnot to be made until the latter part of the following month, a generalsettlement was made with the men and all reëngaged for the next trip.I received eighty dollars in gold as my portion, it being the firstmoney I ever earned as a citizen. The past two months were a splendidexperience for one going through a formative period, and I hadreturned feeling that I was once more a man among men. All theuncertainty as to my future had fallen from me, and I began to lookforward to the day when I also might be the owner of lands and cattle.There was no good reason why I should not, as the range was as freeas it was boundless. There were any quantity of wild cattle in thecountry awaiting an owner, and a good mount of horses, a rope, and abranding iron were all the capital required to start a brand. I knewthe success which my father had made in Virginia before the warand had seen it repeated on a smaller scale by my elder brother inMissouri, but here was a country which discounted both of thosein rearing cattle without expense. Under the best reasoning at mycommand, I had reached the promised land, and henceforth determined tocast my fortunes with Texas.Rather than remain idle around the Loving headquarters for a month,I returned with George Edwards to his home. Altogether too cordial awelcome was extended us, but I repaid the hospitality of the ranch byrelating our experiences of trail and Indian surprise. Miss Gertrudewas as charming as ever, but the trip to Sumner and back had cooledmy ardor and I behaved myself as an acceptable guest should. Thetime passed rapidly, and on the last day of the month we returned toBelknap. Active preparations were in progress for the driving of thesecond herd, oxen had been secured, and a number of extra fine horseswere already added to the saddle stock. The remuda had enjoyed a goodmonth's rest and were in strong working flesh, and within a few daysall the boys reported for duty. The senior member of the firm was theowner of a large number of range cattle, and it was the intention toround up and gather as many of his beeves as possible for the comingdrive. We should have ample time to do this; by waiting until thelatter part of the month for starting, it was believed that fewIndians would be encountered, as the time was nearing for their annualbuffalo hunt for robes and a supply of winter meat. This was a galaoccasion with the tribes which depended on the bison for food andclothing; and as the natural hunting grounds of the Comanches andKiowas lay south of Red River, the drovers considered that that wouldbe an opportune time to start. The Indians would no doubt confinetheir operations to the first few tiers of counties in Texas, as therobes and dried meat would tax the carrying capacity of their horsesreturning, making it an object to kill their supplies as near theirwinter encampment as possible.Some twenty days were accordingly spent in gathering beeves along themain Brazos and Clear Fork. Our herd consisted of about a thousand inthe straight ranch brand, and after receiving and road-branding fivehundred outside cattle we were ready to start. Sixteen men constitutedour numbers, the horses were culled down until but five were left tothe man, and with the previous armament the start was made. Neverbefore or since have I enjoyed such an outing as this was until westruck the dry drive on approaching the Pecos River. The absence ofthe Indians was correctly anticipated, and either their presenceelsewhere, preying on the immense buffalo herds, or the drift ofthe seasons, had driven countless numbers of that animal across ourpathway. There were days and days that we were never out of sight ofthe feeding myriads of these shaggy brutes, and at night they becamea menace to our sleeping herd. During the day, when the cattle werestrung out in trail formation, we had difficulty in keeping the twospecies separated, but we shelled the buffalo right and left and movedforward. Frequently, when they occupied the country ahead of us,several men rode forward and scattered them on either hand until aright of way was effected for the cattle to pass. While they remainedwith us we killed our daily meat from their numbers, and several ofthe boys secured fine robes. They were very gentle, but when occasionrequired could give a horse a good race, bouncing along, lacking gracein flight.Our cook was a negro. One day as we were nearing Buffalo Gap, anumber of big bulls, attracted by the covered wagon, approached thecommissary, the canvas sheet of which shone like a white flag. Thewagon was some distance in the rear, and as the buffalo began toapproach it they would scare and circle around, but constantly comingnearer the object of their curiosity. The darky finally became alarmedfor fear they would gore his oxen, and unearthed an old Creedmoorrifle which he carried in the wagon. The gun could be heard for miles,and when the cook opened on the playful denizens of the plain, anumber of us hurried back, supposing it was an Indian attack. Whenwithin a quarter-mile of the wagon and the situation became clear, wetook it more leisurely, but the fusillade never ceased until we rodeup and it dawned on the darky's mind that rescue was at hand. He hadhalted his team, and from a secure position in the front end of thewagon had shot down a dozen buffalo bulls. Pure curiosity and theblood of their comrades had kept them within easy range of themurderous Creedmoor; and the frenzied negro, supposing that his teammight be attacked any moment, had mown down a circle of the innocentanimals. We charged and drove away the remainder, after which weformed a guard of honor in escorting the commissary until its timiddriver overtook the herd.The last of the buffalo passed out of sight before we reached theheadwaters of the Concho. In crossing the dry drive approaching thePecos we were unusually fortunate. As before, we rested in advance ofstarting, and on the evening of the second day out several showersfell, cooling the atmosphere until the night was fairly chilly. Therainfall continued all the following day in a gentle mist, and withlittle or no suffering to man or beast early in the afternoon weentered the cañon known as Castle Mountain Gap, and the dry drive wasvirtually over. Horsehead Crossing was reached early the next morning,the size of the herd making it possible to hold it compactly, andthus preventing any scattering along that stream. There had beenno freshets in the river since June, and the sandy sediment hadsolidified, making a safe crossing for both herd and wagon. After theusual rest of a few days, the herd trailed up the Pecos with scarcelyan incident worthy of mention. Early in November we halted somedistance below Fort Sumner, where we were met by Mr. Loving,--who hadgone on to the post in our advance,--with the report that other cattlehad just been accepted, and that there was no prospect of an immediatedelivery. In fact, the outlook was anything but encouraging, unless wewintered ours and had them ready for the first delivery in the spring.The herd was accordingly turned back to Bosque Grande on the river,and we went into permanent quarters. There was a splendid winter rangeall along the Pecos, and we loose-herded the beeves or rode lines inholding them in the different bends of the river, some of whichwere natural inclosures. There was scarcely any danger of Indianmolestation during the winter months, and with the exception of afew severe "northers" which swept down the valley, the cattle didcomparatively well. Tents were secured at the post; corn was purchasedfor our saddle mules; and except during storms little or no privationwas experienced during the winter in that southern climate. Wood wasplentiful in the grove in which we were encamped, and a huge fireplacewas built out of clay and sticks in the end of each tent, assuring uscomfort against the elements.The monotony of existence was frequently broken by the passing oftrading caravans, both up and down the river. There was a fair tradewith the interior of Mexico, as well as in various settlements alongthe Rio Grande and towns in northern New Mexico. When other means ofdiversion failed we had recourse to Sumner, where a sutler's bar andgambling games flourished. But the most romantic traveler to arrive orpass during the winter was Captain Burleson, late of the Confederacy.As a sportsman the captain was a gem of the first water, carrying withhim, besides a herd of nearly a thousand cattle, three race-horses,several baskets of fighting chickens, and a pack of hounds. He hada large Mexican outfit in charge of his cattle, which were in badcondition on their arrival in March, he having drifted about allwinter, gambling, racing his horses, and fighting his chickens. Theherd represented his winnings. As we had nothing to match, all wecould offer was our hospitality. Captain Burleson went into camp belowus on the river and remained our neighbor until we rounded up andbroke camp in the spring. He had been as far west as El Paso duringthe winter, and was then drifting north in the hope of finding amarket for his herd. We indulged in many hunts, and I found him thetrue gentleman and sportsman in every sense of the word. As I recallhim now, he was a lovable vagabond, and for years afterward storieswere told around Fort Sumner of his wonderful nerve as a poker player.Early in April an opportunity occurred for a delivery of cattle to thepost. Ours were the only beeves in sight, those of Captain Burlesonnot qualifying, and a round-up was made and the herd tendered forinspection. Only eight hundred were received, which was quite adisappointment to the drovers, as at least ninety per cent of thetender filled every qualification. The motive in receiving the fewsoon became apparent, when a stranger appeared and offered to buy theremaining seven hundred at a ridiculously low figure. But the drovershad grown suspicious of the contractors and receiving agent, and,declining the offer, went back and bought the herd of CaptainBurleson. Then, throwing the two contingents together, and boldlyannouncing their determination of driving to Colorado, they startedthe herd out past Fort Sumner with every field-glass in the postleveled on us. The military requirements of Sumner, for its own andIndian use, were well known to the drovers, and a scarcity of beef wascertain to occur at that post before other cattle could be bargainedfor and arrive. My employers had evidently figured out the situationto a nicety, for during the forenoon of the second day out from thefort we were overtaken by the contractors. Of course they threw on thegovernment inspector all the blame for the few cattle received, andoffered to buy five or six hundred more out of the herd. But the shoewas on the other foot now, the drovers acting as independently as theproverbial hog on ice. The herd never halted, the contractors followedup, and when we went into camp that evening a trade was closed on onethousand steers at two dollars a head advance over those which werereceived but a few days before. The oxen were even reserved, and afterdelivering the beeves at Sumner we continued on northward with theremnant, nearly all of which were the Burleson cattle.The latter part of April we arrived at the Colorado line. There wewere halted by the authorities of that territory, under some act ofquarantine against Texas cattle. We went into camp on the nearestwater, expecting to prove that our little herd had wintered at FortSumner, and were therefore immune from quarantine, when buyers arrivedfrom Trinidad, Colorado. The steers were a mixed lot, running from ayearling to big, rough four and five year olds, and when Goodnightreturned from Sumner with a certificate, attested to by every officerof that post, showing that the cattle had wintered north of latitude34, a trade was closed at once, even the oxen going in at thephenomenal figures of one hundred and fifty dollars a yoke. Wedelivered the herd near Trinidad, going into that town to outfitbefore returning. The necessary alterations were made to the wagon,mules were harnessed in, and we started home in gala spirits. In alittle over thirty days my employers had more than doubled their moneyon the Burleson cattle and were naturally jubilant.The proceeds of the Trinidad sale were carried in the wagon returning,though we had not as yet collected for the second delivery at Sumner.The songs of the birds mixed with our own as we traveled homeward, andthe freshness of early summer on the primitive land, as it rolled awayin dips and swells, made the trip a delightful outing. Fort Sumnerwas reached within a week, where we halted a day and then started on,having in the wagon a trifle over fifty thousand dollars in gold andsilver. At Sumner two men made application to accompany us back toTexas, and as they were well armed and mounted, and numbers were anadvantage, they were made welcome. Our winter camp at Bosque Grandewas passed with but a single glance as we dropped down the Pecosvalley at the rate of forty miles a day. Little or no travel wasencountered en route, nor was there any sign of Indians until theafternoon of our reaching Horsehead Crossing. While passing DaggerBend, four miles above the ford, Goodnight and a number of us boyswere riding several hundred yards in advance of the wagon, tellingstories of old sweethearts. The road made a sudden bend around somesand-hills, and the advance guard had passed out of sight of the rear,when a fresh Indian trail was cut; and as we reined in our mounts toexamine the sign, we were fired on. The rifle-shots, followed by aflight of arrows, passed over us, and we took to shelter like flushedquail. I was riding a good saddle horse and bolted off on the oppositeside of the road from the shooting; but in the scattering which ensueda number of mules took down the road. One of the two men picked up atthe post was a German, whose mule stampeded after his mates, and whoreceived a galling fire from the concealed Indians, the rest of usturning to the nearest shelter. With the exception of this one man,all of us circled back through the mesquite brush and reached thewagon, which had halted. Meanwhile the shooting had attracted the menbehind, who charged through the sand-dunes, flanking the Indians, whoimmediately decamped. Security of the remuda and wagon was a firstconsideration, and danger of an ambush prevented our men fromfollowing up the redskins. Order was soon restored, when we proceeded,and shortly met the young German coming back up the road, who merelyremarked on meeting us, "Dem Injuns shot at me."The Indians had evidently not been expecting us. From where theyturned out and where the attack was made we back-trailed them inthe road for nearly a mile. They had simply heard us coming, and,supposing that the advance guard was all there was in the party, hadmade the attack and were in turn themselves surprised at our numbers.But the warning was henceforth heeded, and on reaching the crossingmore Indian sign was detected. Several large parties had evidentlycrossed the river that morning, and were no doubt at that momentwatching us from the surrounding hills. The cañon of Castle MountainGap was well adapted for an Indian ambush; and as it was only twelvemiles from the ford to its mouth, we halted within a short distanceof the entrance, as if encamping for the night. All the horses undersaddle were picketed fully a quarter mile from the wagon,--easy marksfor poor Lo,--and the remuda was allowed to wander at will, an air ofperfect carelessness prevailing in the camp. From the sign whichwe had seen that day, there was little doubt but there were in theneighborhood of five hundred Indians in the immediate vicinity ofHorsehead Crossing, and we did everything we could to create theimpression that we were tender-feet. But with the falling of darknessevery horse was brought in and we harnessed up and started, leavingthe fire burning to identify our supposed camp. The drovers gave ourdarky cook instructions, in case of an attack while passing throughthe Gap, never to halt his team, but push ahead for the plain. Aboutone third of us took the immediate lead of the wagon, the remudafollowing closely, and the remainder of the men bringing up the rear.The moon was on the wane and would not rise until nearly midnight,and for the first few miles, or until we entered the cañon, there wasscarce a sound to disturb the stillness of the night. The sandy roadeven muffled the noise of the wagon and the tramping of horses; butonce we entered that rocky cañon, the rattling of our commissaryseemed to summon every Comanche and his ally to come and rob us. Therewas never a halt, the reverberations of our caravan seeming to reëchothrough the Gap, resounding forward and back, until our progressmust have been audible at Horsehead Crossing. But the expected neverhappens, and within an hour we reached the summit of the plain, wherethe country was open and clear and an attack could have been easilyrepelled. Four fresh mules had been harnessed in for the night, andstriking a free gait, we put twenty miles of that arid stretch behindus before the moon rose. A short halt was made after midnight, for achange of teams and saddle horses, and then we continued our hurriedtravel until near dawn.Some indistinct objects in our front caused us to halt. It looked likea caravan, and we hailed it without reply. Several of us dismountedand crept forward, but the only sign of life was a dull, buzzing soundwhich seemed to issue from an outfit of parked wagons. The report waslaid before the two drovers, who advised that we await the dawn,which was then breaking, as it was possible that the caravan had beencaptured and robbed by Indians. A number of us circled around to thefarther side, and as we again approached the wagons in the uncertainlight we hailed again and received in reply a shot, which cut off theupper lobe of one of the boys' ears. We hugged the ground for somelittle time, until the presence of our outfit was discovered by thelone guardian of the caravan, who welcomed us. He apologized, sayingthat on awakening he supposed we were Indians, not having heard ourprevious challenge, and fired on us under the impulse of the moment.He was a well-known trader by the name of "Honey" Allen, and was thenon his way to El Paso, having pulled out on the dry stretch abouttwenty-five miles and sent his oxen back to water. His present cargoconsisted of pecans, honey, and a large number of colonies of livebees, the latter having done the buzzing on our first reconnoitre. Athis destination, so he informed us, the pecans were worth fifty centsa quart, the honey a dollar a pound, and the bees one hundred dollarsa hive. After repairing the damaged ear, we hurried on, findingAllen's oxen lying around the water on our arrival. I met him severalyears afterward in Denver, Colorado, dressed to kill, barbered, andhighly perfumed. He had just sold eighteen hundred two-year-old steersand had twenty-five thousand dollars in the bank. "Son, let me tellyou something," said he, as we were taking a drink together; "thatPecos country was a dangerous region to pick up an honest living in.I'm going back to God's country,--back where there ain't no Injuns."Yet Allen died in Texas. There was a charm in the frontier that heldmen captive. I always promised myself to return to Virginia to spendthe declining years of my life, but the fulfillment never came. I cannow realize how idle was the expectation, having seen others make theattempt and fail. I recall the experience of an old cowman, laboringunder a similar delusion, who, after nearly half a century in theSouthwest, concluded to return to the scenes of his boyhood. He hadmade a substantial fortune in cattle, and had fought his way throughthe vicissitudes of the frontier until success crowned his efforts. Alarge family had in the mean time grown up around him, and underthe pretense of giving his children the advantages of an older andestablished community he sold his holdings and moved back to hisnative borough. Within six months he returned to the stragglingvillage which he had left on the plains, bringing the family with him.Shortly afterwards I met him, and anxiously inquired the cause of hisreturn. "Well, Reed," said he, "I can't make you understand near aswell as though you had tried it yourself. You see I was a stranger inmy native town. The people were all right, I reckon, but I found outthat it was me who had changed. I tried to be sociable with them, buthonest, Reed, I just couldn't stand it in a country where no one everasked you to take a drink."A week was spent in crossing the country between the Concho and Brazosrivers. Not a day passed but Indian trails were cut, all headingsouthward, and on a branch of the Clear Fork we nearly ran afoul of anencampment of forty teepees and lean-tos, with several hundred horsesin sight. But we never varied our course a fraction, passing within aquarter mile of their camp, apparently indifferent as to whether theyshowed fight or allowed us to pass in peace. Our bluff had the desiredeffect; but we made it an object to reach Fort Griffin near midnightbefore camping. The Comanche and his ally were great respecters, notonly of their own physical welfare, but of the Henri and Spencer riflewith which the white man killed the buffalo at the distance of twicethe flight of an arrow. When every advantage was in his favor--ambushand surprise--Lo was a warrior bold; otherwise he used discretion.