V. SUMMER OF '68

by Andy Adams

　　SUMMER OF '68The death of Mr. Loving ended my employment in driving cattle to FortSumner. The junior member of the firm was anxious to continue thetrade then established, but the absence of any protection against theIndians, either state or federal, was hopeless. Texas was sufferingfrom the internal troubles of Reconstruction, the paternal governmenthad small concern for the welfare of a State recently in arms againstthe Union, and there was little or no hope for protection of life orproperty under existing conditions. The outfit was accordingly paidoff, and I returned with George Edwards to his father's ranch. Thepast eighteen months had given me a strenuous schooling, but I hademerged on my feet, feeling that once more I was entitled to a placeamong men. The risk that had been incurred by the drovers acted like aphysical stimulant, the outdoor life had hardened me like iron, andI came out of the crucible bright with the hope of youth and buoyantwith health and strength.Meanwhile there had sprung up a small trade in cattle with the North.Baxter Springs and Abilene, both in Kansas, were beginning to bementioned as possible markets, light drives having gone to thosepoints during the present and previous summers. The elder Edwards hadbeen investigating the new outlet, and on the return of George andmyself was rather enthusiastic over the prospects of a market. NoIndian trouble had been experienced on the northern route, andalthough demand generally was unsatisfactory, the faith of droversin the future was unshaken. A railroad had recently reached Abilene,stockyards had been built for the accommodation of shippers during thesummer of 1861, while a firm of shrewd, far-seeing Yankees made greatpretensions of having established a market and meeting-point forbuyers and sellers of Texas cattle. The promoters of the scheme had acontract with the railroad, whereby they were to receive a bonus onall cattle shipped from that point, and the Texas drovers were offeredevery inducement to make Abilene their destination in the future. Theunfriendliness of other States against Texas cattle, caused by theravages of fever imparted by southern to domestic animals, hadresulted in quarantine being enforced against all stock from theSouth. Matters were in an unsettled condition, and less than one percent of the State's holdings of cattle had found an outside marketduring the year 1867, though ranchmen in general were hopeful.I spent the remainder of the month of October at the Edwards ranch. Wehad returned in time for the fall branding, and George and I both madeacceptable hands at the work. I had mastered the art of handling arope, and while we usually corralled everything, scarcely a day passedbut occasion occurred to rope wild cattle out of the brush. Anxiety tolearn soon made me an expert, and before the month ended I had caughtand branded for myself over one hundred mavericks. Cattle were soworthless that no one went to the trouble to brand completely; thecrumbs were acceptable to me, and, since no one else cared for themand I did, the flotsam and jetsam of the range fell to my brand. Had Ibeen ambitious, double that number could have been easily secured, butwe never went off the home range in gathering calves to brand. Allthe hands on the Edwards ranch, darkies and Mexicans, were constantlythrowing into the corrals and pointing out unclaimed cattle, while Ithrew and indelibly ran the figures "44" on their sides. I was partialto heifers, and when one was sighted there was no brush so thick oranimal so wild that it was not "fish" to my rope. In many instances acow of unknown brand was still followed by her two-year-old, yearling,and present calf. Under the customs of the country, any unbrandedanimal, one year old or over, was a maverick, and the property of anyone who cared to brand the unclaimed stray. Thousands of cattle thuslived to old age, multiplied and increased, died and became food forworms, unowned.The branding over, I soon grew impatient to be doing something. Therewould be no movement in cattle before the following spring, and awinter of idleness was not to my liking. Buffalo hunting had lost itscharm with me, the contentious savages were jealous of any intrusionon their old hunting grounds, and, having met them on numerousoccasions during the past eighteen months, I had no further desire tocultivate their acquaintance. I still owned my horse, now acclimated,and had money in my purse, and one morning I announced my intentionof visiting my other comrades in Texas. Protests were made againstmy going, and as an incentive to have me remain, the elder Edwardsoffered to outfit George and me the following spring with a herd ofcattle and start us to Kansas. I was anxious for employment, butassuring my host that he could count on my services, I stillpleaded my anxiety to see other portions of the State and renew oldacquaintances. The herd could not possibly start before the middle ofApril, so telling my friends that I would be on hand to help gatherthe cattle, I saddled my horse and took leave of the hospitable ranch.After a week of hard riding I reached the home of a former comrade onthe Colorado River below Austin. A hearty welcome awaited me, butthe apparent poverty of the family made my visit rather a brief one.Continuing eastward, my next stop was in Washington County, one of theoldest settled communities in the State. The blight of Reconstructionseemed to have settled over the people like a pall, the frontierhaving escaped it. But having reached my destination, I was determinedto make the best of it. At the house of my next comrade I felt alittle more at home, he having married since his return and beingnaturally of a cheerful disposition. For a year previous to thesurrender he and I had wrangled beef for the Confederacy and had beenstanch cronies. We had also been in considerable mischief together;and his wife seemed to know me by reputation as well as I knew herhusband. Before the wire edge wore off my visit I was as free with thecouple as though they had been my own brother and sister. The factwas all too visible that they were struggling with poverty, thoughlightened by cheerfulness, and to remain long a guest would havebeen an imposition; accordingly I began to skirmish for something todo--anything, it mattered not what. The only work in sight was with acarpet-bag dredging company, improving the lower Brazos River, under acontract from the Reconstruction government of the State. My old cronypleaded with me to have nothing to do with the job, offering to sharehis last crust with me; but then he had not had all the animosities ofthe war roughed out of him, and I had. I would work for a Federal assoon as any one else, provided he paid me the promised wage, and,giving rein to my impulse, I made application at the dredgingheadquarters and was put in charge of a squad of negroes.I was to have sixty dollars a month and board. The company operateda commissary store, a regular "pluck-me" concern, and I shortlyunderstood the incentive in offering me such good wages. All employeeswere encouraged and expected to draw their pay in supplies, which weresold at treble their actual value from the commissary. I had beenraised among negroes, knew how to humor and handle them, the work waseasy, and I drifted along with all my faculties alert. Before long Isaw that the improvement of the river was the least of the company'sconcern, the employment of a large number of men being the chiefmotive, so long as they drew their wages in supplies. True,we scattered a few lodgments of driftwood; with the aid of aflat-bottomed scow we windlassed up and cut out a number of old snags,felled trees into the river to prevent erosion of its banks, and webuilt a large number of wind-dams to straighten or change the channel.It seemed to be a blanket contract,--a reward to the faithful,--andpermitted of any number of extras which might be charged for at anyfigures the contractors saw fit to make. At the end of the first monthI naturally looked for my wages. Various excuses were made, but I wascordially invited to draw anything needed from the commissary.A second month passed, during which time the only currency current wasin the form of land certificates. The Commonwealth of Texas, on heradmission into the Union, retained the control of her lands, over halfthe entire area of the State being unclaimed at the close of the civilwar. The carpet-bag government, then in the saddle, was prodigalto its favorites in bonuses of land to any and all kinds of publicimprovement. Certificates were issued in the form of scrip calling forsections of the public domain of six hundred and forty acres each, andwere current at from three to five cents an acre. The owner of one ormore could locate on any of the unoccupied lands of the present Stateby merely surveying and recording his selection at the county seat.The scrip was bandied about, no one caring for it, and on thetermination of my second month I was offered four sections for myservices up to date, provided I would remain longer in the company'semploy. I knew the value of land in the older States, in fact, alreadyhad my eye on some splendid valleys on the Clear Fork, and acceptedthe offered certificates. The idea found a firm lodgment in my mind,and I traded one of my six-shooters even for a section of scrip, andwon several more in card games. I had learned to play poker in thearmy,--knew the rudiments of the game at least,--and before the middleof March I was the possessor of certificates calling for thirtysections of land. As the time was drawing near for my return to PaloPinto County, I severed my connection with the dredging company andreturned to the home of my old comrade. I had left my horse with him,and under the pretense of paying for feeding the animal well for thereturn trip, had slipped my crony a small gold piece several timesduring the winter. He ridiculed me over my land scrip, but I wassatisfied, and after spending a day with the couple I started on myreturn.Evidences of spring were to be seen on every hand. My ride northwardwas a race with the season, but I outrode the coming grass, thebudding trees, the first flowers, and the mating birds, and reachedthe Edwards ranch on the last day of March. Any number of cattle hadalready been tendered in making up the herd, over half the saddlehorses necessary were in hand or promised, and they were only awaitingmy return. I had no idea what the requirements of the Kansas marketwere, and no one else seemed to know, but it was finally decided todrive a mixed herd of twenty-five hundred by way of experiment. Thepromoters of the Abilene market had flooded Texas with advertisingmatter during the winter, urging that only choice cattle should bedriven, yet the information was of little value where local customsclassified all live stock. A beef was a beef, whether he weighed eightor twelve hundred pounds, a cow was a cow when over three years old,and so on to the end of the chapter. From a purely selfish motive ofwanting strong cattle for the trip, I suggested that nothing underthree-year-olds should be used in making up the herd, a preference tobe given matured beeves. George Edwards also favored the idea, and asour experience in trailing cattle carried some little weight, orderswere given to gather nothing that had not age, flesh, and strength forthe journey.I was to have fifty dollars a month and furnish my own mount. Horseswere cheap, but I wanted good ones, and after skirmishing about Isecured four to my liking in return for one hundred dollars in gold.I still had some money left from my wages in driving cattle to FortSumner, and I began looking about for oxen in which to investthe remainder. Having little, I must be very careful and make myinvestment in something staple; and remembering the fine pricescurrent in Colorado the spring before for work cattle, I offered tosupply the oxen for the commissary. My proposal was accepted, andaccordingly I began making inquiry for wagon stock. Finally I heard ofa freight outfit in the adjoining county east, the owner of which haddied the winter before, the administrator offering his effectsfor sale. I lost no time in seeing the oxen and hunting up theircustodian, who proved to be a frontier surveyor at the county seat.There were two teams of six yoke each, fine cattle, and I had hopesof being able to buy six or eight oxen. But the surveyor insisted onselling both teams, offering to credit me on any balance if I couldgive him security. I had never mentioned my land scrip to any one,and wishing to see if it had any value, I produced and tendered thecertificates to the surveyor. He looked them over, made a computation,and informed me that they were worth in his county about five cents anacre, or nearly one thousand dollars. He also offered to accept themas security, assuring me that he could use some of them in locatinglands for settlers. But it was not my idea to sell the land scrip,and a trade was easily effected on the twenty-four oxen, yokes, andchains, I paying what money I could spare and leaving the certificatesfor security on the balance. As I look back over an eventful life, Iremember no special time in which I felt quite as rich as the eveningthat I drove into the Edwards ranch with twelve yoke of oxen chainedtogether in one team. The darkies and Mexicans gathered about, eventhe family, to admire the big fellows, and I remember a thrill whichshivered through me as Miss Gertrude passed down the column, kindlypatting each near ox as though she felt a personal interest in mypossessions.We waited for good grass before beginning the gathering. Half adozen round-ups on the home range would be all that was necessary incompleting the numbers allotted to the Edwards ranch. Three othercowmen were going to turn in a thousand head and furnish and mount aman each, there being no occasion to road-brand, as every one knew theranch, brands which would go to make up the herd. An outfit of twelvemen was considered sufficient, as it was an open prairie country andthrough civilized tribes between Texas and Kansas. All the darkiesand Mexicans from the home ranch who could be spared were to be takenalong, making it necessary to hire only three outside men. The drivewas looked upon as an experiment, there being no outlay of money, eventhe meal and bacon which went into the commissary being supplied fromthe Edwards household. The country contributed the horses and cattle,and if the project paid out, well and good; if not there was smallloss, as they were worth nothing at home. The 20th of April was setfor starting. Three days' work on the home range and we had twothousand cattle under herd, consisting of dry or barren cows andsteers three years old or over, fully half the latter being heavybeeves. We culled back and trimmed our allotment down to sixteenhundred, and when the outside contingents were thrown in we had a fewover twenty-eight hundred cattle in the herd. A Mexican was placed incharge of the remuda, a darky, with three yoke of oxen, looked afterthe commissary, and with ten mounted men around the herd we started.Five and six horses were allotted to the man, each one had one ortwo six-shooters, while half a dozen rifles of different makes werecarried in the wagon. The herd moved northward by easy marches, opencountry being followed until we reached Red River, where we had themisfortune to lose George Edwards from sickness. He was the foremanfrom whom all took orders. While crossing into the Chickasaw Nation itwas necessary to swim the cattle. We cut them into small bunches, andin fording and refording a whole afternoon was spent in the water.Towards evening our foreman was rendered useless from a chill,followed by fever during the night. The next morning he was worse, andas it was necessary to move the herd out to open country, Edwards tookan old negro with him and went back to a ranch on the Texas side.Several days afterward the darky overtook us with the word that hismaster would be unable to accompany the cattle, and that I was to takethe herd through to Abilene. The negro remained with us, and atthe first opportunity I picked up another man. Within a week weencountered a country trail, bearing slightly northwest, over whichherds had recently passed. This trace led us into another, whichfollowed up the south side of the Washita River, and two weeks afterreaching the Nation we entered what afterward became famous as theChisholm trail. The Chickasaw was one of the civilized tribes; itsmembers had intermarried with the whites until their identity asIndians was almost lost. They owned fine homes and farms in theWashita valley, were hospitable to strangers, and where the aboriginalblood was properly diluted the women were strikingly beautiful.In this same valley, fifteen years afterward, I saw a herd of onethousand and seven head of corn-fed cattle. The grain was delivered atfeed-lots at ten cents a bushel, and the beeves had then been on fullfeed for nine months. There were no railroads in the country and theonly outlet for the surplus corn was to feed it to cattle and drivethem to some shipping-point in Kansas.Compared with the route to Fort Sumner, the northern one was aparadise. No day passed but there was an abundance of water, while thegrass simply carpeted the country. We merely soldiered along, crossingwhat was then one of the No-man's lands and the Cherokee Outlet, neversighting another herd until after entering Kansas. We amused ourselveslike urchins out for a holiday, the country was full of all kinds ofgame, and our darky cook was kept busy frying venison and roastingturkeys. A calf was born on the trail, the mother of which was quitegentle, and we broke her for a milk cow, while "Bull," the youngster,became a great pet. A cow-skin was slung under the wagon for carryingwood and heavy cooking utensils, and the calf was given a berth in thehammock until he was able to follow. But when Bull became older hehung around the wagon like a dog, preferring the company of the outfitto that of his own mother. He soon learned to eat cold biscuit andcorn-pone, and would hang around at meal-time, ready for the scraps.We always had to notice where the calf lay down to sleep, as he wasa black rascal, and the men were liable to stumble over him whilechanging guards during the night. He never could be prevailed on towalk with his mother, but followed the wagon or rode in his hammock,and was always happy as a lark when the recipient of the outfit'sattentions. We sometimes secured as much as two gallons of milk aday from the cow, but it was pitiful to watch her futile efforts atcoaxing her offspring away from the wagon.We passed to the west of the town of Wichita and reached ourdestination early in June. There I found several letters awaiting me,with instructions to dispose of the herd or to report what was theprospect of effecting a sale. We camped about five miles from Abilene,and before I could post myself on cattle values half a dozen buyershad looked the herd over. Men were in the market anxious for beefcattle with which to fill army and Indian contracts, feeders fromEastern States, shippers and speculators galore, cowmen looking forshe stuff with which to start new ranches, while scarcely a day passedbut inquiry was made by settlers for oxen with which to break prairie.A dozen herds had arrived ahead of us, the market had fairly opened,and, once I got the drift of current prices, I was as busy as a farmergetting ready to cut his buckwheat. Every yoke of oxen was sold withina week, one ranchman took all the cows, an army contractor took onethousand of the largest beeves, feeders from Iowa took the youngersteers, and within six weeks after arriving I did not have a hoofleft. In the mean time I kept an account of each sale, brands andnumbers, in order to render a statement to the owners of the cattle.As fast as the money was received I sent it home by drafts, except theproceeds from the oxen, which was a private matter. I bought and soldtwo whole remudas of horses on speculation, clearing fifteen of thebest ones and three hundred dollars on the transactions.The facilities for handling cattle at Abilene were not completed untillate in the season of '67, yet twenty-five thousand cattle found amarket there that summer and fall. The drive of the present yearwould triple that number, and every one seemed pleased with futureprospects. The town took on an air of frontier prosperity; saloonsand gambling and dance halls multiplied, and every legitimate line ofbusiness flourished like a green bay tree. I made the acquaintance ofevery drover and was generally looked upon as an extra good salesman,the secret being in our cattle, which were choice. For instance,Northern buyers could see three dollars a head difference inthree-year-old steers, but with the average Texan the age classifiedthem all alike. My boyhood knowledge of cattle had taught me thedifference, but in range dealing it was impossible to apply theprinciple. I made many warm friends among both buyers and drovers,bringing them together and effecting sales, and it was really a matterof regret that I had to leave before the season was over. I loved theatmosphere of dicker and traffic, had made one of the largest sales ofthe season with our beeves, and was leaving, firm in the convictionthat I had overlooked no feature of the market of future value.After selling the oxen we broke some of our saddle stock to harness,altered the wagon tongue for horses, and started across the countryfor home, taking our full remuda with us. Where I had gone up thetrail with five horses, I was going back with twenty; some of the oxenI had sold at treble their original cost, while none of them failedto double my money--on credit. Taking it all in all, I had neverseen such good times and made money as easily. On the back track wefollowed the trail, but instead of going down the Washita as we hadcome, we followed the Chisholm trail to the Texas boundary, crossingat what was afterward known as Red River Station. From there home wasan easy matter, and after an absence of four months and five days theoutfit rode into the Edwards ranch with a flourish.