VII. "THE ANGEL"

by Andy Adams

　　"THE ANGEL"The winds of adversity were tempered by the welcome extended me by myold comrade and his wife. There was no concealment as to my financialcondition, but when I explained the causes my former crony laughed atme until the tears stood in his eyes. Nor did I protest, because I sorichly deserved it. Fortunately the circumstances of my friends hadbettered since my previous visit, and I was accordingly relieved fromany feeling of intrusion. In two short years the wheel had gone round,and I was walking heavily on my uppers and continually felt like apauper or poor relation. To make matters more embarrassing, I couldappeal to no one, and, fortified by pride from birth, I ground myteeth over resolutions that will last me till death. Any one of halfa dozen friends, had they known my true condition, would have gladlycome to my aid, but circumstances prevented me from making any appeal.To my brother in Missouri I had previously written of my affluence; asfor friends in Palo Pinto County,--well, for the very best of reasonsmy condition would remain a sealed book in that quarter; and to appealto Major Mabry might arouse his suspicions. I had handled a great dealof money for him, accounting for every cent, but had he known of myinability to take care of my own frugal earnings it might have arousedhis distrust. I was sure of a position with him again as trailforeman, and not for the world would I have had him know that I couldbe such a fool as to squander my savings thoughtlessly.What little correspondence I conducted that winter was by roundaboutmethods. I occasionally wrote my brother that I was wallowingin wealth, always inclosing a letter to Gertrude Edwards withinstructions to remail, conveying the idea to her family that I wasspending the winter with relatives in Missouri. As yet there was notacit understanding between Miss Gertrude and me, but I conveyed thatimpression to my brother, and as I knew he had run away with his wife,I had confidence he would do my bidding. In writing my employer Ireported myself as busy dealing in land scrip, and begged him not toinsist on my appearance until it was absolutely necessary. He repliedthat I might have until the 15th of March in which to report atAustin, as my herd had been contracted for north in Williamson County.Major Mabry expected to drive three herds that spring, the one alreadymentioned and two from Llano County, where he had recently acquiredanother ranch with an extensive stock of cattle. It therefore behoovedme to keep my reputation unsullied, a rather difficult thing to dowhen our escapade at Sherman was known to three other trail foremen.They might look upon it as a good joke, while to me it was a seriousmatter.Had there been anything to do in Washington County, it was myintention to go to work. The dredging company had departed for newerfields, there was no other work in sight, and I was compelled to foldmy hands and bide my time. My crony and I blotted out the days byhunting deer and turkeys, using hounds for the former and shooting theanimals at game crossings. By using a turkey-call we could entice thegobblers within rifle-shot, and in several instances we were able tolocate their roosts. The wild turkey of Texas was a wary bird, andalthough I have seen flocks of hundreds, it takes a crafty hunter tobag one. I have always loved a gun and been fond of hunting, yet thetime hung heavy on my hands, and I counted the days like a prisoneruntil I could go to work. But my sentence finally expired, andpreparations were made for my start to Austin. My friends offeredtheir best wishes,--about all they had,--and my old comrade went sofar as to take me one day on horseback to where he had an acquaintanceliving. There we stayed over night, which was more than half way to mydestination, and the next morning we parted, he to his home with thehorses, while I traveled on foot or trusted to country wagons. Iarrived in Austin on the appointed day, with less than five dollars inmy pocket, and registered at the best hotel in the capital. I neededa saddle, having sold mine in Wyoming the fall before, and at oncereported to my employer. Fortunately my arrival was being awaited tostart a remuda and wagon to Williamson County, and when I assuredMajor Mabry that all I lacked was a saddle, he gave me an order on alocal dealer, and we started that same evening.At last I was saved. With the opening of work my troubles lifted likea night fog before the rising sun. Even the first view of theremuda revived my spirits, as I had been allotted one hundred finecow-horses. They had been brought up during the winter, had run in agood pasture for some time, and with the opening of spring werein fine condition. Many trail men were short-sighted in regard tomounting their outfits, and although we had our differences, I want tosay that Major Mabry and his later associates never expected a manto render an honest day's work unless he was properly supplied withhorses. My allowance for the spring of 1870 was again seven horses tothe man, with two extra for the foreman, which at that early dayin trailing cattle was considered the maximum where Kansas was thedestination. Many drovers allowed only five horses to the man, buttheir men were frequently seen walking with the herd, their mountsmingling with the cattle, unable to carry their riders longer.The receiving of the herd in Williamson County was an easy matter.Four prominent ranchmen were to supply the beeves to the number ofthree thousand. Nearly every hoof was in the straight ranch brand ofthe sellers, only some two hundred being mixed brands and requiringthe usual road-branding. In spite of every effort to hold the herddown to the contracted number, we received one hundred and fiftyextra; but then they were cattle that no justifiable excuse could beoffered in refusing. The last beeves were received on the 22d of themonth, and after cutting separate all cattle of outside brands, theywere sent to the chute to receive the road-mark. Major Mabry waspresent, and a controversy arose between the sellers and himself overour refusal to road-brand, or at least vent the ranch brands, on thegreat bulk of the herd. Too many brands on an animal was an objectionto the shippers and feeders of the North, and we were anxious to caterto their wishes as far as possible. The sellers protested against thecattle leaving their range without some mark to indicate their changeof ownership. The country was all open; in case of a stampede and lossof cattle within a few hundred miles they were certain to drift backto their home range, with nothing to distinguish them from theirbrothers of the same age. Flesh marks are not a good title by whichto identify one's property, where those possessions consist of rangecattle, and the law recognized the holding brand as the hall-mark ofownership. But a compromise was finally agreed upon, whereby we wereto run the beeves through the chute and cut the brush from theirtails. In a four or five year old animal this tally-mark would holdfor a year, and in no wise work any hardship to the animal in wardingoff insect life. In case of any loss on the trail my employer agreedto pay one dollar a head for regathering any stragglers that returnedwithin a year. The proposition was a fair one, the ranchmen yielded,and we ran the whole herd through the chute, cutting the brush withina few inches of the end of the tail-bone. By tightly wrapping thebrush once around the blade of a sharp knife, it was quick workto thus vent a chuteful of cattle, both the road-branding andtally-marking being done in two days.The herd started on the morning of the 25th. I had a good outfit ofmen, only four of whom were with me the year before. The spring couldnot be considered an early one, and therefore we traveled slow forthe first few weeks, meeting with two bad runs, three days apart,but without the loss of a hoof. These panics among the cattle wereunexplainable, as they were always gorged with grass and water atbedding time, the weather was favorable, no unseemly noises wereheard by the men on guard, and both runs occurred within two hours ofdaybreak. There was a half-breed Mexican in the outfit, a very quietman, and when the causes of the stampedes were being discussed aroundthe camp-fire, I noticed that he shrugged his shoulders in derisionof the reasons advanced. The half-breed was my horse wrangler, old inyears and experience, and the idea struck me to sound him as to hisversion of the existing trouble among the cattle. He was inclined tobe distant, but I approached him cautiously, complimented him on hishandling of the remuda, rode with him several hours, and adroitly drewout his opinion of what caused our two stampedes. As he had neverworked with the herd, his first question was, did we receive any blindcattle or had any gone blind since we started? He then informed methat the old Spanish rancheros would never leave a sightless animal ina corral with sound ones during the night for fear of a stampede. Hecautioned me to look the herd over carefully, and if there was a blindanimal found to cut it out or the trouble would he repeated in spiteof all precaution. I rode back and met the herd, accosting every swingman on one side with the inquiry if any blind animal had been seen,without results until the drag end of the cattle was reached. Two menwere at the rear, and when approached with the question, both admittednoticing, for the past week, a beef which acted as if he might becrazy. I had them point out the steer, and before I had watched himten minutes was satisfied that he was stone blind. He was a fine, bigfellow, in splendid flesh, but it was impossible to keep him in thecolumn; he was always straggling out and constantly shying fromimaginary objects. I had the steer roped for three or four nights andtied to a tree, and as the stampeding ceased we cut him out everyevening when bedding down the herd, and allowed him to sleep alone.The poor fellow followed us, never venturing to leave either day ornight, but finally fell into a deep ravine and broke his neck. Hisaffliction had befallen him on the trail, affecting his nervous systemto such an extent that he would jump from imaginary objects and thusstampede his brethren. I remember it occurred to me, then, how littleI knew about cattle, and that my wrangler and I ought to exchangeplaces. Since that day I have always been an attentive listener to thehumblest of my fellowmen when interpreting the secrets of animal life.Another incident occurred on this trip which showed the observationand insight of my half-breed wrangler. We were passing through somecross-timbers one morning in northern Texas, the remuda and wagon farin the lead. We were holding the herd as compactly as possible toprevent any straying of cattle, when our saddle horses were noticedabandoned in thick timber. It was impossible to leave the herd at thetime, but on reaching the nearest opening, about two miles ahead, Iturned and galloped back for fear of losing horses. I counted theremuda and found them all there, but the wrangler was missing.Thoughts of desertion flashed through my mind, the situation wasunexplainable, and after calling, shooting, and circling around forover an hour, I took the remuda in hand and started after the herd,mentally preparing a lecture in case my wrangler returned. Whilenooning that day some six or seven miles distant, the half-breedjauntily rode into camp, leading a fine horse, saddled and bridled,with a man's coat tied to the cantle-strings. He explained to us thathe had noticed the trail of a horse crossing our course at rightangles. The freshness of the sign attracted his attention, andtrailing it a short distance in the dewy morning he had noticed thatsomething attached to the animal was trailing. A closer examinationwas made, and he decided that it was a bridle rein and not a rope thatwas attached to the wandering horse. From the freshness of the trail,he felt positive that he would overtake the animal shortly, but afterfinding him some difficulty was encountered before the horse wouldallow himself to be caught. He apologized for his neglect of duty,considering the incident as nothing unusual, and I had not the hearteven to scold him. There were letters in the pocket of the coat,from which the owner was identified, and on arriving at Abilenethe pleasure was mine of returning the horse and accoutrements andreceiving a twenty-dollar gold piece for my wrangler. A stampede oftrail cattle had occurred some forty miles to the northwest but a fewnights before our finding the horse, during which the herd ran intosome timber, and a low-hanging limb unhorsed the foreman, the animalescaping until captured by my man.On approaching Fort Worth, still traveling slowly on account of thelateness of the spring, I decided to pay a flying visit to Palo PintoCounty. It was fully eighty miles from the Fort across to the Edwardsranch, and appointing one of my old men as segundo, I saddled my besthorse and set out an hour before sunset. I had made the same ride fouryears previously on coming to the country, a cool night favored mymount, and at daybreak I struck the Brazos River within two miles ofthe ranch. An eventful day followed; I reeled off innocent white-facedlies by the yard, in explaining the delightful winter I had spent withmy brother in Missouri. Fortunately the elder Edwards was not drivingany cattle that year, and George was absent buying oxen for a FortGriffin freighter. Good reports of my new ranch awaited me, mycattle were increasing, and the smile of prosperity again shed itsbenediction over me. No one had located any lands near my littleranch, and the coveted addition on the west was still vacant andunoccupied. The silent monitor within my breast was my only accuser,but as I rode away from the Edwards ranch in the shade of evening,even it was silenced, for I held the promise of a splendid girl tobecome my wife. A second sleepless night passed like a pleasant dream,and early the next morning, firmly anchored in resolutions that novagabond friends could ever shake, I overtook my herd.After crossing Red River, the sweep across the Indian country was buta repetition of other years, with its varying monotony. Once we werewaterbound for three days, severe drifts from storms at night wereexperienced, delaying our progress, and we did not reach Abilene untilJune 15. We were aware, however, of an increased drive of cattleto the north; evidences were to be seen on every hand; owners werehanging around the different fords and junctions of trails, inquiringif herds in such and such brands had been seen or spoken. While wewere crossing the Nations, men were daily met hunting for lost horsesor inquiring for stampeded cattle, while the regular trails were beingcut into established thoroughfares from increasing use. Neither of theother Mabry herds had reached their destination on our arrival, thoughMajor Seth put in an appearance within a week and reported the othertwo about one hundred miles to the rear. Cattle were arriving by thethousands, buyers from the north, east, and west were congregating,and the prospect of good prices was flattering. I was fortunate insecuring my old camp-ground north of the town; a dry season had setin nearly a month before, maturing the grass, and our cattle took onflesh rapidly. Buyers looked them over daily, our prices being firm.Wintered cattle were up in the pictures, a rate war was on between allrailroad lines east of the Mississippi River, cutting to the bone tosecure the Western live-stock traffic. Three-year-old steers boughtthe fall before at twenty dollars and wintered on the Kansas prairieswere netting their owners as high as sixty dollars on the Chicagomarket. The man with good cattle for sale could afford to be firm.At this juncture a regrettable incident occurred, which, however,proved a boon to me. Some busybody went to the trouble of tellingMajor Mabry about my return to Abilene the fall before and mysubsequent escapade in Texas, embellishing the details and evenintimating that I had squandered funds not my own. I was thirty yearsold and as touchy as gunpowder, and felt the injustice of the chargelike a knife-blade in my heart. There was nothing to do but ask formy release, place the facts in the hands of my employer, and court athorough investigation. I had always entertained the highest regardfor Major Mabry, and before the season ended I was fully vindicatedand we were once more fast friends.In the mean time I was not idle. By the first of July it was knownthat three hundred thousand cattle would be the minimum of thesummer's drive to Abilene. My extensive acquaintance among buyers mademy services of value to new drovers. A commission of twenty-fivecents a head was offered me for effecting sales. The first week aftersevering my connection with Major Seth my earnings from a singletrade amounted to seven hundred and fifty dollars. Thenceforth I waslaunched on a business of my own. Fortune smiled on me, acquaintancesnicknamed me "The Angel," and instead of my foolishness reflecting onme, it made me a host of friends. Cowmen insisted on my selling theircattle, shippers consulted me, and I was constantly in demand withbuyers, who wished my opinion on young steers before closing trades.I was chosen referee in a dozen disputes in classifying cattle, mydecisions always giving satisfaction. Frequently, on an order, Iturned buyer. Northern men seemed timid in relying on their ownjudgment of Texas cattle. Often, after a trade was made, the buyerpaid me the regular commission for cutting and receiving, not willingto risk his judgment on range cattle. During the second week in AugustI sold five thousand head and bought fifteen hundred. Every man whohad purchased cattle the year before had made money and was back inthe market for more. Prices were easily advanced as the season woreon, whole herds were taken by three or four farmers from the cornregions, and the year closed with a flourish. In the space of fourmonths I was instrumental in selling, buying, cutting, or receivinga few over thirty thousand head, on all of which I received acommission.I established a camp of my own during the latter part of August. Inorder to avoid night-herding his cattle the summer before, some onehad built a corral about ten miles northeast of Abilene. It was atemporary affair, the abrupt, bluff banks of a creek making a perfecthorseshoe, requiring only four hundred feet of fence across the neckto inclose a corral of fully eight acres. The inclosure was not inuse, so I hired three men and took possession of it for the timebeing. I had noticed in previous years that when a drover had sold allhis herd but a remnant, he usually sacrificed his culls in order toreduce the expense of an outfit and return home. I had an idea thatthere was money in buying up these remnants and doing a small jobbingbusiness. Frequently I had as many as seven hundred cull cattle onhand. Besides, I was constantly buying and selling whole remudas ofsaddle horses. So when a drover had sold all but a few hundred cattlehe would come to me, and I would afford him the relief he wanted.Cripples and sore-footed animals were usually thrown in for goodmeasure, or accepted at the price of their hides. Some buyers demandedquality and some cared only for numbers. I remember effecting a saleof one hundred culls to a settler, southeast on the Smoky River, atseven dollars a head. The terms were that I was to cut out the cattle,and as many were cripples and cost me little or nothing, they affordeda nice profit besides cleaning up my herd. When selling my own, Ialways priced a choice of my cattle at a reasonable figure, or offeredto cull out the same number at half the price. By this method my herdwas kept trimmed from both ends and the happy medium preserved.I love to think of those good old days. Without either foresight oreffort I made all kinds of money during the summer of 1870. Our bestpatrons that fall were small ranchmen from Kansas and Nebraska, everyone of whom had coined money on their purchases of the summer before.One hundred per cent for wintering a steer and carrying him less thana year had brought every cattleman and his cousin back to Abilene toduplicate their former ventures. The little ranchman who bought fivehundred steers in the fall of 1869 was in the market the presentsummer for a thousand head. Demand always seemed to meet supply alittle over half-way. The market closed firm, with every hoof takenand at prices that were entirely satisfactory to drovers. It wouldseem an impossibility were I to admit my profits for that year, yet atthe close of the season I started overland to Texas with fifty choicesaddle horses and a snug bank account. Surely those were the goldendays of the old West.My last act before leaving Abilene that fall was to meet my enemy andforce a personal settlement. Major Mabry washed his hands by firmlyrefusing to name my accuser, but from other sources I traced mydefamer to a liveryman of the town. The fall before, on four horsesand saddles, I paid a lien, in the form of a feed bill, of one hundredand twenty dollars for my stranded friends. The following day the sameman presented me another bill for nearly an equal amount, claimingit had been assigned to him in a settlement with other parties. Iinvestigated the matter, found it to be a disputed gambling account,and refused payment. An attempt was made, only for a moment, to holdthe horses, resulting in my incurring the stableman's displeasure. Theoutcome was that on our return the next spring our patronage wentto another _bran_, and the story, born in malice and falsehood, wasstarted between employer and employee. I had made arrangements toreturn to Texas with the last one of Major Mabry's outfits, and thewagon and remuda had already started, when I located my traducer in awell-known saloon. I invited him to a seat at a table, determined tobring matters to an issue. He reluctantly complied, when I branded himwith every vile epithet that my tongue could command, concluding byarraigning him as a coward. I was hungering for him to show someresistance, expecting to kill him, and when he refused to notice myinsults, I called the barkeeper and asked for two glasses of whiskeyand a pair of six-shooters. Not a word passed between us until thebartender brought the drinks and guns on a tray. "Now take yourchoice," said I. He replied, "I believe a little whiskey will do megood."