08 - The Log of a Cowboy: On the Brazos And Wichita

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eight of The Log of a Cowboy by Andy Adams.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. On the
Brazos and Wichita. As we neared Buffalo Gap a few
days later, a deputy Sheriff of Taylor County who resided
at the gap, rode out and met us. He brought

(00:22):
an urgent request from Hames to Flood to appear as
a witness against the rustlers who were to be given
a preliminary trial at Abilene the following day. Much as
he regretted to leave the herd for even a single night,
our foreman finally consented to go to further his convenience.

(00:43):
We made a long evening drive, camping for the night
well above Buffalo Gap, which at that time was little
more than a landmark on the trail. The next day
we made an easy drive and passed Abilene early in
the afternoon, where Flood rejoined us, but refuse used any
one permission to go into town, with the exception of

(01:03):
Macan with the wagon, which was a matter of necessity.
It was probably for the best, for this cowtown had
the reputation of setting a pace that left the wayfarer
purseless and breathless to say nothing about headaches. Though our
foreman had not reached those mature years in life, when

(01:23):
the pleasures and frivolities of dissipation no longer allure, Yet
it was but natural that he should wish to keep
his men from the temptation of the cup that cheers
and the wiles of the syreene. But when the wagon
returned that evening, it was evident that our foreman was human,
for with a box of cigars which were promised us

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were several bottles of old crow. After crossing the clear
fork of the Brazos a few days later, we entered
a well watered, open country through which the herd made
splendid progress. At Abilene, we were surprised to learn that
I heard was the twentieth that had passed that point.
The weather so far on our trip had been exceptionally good.

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Only a few showers had fallen, and those during the daytime,
But we were now nearing a country in which rain
was more frequent, and the swollen condition of several small
streams which had their head waters in the Staked plains
was an intimation to us of recent rains to the
westward of our route. Before reaching the main Brocos, we

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passed two other herds of yearling cattle and were warned
of the impassable condition of that river for the past week.
Nothing daunted, we made our usual drive, and when the
herd camped that night, Flood, after scouting ahead to the river,
returned with the word that the Bracos had been unfordable
for over a week, five herds being water bound. As

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we were then nearly twenty miles south of the river.
The next morning, we threw off the trail and turned
the herd to the northeast, hoping to strike the brazos
a few miles above round Timber Ferry. Once the herd
was started and their course for the day outlined to
our appointment by definite landmarks, Flood and quince Forest set

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out to locate the ferry and look up a crossing.
Had it not been for our wagon, we would have
kept the trail, but as there was no ferry on
the Brazos at the crossing of the western trail, it
was a question either of waiting or making this detour. Then,
all the grazing for several miles about the crossing was
already taken by the water bound herds. And to crowd

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up and trespass on range already occupied would have been
a violation of an unwritten law. Again, no herd took
kindly to another, attempting to pass them, when in traveling
condition the herds were on an equality. Our foreman had
conceived the scheme of getting past these water bound herds,
if possible, which would give us a clear fear until

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the next large water course was reached. Flood and Forest
returned during the noon hour, the former having found by
swimming a passable ford near the mouth of Monday Creek,
while the latter reported the ferry in apple pie order.
No sooner than was dinner over than the wagon set
out for the ferry, under Forest as pilot, though we

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were to return to the herd once the ferry was sighted.
The mouth of Monday Creek was not over ten miles
below the regular trail crossing on the Brazos, and much
nearer our noon camp than the regular one, but the
wagon was compelled to make a direct elbow, first turning
to the eastward, then doubling back after the river was crossed.

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We held the cattle off water during the day so
as to have them thirsty when they reached the river,
flood had swum it during the morning and warned us
to be prepared for fifty or sixty yards of swimming
water in crossing. When with the a mile, we held
up the herd and changed horses, every man picking out
one with a test and ability to swim. Those of

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us who were expected to take the water. As the
herd entered the river, divested ourselves of boots and clothing,
which we intrusted to riders in the rear. The approach
to the crossing was gradual, but the opposite bank was abrupt,
with only a narrow passageway leading out from the channel.
As the current was certain to carry the swimming cattle

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down stream, we must to make due allowance take the
water nearly a hundred yards above the outlet on the
other shore. All this was planned out in advance by
our foreman, who now took the position of point man
on the right hand or down the river side, and
with our saddle horses and the immediate lead, we breasted

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the angry brassos. The water was shallow as we entered,
and we reached nearly the middle of the river before
the loose saddle horses struck swimming water. Honeyman was on
their lee, and with cattle crowding in the rear, there
was no alternative but to swim. A loose horse swims easily, however,
and our ramuda readily faced the current, though it was

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swift enough to carry them below the passageway on the
opposite side. By this time the lead cattle were adrift,
and half a dozen of us were on their lower side,
for the footing under the cut bank was narrow, and
should the cattle become congested on landing, some were likely
to drown. For a quarter of an hour, it required
cool heads to keep the trail of cattle moving into

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the water and the passageway clear on the opposite landing.
While they were crossing, the herd represented a large letter
U caused by the force of the current drifting the
cattle downstream or until a foothold was secured on the
farther side. Those of us fortunate enough to have good
swimming horses swam the river a dozen times, and then,

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after the herd was safely over, swam back to get
our clothing. It was a thrilling experience to us younger
lads of the outfit, and rather attractive, but the elder
and more experienced men always dreaded swimming rivers. Their reasons
were made clear enough when a fortnight later we crossed
Red River, where a newly made grave was pointed out

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to us amongst the others of men who had lost
their lives while swimming cattle. Once the bulk of the
cattle were safely over, with no danger of congestion on
the farther bank, they were allowed to loiter along under
the cut bank and drink to their heart's content. Quite
a number strayed above the passageway, and in order to

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rout them out, bob Blades, moss, Strayhorn and I rode
out through the outlet and up the river, where we
found some of them in a passageway down a dry arroyo.
The steers had found a soft damp place in the
bank and were so busy horning the waxy red mud
that they hardly noticed our approach until we were within

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a rod of them. We halted our horses and watched
their antics. The kneeling cattle were cutting the bank viciously
with their horns and matting their heads with a red mud,
but on discovering our presence they curved their tails and
stampeded out as playfully as young lambs on a hillside.

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Can you, sabby where the fun comes into a steer
to get down on his knees in the mud and
dirt and horn the bank and mess up his curls
and enjoy it like that, inquired Strayhorn of Blades and
me because it's healthy and funny. Besides, replied Bob, giving
me a cautious wink. Did you never hear of people

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taking mud baths? You've seen dogs eat grass, haven't you. Well,
it's something on the same order. Now, if I was
a student of the nature of animals like you are,
I'd get off my horse and imagine I had horns
and scar and otherwise mangle that mud bank shamefully. I'll
hold your horse if you want to try it. Some

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of the secrets of the humor of cattle might be
revealed to you. The banter, though given in jest, was
too much for this member of a craft that can
always be depended on to do foolish things. And when
we rejoined the outfit, Strayhorn presented a sight no sane man,
save a member of our tribe, ever would have conceived

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of the herd had scattered over several thousand acres after
leaving the river, grazing freely, and so remained during the
rest of the evening. Forrest changed horses and set out
down the river to find the wagon and pilot it in.
For with the long distance that Macan had the cover,
it was a question if he would reach us before dark.

(09:47):
Flood selected a bed ground and camp about a mile
out from the river, and those of the outfit not unheard,
dragged up an abundance of wood for the night and
built a roaring fire as a beacon to our absent commasson.
Darkness soon settled over camp, and the prospect of a
supperless night was confronting us. The first guard had taken

(10:07):
the herd, and yet there was no sign of the wagon.
Several of us youngsters then mounted our night horses and
rode down the river a mile or over in hope
of meeting mac cann. We came to a steep bank
caused by the shifting of the first bottom of the
river across to the north bank. Rode up this bluff
some little distance, dismounted and fired several shots. Then, with

(10:31):
our ears to the earth, patiently awaited a response. It
did not come, and we rode back again. Hell's fire
and little fishes, said Joe Stallings as we clambered into
our saddles to return. It's not supper or breakfast that's
troubling me. But will we get any dinner tomorrow? That's
a more pregnant question. It must have been after midnight

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when I was awakened by the braying of mules and
the rattle of the wagon to hear the voices of
Forest and mac cann and mingled with a rattle of
chains as they unharnessed, condemning to internal perdition, the broken
country on the north side of the Brazos between round
Timber Ferry and the mouth of Monday Creek. I think

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that when the Almighty made this country on the north
side of the Brazos, said mc cann the next morning
at breakfast, the creator must have grown careless or else
made it out of odds and ends. There's just one
hundred and one of those dry arroyos that you can't
see until you are right on to them. They wouldn't
bother a man on horseback, but with a loaded wagon

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it's different. And I'll promise you all right now that
if Forrest hadn't come out and piloted me in, you
might have tightened up your belts for breakfast and drank
out of cow tracks and smoked cigarettes for nourishment. Well,
it'll do you good. This high livin' was liable to
spoil some of you, But I noticed that you were
all on your feed this morning. The black strap, honeyman,

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get that molasses jug out of the wagon. It sits
right in front of the chuck box. It does me
good to see this outbit's taste once more. Going back
to the good old staples of life, we made our
usual early start, keeping well out from the river on
a course almost due northward. The next river on our
way was to Wichita, still several days drive from the

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mouth of Monday Creek. Flood's intention was to parallel the
old trail until near the river, when, if its stage
of water was not fordable, we would again seek a
lower crossing in the hope of avoiding any water bound
herds on that water course. The second day out from
the brocess, it rained heavily during the day and drizzled

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during the entire night. Not a hoof would bed down,
requiring the guards to be doubled into two watches for
the night. The next morning, as was usual when off
the trail, floods scouted in advance, and near the middle
of the afternoon's drive we came into the old trail.
The weather in the meantime had fared off, which revived

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life and spirit in the outfit, for in trail work
there is nothing that depresses the spirits of men like
falling weather. On coming into the trail, we noticed that
no herds had passed since the rain began. Shortly afterward,
our rear guard was overtaken by a horseman who belonged
to a mixed herd which was encamped some four or

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five miles below the point where we came into the
old trail. He reported the Wichita as having been unfordable
for the past week, but at that time falling, and
said that if the rain of the past few days
had not extended as far west as the Staked plains,
the river would be fordable in a day or two.
Before the stranger left us, flood returned and confirmed this information,

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and reported further that there were two herds lying over
at the Wichita ford, expecting to cross the following day.
With this outlook, we grazed our herd up to within
five miles of the road river, and camped for the night,
and our visitor returned to his outfit with Flood's report
of our expectation of crossing on the morrow. But with

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the fair weather and the prospects of an easy night,
we encamped entirely too close to the trail, as we experienced,
to our sorrow, the grazing was good everywhere, the recent
rains having washed away the dust, and we should have
camped farther away. We were all sleepy that night, and
no sooner was supper over than every mother's son of

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us was in his blankets. We slept so soundly that
the guards were compelled to dismount when calling the relief,
and shake the next guards on duty out of their
slumber and see that they got up, For men would
unconsciously answer in their sleep. The cattle were likewise tired
and slept as willingly as the men. About midnight, however,

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fox quarter Knight dashed in the camp, firing his six
shooter and yelling like a demon. We tumbled out of
our blankets and a d raized condition to hear that
one of the herds camped near the river had stampeded,
the heavy rumbling of the running herd and the shooting
of their outfit now being distinctly audible. We lost no
time in getting our horses, and in less than a

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minute were riding for our cattle, which had already got
up and were timidly listening to the approaching noise. Although
we were a good quarter mile from the trail, before
we could drift our herd to the point of safety,
the stampeding cattle swept down the trail like a cyclone,
and our herd was absorbed into the maelstrom of the

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onrush like leaves in a whirlwind. It was then that
our long legged Mexican steers set us a pace that
required a good horse to equal it, for they easily
took the lead the other herd, having run between three
and four miles before striking us, and being already well winded.
The other herd were Central Texas cattle and numbered over

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thirty five hundred, but in running capacity were never any
match for ours. Before they had ruught a mile past
our camp, our outfit, bunched well together on the left point,
made the first effort to throw them out and off
the trail and try to turn them. But the waves
of an angry ocean could as easily have been brought

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under subjection as our terrorized herd during this first mad dash.
Once we turned a few hundred of the leaders, and
about the time we thought success was in our reach,
another contingent of double the number had taken the lead.
Then we had to abandon what view we had and
again ride to the front. When we reached the lead,

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there within a half a mile ahead burned the camp
fire of the herd of mixed cattle which had moved
up the trail that evening. They had had ample warning
of impending trouble, just as we had, and before the
running cattle reached them, about half a dozen of their
outfit rode to our assistance. When we made another effort

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to turn or hold the herds from mixing, none of
the outfit of the first herd had kept in the
lead with us, their horses fagging. And when the foreman
of this mixed herd met us, not knowing that we
were as innocent of the trouble as himself, he made
some slighting remarks about our outfit and cattle, But it
was no time to be sensitive, and with his outfit

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to help us, we threw our whole weight against the
left point a second time, but only turned a few
hundred and before we could get into the lead again,
their camp fire had been passed and their herd of
over three thousand cattle more were in the run. As
cows and calfs predominated in this mixed herd, our own
Southerners were still leaders in the stampede. It is questionable

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if we would have turned the stampede before daybreak had
not the nature of the country come to our assistance.
Something over two miles below the camp of the last
herd was a deep creek, the banks of which were
steep and the passages few and narrow. Here we succeeded
in turning the leaders, and about half the outfit of
the mixed herd remained guarding the crossing and turning the

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lagging cattle in the run as they came up. With
the leaders. Once turned and no chance for the others
to take a new lead, we had the entire run
of cattle turned back within an hour and safely under control.
The first outfit joined us during the interim, and when
day broke we had over forty men, drifting about ten
thousand cattle back up the trail. The different outfits were

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unfortunately at loggerheads, no one being willing to assume any blame.
Flood hunted up the foreman of the mixed herd and
demanded an apology for his remarks on our abrupt meeting
with him the night before. While it was granted, it
was plain that it was begrudged. The first herd disclaimed
all responsibility, holding that the stampede was due to an

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unavoidable accident, their cattle having grown restless during their enforced layover.
The indifferent attitude of their foreman, whose name was Wilson,
won the friendly regard of our outfit, and before the
wagon of the mixed cattle was reached, there was a compact,
at least tacit between their outfit and ours. Our foreman

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was not blameless, for had we taken the usual precaution
and camped at least a mile off the trail, which
was our custom when in close proximity to other herds,
we might and probably would have missed this mix up,
for our herd was inclined to be very tractable. Flood,
with all his experience well knew that if stampeded cattle

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ever got into a known trail, there was certain to
turn backwards over their course, and we were now paying
the fiddler for the lack of proper precaution. Within an
hour after daybreak, and before the cattle had reached the
camp of the mixed herd, our saddle horses were sighted
coming over a slight divide about two miles up the trail,

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and a minute later maccann's mules hoven bringing up the rear.
They had made a start with the first dawn, rightly reasoning,
as there was no time to leave orders on our departure,
that it was advisable for Mohammed to go to the mountain.
Flood complimented our cook and horse wrangler on their foresight,
for the wagon was our base of subsidence, and there

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was little loss of time before Barney mc cann was
calling us to a hastily prepared breakfast. Flood asked Wilson
to bring his outfit to our wagon for breakfast, and
as fast as they were relieved from the herd. They
also did ample justice to mc cann's cooking. During breakfast,
I remember Wilson explaining the flood what he believed was

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the cause of the stampede. It seems that there were
a few remaining buffalo ranging north of the Wichita, and
at night, when they came into the river to drink,
they had scented the cattle on the south side. The
bellowing of buffalo bulls had been distinctly heard by his
men on night herd for several nights. It's past. The
foreman stated it as his belief that a number of

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bulls had swum the river and had by stealth approached
near the sleeping cattle. Then, on discovering the presence of
the herders, had themselves stampeded, throwing his herd into a panic.
We had got a change of mounts during the breakfast hour,
and when all was ready, Flood and Wilson rode over
to the wagon of the mixed herd, the two outfits following.

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When Flood inquired of their foreman, have you any suggestions
to make in the cutting of these herds? No suggestions,
was the reply, But I intend to cut mine first
and cut them northward on the trail. You intend to
cut them northward? You mean, provided there are no objections,
which I'm positive there will be. Said Flood. It takes

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me some little time to size up a man, and
the more I see of you during our brief acquaintance,
the more I think there's two or three things that
you might learn to your advantage. Will not enumerate them now,
But when these herds are separated, if you insist, it
will cost you nothing but the asking of my opinion
of you. This much you can depend on. When the

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cutting's over, you'll occupy the same position on the trail
that you did before this accident happened. Wilson here has
nothing but jaded horses, and his outfit will hold the
herd while yours and mine cut their cattle. And instead
of you cutting north, you can either cut south where
you belong on the trail, or sulk in your camp
your own will and pleasure to govern. But if you

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are a cowman and willing to do your part, you'll
have your outfit ready to work by the time we
throw the cattle together. Not waiting for any reply, Flood
turned away, and the double outfit circled around the grazing
herd and began throwing the sea of cattle into a
compact body ready to work, rod, wheat and ash borrowstone

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were detailed to hold our cut, and the remainder of us,
including Honeyman, entered to her and began cutting. Shortly after
we had commenced the work, the mixed outfit, finding themselves
in a lonesome minority, joined us and began cutting out
their cattle to the westward. When we had worked about
half an hour, Flood called us out, and with the

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larger portion of Wilson's men, we rode over and drifted
the mixed cut around to the southward, where they belonged.
The Mixed outfit pretending they meant no harm, and were
politely informed that if they were sincere, they could show
it more plainly. For nearly three hours we sent a
steady stream of cattle out of the main herd into

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our cut, while our horses dripped with sweat. With our
advantage in the start, as well as that of having
the smallest herd, we finished our work first, while the
Mixed outfit were finishing their cutting. We changed mounts and
then were ready to work the separated herds. Wilson took
about half his outfit, and after giving our herd a trimming,

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during which he cut about twenty the mixed outfit were
given a similar chance and found about half a dozen
of their brand. These cattle of Wilson's and the other
herd amongst ours were not to be wondered at, for
we cut by a liberal rule. Often we would find
a number of ours on the outside of the main
herd when two men would cut the squad in a bunch,

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and if there were a wrong brand amongst them, it
was no matter. We knew our herd would have to
be retrimmed anyhow, and the other outfits might be disappointed
if they found none of their cattle amongst ours. The
mixed outfit were yet working our herd when Wilson's wagon
and saddle horses arrived, and while they were changing mounts,

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we cut the mixed herd of our brand and picked
up a number of strays which we had been nursing along,
though when we first entered the main herd, strays had
received our attention, being well known to us by ranch
brands as well as flesh marks. In gathering up this
very natural floats of the trail, we cut nothing but
what our herd had absorbed in its travels, showing due

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regard to a similar right of the other herds. Our
work was finished first, and after Wilson had recut the
mixed herd, we gave his herd one more. Looking over
in a farewell parting, Flood asked him if he wanted
the lead, but Wilson waved his right in his open
frank manner, saying, if I add as long legged cattle

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as you have, I wouldn't ask no man for the
privilege of passing. Why you ought to out travel horses.
I'm glad to have met you and your outfit personally,
but regret the incident which has given you so much trouble,
as I don't expect to go further than Dodge or
Ogalalla at the most. You are more than welcome to
the lead. And if you or any of these rascals

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in your outfit are ever in Corriel County, hunt up
Frank Wilson of the block Bar Ranch, and I'll promise
you a drink of milk or something stronger if possible.
We crossed the Wichita late that afternoon, there not being
over fifty feet of swimming water for the cattle our
wagon gave us the only trouble for the load could

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not well be lightened, and it was an imperative necessity
to cross it the same day. Once the cattle were
safely over and a few men left the graze them forward,
the remainder of the outfit collected all the ropes and
went back after the wagon. As mules are always unreliable
in the water flood, concluded to swim them loose. We

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lashed the wagon box securely to the gearing with ropes,
arranged our bedding in the wagon where it would be
on top, and ran the wagon by hand into the
water as far as we dared without flooding the wagon box.
Two men with guy ropes fore and aft were then
left to swim with the wagon in order to keep
it from toppling over, while the remainder of us recrossed

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to the farther side of the swimming channel and fastened
our lariats to two long ropes from the end of
the tongue. We took a rap on the pommels of
our saddles with the loose ends, and when the word
was given, our eight horses furnished abundant mode of power,
and the wagon floated across, landing high and dry amid

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the shoutings of the outfit. End of Chapter eight,