Early, Texas - Trail Drivers of Texas : Interesting Sketches of Early Cowboys and The (part 17 of 20)

Mr. Fitzhenry holds this remarkable record of serving for 50 years as law enforcement officer without having shot a man, or having been shot. Desperadoes and Wild West bandits, famous in early American history, were often seen about San Antonio. The Yeager boys, Pitts, one of Jesse James' former lieutenants, the Suttons and Taylors, of the famous Sutton-Taylor feud, Sam Bass and others used to disguise themselves, dash into town, frequent the various drinking and dancing places and dash out before the law could touch them.

^^ Those fellows used to have lots of friends," he said. *^It was mighty easy for a fellow to get out of a killing scrape here if he had some friends. Pitts and the Yeager boys lived for a time between San Antonio and Boerne, up in the hills.'' Mr. Fitzhenry was a pal of Marshal Gosling, who was shot while escorting Pitts and one of the Yeager boys to the penitentiary.

** Marshal Gosling was warned," he said, *^that the boys were desperadoes. He permitted, however, the sister of one of the boys and another woman to come aboard the train with a basket of provisions. Yeager reached into the basket, apparently for a piece of fruit, drew out a six-shooter and shot Gosling dead. A guard on the train and the woman were killed during the fight. ' '

Billy Taylor was in jail at Indianola, awaiting trial, when a great storm came up and the lives of hundreds along the coast were in peril. Taylor was released from jail, and, with courage characteristic of these men, he dashed to the rescue of the drowning and saved dozens of lives. When he was tried before a jury some time later for his crime, he was found ^'not guilty."

Mr. Fitzhenry was born in Ireland in 1844. He removed with his parents to Quebec, Canada, when he was seven years old, and later the family came down into the states, locating in Massachusetts.

He attended school in Stetson Hall, Randolph, Mass. and was 20 years of age when he enlisted in 1864 on the side of the North. He was sent to New Orleans as a train master and later to San Antonio. He was in charge of mule trains which bore provisions to the frontier posts. San Antonio was then but a supply and distributing post. The government reservation was a 10-acre plot fenced in between the Austin road and the Post proper, and was used as a mule corral. The famous Alamo was used as

^'When General Merritt and General Custer came to San Antonio in 1865, they were accompanied by 10,000 cavalrymen, the largest number of soldiers ever stationed here prior to this date,'' Mr. Fitzhenry said. They were en route to Mexico to drive out the French, who, in defiance of the Monroe Doctrine, had established an empire and enthroned Maximilian. The scheme, however, history relates, was abandoned and Maximilian was shot some time after that.

Mr. Fitzhenry loved the early days, but he says that the people of today have a better sense of fair dealing as well as a greater respect for the law. ^^I do not believe the world is growing worse,'' was his optimistic assertion. ^^ Just because we have all the crimes that are committed in the country, and all the wrongdoing dished up to us in the newspapers, makes us think the world is pretty bad. But in years gone by, a life wasn't worth a farthing in this part of the country, and news traveled so slowly that it was forgotten before it got in or out of the State."

Mr. Fitzhenry has seen the wild pigeons and the buffalo disappear from wild life in Texas. And he has seen the building of railroads and the steady advance of civilization that has made San Antonio today a law-abiding town. He has seen outlawry disappear and culture take its place. He has witnessed the passing of the *' bandit," and watched wild days fade into the background of Texas history.

*^San Antonio has been my home for over 50 years," said Mr. Fitzhenry, whose appearance defies time and who might pass as a middle-aged man. ''And I'll stay on here till the end."

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 829 Tailed 'Em Across Red River

One beautiful spring morning in 1876 our bunch pulled out for Dodge City, Kansas, with a herd of cattle. Bob Jennings and George Lyons were the bosses. After we had been on the trail about three weeks we encountered a severe cold spell during which my saddle horse froze to death. The blizzard was accompanied by rain which froze as it hit our slickers, and we suffered from the extreme cold. We stayed with the cattle as long as we could and finally the boss said, ^^Let 'em go to hell, boys, and we'll go to the campfire." We rustled all of the wood out of the creek bottom and kept busy roasting first one side and then the other. When we reached Fort Worth the weather had moderated considerably. That is where I saw the first railroad. We renewed our supply of grub here and went on our way. When we got to Eed Eiver it looked to me to be more than a mile wide, and I did not fancy going across, but I was six hundred miles from home, and it was either turn back or grab an old cow by the tail and let her pull me across, so I tailed her and reached the other side safely. When we were in Indian Territory we experienced many thunder storms and heavy rains. Saw many Indians, too. While we were passing through Valley Mills George Lyons and I traded our pistols off for horses, and as we were in the Indian Territory where Indians were numerous I often wished for my pistol, and was ready to swap jobs with the cook.

John B. Conner

on Five Mile Creek, in Gonzales county in 1869. In Five Mile vicinity the settlers were Carson, Sedberry, Atkinson, Killough, Gill Womack, O'Neal, Gibson, Boathe, Price, Floyd, Ward, Jeffries, Casey and others. Some of those pioneers built their houses out of oak logs, while others hauled pine lumber from Indianola and Port Lavaca with ox teams. My father, Jim Conner, built a pine lumber house in 1872, and it is still standing in good shape. Father died in 1873, and we lost the place, later moving into a log house over on the West Prong of Five Mile Creek to the old Gibson place, near which was a cattle trail. We lived on this place several years and saw thousands of cattle and horses pass up the trail. There was another trail which ran from Victoria to Cuero by Concrete on to Town Prairie two miles above Gonzales, where the two trails came together.

I remember the summer of 1877 was so dry the creeks dried up and hundreds of cattle perished for water, and that winter hundreds of others died in piles, many of them being skinned for their hides. The first pasture fence in that section was built by John Jeffries on the head of East Five Mile Creek in 1878. It was constructed of two elm planks at the top and black wire at the bottom. In 1878 or 1879 Bob Floyd built a large pasture south of West Five Mile Creek, and made it of large split rails and finished it with two strings of elm plank and one strand of black wire. Eail and brush fences around fields were the rule in those days.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 831

left Gonzales, seven outfits going at the same time. We went to Kyle with 160 wild Spanish ponies and there another bunch of 400 was thrown in with ours and shipped for Wichita Falls, both horses and men. At Ft. Worth we laid overnight and day, then took the Fort Worth & Denver Kailroad, struck a washed out bridge between Bellevue and Bowie, and had to take a freight train for Henrietta, leaving there at sundown, and backing up for Wichita Falls. We were all in and all over those box cars. I was outside on top when the engine turned over, killed the engineer and two negro trail hands, and I was thrown into a slough of water several feet deep. About 3 o 'clock that night we reached Wichita Falls and slept in the depot. Next day we got our chuck wagon fixed up, and went to housekeeping. For two or three days we made preparations to take the trail, picking up our horses. Each man was allowed one night horse and five day horses, changing three times a day. We went to Doan's store on Eed River, and crossed and went up the Salt Fork to the Goodnight ranch where we received 3,000 head of two and three-year old heifers, steers and bulls of the - X brand. The horses on this ranch were branded Diamond F on the left hip. My boss was J. G. Jones. The cattle were bought by Lytle & Stevens and were bound for Colorado. As I was a young chap I was made horse-wrangler, but I had to do everything from punching drags to night-herding on the bed ground. We had some terrible storms, and stampedes, and several head of cattle were killed by lightning while we were on the west side of Red River in Greer county, Texas. We went from there to Wheeler county and crossed the North Fork of Red River, then crossed Sweetwater creek east of Mobeetie, went on to Hemphill and crossed the Wichita east of Cataline, then into Roberts county, crossed the Canadian, and on to the Staked Plains, struck near the head of Wolf Creek and on to Palo Duro Canyon. We saw where hundreds of buffalo had died on the plains, many of them killed by hunters just for their hides. In Ochiltree county we saw three buffalo and some of the boys killed one, but the outfit with next herd got the meat. At Palo Duro we struck the old trail and the stage line from Dodge City, to Tascosa, Texas. The cattle quarantine turned us from going to Colorado, and we went into Kansas, where as soon as we struck the railroad I decided to pull for home as I was not well. I went to Dodge City, the honkatonk town, cleaned up and bought a suit of clothes, and left for San Antonio, reaching home July 1, 1885.

The Rutledge Brothers

The four Eutledge brothers, Jim, John, Ed and Emmett, were well known among the early cattlemen of the state. They moved to Texas from Alabama, with their parents in the early fifties, and settled on the Hondo in Karnes county. All of these brothers, except Emmett, who was too young at the time, enlisted in the Confederate army and served throughout the war. John and Ed Eutledge each received wounds in battle. After the war the Eutledges began driving cattle up the trail to Kansas, and continued their drives until 1879. Jim Eutledge made trips with cattle to New Orleans and to Powder Horn. He was considered an expert in the art of catching mustangs, sometimes catching a whole herd at one time. Emmett Eutledge was for many years an inspector for the Cattle Eaisers' Association, with headquarters at San Antonio, and was considered one of the best on the force.

Jesse Presnall

The subject of this sketch was born in Bozier Parish, Louisiana, October 31, 1849, and died at his home in San Antonio April 5th, 1916. He came to Texas with his parents in the early fifties, settling in Bexar county. While quite a young man he engaged in the cattle business which he followed until his death. He was one of the early trail drivers to the northern markets, continuing right up to the closing of the trail. No man in the cattle business in Texas was better or more favorably known than Jesse Presnall. He drove many herds individually and was interested at different times with Capt. John T. Lytle, John Blocker, Hart Mussey and others. Mr. Presnall was a strong believer in the strict enforcement .of the laws of our country, and many times he rendered valuable assistance in bringing to justice cattle rustlers and outlaws. His noble traits of character will never be forgotten by his many surviving friends. At the time of his death he was operating a farm and ranch in Atascosa county, which his widow still maintains.

Jesse Peesnall George W. West

Among the prominent figures in the cattle industry of Southwest Texas is to be found George W. West, cattleman, capitalist, town builder and philanthropist. George W. West was born in Tennessee, and came to Texas with his parents some time in the fifties, settling in Lavaca county. It was here the subject of our sketch entered the stock business. He was one of the first to drive cattle from Texas to Kansas, and he continued driving until the trail closed. He sold and delivered cattle to Indian agencies, and to ranches in Montana, South Dakota, Wyoming, Colorado, and Kansas, making drives to Abilene, Wichita, Ellsworth, and Dodge City. It was in 1886 that he, with John Blocker and others had their herds held up at Camp Supply by ranchmen who tried to keep them from crossing their ranches. The number of cattle held up amounted to more than 100,000 head, and Mr. West and John Blocker spent more than $100 sending telegrams to the authorities at Washington to get the government to take action in the matter. Finally orders came from Washington for them to cut fences and pass through and with a rush the cow outfits started their herds on the move. Within just a few moments after orders came from Washington a thunder storm came up, lightning struck the telegraph instruments, demolished the office and put the line out of commission. Captain Carr, of the U. S. Army, who was in San Antonio a few months ago, was telegraph operator who took the message. Messrs. West and Blocker narrowly escaped being killed by the lightning.

Mr. West has maintained large ranches in different parts of South Texas since the early seventies. No man in that region has matured, fattened and shipped to market more fat steers than George W. West. He owns at present 60,000 acres of choice land in Live Oak county, the best equipped cattle ranch in South Texas, fenced and crossed-fenced, with dipping vats, stock pens, and everything it takes to make a model ranch. This ranch surrounds the town of George West, the thriving county seat of Live Oak county. Mr. West has retired from business, and now lives quietly in his modern home in San Antonio, but he keeps in close touch with state and national affairs, and watches closely the livestock industry. If his views and advice could be carried out, conditions in Texas would be much better." He claims less laws and strict enforcement of them is the best remedy to save our country, tlis neighbors and business associates in the early days were his brothers, Sol and Ike West, Willis McCutcheon, Sam and Bill Moore, Lew Allen and John Bennett.

Played The Fiddle On Herd At Night

I was born January 5th, 1854, in Chickasaw, Missis-' sippi, and came to Texas with my parents before my eyes were open, landing at Seguin, Guadalupe county, where we lived three years, then moved to Goliad county and settled on the Maha Rayo Creek, where we were living when the Civil War broke out. Among those living on the Maha Rayo at that time were Peter Smith's family. Pate Allen, the Batemans, McKinneys, Nat Burkett, Mayas Catherin, T. B. Saunders, J. B. Hawk, Jim Ronean, Jim and Gip Dowty. We moved to the town of Goliad while the Civil War was going on, living there until its close, at which time my father, S. P. Porter, was killed in the town of Gonzales. My mother was left with eight small children, one i)air of twins in the bunch. I was about the middle of the buncli, being at that time about nine years old. As father was taken from us suddenly, leaving mother without means, it was *^root, hog, or die'' with us little fellows, so your humble servant went to work for E. T. Davis for my grub and clothes, and, bless your life, the clothes did not consist of any broadcloth suits either. I worked for Davis one year and was then employed by A. C. Jones, Sr., of Bee county, who had a small horse ranch on the extreme head of Blanco Creek, then known as the Coleman ranch and now owned, I think, by the McKinneys of Bee county. .1 spent some lonesome days on this ranch, but I was getting well paid, as I was drawing the enormous salary of five dollars per month and my feed. I worked two years at this price and while the wages look small, I had more ready cash when the job ended than I had many times since, working for much larger wages. When I left the Jones ranch I went back to my dear mother, who still lived at Goliad. At that time she was in poor health and confined to her bed a great deal of the time, so I did the cooking and sometimes the washing for the family, while my tw^o older brothers, Dave and Billie Porter, made a crop on land rented from E. T. Davis, my first employer. In the fall my mother traded her place at Goliad for what is known as the old Eeed place on Goat Creek in Goliad county, where I grew to manhood, and where the happiest days of my life were spent. I was barely in my teens when the big Kansas cattle drives started, and, like other boys of that time, I wanted some of the experience of outdoor life, so in the spring of 1871, with a herd belonging to One-armed Jim Eead, I bade adieu to the southern climate for a season and headed northward, finally winding up at Abilene, Kansas. After remaining there for a short time we got rid of our incumbrance, the long-horned steers, and turned our faces southward and in due time arrived safely at our starting point in Goliad county. Nothing apart from the usual happenings of the trail life took place on this trip. Abilene was a wild and woolly town in those days, at least it seemed to be to a country boy out on his first jaunt. There was plenty of game on the trail, Indians, buffalo, deer and antelope. The principal hotel in Abilene was the Drovers' Cottage, Mrs. Lou Gore, proprietress, which was general headquarters for all cattlemen. After a five months' trip I arrived at home pretty well hooked up, my earthly possessions being a suit of clothes, a pair of star-topped boots and two dollars and fifty cents in cash for my trip. Well done, good and faithful servant !

I went up the trail three years for Jim Eead and one year for W. G. Butler of Karnes county. When I was growing up I learned to play the fiddle, but there were only two tunes that I could play to perfection, one of which was *^ Seesaw,'' and the other was ^^Sawsee." Often I have taken my old fiddle on herd at night when on the trail, and while some of my companions would lead my horse around the herd I agitated the catguts, reeling off such old time selections as ** Black Jack Grove," ^^ Dinah Had ^ Wooden Leg," *^ Shake That Wooden Leg, Dolly Oh," **Give the Fiddler a Dram," ^^Arkansaw Traveler," and *^The Unfortunate Pup." And say, brothers, those old long-horned Texas steers actually enjoyed that old time music. I still have the old music box which I used to play in those care-free, happy days.

My last drive up the trail was in 1875, after which I quit the trail, but never quit the cow-punching job until many years later. Sweet is the memory of the old bygone days. Many of the old trail boys have passed over the Divide, and it will not be long until we, too, will pass out, to give our places to those coming on. My associates on the trail, as I recall them now, were Emory Hall,

I was married December 10, 1878, to Miss Nelia Williams of Refugio county, daughter of Judge J. Williams, who for many years was sheriff of Refugio county. Three children were born to us, two boys and one girl, all of whom are still living. In 1882 I moved my family to Atascosa county, settling one mile south of Pleasanton, n^ar the Tilden road, where we remained fourteen months, then moved to McMullen county, where we resided until 1912, then we moved to Brooks county, our present home. While a resident of McMullen county I served as sheriff there for eight years, and I am now serving my second term as sheriff of Brooks county.

A. F. Carvajal, 231 Simpson Street, San Antonio, Texas In the early part of March, 1882, Mr. Collin Campbell employed my brother to get hands and carry a herd of cattle to Kansas and Nebraska, and he employed the following: A. F. Carvajal, Miguel Cantu, Brijido, Don Hilario, Francisco Longoria, Melchor Ximenz, Juan Bueno, Anastacio Sanches, and a man by the name of Luna, and old Betancur, the cook. The cattle were gathered by Jake Dees and Jim Sutton, and we started from the Ecleto Creek, Campbell's ranch. We a. f. caevajal them in the direction of Gonzales. We crossed the Guadalupe at or near Gonzales and traveled through a very thick brushy region to Lockhart, from where we went on to the Colorado, crossing it below Austin. At this place we fired the cook for getting drunk. We went from there to Georgetown, through Eockdale, Salado and Belton, making about fifteen miles a day. Our route carried us on to Lampasas, where there was a roaring spring and four or five houses. We proceeded due north and crossed the Brazos and passed through Valley Mills, Thence on the west side of Nolan Eiver, west* of the Chisholm Trail. Here we learned that the Comanche Indians had killed two persons just above where we were, then we traveled eastward and went by a small place called Cleburne, and on to Fort Worth, where we purchased supplies enough to enable us to cross the Indian Territory. From Fort Worth we drove to Montague, thence to Red River Station, where we crossed Red River and went due north about thirty miles east of Fort Sill. When we had crossed Red River all of us buckled on our six-shooters, for we expected to have to use them. We were on the Chisholm Trail in the Indian Nation, and on the Wichita River some Indians came to us and wanted us to give them some cattle for allowing us to pass through their country. We gave them a few lame cows, and they never bothered us any more. When we reached the Canadian River it was on a rise and swimming, but we made our cattle go across and about twenty of them were drowned. We followed the old trail and crossed the Cimarron River at a place where there was a grove of wild plums. Some men lived in a little house at this point who made it their business to trade with the Indians for furs and buffalo robes. We crossed the Arkansas River about forty or fifty miles west of Wichita and went on towards Ellsworth, Kansas. When we got to Ellsworth the owner of the herd, Collin Campbell, was there waiting for us.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 841

We had been on the road four months. While traveling through the wilderness some of the boys roped and killed a few young buffaloes, and we found it very exciting sport.

At Ellsworth, Kansas, Mr. Campbell gave my brother a compass and a map of Nebraska and told him to take the herd to the North Platte, so we started on our way. Just before we left Ellsworth a man by the name of Crump, who was searching all of the herds for road cattle belonging to Captain King, found a few steers in our herd, and through the advice of our friend, Kilgore, who was there with a herd, we turned back. After leaving Ellsworth we had difficulty in getting enough water for the cattle until we reached the Solomon Eiver. Here we were met by a crowd of about twenty armed men who told us we had crossed the deadline, and could not water the cattle there, and that we would have to go up the river some twenty miles where we could cross on the public lands. They permitted us to water our horses, and gave us orders to move on. Our cattle had not had any water for three days and some were almost perishing. The twenty men left us before dark, and a little while after they were gone there appeared a lonely ^ ^ short horn," riding a big horse, barefooted and with a small cap on his head. We hailed him and asked if he owned land near there. He said he owned a section about half a mile away, where he lived, but said his neighbors did not want anybody to take cattle across the river for fear of the Texas fever. We told him if he would allow us to water our cattle on his property we would give him two cows and calves or $100 in money, and remove our cattle as soon as they had been watered. When they had slaked their thirst we gave him two cows and calves and got him to accompany us twenty miles up the river, where we crossed to the other side. This was near a place called Kepublican City. We traveled due north for several days and saw many buffaloes. One day about noon they began going by and at six o'clock that evening they were still passing. Our horses stampeded at the sight of them and my brother had to follow them about eight miles before they conld be overtaken and brought back. We proceeded on in the direction of the Platte Eiver, and when we reached that stream we turned westward, following the Northern Pacific Eailroad which ran in the direction of Salt Lake City. From Fort McPherson we went to North Platte and at a ranch near there we delivered the cattle to the purchasers, and started back home. We were on the trail six and a half months from the time we left Karnes county. Of the crowd of boys who went with us on this trip only three are now living, myself, my brother, V. P. Carvajal and Francisco Longoria.

James Dobie

James Dobie was born in Harris county, Texas, in 1856, and entered the stock business in Live Oak county in the late seventies. He drove cattle and horses to Kansas for several years, endured all the hardships incident to trail life, had lots of trouble with Indians, which he says his comrades can tell about. He shipped many thousands of cattle to the Indian Territory to fatten on the ranges there for many years, and operated large ranches in Bee, Live Oak, Duval, McMullen, La Salle and Webb counties, and at the present time has a large ranch and land holdings. In 1911 he shipped 12,000 fat

Jim Dobie

I am a native of Texas, arriving in the Lone Star State on March 23, 1856. I made three trips *'up the trail,'' the first being in 1876, the second in 1881, and the third trip was in 1886. I have ranched more or less all of my life in various parts of the state, and have kept in touch with cattle conditions all of the time, witnessing the passing of the old longhorn steer and welcoming the introduction of the shorthorn breed. I have experienced the thrills of trail driving, standing guard, swimming rivers, being pelted with hail, seen streaked lightning played promiscuously around, been in the middle of

Charles De Montel, Jr

Charles de Montel, Jr., was born at Castroville, Texas, February 3, 1848, and grew to manhood there. He was the eldest son of Charles de Montel, one of the founders of Bandera. In 1888 he was married to Miss Annie Steinle, and now lives on his ranch a few miles above old Camp Verde in Kerr county. He is in his 74th year and still quite active, being able to frequently ride horse-back to Bandera, a distance of about sixteen miles.

Mr. Montel remembers many thrilling incidents of frontier days in Medina county, where he was raised. He knew John T. Lytle, John Eedus, and many other of the prominent trail drivers of those days, and was well acquainted with Mrs. Sallie Redus, who has a sketch in this volume. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. McLamore, lived on his father's ranch near Castroville for some time.

Charles de Montel, Jr. early in life became an expert rider, and could handle the lariat and rifle with precision, and despite his advanced age, he still maintains his skill. In 1869 he made a trip to California with a herd of cattle belonging to Jack Tilley and Gideon Thompson, wintering them on the Colorado Eiver in that state and selling them to buyers in Los Angeles.

Was In Packsaddle Mountain Fight

When he was a small boy, his parents moved to Travis county, settling near Lake Brushy, some 12 miles northwest of Austin. In 1857 he moved with his parents to Llano county. It was this year that the town of Llano was laid off. John Oatman erected the first store ever built in the town. His father donated 50 acres of land on which to build the town. In an election held to locate the county seat, Llano was selected. "When but a youth, young Moss took his place as one of the defenders against the incursion of the Indians.

In February, 1862, a volunteer company of 700 men, including young Moss, was formed in the town of Llano to fight for the defense of the Confederacy. From Llano the company went to Camp Terry, southeast of Austin. Mr. Moss was in Company E, 17th Infantry, McCulloch's brigade. Walker's division. He was in the battle of Milliken's Bend. The day before the capture of his company he was transferred from the Infantry to the Third Battalion, Texas Cavalry, on account of a crippled ankle. He remained with the cavalry through the succeeding period of the war.

When young Moss returned from the war he was broken in health and without as much as a full suit of v/earing apparel. With that indefatigable energy and purpose, characteristic of the man, he at once began to lay a foundation for the future. In the absence of the young men during the war the Indians had driven away many horses and driven their owners back further east. The elder Moss had taken the precaution to have his sons move the horses down on Barton's Creek, near Austin, before young Moss joined the army. A year after his return, James and his brother, Charles, took charge of their father's cattle on shares. Week after week, after working all day, they, with some hands working for them, would take the horses to some favorable grazing place and take shifts in guarding them through the night. The moonlight nights increased the vigilance of these young cattlemen, for they well knew these were the nights the Indians were most likely to swoop down after the ponies.

Besides the cattle, the two young men raised many hogs. As there was no local market for these, they killed and baconed about two hundred head one winter and the next summer loaded the meat into ox wagons and took it to Austin, Bastrop, LaGrange and as far as Old Washington to secure markets for same. The weather became so hot that the boys drove at night and rested through the day.

Watching every chance to turn time into money, after the spring work with the cattle, young Moss took the contract to harvest the wheat crops of Cadwell and Saeter. Tie hired a negro man to help him. The wheat was cradled and handbound. The shocking was done at niglit. In the later '60 's ho, witli others drove cattle through to Louisiana and sold them to a United States contractor, delivering on board a steamboat on the Mississippi River at Hogs' Point, below the mouth of Red River.

In April, 1869, Mr. Moss threw in with Damon Slater and started to California with about fourteen hundred head of cattle. The year before Mr. Slater found the market good out there, hence this trip. James had his brother Charles with him on this trip. The entire outfit was composed of nine cow hands, two horse herders, two wagoners and the cook. Here is, in brief, the route taken: From Llano to Concho, thence up the Pecos River, and Rio Hondo, up San Benito, a branch of the Hondo, thence across the Divide to Tula Rosa, N. M. ; thence to Rio Memphis. Here they saw the first white woman they had seen since leaving Llano. She seemed perfectly happy with her husband in those wilds. From there they drove to Apache Pass, Arizona, through Tucson, and on to Gila River, crossing the Colorado below the mouth of the Gila, at Fort Yuma. They drove into old Mexico and traveled ten or fifteen miles in this country, thence across what is now the Imperial Valley in California. From here they turned southwest toward the mountains. Entering these, they drove up to the old Warner Ranch. Here they struck the Immigrants' Trail, finally arriving at Williamson Port, on the Pacific, where they wintered. The following spring the cattle were delivered some 25 or 30 miles from Los Angeles.

On August 4, 1873, a band of redskins were depredating in Llano county. A company of eight men, consisting of S. B. Harrington, Arch Martin, Robt. Brown, Pink Ayers, Eli P. Lloyd, W. B., S. B., and J. R. Moss, struck their trail in the early morning and followed it for 35 or 40 miles, locating the Indians on Packsaddle Mountain about noon.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 847

were sitting around eating some of the beef whicli had just been roasted. One or two were lying on the ground, either asleep or resting. There were 17 bucks, two squaws and a boy.

Before giving an account of the battle it will be noted that the Indian who was supposed to be on guard was guilty of negligence that proved fatal to some of his comrades, if not himself. Had he been watching he could have seen the approaching Texans a mile away, which possibly would have changed the result of the conflict. When the settlers rode up the mountain they observed 20 or more horses stolen by the Indians but a short distance away. Beyond the horses the Indians were seen eating and resting. The white men by a quick dash ran in between the enemy and the horses. By this time the redmen were up and armed. Their weapons were Winchesters, breech loaders, muskets, pistols, and bows and arrows, though the latter was not used.

The Texans all used Winchesters save W. B. Moss, who used a Colt-Ranger pistol. W. B. Moss began firing at the Indians before dismounting. Firing two shots, he dismounted and joined his comrades, all of whom save Pink Ayers had dismounted. Ayers was shot in the hip. The mule he rode was also shot, and the rider did not reenter the fight. So it was 17 to 7 against the whites. The Indians retreated to a ledge of rocks behind some black jack timber, where they quickly formed a line of battle and rushed at the Texans with a vengeful determination to make quick work of them, but they found the settlers ready for them. W. B. Moss emptied his pistol at them and was bending over to knock the shells from it when a bullet crashed into his body near the right shoulder, and passing through his lungs, lodged in his left side dangerously near the heart. The battle was now on in earnest. James Moss saw his brother fall and thought at first that he had down to reload,

James gently turned the wounded brother over, then renewed the battle with the foe, some of whom had now rushed within six feet of the white men. Arch Martin threw his gun into position to fire. At the same instant a bullet from an Indian's gun struck the guard of his Winchester, glancing downward and went into his groin. The Indians were putting up a hard fight. Mr. Moss says that some of them were game and seemed to fear nothing. Though they were game, they soon found they were having no walkover in this fight.

One fellow rushed towards James Moss, shooting over his shield at him. The Indian covered his chest with precision while he was firing. The Texan aimed just below the shield and fired and a bullet crashed into the redman's bowels. Moss then turned on another Indian who was getting too close for it to be comfortable. The savages now retreated once more to the ledge, reformed line and came at their foemen again, but showed more precaution this time, for they kept at a greater distance. When Mr. Moss had a chance to take his eye for a moment off the foe he glanced toward where the Indian he had shot fell, but he was gone. One buck who seemed determined to make his way to the horses advanced alone some distance to the right of the others. With gun raised he came within a few feet of the Texans, some of whom fired at him, then he suddenly retreated to the edge of the timber and fell forward, dead. When found he still grasped his gun. The Indians were now retreating. Some four or five of them started up a chant as they retreated, leaving three of their number dead on the ground.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 849

and one in the chest. This was likely the Indian Mr. Moss shot below the shield. Eli Lloyd was shot in each arm and also had a bullet to cut the skin between his fingers.

W. B. Moss' wound proved to be a serious one, as he lay for weeks before he was able to get around. The bullet was never extracted from his body. The Texans recovered the stolen horses by the Indians.

In September, 1877, Mr. Moss was married to Miss Delia Johnson, daughter of Capt. A. J. and Martha Johnson. The following sons and daughters were reared in this home: Zella, bookkeeper and cashier of the Moss Mercantile Company of Llano; Matthew, president of the Llano National Bank; Edgar, a well known and prosperous stockman of Llano county; J. Ray, manager of the Moss Mercantile Company, Llano,- Mrs. J. B. Gage, Austin; Inez, teacher in Dallas; W. R., engaged in oil business at Rockdale; A. J., deceased; Mary, a student in the School of Arts in Chicago; Otilla, an exteacher, now with her father in Llano; Richard Olney, assistant cashier of the Llano National Bank.

Mr. Moss by habits of industry and thrift rose from cowboy to cattle king. He bought ranch property in Legion Valley, Llano county, amounting to 8,000 acres of land. He was one of the pioneers of this section in raising Durham cattle. Some years ago he moved from the ranch to Llano. His faithful companion, who shared with him the hardships and privations incident to an earlier day in Texas, passed peacefully to rest December 3, 1918.

The Cowboy'S Prayer

The above was recited by Mike H. Thomas, Grand Master F. & A. M., at the funeral of Thomas A. Coleman, who died in San Antonio in March, 1923.

Where They Put A Trail Boss In Jail

I was born in Howard county, Missouri, on the 19th day of April, 1851, and remained there until the year 1859, when my father removed to Bates county, near the Kansas State line. We were here until the Civil War began, when the depredations, murders and all kinds of lawlessness became so numerous by organized bands of outlaws that we were compelled to go north of the Missouri Eiver where better protection could be had. The atrocious deeds of these marauders became so rife that this section of the country became almost depopulated, the men all having gone to the army and the families fleeing for protection. Afterward, these outlaws came into our section, burning residences and property of all kinds, taking with them stock or other valuables found. After enduring all kinds of hardships for about two years, my mother and the family of children were banished by the Federal authorities and sent to the Confederate lines in the state of Louisiana.

Our trip was first to St. Loui«, Missouri, thence down the Mississippi River to Natchez, Mississippi, then across the country to Alexandria, Louisiana, under guard of twenty-five soldiers. From this place we went across the country by stage line to Shreveport, La. We remained one year, our father then being in the army of Missouri and Arkansas with General Sterling Price. At this time, by some means unknown to me, my mother received instruction from my father to remove to Eed River county, Texas, near Clarksville. We arrived there late in the fall of 1864 and immediately afterwards rented a small piece of farm land.

After Lee's surrender father came and we started south with the intention of going into old Mexico. About 200 officers and soldiers of the army, father being among this number, anticipated going into Mexico or other foreign countries to avoid the oath of allegiance to the Federal government.

On our arrival at San Marcos my father talked with some of the old settlers and was advised not to go into Mexico with his family. This advice was accepted and father proceeded on the trip alone, leaving the family in a tent on the Blanco River.

We were in destitute circumstances, having but a few dollars on which to subsist. I rented land again and started a crop the following spring. Being among strangers and almost penniless I and my little brothers began the struggle for a living. The citizens were kind in assisting us in many ways, besides advising us how to cultivate the land. Such advice was very helpful, I being perfectly ignorant of the mode of cultivating cotton, never having seen any raised in my native state. The friends found here have all passed away without an exception, and the younger generation have taken their places. I will mention a few of the old friends as I think their names should be perpetuated. Among them were : Maj. E. Nance, Capt. G. Story, Shady Dixon, Dr. P. C. Woods, Felix Kyle, Jas. L. Malone, John and Joe Brown, Nestor Boon, C. R. Johns, Ed Burleson, Ferg and Curran Kyle and many others.

Father returned from Mexico, not being satisfied with the country. He surrendered to Federal authorities in San Antonio and was taken to New Orleans and delivered into the hands of Phil Sheridan, who was in charge.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 853

After a few months he was discharged ; he came home to the family and found ns trudging along with our little farm project. We continued to live on the Blanco until w^e made the fourth crop, when father bought the property on Blanco Eiver and there spent the balance of his life, passing away at the age of 60 years. I remained with the family until I was 20 years of age. I then tried to farm one year in my own interest. I did not succeed financially, being overcome by drouth and other misfortunes. Dissatisfied with farming I decided to change occupation, so I saddled my horse and drifted to the West. After three or four days' travel I found myself in Uvalde, Texas, ninety miles from San Antonio. Here I met Good Adams, a member of the firm of Adams Bros, in the ranch business on the Leona and Frio Rivers, some fifteen miles from Uvalde. Good and Mart Adams composed the firm of Adams Brothers, though John Adams who lived 15 miles west of San Antonio on the Gastroville road, James Adams who lived at San Marcos and Bill Adams of San Antonio, worked some on this ranch while I was there. Good Adams agreed to give me employxaent; I asked the amount of wages to expect and he replied, *^I am getting Mexicans for $12.00 and board," and with this understanding I commenced to work. I had worked about four months when I decided to go home and spend the Ghristmas holidays. When ready to start Mr. Adams gave me a check for $80.00 and asked if I intending returning. I replied that I would if the price would justify. He made me an offer of $100.00 per month and in one minute he had my reply, '*! will be here.'' On my return he stated that he intended making a drive to the Northern markets in the spring of that year and must commence gathering cattle on the range and placing them in pastures until ready for the drive. I started preparations with seven Mexicans, about 30 horses, and a pack horse. The Mexicans could not speak English and I could not speak

Spanish. I did not know any of the range and thought I was up against a hard proposition but, believe me, we brought home the goods. When I asked the particular brands to gather, he said, ^* Bring everything you find, regardless of brand." There was a custom among the ranchmen to use each others' cattle and the other fellow got the credit on the book. A thoroughly educated gentleman by the name of Captain Cooper was the bookkeeper and lived on the Frio ranch at that time. I never saw him again and do not know what became of him afterward.

When the cattle were gathered from the range we commenced branding and putting them in shape for the trail. Afterwards I was assigned the task of driving one of the herds. This was in 1870 and my first experience in handling cattle. I walked into the harness without flinching, though my experience on this trip was in many respects very trying, there being so many new lessons for me to learn. The country through which we traveled was rough and brushy, making the work heavy on the men and very trying on the horses and cattle. We passed from Uvalde county through Bandera, Mason, Llano and Coleman counties, keeping our general course to the north. About four miles before reaching the town of Bandera, one day about noon, while dinner was being prepared I had the herd rounded up to brand a few head which had been overlooked at the ranch. After finishing the work and eating dinner we were drifting slowly along when a young cowman rode up beside me. He was very talkative and seemed to be a nice fellow. After conversing some time in a general manner he asked: ^^ Where did you get that yearling?" referring to the one I had just branded. **At the ranch," I replied. He said, *^I would be sorry to see you get in trouble, but that yearling belongs to an old Dutchman who lives down the creek and he is as mean as h - 11. There is one trail boss in jail at Bandera now for driving one of his year- lings.'' The young fellow rode away and I felt that he was telling facts so I commenced thinking fast. I could almost feel the cold bars of the jail in company with the other boss, but the yearling disappeared right now and so did Bill. I caught a good horse and just kept on high places near the herd for several days. At our next reunion I would be pleased if the trail boss who was in jail would speak out and give his experience ; I would be glad to meet him.

We moved on slowly to a point near where we crossed the Llano River. Here a young fellow applied to me for work. He was probably 30 years of age, rather small in stature, roughly dressed, wearing long yellow hair which hung gracefully down over his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a very tough character. Needing help I looked the gentleman over while I talked; he finally said, **Hire me, I know all about cattle and will make you a d - d good hand." I decided to hire him and asked his name to record the date. He said, *'Just put me down as Rusty," which I thought very appropriate and used it all the time when addressing him. He gave fine satisfaction in his duties. When we had reached a point 20 miles west of Ft. Griffin on what is known as Elm Creek, we made camp for the night. Next morning on looking over the herd, I found a cow was gone and I knew she would return to our last bed ground some 15 miles back on the trail, and I went back and found the cow and returned to camp with her. On my arrival at camp I found that ^^ Rusty" had shot John Rice, one of my hands. The weapon used was an old model brass mounted 44 calibre Winchester rifle which he carried on his saddle at all times. The bullet had passed entirely through the body on the opposite side of the spine from the heart and blood was flowing from both front and back. I sent at once to Ft. Griffin for a doctor, also giving instructions that a hack be brought for the purpose of conveying the wounded man to the hospital. The doctor came and pronounced the case almost hopeless, though we rushed for the hospital as speedily as possible. I arranged with those in charge to keep me posted as to his condition and on my arrival at Dodge City, Kansas, received a letter stating that he had recovered sufficiently to return home, and that he would entirely recover in a short time. I never heard of him again and I hope to find some one who can give me information regarding his whereabouts. Eusty took one of my best horses and I have not seen him since. Should he be a member of this Association under another name, I would like to hear from him, as all offenses are now barred by statute of limitations.

I never saw Good or Mart Adams after the drive. One of the brothers. Bill, received the herd at the point of destination and I returned home, thinking my aspirations in this line of work were satisfied in the extreme, though in 1877 Col. Jas. F. Ellison, who then lived at Martindale, Caldwell county, prevailed on me to drive a herd for him, which I delivered at Ogallala, Nebraska. During 1878 I drove for Ellison & Sherill. This firm was composed of Jas. F. Ellison and Jas. H. Sherill, who had formed a co-partnership for the purpose of conveying one herd to the northern markets over the trail.

During one of these drives Givens Lane and I were driving a herd each, and were traveling near each other. The country was dry, grass scarce and watering places for two herds at one time was hard to find. We were then near Buffalo, Kansas, and were having hard times. Givens and I had gone to the front hunting grass and water. A creek, some distance north of Buffalo, had nice running water, but the nesters of that section had plowed a furrow on each side of the trail and posted signs reading about as follows: **Keep your cattle inside these furrows or be prosecuted." The creek north of the trail had the finest water sufficient to swim a good sized steamboat and the grass was excellent. We had become enraged on reading these warning signs and Givens said, **Bill, suppose we put our herds into that fine grass and water and take the chances," to which I agreed. The cattle were now in sight and looked as though the two herds were strung out for a distance of three miles. My herd came first and Givens and I rode in front of the cattle until the water was scented and the cattle began running. The nearer the water, the faster they got, but now came the nesters, who were living in dugouts and could not be seen until they all mounted their old mares, bare-backed. They were bare-footed, bare-headed and all carrying double barrel shotguns, yelling and demanding that we turn the cattle back to the trail. We said, **We cannot stop them - you boys stop them if you can." You never saw such maneuvers in your life, but the cattle went to the water just the same. The nesters went for the officers and we had to keep on the dodge for several days by riding on the high grounds and keeping a close lookout over the country for officers.

On another occasion I did not get out so well. I made camp about 4 P. M. There was not a house or farm to be seen near us and we supposed we were not trespassing. A Dutchman suddenly rode into camp and said, ^^You must move these cattle. This is my land and you can not camp here tonight." I reasoned with him, saying that it was late and danger of stampeding the cattle and I thought I made him a first class argument, but it didn't work. He still said, '^You must move this tarn cattle right now and do it quick, you shall not stay here." Then I said, *^You move right now and do it quick," and he did so. But the next morning the constable came with a warrant of arrest and said I must go to justice court with him. When we arrived the High Court was on his rostrum and the Dutchman was on hand also. As the constable and I walked into the court, the judge looked as knowing as any man I ever met and the constable acted as if he had arrested one of the worst criminals on earth. I shall never forget this deal. As I walked into the room the Dutchman said, ** Judge, there is the fellow vot told me to go to hell mit a pistol.'' After parleying a little, his majesty said, **This seems to be a very aggravated case, I fine you $100.00 and costs." The fine and costs totaled $130.00, which I paid.

You will notice that the pleasures on the trail were mingled with troubles and hardships. During the spring of 1878 Mr. Ellison engaged me to take a herd to Ogallala, Nebraska. I did not know either the men, the horses or the cattle. All the stock were poor but this was an exceptionally good year, there being plenty of grass and water, I made the trip in good time with all horses and cattle looking fine. When I delivered this herd and was ready to start home Mr. Ellison made me a proposition to take charge of his ranch, to buy cattle through the fall and winter and make preparations for another drive the following spring. This class of work continued with me in the same manner for several years, buying each fall and winter and making the drive afterward. My early spring work was to get all the cattle properly branded and start the first herd with the earliest grass and continue to send them each ten or twelve days until the last herd, which I would take myself. The first herds were generally over one-half of their journey before I got started from the ranch.

Many of my readers will remember Mr. Ellison perfectly well, his acquaintance extending entirely over Texas and many other states. I would like to say that he was one of the best men I ever knew, honorable and upright in all his dealings and greatly loved by those who knew him best. Well do I remember his admonition to me when I commenced work; ^*Bill, do all you can to save my cattle under any and all circumstances and I will protect you with my money to the last, but do not handle cattle belonging to others, I want nothing but my own." I remained with liim until he discontinued the cow business. I made nine of these trips over the trail, beginning in 1870 and ending in 1890. I learned to love the work, though many hardships attended each trip. Finally barbed wire came into use, agricultural pursuits became of great interest to the people, and the trail country was closed by farms and pastures.

The successful trail boss or cowboy was happy when he found plenty of grass and water, and prouder still when he would reach the market with his horses and cattle in nice condition. The number of men necessary in handling a herd of 3,000 head of cattle was the boss, eight men with the cattle, a cook, and one man with the horses called the **remuda man,'' making eleven in the outfit. About 60 horses were furnished to each herd, or six to each man, excepting the cook. The best horse of each mount was selected for his night horse and was used for no other purpose. This horse was supposed to be perfectly gentle, easily handled, clear footed, of good sight and to have all qualities of a first-class cow^ horse. His other five horses were used each one-half day until all had been used, then he commenced over again with the same process. A first-class new wagon was furnished each outfit and the same was generally . drawn by four mules or two yoke of oxen, mules being preferable. Thirty days' provisions or more could be handled in addition to the bedding, slickers, clothing, etc. belonging to the men. A barrel was placed inside the wagon bed, generally between the wheels, fastened securely and with a faucet running through the bed outside, where water could easily be drawn. One barrel of water could be made to last for two days or more. A box was made into the front part of the bed on the outside and fastened securely for the purpose of carrying different trinkets, which could be used in case of trouble. The chuck box was made into compartments for holding the cooking utensils, a lid was fastened by hinges to the back to the box wbicb could be lowered to make a table for the cook. The most important addition to the wagon was the ^^cooney" which consisted of a cowhide placed under the wagon loosely and fastened to each side of the wagon securely, making a place to hold the wood for cooking purposes. The cook was furnished all necessary utensils to make his part of the work easy, and better still, was supplied with provisions which would enable him at all times to furnish a good and wholesome meal. Plenty of good chuck brought plenty of good work, and satisfaction among the men. The best cook was paid the best price for his services.

The trail men all dressed in about the same manner, their costume consisting of a substantial suit of clothing, fine Stetson hat, the best shop-made boots with high heels, spurs of the best make, red bandana handkerchief for the neck, a good pair of leather leggings, and quirt and a good fishbrand slicker. All used splendid saddles and bridles, the bridle bit generally shop or home-made. When diked out in this garb a man was supposed to be ready for all kinds of weather and all kinds of emergencies. The outfit was then worth about $100.00 but would now easily cost $250.00.

In Kansas and Nebraska were many nesters and farmers who had taken up claims of land under the laws of those states were scattered over the whole country, and these people often came to the herd and asked if they might have the calves which were born on the bed grounds, as the drovers generally killed them. On one occasion, one of these fellows came in a two-horse wagon just about dusk. One of the boys met him and claiming to be the boss made a trade with him to the effect that he should stand guard, for which he was to receive any calves that might be found next morning. This fellow was put on first relief and the boys let him remain on guard all night. To the shorthorn's astonishment when daylight came the herd contained nothing but steers.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 861

At Ogallala in 1879, I met a man by the name of George Knight. I do not know from what part of Texas he came, but I think he was owner of a herd and drove them in person over the trail. He was a great talker and had much to say about the hardships endured on his trip. Said he was almost killed by hail on one occasion and was only saved by turning his horse loose and putting the saddle over his head. Another time the rain fell in such torrents that he had to swim two miles in making his escape from high waters; again during a severe rain and hail storm accompanied by the most terrific thunder and lightning he decided to turn his herd loose, go to camp and get under the wagon. The storm still raged and he took from his pocket a memorandum book and by the light of his lantern wrote, *^ George Knight, struck and killed by lightning 20 miles south of Ogallala on July 20, 1879." I would like to hear from Mr. Knight or any of his people at our next reunion should any of them be members of our association.

After my trail work was over I embarked into the ranch business and was quite successful for several years, but drouths came, low prices of cattle and other misfortunes and so this adventure was a financial failure.

During 1892 I became a candidate for sheriff of Hays county; was elected by a fine majority and held this position for twenty years. Afterwards was marshal of San Marcos and now I find myself postmaster of this place, a position I have held for eight years.

My father was Col. S. D. Jackman of fame in the Confederate army with General Sterling Price and Joe Shelby. He did much recruiting in the state of Missouri, was severely wounded on one of these trips and never entirely recovered. He was born in Kentucky and removed with his father and family at the age of four years to the state of Missouri. He served two terms in the Texas Legislature and was United States Marshal of the Western district of Texas at the time of his death in 1886, at the age of 60 years. He was married in 1848 to Martha E. Slaven of Boon county, Missouri. To this union was given five sons and three daughters. Of this number three sons have passed into the Great Beyond, leaving Thomas J. and myself, who were the eldest and youngest of that number. Tom is now with our State Ranger force. My mother passed into the Great Beyond in 1869, and afterwards my father was married to Mrs. Cass Gaines of Hays county. To this union four children were born, two of whom are now living and two have passed away. I was married in 1883 to Miss Lou Green of San Marcos, Texas. To us two sons were given, S. D. and Edwin G., now 32 and 34 years respectively. S. D. Jackman was married to Miss Cecil Muller of Laredo, Texas, and Edwin G. Jackman to Miss Etta Olds of San Marcos. The former couple have a son 12 years of age called S. D., Junior, and the latter a daughter of three years named Margaret. These children and grandchildren are the pride of our lives and give us much pleasure in our declining years.

Made Several Trips

I was born in Blanco county, August 10, 1855, nine miles west of Eound Mountain. My first trip up the trail to Kansas was in 1872, when I went with a herd from Cedar Creek, belonging to Monkson. I brought the horses and wagon back to Cedar Creek. Next trip I went with J. E. Blocker to Pine Bluffs, Wyoming, in 1877. We turned this herd over to Jim Taylor. The third trip I made with Col. Ike T. Pryor's herd to Dodge City, Kansas, in 1882. In 1886 I took a herd for Crosby & Gallagher from Mason, Texas, to the western part of Colorado. In 1887 M. B. McKnight, myself and others took a herd to Vernon, Texas, and sold them. I have worked with cattle since I reached the age of nine years, up to 1911, when I purchased a store at Click, 18 miles southeast of Llano, and besides being engaged in the mercantile business I am also the village postmaster.

Relates Incidents Of Many Drives William B. Slaughter

My parents, Sarah Jane and Eev. George Webb Slaughter, a Baptist minster, came from Alabama in 1830, crossed the Sabine River, settling in what was then

Mexican Territory, Coahuila, now Texas. The Mexican government at that time was enforcing in such tyrannous manner the regulations of adherence to the Catholic church that armed resistance was made by the settlers and my father, then a young man, joined in the resistance. He was closely connected, with the Independence of Texas from that time on, a full account of which is recorded in John Henry Brown's *' History of Texas.''

My parents moved from Sabine county to Freestone county in 1850 and settled near the old town of Butler, at which place I was born in 1852. In 1857 my father moved to Palo Pinto county and engaged in the cattle business. In 1861 he moved part of his cattle into Young county, Texas, and during the Civil War furnished the Tonkaway Indians with beef under a contract with the Confederate government. An older brother, J. B. Slaughter, now of Post, Texas, and I with our father gathered the steers each week and delivered them at the Agency. This was continued until the close of the Civil War and two of my older brothers. Colonel C. C. Slaughter and P. E. Slaughter, were rangers under Captain Jack Cureton, grandfather of the now Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Texas.

Upon return of my oldest brother. Colonel C. C. Slaughter, we found the Confederate money received in payment for the cattle furnished to the government for the Indians during the Civil War had no value. It was turned over to the children attending the school to use as thumb paper for the old Blue Back Spellers of those days. Hence we had no money, but plenty of cattle and Colonel Slaughter suggested to my father that we gather a herd of steers and drive to Shreveport, Louisiana, and ship to- New Orleans in order to get ready cash. In the fall of 1867, my father, my oldest brother, and myself, with three other hands, left Palo Pinto with 900 steers, our destination being Shreveport, Louisiana. When we reached Eockwall county, we met Colonel T. H. John- soil, wlio had made a contract to deliver 1,500 steers at a small packing plant just east of Jefferson, Texas, situated on a little bayou. With the 600 head of steers he had gathered and the 900 we had, it was possible to complete the contract. The time for delivery was short and a trade was made with him. My brother. Colonel C. C. Slaughter, and Mr. Johnson left in a buggy for Jefferson immediately after closing the trade, being followed up with a herd of 1,500 steers in charge of my father. As soon as we struck the piney woods we would place the herds in the fields over night in order to get crop grass for them and the rainy season being on we were continually having to pull them out of the quicksand in the mornings. When we arrived at the packery we held the cattle there about two weeks until they were all killed. My father received $24,300 gold, or $27 per head, for the steers and we immediately went back to Jefferson and loaded the wagon with merchandise, including some oranges, the first I ever saw. He bought a pair of oldfashioned saddle bags and packed $20,000 in gold and put it across the rear of my saddle. I rode the pony with the gold back to Palo Pinto. This was the first drive I ever made.

In 1869 I went with a herd of cattle to Abilene, Kansas, my brother, P. E. Slaughter, being in charge. We crossed the Eed River at the old Gaines crossing about 15 miles north of Gainesville, Texas, and went on by what is known as the Old Love Ranch, in the Indian Territory and then turned northwest, keeping on the south side of Paul's Valley, on the Washita River, crossing at Washita Springs and on through Indian Territory, entering Kansas on Bluff Creek where Caldwell, Kansas, is now situated. Then we went on north across the Arkansas River where Wichita is now located. I remember an old fat merchant by the name of McClain who had a store made of cottonwood logs on the south side of the river with the sign to the south reading,

^^The First Chance " and the one to the north, *'The Last Chance'' to get supplies. We crossed the broad prairies from there to Abilene. This herd of cattle was sold to Lem Hnnter of Illinois, by my brother, Colonel C. C. Slaughter.

The third drive was in 1870. I went this time as foreman, with a herd of 1,800 head of steers which was turned over to me on the head of Bear Creek, now known as the Corn Eanch in Parker county. I went over the same route as we had gone the year before, everything moving nicely until I came to the Eed Fork of the Arkansas Eiver, where I came in contact with the Little Osage Indians, who were out under a permit from the agent of the Little Osage Agency, telling what a fine civilized tribe they were and saying that they would harm no one. Their only object was to kill some buffalo and deer. They played havoc with W. B. Grimes' herd which was just ahead of me. Two of Grimes' cowboys, who had quit, were returning to Texas gave me the information that if I went on I would lose my herd, and advising me to change my routing. This herd had been contracted to Lem Hunter of Illinois, Jack Gillespie, and Billy Eogers of Kansas City, and I knew that I could not turn back and get them to Abilene in time to comply with the contract, as there was a forfeit with the Chick Bank at Kansas City of $10,000 by Hunter and his associates and a like amount by my brother, that the herd would reach Abilene on time specified by the contract. As the cattle had been sold for $35.00 per head, a fancy price in those days, I made up my mind to follow the instructions I had always received from my father to never turn back or to think of the bridge that I was to cross until I came to it - and then go over.

Being familiar with the habits of the Tonkaway Indians, to whom my father had supplied beef during the Civil War, I knew what they admired. I had one cowboy who had what we call a *' desperado" or **Mex- ican sash." It was made of silk, about six feet long, three to four feet wide, very gaudy, each end having silk tassels, I also had three bandana handkerchiefs, two red and one blue. I made up my mind this was the bridge that would get me by, if I came in contact with the Indians, as stated by Grimes' two cowboys. The next day when we reached the south side of Red Fork, and where the city of Kingfisher is now located, T found the statements made by these cowboys were true. I discovered the village made by the Indians; it was a city of tepees made out of buffalo hides which had been thoroughly dressed and smoked. As soon as we discovered them, we halted and had our dinner. The herd had not been watered and could not get to the river as the high bluffs on the south side were impassable and extended up to where we were to cross the river. I instructed the cook to separate some flour, coffee and bacon, enough for three meals, and cache it in the cowhide stretched under the wagon, where we used to carry the old Dutch oven, camp kettle and the wood, picked up along the trail. I told the cook if the Indians came up and asked for flour, bacon and coffee, to throw out all the bedding and let them have it. We looked and saw about thirty Indians coming. The chuck wagon was in the rear of the herd and the horses in front,' leading the herd. The chief asked for the foreman and I told him I had charge of the herd. He had three squaws with him. He had his Indian war paint on, and had a shield fastened to the back of his hair, ornamented with all kinds of feathers which extended about ten feet back, and two of the squaws were riding in the rear of the chief holding his head gear to keep it from dragging on the ground. The chief called for flour, bacon, sugar and coffee and the cook threw it out on the ground and it was put on a pony and two of the Indians returned to the village with it. The Indians immediately commenced whipping the cowboys' horses but I had told the cowboys to pay no attention to this. About this time the wind commenced blowing from the south and my herd could smell the Indians and I saw they were getting very restless, I said to myself, ^*Now is the time to cross the bridge.'' I pulled the desperado sash and the three handkerchiefs which I had hid in the bosom of my cowboy shirt, spread the sash over the chief, handed each one of the three squaws the handkerchiefs and you would have thought I was a little god for a little while, for they had a great talk in their own language, making much of me. This gave a chance for the herd to get to the crossing and as the front cattle were following the horses across, we rushed up behind the rear cattle and the scent of the Indians made them cross quickly. They demanded beef so I cut out three large steers that had sore feet, caused by wet weather. They had these steers killed in less time than I can say it and took the hide off and went into the little manifold or maw, scrapedthe grass back off of it and ate it raw while it was warm. But I could not understand why they wanted beef while there were thousands of buffalo in sight. When the herd was across tlie river, tliey bantered us for liorse races. I had eight of the horses brought back to the south side of the river, myself and two of my cowboys ran races with them all that afternoon. I had about $30 in silver and they had some very handsome dressed buffalo hides, I would put up about $2.00 or $3.00 against those beautiful hides, and allowed them to use their warriors as judges - and they were honest. When I won they gave hides up and when they won I gave them the money. I had about five hides when the sun was about down. I sent all the horses except the one I was riding and the cowboys were riding across the river and put up the $20.00 I had on the last race and instructed the boy that was going to run it, as he was riding the best horse I had, to jockey with them about fifteen minutes after I left, before running and turning the horse loose and he would be across the river before they knew it, directing him that when he crossed the river to turn to the left and follow the big hollow up to the high hills and I would wait there, which he did. The Indians shot at him several times but I think only to scare him. I had ^'crossed the bridge'' with the Mexican sash. It saved my herd 1 feel sure.

We turned west at the point of the Blackjacks, ten miles north of Eed Fork, and camped between two deep bluff hollows that night and did not unstop the bells on the oxen. Early next morning we pulled the herd across to the west side of Turkey Creek and kept up Turkey Creek on the west side which runs due north until we came to Sewall Branch Supply Station where we secured enough supplies to carry us to Bluff Creek where Capt. Stone had a large store. All of the old trail men knew Capt. Stone, who in the later years was one of the great buyers for our Texas cattle, when they reached Kansas. We had no more trouble and reached Holland Creek, near Abilene, three days before the expiration of the contract for the delivery of the cattle.

As soon as we readied Holland Creels my cowboys all wanted to go to Abilene. I divided them into squads and picked up two straws, one long and one short, and informed them that the ones that got the long straw would be allowed twenty-four hours in Abilene, when they would return and let the others go. The young man. Wash Wolf, who furnished me the sash that saved my herd, was in the first squad and never returned. He immediately got on a spree on arriving in Abilene and was killed in a dance hall there and I saw him no anore. The herd was delivered and I received instructions from my brother to return to the Young county ranch with the outfit.

My fourth drive was in 1871. I had charge of the herd as in the previous year. I went from Young county where Graham is now situated, through Lost Valley, known as the old J. C. Loving ranch, on due north by Buffalo Springs, out by Victoria Peak, where Stephens & Worshan had a cattle ranch, about 20 miles north to the upper sand timbers. It commenced raining, about the time to bed the herd. We noticed northeast of us in another grove of timber a fire which later proved to be a band of Indians. Our herd stampeded that night. Next morning we counted the herd and found we were short 200 cattle. We soon found the trail which went southwest about two miles and split into two parts, part of them going south and part going west. Myself and another man followed the trail south about ten miles and found part of the cattle and brought them back to the main herd. We waited on the other two men to return until the next morning and as they did not return we went to where the cattle had separated and took the trail of the two horses, following the ones that went west about eight miles and found the two men had been murdered by the Indians, scalped and their bodies badly mutilated. We buried them there and returned to our herd and moved rapidly until we reached Eed River Station, getting on the old Chisholm Trail.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 871

In 1872 I went the same route but stopped the herd twenty-five miles south of Wichita and held them there until they were sold, which was in August. I had instructions to return to the Jack county ranch, on what is now known as Dillingham Prairies, and receive a herd of cattle from J. C. Loving and Charlie Eivers, a brother-in-law, Charles Rivers, a son-in-law of Oliver C. Loving, learned the business under his father-in-law, who had made two or three trips with Loving by the way of Ft. Sumner in New Mexico. The day I commenced receiving the cattle from Loving and Eivers on Dillingham Prairie we tallied out part of the herd and Mr. Loving waited for the arrival of Mr. Eivers for enough cattle to fill this contract. Mr. Eivers was on his way from Lost Valley to Dillingham Prairie. He arrived that evening and the cattle were penned and he made his camp nearby and guarded his horses. The Indians made a raid on the horses and in trying to protect them Charlie Eivers was shot, from which wound he later died at Weatherford, Texas.

In 1873 I drove a herd for my father to the head of Fall Eiver. That spring in February I stopped at Ft. Worth several days and made a trade with E. M. (Bud) Dagget and Jake Farmer for a herd of young steers on my own account, as I had saved considerable money and my father endorsed for me at the First National Bank at Emporia, Kansas, for an additional amount to pay for the herd. As soon as the herd I went up with in the spring was turned over I immediately returned to Fort Worth and received this herd from Dagget and Farmer and drove them on the same route as I went before until I reached Chiloche Creek, south of the Arkansas Eiver, and went due east to the mouth of Grouse Creek on the Arkansas Eiver and wintered this herd there. Next spring they were carried to Verdigris Eiver, Greenwood county, where Mr. Martindale had a large ranch. I sold this herd to him and returned to Texas.

In 1874 I drove a herd from Elm Creek, Young county to Dodge City, Kansas, and sold them to a Mr. Eob who represented one of the packing houses at Kansas City. I returned to Texas in 1875, bought a herd of cattle from John Gamel and Christy Crosby of Mason, Texas. I had a letter of credit from the City National Bank of Dallas, but they would not take checks, which forced me to go to San Antonio and get $15,000 in currency from Mr. Brackenridge, which I carried back to Mason to pay for this herd of cattle, traveling only at night until I got the money in Mr. Ranck's bank at Mason. I drove this herd to Jack county and returned and bought another herd from Charlie Lemburg of Llano county. Colonel I. T. Pryor, now of San Antonio, was his foreman at that time. I carried them to Jack county and wintered them there. In the spring of 1876 I drove one part of these cattle to Dodge City, Kansas, and sold to J. L. Driskill & Sons who had a ranch; but his home was at Austin, Texas.

In 1877 I drove a herd to Dodge City again and also my brother. Colonel C. C. Slaughter, drove two herds there and we sold the three herds to Hunter, Evans & Newman, who had secured the contract to furnish beef to the Indians in the Territory. I delivered this herd at Fort Reno, to Jesse Evans, who had charge of the outfit.

In 1879 I drove a herd of steers from Blanco Canyon, Crosby county, to Hunnewell, Kansas, and sold to Hewens & Titus, who were heavy buyers for good Texas steers. That year I got my first experience on the Texas fever proposition. Striking the trail at Rush Creek, east of Ft. Sill, following it for five days I saw that something was the matter with some of my steers, and I threw them east of the trail. I had been skeptical up to this time on Texas fever but the loss of steers sustained on this drive fully convinced me that there was such a thing as Texas fever.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 873

In 1882 I drove a herd to Trail City, Colorado, on the Arkansas Kiver and sold to Jones Bros, of Los Animas, Colorado. In 1883 I moved two herds of stock cattle from Crosby county, Texas, to American Valley, Socorro county, in the western part of New Mexico. In 1885 I drove a herd of steers from Socorro county, New Mexico, to Laramie Plains on the Laramie Eiver, just west of Laramie City, Wyoming. This was the hardest drive I think I ever made.

In 1886 I drove a herd from Blanco Canyon, Crosby county, Texas to Chino Valley, near Prescott, Arizona. In 1887 I drove a herd from Socorro to Laramie Plains, Wyoming, onto Crow Creek and sold them in small lots. They were shipped out over the Rock Island Eailroad to Nebraska. In 1889 I moved two herds, one from New Mexico and one from Panhandle of Texas, to Malta, Valley county, Montana, situated on Milk River. In 1890 I drove a herd from Clayton, New Mexico, to the Cypress Hills on the south line of Canada.

During all this time I had moved many herds in Texas from one part of the state to the other and also in New Mexico. My last drive and the only one of its kind so far as I know by anyone, was when I moved 104 buffalo from Dalhart, Dallam county, Texas, to Fort Garland, Colorado. I had no trouble with this herd of buffalo - as I had with herds of cattle. They had become domesticated by feeding them cottonseed cake and each night I would move them about one-fourth of a mile north of where I located my camp and about dark gave them about 50 i^ounds of cake. They would consume the cake and lay down until about midnight and got up to graze on the buffalo grass and lick np what waste cake was left and bed down until daylight next morning, at which time I would be up, (for I had an alarm clock) and head them on north. One of the large buffalo bulls became vicious when we reached Fort Garland. We killed him and sent him by express back to Pueblo, Colorado, where he was held in cold storage twenty-one days. The State Bankers of Colorado met with the Bankers of Pueblo that year and he was barbecued and served to them.

A Pioneer Mother'S Experience

I was born October 21, 1849 in Baton Eouge, Louisiana, daughter of Peyton and Mary Cox. My father died in 1850 and in 1851 mother married Mr. Albert Heaton from Washington, Maine. He was a kind and just step-father. He took mother and her two children to Pattersonville, La., where he had a good home.

Then we moved to Franklin, La., mother and father going overland in the buggy, while the old negro nurse and we children, with the household goods and my old cat went on steamboat. We settled near the bayou and father established a cooper shop and wharf where boats came and loaded with his product of barrels, casks, etc. He had nine men working in his shop, when a terrific scourge of yellow fever swept over Louisiana and when the fever abated there was only one man left out of the nine. Whole families died. Mother and father both had the fever, though somehow we children escaped. My father never went into his shop ^gain because he imagined he could see and hear his men working as he had seen them last. He sold the cooperage and engaged in the hotel business, though at one time he was judge of St. Mary parish. He had heard so much about the ** great state of Texas'' that he finally decided to cast his lot in this land of promise, so in 1856, in com- pany with two friends, Messrs. Cooper and Smith, he set out on horseback for the Lone Star State. Cooper and Smith located at Austin, but father Avent on to Hays county, where he bought land in the new town of Cannonville, owned and sponsored by Mr. Eufus Cannon and later run against San Marcos for the county seat. Father wrote glowing letters to Mother, telling of the wonderland he had found, of the trees, flowers, knee high grass and abundance of crystal clear water. There was a gushing spring at the corner of the lot he planned to build our house on and he urged Mother to pack up and come as soon as possible. On June 27, 1856, Mother's twenty-seventh birthday, she started to Texas, via New Orleans with her four children, Charles, the eldest aged nine years, myself seven, and two half brothers, Albert and William Heaton, aged four and two years respectively. I will never forget the sea voyage on the ^* Charles Morgan'' from New Orleans to Galveston with its sea-sickness and seemingly never-ending smell of tar and rope. The overland journey to Austin was made by stage coach and there we stopped with Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who lived in a double loghouse on Congress Ave. Father came to Austin a day or two after we arrived and we were overjoyed to see him. The next day Father hitched up the oxen, *'Lion" and '^ Berry," to a big covered wagon and we left our kind Louisiana friends for a wilderness and strangers. We children enjoyed each step of the journey, as we would get out of the wagon, gather flowers, shells and all kinds of pretty rocks, wondering the while if we would ever reach **Cannonville." If I remember rightly there was only one house that could be seen from the road in the two days that it took to make the twenty-five miles, as the oxen never went faster than a walk. Cannonvile was situated about three miles south of where the village of Dripping Springs now stands. We lived three months with the Cannon family before our house was finished. We carried water from Onion Creek, a mile distant. We had many hardships. The crops were almost failures and to make our troubles worse, our good friend, Mr. Cannon, died.

There were only three houses ever built in Cannonville. Mr. Newton Jackson of Austin, built one, a Mr. Schropshire one, and Father the other one. Then Mrs. Cannon refused to give deeds to the land her husband sold. The election for county seat was held and *^Cannonville" lost and * * Cannonville " died a natural death. Mrs. Cannon, her children and an old negro *^ Mammy" moved to Bastrop and we moved into their home on account of its having a good well of water. A post office was established and Father was appointed postmaster of ^ ^ Cannonville. " The mail, which was carried on /"orseback, came from Austin and it was a great day when it arrived, as people came for miles for the occasion. Meantime Father tried farming but a late frost came, followed by grasshoppers and a disastrous drouth which it seemed would put an end to everything. But the people were undaunted. The men hitched their oxen to the great lumbering ox-wagons and set out for Port Lavaca or Indianola to purchase supplies. People are grumbling about today ^s high prices, but who among them has seen flour sell for $25.00 a barrel, corn meal at $3.00 a bushel and everything else in proportion? I never knew flour being cheaper than $16 or $18 a barrel until after I was grown.

"We had no church or school and the mothers taught their children. The most popular school books of those days were the ^'Blue Back Speller" ^^McGuifey's Header," ** Ray's Arithmetic" and ^* Webster's School Dictionary." A popular punishment for misconduct during our lesson hours was to have us memorize an entire page of the dictionary. Father read a chapter from the New Testament each night and Mother heard our prayers. Mother had a beautiful voice and often sang hymns to us. We were a happy family indeed.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 877

Reverend Johnson of Blanco City was circuit-rider for our district. He came each fourth Sunday to preach to our neighborhood and held meetings in some neighbor's house. Everyone within a radius of ten miles attended and if too far to walk, Father hitched **Lion'' and ^^ Berry'' to the ox-wagon and took us in style. Occasionally Rev. Johnson would bring with him his wife and little daughter, Mary Kate, whose name was the same as my own. We were great friends as long as she lived.

Our nearest neighbors were families named Wallace, Moss, Perry, and Dr. J. M. Pound, who was our family physician for thirty years. Mother belonged to the Good Samaritans and the Episcopal church, though later she united with the Christian church. Father was a Royal Arch Mason and, though he did not belong to any church, he was a just man. The Ten Commandments were his creed.

In 1860 we moved from Cannonville to Jacob's Well, on Cypress Creek, where Father contracted to take care of a herd of cattle owned by John Meeks and sons of Webberville, but knowing nothing about handling stock he gave it up and moved to the Blanco River, about twelve miles from San Marcos, where he farmed, made shingles and shoes. A neighbor, Mr. W. A. Leath, had a tanyard and made very good leather. We still had no schools so Father built a cypress-slab school house, where Mother taught her own and. the neighbors' children. In 1861 and 1862, I attended a boarding school in San Marcos, which was then only a small village. My teacher was Prof. T. L. Lyons.

When the war between the states broke out. Mother had a hand loom and spinning wheel made, on which she spun and wove most of our clothing. I felt dressed up in 'my homespun dress and Father's home-made shoes. We knitted' our stockings and gloves and braided our liats of wheat-straw or corn husks.