Early, Texas - Trail Drivers of Texas : Interesting Sketches of Early Cowboys and The (part 18 of 20)

Kiver called ^^Arkansaw" and three or four men from there were forced to go to war. One morning we were startled to see a detachment of soldiers drawn up before our house. The commander explained that they were hunting three men from ^'Arkansaw'^ who had deserted the army and asked Father to be on the lookout for them, naming a place where he might report in case they were seen in that locality. He asked if he might have some bread baked. Mother and I went to work in a hurry and soon had 100 biscuits done, to which we added all the butter we had on hand. The commander was delighted and insisted that we accept pay, but we refused. The soldiers marched away after repeating their request for Father to be on the lookout for ^*Jap'' Brown, *' Little John'' Pierce and Harris, the deserters. These men were never found, though they were hunted from time to time throughout the war and we learned later that they had lived in caves a short distance^ from their homes. After the war they came out of hiding, though no one outside the little colony knew where they had been. A sister-in-law of Jap Brown told me of the many narrow escapes he had while in hiding. Apparently Mrs. Brown was a very industrious woman and the neighbors wondered how she wove more cloth, raised better crops and more hogs than anyone. When a soldier left for the front, Mrs. Brown invariably donated socks and gloves, did sewing or any other useful favor that she could do.

Father and Brother Charlie went to war, as did my '^best friend and schoolmate," and I had an anxious time thinking of my loved ones, though they all came home safe and sound. Great was the rejoicing from then on and balls, picnics and many kinds of amusements took the place of our sad lonely hours. Many were the wed- - dings that followed, for few indeed were the boys who had not left their girls behind them.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 879

at my father's place on the Blanco River. Though I was not yet sixteen and my husband lacked three days of being twenty, we felt full grown and far from children. We had lived through many trials and tribulations, we felt that we had missed our childhood.

Father was a magistrate in our precinct for several years before and after the war, also was elected assessor several terms. Then he moved to San Marcos and was appointed postmaster, his health failed and he moved to Pearsall. In 1888 he came to visit us on our ranch where he took sick and died. We laid him to rest in the Leath graveyard on the Blanco River, beside his little daughter who died in infancy. Mother died in Dallas, January, 1897.

In the first years of our married life we had hard times. We moved to Bastrop county where Mr. Thomas McKinney had a saw-mill on the Colorado River and my husband contracted to haul the lumber to Austin. McKinney agreed to furnish ten wagons and teams, but he let him have only two. It was well, for the mill broke down, Mr. George Maverick, the mill foreman took sick, likewise my husband and I, with chills and fever, so we moved back to the mountains in Hays county. We had no home so we moved into a little vacant shanty that some one had built near a small spring that my husband had found when he was a little boy. The house had neither floor nor chimney and was chinked with mud which fell in on us when it rained. Mr. Cruze soon built a chimney and floored the house and we lived there for four years and were happy as larks.

He made several trips to Port Lavaca; likewise he had all the pleasure and hardships of cow hunts. I know I have baked a thousand biscuits for his trips. The time he spent on the trail seemed very long to me, as I stayed at home, took care of the babies and the place. He had the same experiences that most trail drivers had, swimming swollen streams, thunder and lightning, stampedes.

etc., but came out uiiiujurcd. lie used a pack horse to carry his bedding and jjrovisions and sometimes he would pack the old horse so heavily that he would sit down and had to be helped up. Once when he had gone about two miles from home the pack turned under the old horse and he ran away, kicked the pack to pieces and scattered biscuits for a mile. Later he made a big **KYAX'' as he called it, somewhat on the order of the old saddle bags, but very commodious, then he bought a real pack-saddle and had no more mishaps with his kitchen outfit.

In 1868, two cattlemen hired him to help round up a herd of cattle near the Perdinales Eiver. He worked a month at two dollars a day and when the work was done, neither man would pay him. Mr. Cruze also made two trips to Kansas over the Chisholm Trail and of all the men he associated with on these trips and cow hunts, my half brother, Albert Heaton, of Del Eio, is the only man now living that we know of. On his last trip to Kansas his main helper was Adam Rector, a negro boy, who could ride and rope with the best. One morning he and Adam were leading the herd when suddenly he saw the negro wheel and come tearing by him shouting, ** Indians ! Indians !'' and in spite of his yells, Adam kept going to the rear of the herd. He knew that it was poor time to run so he stood his ground. Soon the Indians came up to him looking very savage, and one of them made a grab for his quirt. Instantly he grabbed the Indian's, the strings slipped off each wrist and they had traded quirts. Then they began a guttural demand for beef. He motioned to the rear of the herd and they went on "until they found the boss, who gave them a yearling.

Mr. Cruze drove his own cattle and made wages besides which was more money than we ever had before " and wisely did not waste any of it. He bought two ** Kansas" wagons, as they were called, complete with sheets, bows, etc., a Wheeler & Wilson sewing machine, a set of moss agate jewelry, a side saddle, bridle, blanket, riding skirt and a fine pacing pony, which would go only as far as he liked, then turn around and go home in spite of me. He bought and established the ^'Cruze Eanch'' where we lived for fifty years. In 1917 we sold it to our son, Joe S. Cruze, Jr., who has made it his home.

Our eldest son, Albert, lives in Houston, Will in Travis county and John in California, while two daughters, Margaret and Mrs. Addie Harlan and her son, Forrest live with us. Our youngest daughter, Mrs. Nell Curry, lives in Floresville. We have eight grandchildren, including twin baby girls, slightly more than a month old. We are well satisfied in our new home, Los Angeles Heights, San Antonio, and we are never so happy as when our children or some old friend comes to see us, for as ever the latch string hangs on the outside.

A Cowboy Undertaker

W. K. Shipman, San Antonio, Texas I was born in Caldwell county in 1864. My father was one of the first settlers of that county. In 1882, with my younger brother, Joe Shipman, I began work for John Davidson, who then ranched on the Jim Ned, near Coleman City. About May 1st of that year we received 1,400 yearlings at Brady, a n d started them up the trail. On the way two of our hands, one called ^^ Short" from Oak Grove, and the other we called *' Stumpy,'' got into a fight and ^'Stumpy" was badly up the Western Trail, by way of Vernon on Pease River, Doan's Store on Red River. We got along with the Indians pretty well by giving them a yearling now and then. As we neared Dodge City Mr. Davidson came ont to meet ns, and told ns we would have to hold them for a few days. Later we moved on to Ogallala, Nebraska, where the cattle were sold. I started on the trip as a hand, but got to be boss before we reached Dodge City, and drew $100 per month for wages.

In the fall of the same year we took another herd up into the Indian Territory and delivered them to a ranch just south of Camp Supply. Brother Joe and I came back home to Coryell county and got a job building rock fences. I went to all of the dances and neck lickings in the country while I tarried there, but in the spring I went west again and took another trip up the trail for John Davidson. Sold out at Dodge City, Kansas. In July, 1883, my -brother, Joe, was killed by a horse falling on him. In the spring of 1884 Mr. Davidson employed me to take charge of his ranch near Fort Stockton. Everything was dry that year and many cattle died. Later I went to New Mexico and worked in the V-V ranch near Fort Stanton until 1887, when wages were cut and I drifted back to Texas, going up to McKinney, in Collin county, where I took a position in a marble yard, and kept it until July, 1889, then went to Brownwood and opened a marble yard of my own, which I managed until 1900, when I sold out and went to San Angelo and started another marble yard, later putting in a branch business at Sweetwater. I was successful in this line of work, and in course of time I added undertaking as a side line to my business, taking up the study of embalming and in 1905 I went before^ the board of examiners, and successfully passed the examination and became a licensed embalmer. In 1910 I moved to Del Rio and bought an undertaking business.

added real estate business as a side line, and remained there until 1919, when I sold out and moved to San Antonio and purchased 500 acres of land on the Blanco road, ten miles north of the city, where I am now living.

Captured Three Thousand Quarts

Captain W. L. Wright is one of the present efficient ranger captains stationed along the border. The illustration herewith shows a pack train loaded with tequila which Captain Wright and his men captured on the Jim Gibson ranch, fifteen miles northwest of Eealitos, Duval county, November 22, 1921. Captain Wright says:

*'We captured thirty-seven head of horses and mules with 3,000 quarts of tequila, and had a fight with the Mexicans, wounding several, and some got away. We had trailed them seventy-five miles, and overtook them about two miles from Jim Gibson's ranch house. Old man Jim took this picture himself. When the rucas started Jim was out hunting and was about 150 yards from us sitting down, and when the shooting began he went in high, and when we reached the ranch he had his remuda in the pen and was catching a horse to come to us. There were sixteen smugglers, while I had eight men in my command/'

Would Like To Go Again

In 1884 I went on the trail for M. A. Withers of Lockhart. We left the Teagne ranch in LaSalle county about the first of April with 4,300 aged steers for Ogallala, Nebraska. Gus Withers, a real man, was our tT^ail boss. That spring was a wet one, and besides having to swim swollen streams and contend with stampedes and thunder storms, we experienced a siege of Spanish itch and pink-eye. In the quicksands of the North Canadian River we lost two horses, and the Indians were very troublesome. I remember when we went out the Nueces Canyon we crossed the Nue- ^^ iill I ^^^ River twenty-eight times

B ^^ 1^ ^iKs. rocks and crossing water so m 1 jIi^mBHII niuch. But despite the hardships and trouble on the trail I would like to go again. I believe S. B. Brite of Taylorsville, M. A. Withers of Lockhart and myself are the only ones left who made this drive. I am now fifty-three years old, and as strong as any man in the state for my age. I have traveled in every state in the Union with a Wild West show as an expert roper.

Webster Witter

swap yarns with them and reeoinit oxperionees of the time when a forty-dollar saddle and a ten-dollar hoss was a combination that was hard to heat. In the language of Rip Van Winkle, "Here's to your good health, and your family's good health, and may you all live long and prosper.''

My Experience On The Trail

My experience on the cattle trail was with a herd of 1;500 cattle in charge of my husband. We left Fort Sumner, New Mexico, May 25, 1896, and arrived at Liberal, Kansas, on the Rock Island railroad, July 25th, following. We crossed the Canadian River at old Fort Bascom, New Mexico, and had to swim it. My duty on this trip was to hunt the watering places, and also the camp grounds for the herd at night, and to assist the young man (George Longan, who is now assistant editor of the Kansas City Star) to catch the change of horses for morning, noon and night. I also had to see that the man who drove the trail wagon had plenty of wood with which to cook the meals and have them ready at a certain time. When we arrived near Clayton, New Mexico, my husband, Mr. Longan, and myself, went across to Springer, New Mexico, and received 250 cattle which we drove back to the main herd at Clayton. I had a large Hines buggy which I used on this trip. When we left Clayton we traveled along the north line of Texas, as the Capitol Freehold

Mes. W. B. Slaughter

Land & Cattle had all of Texas fenced for about fifty miles north and east. We went across to where the city of Guyman is now located, as the Eock Island railroad was built only as far as Liberal, Kansas, at that time. I really enjoyed every minute of the drive, for the weather was fine, and everything moved along nicely. When we reached Liberal a few cars of the cattle were shipped to the Kansas City market. I took the passenger train and went to Kansas City. All of the country we came over was unsettled at that time.

Ed C. Lasater, well known throughout the United States as owner of the largest Jersey-cattle farm in the world, is a native Texan, and owns a ranch of three hundred thousand acres. The following sketch was taken from the National Magazine, issue of February, 1920 :

Ed. C. Lasater was born near the little town of Goliad, Texas, just a little more than fifty years ago. His father was a ranchman who moved to Texas before the Civil War, when Texas was an open range. Losing his cattle interests during the re-adjustment period the senior Lasater engaged in the mercantile business at Goliad, immediately across the San Antonio Eiver where the battle of La Bahia was fought and where the subsequent massacre of Fannin's men took place. Young Lasater grew up in an atmosphere of independence and with love for freedom. The wide open range of the prairies afforded him time to think, so he decided to become a. lawyer. A suggestion of future ill-health caused him to abandon his studies and he engaged in the sheep business with his father. A little later, he was called to assume charge of his father's herd; and with Mexican sheep-herders for his assistants and companions he began hfs career as a sheep raiser which continued up until the passage of the Wilson bill and wool was put on the free list, killing the industry for many years.

We next find Ed Lasater operating on a large scale as a cattle btiyer, though still a very young man but with fine personal credit. He would buy cattle from the Texas ranchmen and ship to Chicago markets, but all the time he was making a close study of grazing lands which had, at one time, been so valuable for sheep raising. During the panic of 1893, Mr. Lasater had bought heavily of Texas cattle ; in fact he had nearly 30,000 head on hand. A drouth hit Texas and the cattle could not winter on the range. It was necessary to feed them through the winter; then the bottom dropped out of the cattle business and fat steers sold for $2.70 a hundred on the Chicago market, and Ed Lasater was $130,000 loser on his cattle - he lost everything he had except his credit, and says himself that all he has accumulated since his failure has been done as a result of his financial disaster. He kept his contracts, paid for all the cattle that he bought, and accepted his loss. About this time, something happened in Lasater 's favor. Practically all the land was owned by Mexicans through grants from the Spanish and Mexican governments. In 1893, the great drouth year, the ranchmen lost all their cattle, and the cry for water went up everywhere. The Mexicans depended upon shallow wells which were no more than trenches; and w^hile they were no worse off than Lasater who had lost all his cattle, he had one thing they did not have - credit, and confidence in his ability to provide an adequate water supply. He investigated the situation, and found that the English companies which had been lending money to the Mexican grantees desired to have the land worked or otherwise utilized. He knew the lands, and what they would produce, provided the water supply was assured, and was enough of an engineer to ascertain that by making the wells deeper and installing pumps he could have an unlimited supply. He put up his proposition to some bankers who knew his ability and honesty. With this assistance, he contracted for 30,000 head of cattle to be delivered the following spring. At the same time, he began buying up all the land he could get from the descendants of the Me:5^ican grantees, making small cash payments, the balance on long time which was handled through loan companies. He had faith in the country. The water was there, all the time, and its lack was due to the inefficient methods of the Mexicans. In time, Mr. Lasater became owner of 360,000 acres in Duval, Brooks and Willacy counties, comprising now the Lasater ranch, known as ^^La Mota,'' at Falfurrias. ^'Falfurrias'' (the name given by the Lipan Indians to a tree-crested motte or knoll and translated means '^Heart's Desire") is a prosperous and thriving little town of 2,500 people, many of them Mexicans. Before the coming of the railroad in 1906 it was a cattle ranch less than 200 people occupying the adjacent 400,000 acres. Now it has modern schools, churches, city conveniences, an empty jail, the finest creamery in the South and many modern homes. The palm trees and orange groves and balmy atmosphere strongly suggest California. But this was far from the condition of the country a few years ago when Ed Lasater first dreamed of establishing a great dairy industry and the largest and finest herd of pure bred Jerseys in the world.

Since 1906 Mr. Lasater has sold to actual settlers and farmers 60,000 acres of his original ranch tract of 360,000 acres. This would probably represent ^ve hundred families, or 2,500 people - thrifty and industrious farmers from Iowa, Kansas, Texas, Nebraska, Indiana and other states. Practically all of the ranch land adjoining or near the town of Falfurrias is suitable and capable of maintaining a large population.

The Pluck Of A Poor German Boy

I was born in Germany in 1845, on a farm. My father died when I was seven years old, and I was reared by a good mother. I served as an apprentice in the blacksmith trade for three years, working for my board, and would walk home, a distance of six miles, every Sunday.

B. Vesper And Granddaughter

In 1868, when I was 23 years old, I left Germany and came to America, landing in New York, where I took an immigrant train for Leavenworth, Kansas. There I found some former friends, and I secured a job hauling brick in a wheelbarrow at one dollar per day. I soon gave that up and went to work in a sawmill, but that didn't suit me either, so I accepted a position in a livery stable, washing buggies and caring for 14 horses and 14 sets of harness. During this time I made the acquaintance of Herbert Peck, a coachman for H. L. Newman of Leavenworth, and he secured me a position with Mr. Newman's brother-in-law, a Mr. Moorehead. I served Mr. Moorehead from 1868 until 1870, receiving $30 per month and board, and was treated well by the family. While working there I met George Lang, who had a butcher shop in Leavenworth, and he invited me to go with him to Texas after a bunch of cattle, so on March 1, 1870, we left Kansas for Texas, when the ground was covered with snow and the weather was as cold as blue blazes. We were on the road one week when we reached Eed Eiver in a storm. Next morning we crossed the river into Texas and went to a ranch on Beaver Creek, owned by a man named Terell, of Fort Worth. Mr. Lang and I left the outfit at the ranch and rode over to Fort Worth, which was then only a very small town with one bank, a blacksmith shop and a store. We made a trade with Mr. Terrell for 700 beeves, to be gathered as soon as possible, and by the fifteenth of April we were ready to start back to Kansas with them. That was the largest herd of cattle I had ever seen, and it was all new to me. I shall never forget our first night out, when we had a stampede. I flew right in and tried to keep up with the herd, but my horse fell with me and when we got up and together again the cattle were out of sight. I could hear a big bell on something that was running so I decided to follow it, but soon lost the direction of the bell, and concluded to go back to camp. The old horse I was riding kept trying to go in the opposite direction from the way I thought the camp was. I rode and rode and got so tired I climbed up in a tree to take a nap out of reach of the coyotes that were howling all around, and when I dozed off to sleep I tumbled out of the tree, waking up in time to catch onto a lower limb. Then I again decided to try and go to camp, and told the old horse if he knew more about its location than I did to go ahead. And right there I learned that a good cow horse knew more than a green Dutchman, for in just a little while he took me right into camp. I told the boys if they had stayed with me we would have held the herd. We had no other trouble for several days, but just after crossing Eed River we caught up with two herds, one of them belonging to a man named Hunter, and the other to man named Eikel of Fort Worth. Hunter had an escort of soldiers with his herd. In passing through Fort Sill on this trip we saw the Navajo tribe of Indians, consisting of 700, which the government was feeding at that time. There w^as a motherless calf which followed our herd out of Texas, and after we had been on the trail a short time four Indians overtook us and made signs that they wanted the calf. Mr. Lang gave it to them. They roped and killed and had all the meat packed to take back with them in less than ten minutes. This just gave them a good appetite, for in a short while sixteen young warriors overtook us, caught Mr. Lang's horse and yelling like the devil, demanded more beef. They stampeded our herd, but we managed to keep the cattle in line and let them run. They soon rode up with Mr. Lang and he cut out four big steers for them and they let us go. That night we were only seven miles from their camp and deemed it expedient to stand guard. We got through without mishap, except being in a storm or two, and reached Wichita, which was then a very small place, where Mr. Lang located a place for us to herd, while he went to Leavenworth to find a buyer for the cattle. He returned in about a month and we moved on to Abilene, where Mr. Lang had sold the cattle and we shipped out from there, and then we all went to Leavenworth, where Mr. Lang settled with us and told us he was going back to Texas in the fall after another herd. All of the hands quit the outfit except myself and Jim White. We got the outfit ready and shipped everything to Baxter Springs, and from there we went down by Sherman,

Whitesboro and Gainesville, where we struck camp and stayed several months to let onr horses fatten while Mr. Lang made a trip to Kansas. When he returned in March he contracted a bunch of cattle from Yarborough and Bob Sparks, and we received them at Old Fort Jackson on the range. Mr. Lang went out with them to help them round up, leaving me in charge of the camp with instructions to make each of our men take so many horses a mile or so from camp before nightfall, hopple them and sleep there, but for one of us to keep watch each night, as the Indians were stealing everything in that country. They made a raid on the Yarborough & Sparks outfit, getting about 30 horses, including one of mine that had strayed off. We took their trail, but soon turned back and went to Fort Jackson and reported the raid to the scouts there and joined in the pursuit again. We had quite a little excitement when we overtook the redskins. One Indian was killed and a Mexican scalped him. There were so many Indians that we decided to give up the chase and let them keep the horses.

This Indian raid put Yarborough & Sparks out of business for awhile, and they gave up the contract, so we went from there to the ranches of Col. Pickett, Dan Waggoner and Bill Chisholm, but made no trades and were directed to Fort Griffin. Here we bought 800 cows and beeves. Bob Sparks went on to Kansas with us, and had pretty good luck.

Jim White and I got an outfit together in 1871, and started on a buffalo hunt, locating our camp on the Saline Eiver, about twenty miles from Ellsworth, Kan- -sas, and went to killing buffalo for their hides, remaining there all winter and until the spring of 1872. Buffalo were on the range like herds of cattle, and when the north winds began to blow they would drift south in great droves. In March we left the Saline and went over on a creek called Saw Log, making our camp near the creek, never thinking of high water. About three o^clock one morning while, I was asleep in the wagon, I felt something cold and awoke just as the wagon was about to float off. I yelled to Jim to get busy and we managed to get all of our provisions out, but before we could get everything the old wagon went down the creek and lodged in a tree. Two of our horses were drowned in the flood, which was caused by heavy rains above us. On this trip, we killed hundreds of buffalo and made good money. From there we went to Fort Dodge, then a very gay western town, but soon the railroad was built up to the Arkansas River and a small town sprung up there. Dodge City. The first building to go up in the new town was a saloon and dance hall, then a blacksmith shop and store, then another saloon, and of all tough places, this was the limit. All kinds of characters gathered there. Railroaders, buffalo hunters, cowboys and gamblers - a mean mixture. One night as I walked up to the front door of the dance hall I saw a man standing with a gun in hand. Inside two men had just stepped up to the bar to take a drink, but he shot one of them through the head, got on his horse and rode off. The music stopped until the floor could be scrubbed and everything was going again as if nothing had happened.

I came to Texas in 1874, and stopped in San Antonio. Here I got acquainted with some of the leading trail men of those days, and began to drive butcher cattle into San Antonio from the ranches, getting several bunches from the old Cortina ranch. Here I met Simps McCoy, Duncan Lemons, John DeSpain and Jesse Laxson and among others I had dealings with were Speicer, Ludwig, Wm. Herpol, Mont and Cal Woolward, Billie Votaw, Lee Harris, Oge, Captain Crouch, Steve Speed, Billie Slaughter and others. My l)nsiness made me good money until the railroads came through, then the stock yards were put in and the slaughter pens were built. This made the butchers more independent. Tom Daugherty was the first commission man in San Antonio to handle butcher

In 1881 I married Miss Lucy Hall, but she passed away within a year and a half, leaving me with a day old baby boy, Chas. B. Vesper. I had no relatives in the United States and I had a difficult time trying to raise him, but he grew to be a big strong man and when he reached manhood's estate he wanted to try his luck in some other part of the country. I attended the Cattlemen's Convention at El Paso in 1903, where I met my old friends, Mr. Moorehead and Mr. Newman, who I had worked for in 1868 in Kansas. Mr. Newman had a son who owned a ranch in New Mexico and he said if Charles cared to try it there he would give him a chance. He took the place and was manager for fourteen years. He still resides in New Mexico, having married and settled down, and is the father of two fine boys.

In 1884 I was married the second time, my bride being the step-daughter of Chris Speicer, Miss Frances Bitter. We moved out to the ranch which I now own, 5,000 acres, and lived there thirty-two years, then moved to Big Wells, turning over the ranch to my sons, J. H. and C. F. Vesper. Have four children in my family, the three boys above mentioned and one girl, Marie, now Mrs. Y. C. Strait. On Christmas Day, 1919, my wife passed away and since that time I have made my home with my daughter and on the Strait Brothers ranch, nine miles west of Big Wells. I am now seventy-five years old, enjoy the best of health, and can honestly say that I was never arrested or had a case in court. Instead of driving cattle now I drive my old Ford car, with my little granddaughter, Mattie Louise Strait, as my companion, whose picture accompanies this sketch, and we don't allow any of the young cowboys to pass us either.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 895 Mrs. Ike T. Pryor

Mrs. Myra Stafford Pryor, wife of Col. Ike T. Pryor, of the Cattlemen's and Old Trail Drivers' Association, is a native Texan and proud of it. She was born near Columbus, in Colorado county, on her father's ranch. Her father was Eobert Earl Stafford and her mother Sarah Elizabeth Stafford. Her father came to Texas in 1858 from Georgia, and when he had prepared a place for his family, Mrs. Stafford followed about six months later in 1859, with her two children and a few negroes, making the journey by water from Cedar Keys to New Orleans and from New Orleans to Galveston. Mr. Stafford met her at Galveston, and from there they went by railroad to Eagle Lake, thence by stage.

Robert Earl Stafford, who had learned the cattle business as a boy at his father's home in Georgia, on coming to Texas embarked in the cattle business as a matter of course. When the war between the States broke out he joined the Shropshire Upton Company - a part of Hood's Brigade, organized in Colorado county, and was in the war until the close of hostilities. After the war he returned to his home and re-entered the cattle business.

Little Myra Stafford, with her sister and two brothers, enjoyed the usual wonderful life of a little girl on a big Texas ranch. There were horseback riding - and she does not remember when she learned to ride - and picnics at Eagle Lake and elsewhere, and all sorts of happy things occurring every day - and then, when Myra was thirteen years of age, she was sent to Virginia to finish school.

When she came home a sure enough grown up young lady, what a wonderful time she had on the old ranch and how glad she was to get home again.

The Stafford and Sam Allen families were old and intimate friends, in fact Mr. Stafford and Mr. Allen were long business partners and shipped cattle to Havana. Miss Myra often made long visits to the Sam Allen home at Harrisburg, and always had a splendid time.

Mrs. Pryor lived for twenty-five years at Columbus, but many of her old neighbors there have passed away or have moved to other cities. She loves the old Columbus oaks. There was one, across from her house, in which the wisteria had climbed, and when in bloom, mingling with the long floating grey moss, made a picture for fairy land. In Mrs. Pryor 's opinion, the oaks of Columbus are unsurpassed in beauty and size.

Mrs. Pryor 's father also owned a ranch in Wharton county, and she is familiar with all the small towns in those sections of the state, near her father ^s holdings. Eagle Lake was in those days a great resort, people would go to hunt and fish and picnic and have a great time. Alligators of all sizes used to inhabit the lake when she was a child and at times frightened the children by their roars.

Mrs. Pryor counts as one of her priceless relics an old flintlock gun used by her great-grandfather in the Revolutionary War. He, too, was a Eobert Stafford. At the meeting of the Old Trail Drivers' Association she presented to Mr. Jack W. Baylor, an embossed leather belt ornamented with chased silver and gold buckle and side ornaments, and long worn by Brigadier General John A. Baylor, and presented by him, about 1885, to his old friend, Robert E. Stafford of Wharton and Colorado county. Mr. Stafford bequeathed it to his widow, who in turn left it to his daughter. Mrs. Pryor gave it to this particular grandson of General Baylor because he had always been kind and attentive to his aunt, Mrs. A. Burkes, who is a special friend of Mrs. Pryor.

Mrs. Ike T. Pryor

of the Texas Historic Landmarks Association. They have their home in the heart of the city and have taken part in all public and private enterprises launched for the good of San Antonio and Texas since their arrival.

Mrs. George W. Saunders Mrs. Geo. W. Saunders

Mrs. Ida Friedricli Saunders, wife of Geo. W. Saunders, is always an interested and devoted attendant at the meetings of the Old Trail Drivers' Association.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 899

Mrs. Saunders was a Miss Ida Friedrich, and was born under the shadow of the Alamo, and as a child, with her two sisters and four brothers, played around its sacred precincts.

Her first remembrance of the Alamo was with a feeling of awe about it, and that it was all fastened up securely. Then it was opened and used by Mr. Grenet as a grocery store, the Church being used as a warehouse.

She remembers interesting stories of the Indians as told to her by her mother, when they came in to trade at their store, and how frightful they looked with long rings in their noses, with knives in the legs of their high moccasins, and wrapped in their dirty blankets.

She also tells of the big spring by the Commerce street bridge, where many people went to get water for household purposes because the water was so cool and pure. The children used to fish there in the river and found it great fun.

As a tot she was always interested in the old Alamo ditch, it seemed to fascinate her, and she took advantage of every opportunity to investigate it.

Her parents, Fensel and Agnes Friedrich, came to San Antonio in 1854, and made their home on Crockett street, adjoining the Menger Hotel. The property remained in the hands of the family until a short time ago. Mr. Friedrich became known all over the United States for his horn furniture of all kinds. He had orders even from Europe. Their close neighbors were the Grenets, Stumbergs, Callahans and Kampmanns.

Col. C. C. Slaughter

The subject of this sketch, since early manhood, was identified with the cattle interests of Texas. He was born in Sabine county, Texas, February 9, 1837. Under the leadership of his father, George Webb Slaughter, he made a success of the cattle business and became a leader in his chosen lifework. He became an Indian fighter of note and was captain of the State Eangers for several years. His record in this respect stands high in the annals of the state, and his courageous leadership had much to do with forcing the Comanche s into paths of peace, and in carving out a new home in the wilderness for the settlers that were to come later.

In 1861 Colonel Slaughter was married to Miss Cynthia Anne Jowell, of Palo Pinto, and to them were born five children. Mrs. Slaughter died in Dallas in 1876, and in 1878 Colonel Slaughter was married to Miss Carrie Aberill, from which union there were four children. In 1877 Colonel Slaughter established the Lazy S Ranch, and for years grazed his cattle on the public domain in the Plains country of West Texas. At one time he claimed a section of the Plains 200 miles square or a total of 24,000,000 acres. Later he purchased ranch land, fenced it and improved it and at one time owned in fee simple more than 1,000,000 acres of land and was fot. years the largest individual taxpayer in Texas. There was probably more cattle bearing the Lazy S brand marketed than those of any other ranch in the world.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 901

Together with Kit Carter, J. C. Loving and John K Simpson he established the Cattle Raisers' Association in 1873, and was the second president of the organization. One of the great achievements in the life of Colonel Slaughter was the organization of the National Beef .Producers' & Consumers' Association in 1884, which at one time had an enrollment of 60,000 members residing in all sections of the United States.

Colonel Slaughter's contributions to benevolent organizations have been abundant, his efforts in this line culminr.ting in the building of the Baptist Memorial Hospital in Dallas, toward which he contributed more largely than any other individual. He was the president of the Confederate Veterans' Reunion held in Dallas in 1902. He won the title of Colonel for splendid service in the Confederate Army, where his career was marked for courage and patriotic devotion to principle. Colonel Slaughter located in Dallas in 1875, and from that time forward was prominently identified with every movement that had for its aim the upbuilding of that metropolis. He became one of the largest property owners there, and for many years was identified with the banking interests of North Texas.

Colonel Slaughter's children were George M., R. L., E. Dick, C. C. Jr., Alex A. Slaughter, Mrs. G. T. Veal, Mrs. G. G. Wright, Mrs. J. H. Dean, and Miss Nellie Slaughter.

Mayer Halff was born February the 7th, 1836, in Lauterbourg, Alsace, France, and died in San Antonio several years ago. He came to San Antonio at an early date and established the well known firm of M. Halff & Bro., where they conducted a large mercantile business. M. Halff being a progressive business man, soon became to the top of the ladder in that industry. Halff 's ranches and trail herds, throughout Texas, New Mexico and the Indian Territory caused him to be one of the best known, stockmen in the industry. He was of a genial disposition which made him a host of friends. No old timer was better known in the early days than M. Halff. Always loyal to his friends and state, always ready to further the interests of Texas few men did more than M. Haltf

Mayer Halff Daniel Oppenheimer

Daniel Oppenheimer was born in Bavaria, Germany, November 22, 1836 and died in San Antonio, December, 7th, 1915. He came to the United States in 1853 and worked for an uncle in Eusk, Cherokee county, for several years. In 1858 he formed a partnership with his brother, Anton Oppenheimer, under the firm name of D. & A. Oppenheimer, the well known banking house of San Antonio which exists today. Both d. m. oppenheimer brothers joined the Confederate Army and served throughout the Civil War, Dan

Oppenheimer having been promoted to a Captaincy. The firm was the owner of several ranches and many cattle, their holdings being the well known Oppenheimer Ranch in Atascosa county amounting to 100,000 acres, which was sold a few years ago to C. F. Simmons. The firm was interested at one time in one of the best known herds of high-bred Angora goats, held on their ranch, known as the Fink Eanch, in Bexar county. This ranch was sold to the U. S. Government which established Camp Stanley on this property. Dan Oppenheimer was well and favorably known throughout Texas. His many good deeds will be long in the memory of those w^io knew him.

The Killing Of Oliver Loving

Oliver Loving, Senior, is undoubtedly the first man' who ever trailed cattle from Texas. His earliest effort was in 1858 when he took a herd across the frontier of the Indian Nation or **No Man's Land,'' through eastern Kansas and northwestern Missouri into Hlinois. His second attempt was in 1859; he left the frontier on the upper Brazos and took a northwest course until he struck the Arkansas Eiver, somewhere about the mouth of the Walnut, and followed it to just about Pueblo, where he wintered.

Chas. Goodnight

In 1867 we started another herd west over the same trail and struck the Pecos the latter part of June. After we had gone up this river about one hundred miles it was decided that Mr. Loving should go ahead on horseback in order to reach New Mexico and Colorado in time to bid on the contracts which were to be let in July, to use the cattle we then had on trail, for we knew that there were no other cattle in the west to take their place.

Loving was a man of religious instincts and one of the coolest and bravest men I have ever known, but devoid of caution. Since the journey was to made with a one-man escort I selected Bill Wilson, the clearest headed man in the outfit, as his companion.

Knowing the dangers of traveling through an Indian infested country I endeavored to impress on these men ^the fact that only by traveling by night could they hope to make the trip in safety.

The first two nights after the journey was begun they followed my instructions. But Loving, who detested night riding, persuaded Wilson that I had been overcautious and one fine morning they changed their tactics and proceeded by daylight. Nothing happened until 2 o'clock that afternoon, when Wilson who had been keeping a lookout, sighted the Comanches heading toward them from the southwest. Apparently they were five or six hundred strong. The men left the trail and made for the Pecos Eiver which was about four miles to the northwest and was the nearest place they could hope to find shelter. They were then on the plain which lies between the Pecos and Eio Sule, or Blue River. One hundred and fifty feet from the bank of the Pecos this bank drops abruptly some one hundred feet. The men scrambled down this bluff and dismounted. They hitched their horses (which the Indians captured at once) and crossed and taking the Henry rifle departed, to cross the river with the gnn I hav^ n^-\^r comprehended for Wilson was a one armed man. But it shows what lengths a person will attempt in extreme emergencies.

place of concealment down the river there was a shoal, the only one I know of within 100 miles of the place. On this shoal an Indian sentinel on horseback was on gnard and Wilson knew this. The water was about four feet deep. When Wilson decided to start he divested himself of clothing except underwear and hat. He hid his trousers in one place, his boots in another and his knife in another all under water. Then taking his gun he attempted to cross the river. This he found to be impossible, so he floated downstream about seventy-five feet where he struck bottom. He stuck down the muzzle of the gun in the sand until the breech came under water and then floated noiselessly down the river. Though the Indians were all around him he fearlessly began his **geta-way. ' ' He climbed up a bank and crawled out through a cane brake which fringed the bank, and started out to find me, bare-footed and over ground that was covered with prickly pear, mesquite and other thorny plants. Of course he was obliged to travel by night at first, but fearing starvation used the day some, when he was out of sight of the Indians.

Now Loving and Wilson had ridden ahead of the herd for two nights and the greater part of one day, and since the herd had lain over one day the gap between us must have been something like one hundred miles.

The Pecos Eiver passes down a country that might be termed a plain, and from one to two hundred miles there is not a tributary or break of any kind to mark its course until it reaches the mouth of the Concho, which comes up from the west, where the foothills begin to jut in toward the river. Our trail passed just around one of these hills. In the first of these hills there is a cave which Wilson had located on a prior trip. This cave extended back into the hill some fifteen or twenty feet and in this cave Wilson took refuge from the scorching sun to rest. Then he came out of the cave and looked for the herd and saw it coming up the valley. His brother, who was

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 907

'* pointing'' the herd with me, and I saw him at the same time. At sight both of lis thought it was an Indian as we didn't suppose that any white man could be in that part of the country. I ordered Wilson to shape the herd for a fight, while I rode toward the man to reconnoiter, believing the Indians to be hidden behind the hills and planning to surprise us. I left the trail and jogged toward the hills as though I did not suspect anything. I figured I could run to the top of the hill to look things over before they would have time to cut me off from the herd. When I came within a quarter of a mile of the cave Wilson gave me the frontier sign to come to him. He was between me and the declining sun and since his underwear was saturated with red sediment from the river he made a queer looking object. But even when some distance away I recognized him. How I did it, under his changed appearance I do not know. When I reached him I asked him many questions, too many in fact, for he was so broken and starved and shocked by knowing he was saved, I could get nothing satisfactory from him. I put him on the horse and took him to the herd at once. We immediately wrapped his feet in wet blankets. They were swollen out of all reason, and how he could walk on them is more than I can comprehend. Since he had starved for three days and nights I could give him nothing but gruel. After he had rested and gotten himself together I said :

**I think Mr. Loving has died from his wounds, he sent me to deliver a message to you. It was to the effect that he had received a mortal wound, but before he would allow the Indians to take him and torture him he would kill himself, but in case he lived he would go two miles down the river from where we were and there we would find him. ' ' of how they left the Eio Sule or Blue Eiver, cutting across to the Pecos, how the Indians discovered them and how they sought shelter from them by hiding in the sand dunes on the Pecos banks; how Loving was shot and begged "Wilson to save himself and to tell his (Loving's) family of his end; how Wilson took the Henry rifle and attempted to swim but gave it up, as the splashing he made would attract the Indian sentinel stationed on the shoal.

Then Wilson instructed me how to find his things. He told me to go down where the bank is perpendicular and the water appeared to be swimming but was not. **Your legs will strike the rifle,'' he said. I searched for his things as he directed and found them every one, even to the pocket knife. His remarkable coolness in deliberately hiding these things, when the loss of a moment might mean his life, is to me the most wonderful occurrence I have ever known, and I have experienced many unusual phases of frontier life.

W. J. Wilson'S Narrative

In the spring of 1867 I bought a bunch of cattle on the Clear Fork of the Brazos, started up the river with them and fell in with Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving. They had had some trouble with the Indians, and we considered it safer to all travel together. We went on to the Pecos River on the old Butterfield trail. It never failed to rain on us every day until we reached Horsehead Crossing. The night we arrived at this crossing the cattle stampeded and all got away. Next morning we started to round them up. After hunting for three days we still had about 300 head of our big cattle missing. The rain had made all of the trails look old and we couldn't tell a new trail from an old one.

We concluded to go back to China Pond and take a circle from there and try to cut the cattle off. China Pond was about twenty-five miles back on the trail. So seven of us, made up from different cattle outfits, went back, and when we reached China Pond we decided to go east, and many miles out we found the trail of our cattle, and the signs showed that Indians had captured them and were driving them to their camp up the river. They had evidently expected us to come down the river looking for the cattle, and they did not discover us until we were within a hundred and fifty yards of them. Seeing we were greatly outnumbered, and as it was

When I returned from this cow-hunt, Mr. Loving asked me to go to Ft. Sumner, New Mexico, with him. We had a verbal contract with the people who were feeding the Indians there, and we wanted to hold that contract. The distance to Ft. Sumner was about 250 miles, and we were supposed to travel at night and lay up in the daytime so the Indians would not attack us.

The second day of our journey we stopped on a stream we called Black River, and stayed there two or three hours, rested up our horses, then concluded to go on to the point of a mountain where the road ran between the mountain and the river, and stay there that night. As we neared this mountain we discovered several Indians. They saw us about the same time, and we knew we were in for trouble, but we reached the river all right, and I picked out a little mound next to the river where I eonld see all around me, except one little spot where the polecat brush had grown up about three feet high, and that brush obscured my view of the river for a distance of about 100 yards. I told Mr. Loving if he would stay down at that little clump of bushes and keep the Indians from crawling up on us from the river I would keep them off from above. These Indians had increased in numbers until there were over a hundred of the red rascals. I think they had been hunting south of the river and were going back to their old ground.

After staying in the brush a little while Mr. Loving came to where I was, and I urged him to go back there and prevent the Indians from coming in on us from the river. He started back down there carrying a pair of holster pistols over his left arm. The bushes were about forty yards from where I was standing, and I kept my eyes on this spot for I knew if a demonstration was made from that direction the Indians would charge us from the hill. When Mr. Loving had almost reached the bushes an Indian rose up and I shot him, but not before he had fired on Mr. Loving. The Indian's shot went through Loving's holsters, passed through his wrist and entered his side. He came running back to me, tossed his gun to me and said he was killed and for me to do the best I could. The Indians at this time made a desperate charge, and after I had emptied my five-shooting Yarger, I picked up Mr. Loving's gun and continued firing. There was some brush, only a few inches high, not very far from where I was, and the Indians would run to it, crawl on their bellies, and I could not see them. I managed to get Mr. Loving down to the river and concealed him in a sandy depression, where the smart weeds grew about two feet high and laid down beside him. The Indians knew^ we were down there somewhere, and used all sorts of ruses to find our exact location. They would shoot their arrows up and some came very near striking us. Finally an Indian with a long lance came crawling along parting the weeds with his lance as he came, and just about the time I had determined to pull the trigger, he scared up a big rattlesnake. The snake came out rattling, looking back at the Indian, and coiled up right near us. The Indian, who still had not seen us, evidently got scared at the rattlesnake and turned back.

We lay there until night. Mr. Loving's wounds had thrown him into a high fever, and I managed to bring up some water from the river in his boot, which seemed to relieve him somewhat. About midnight the moon went down, but the Indians were still around us. We could hear them on all sides. Mr. Loving begged me to leave him and make my escape so I could tell his folks what had become of him. He said he felt sure he could not last until morning, and if I stayed there I would be killed too. He insisted that I take his gun, as it used metallic cartridges and I could carry it through the water and not dampen the powder. Leaving with him all of my pistols and my rifle, I took his gun and with a handclasp told him goodbye, and started to the river. The river was quite sandy and difficult to swim in, so I had to pull off all of my clothes except my hat, shirt and breeches. The gun nearly drowned me, and I decided to get along without it, so I got out and leaned it up against the bank of the river, under the water, where the Indians would not find it. Then I went down the river about a hundred yards, and saw an Indian sitting on his horse out in the river, with the water almost over the horse's back. He was sitting there splashing the water with his foot, just playing. I got under some smart weeds and drifted by until I got far enough below the Indian where I could get out. Then I made a three days' march barefooted. Everything in that country had stickers in it. On my way I picked up the small end of a tepee pole which I used for a walking stick. The last night of this painful journey the wolves followed me all night. I

. would give out, just like a liorse, and lay down in the road and drop off to sleep and when I would awaken the wolves would be all around me, snapping and snarling. I would take up that stick, knock the wolves away, get started again and the wolves would follow behind. I kept that up until daylight, when the wolves quit me. About 12 o'clock on that last day I crossed a little mountain and knew the boys ought to be right in there somewhere with the cattle. I found a little place, a sort of cave, that afforded protection from the sun, and I could go no further. After a short time the boys came along with the cattle and found me.

Charles Goodnight took a party of about fourteen men and pulled out to see about Mr. Loving. After riding about twenty-four hours they came to the spot where I had left him, but he was not there. They supposed the Indians had killed him and thrown his body into the river. They found the gun I had concealed in the water, and came back to camp.

About two weeks after this we met a party coming from Ft. Sumner and they told us Loving was at Ft. Sumner. The bullet which had penetrated his side did not prove fatal and the next night after I had left him he got into the river and drifted by the Indians as I had done, crawled out and lay in the weeds all the next day. The following night he made his way to the road where it struck the river, hoping to find somebody traveling that way. He remained there for five days, being without anything to eat for seven days. Finally some Mexicans came along and he hired them to take him to Ft. Sumner and I believe he would have fully recovered if the doctor at that point had been a competent surgeon. But that doctor had never amputated any limbs and did not want to undertake such work. When we heard Mr. Loving was at Ft. Sumner, Mr. Goodnight and I hastened there. As soon as we beheld his condition we realized the arm would have to be amputated. The doctor was trying to cure it without cutting it off. Goodnight started a man to Santa Fe after a surgeon, bnt before he could get back mortification set in, and we were satisfied something had to be done at once and we prevailed upon the doctor to cut off the affected limb. But too late. Mortification went into his body and killed him. Thus ended the career of one of the best men I ever knew. Mr. Goodnight had the body of Mr. Loving prepared for the long journey and carried it to Weatherford, Texas, where interment was made with Masonic honors.

Cyrus B. Lucas

Cyrus B. Lucas was born in Stratford, Canada, in 1857, and came to Texas with his parents in 1859, locating in Goliad county, w^here the father engaged in the mercantile and stock business, establishing the Fair Oaks Ranch which Cyrus B. Lucas still owns. Mr. Lucas' boyhood was spent on the ranch and after his graduation from college he devoted his time to the upbuilding of his business. In February, 1889, he was married to Miss Elizabeth Greenwood Scott, of Charco. To them were born two children, Richard Pryor and Lena Claire. Mr. Lucas served as commissioner in Goliad county for several years, and has been identified in politics and all movements that meant the upbuilding of county and state. He is recognized as one of the most progressive cattlemen of the Southwest. His Herefords, numbering several thousand head, rank among the best in quality in Texas. For more than twenty years he has used registered bulls in grading his stock. In 1894 he became a member of the Cattle Raisers' Association of Texas, and for several years was on the executive committee of that organization. He is identified with the Berclair State Bank, the Berclair Mercantile Company, The Berclair Gin Company, The Austwell Mercantile Company, the Commercial National Bank of Beeville, and various other enterprises in that section, besides owning three ranches, Fair Oaks Ranch near Berclair, embracing 58,- 000 acres in Goliad and Bee counties ; Buena Vista Ranch of 17,000 acres in Live Oak county, and the St. Charles Bay Ranch of 58,000 acres in Aransas and Refugio counties. He is also an extensive farmer, having 5,000 acres of land in cultivation on his different ranches, and when his time is not taken up with his extensive farming and ranching enterprises he is busy attending to the details of the other commercial concerns with which he is prominently identified.

Mr. Lucas and his family reside on the Fair Oaks Ranch in the summer, but spend the winters in San Antonio, where he has a handsome residence on Lexington Avenue.

John J. Little

John J. Little, one of the well known stockmen of Texas, was born August 8, 1860. His first commercial activity was in connection with his' father ^s stock business. He went up the trail in 1879 for Captain Crouch at the age of 19, and afterwards he took charge of Capt. Crouch's sheep in Frio county. For many years he had J. J. LITTLE the management of Schreiner settled first on the north bank of the San Marcos Eiver about twelve miles below its source in Caldwell county. Later the family moved to Lavaca county, purchased land and farmed there several years. Then moving back to Caldwell county the elder Jennings engaged in the cattle and horse business. In the late sixties cattle were cheap and plentiful, and Joseph P. Jennings was among the first to drive a herd over the trail to Kansas, trailing 700 old steers to Baxter Springs in 1869, where they were sold at a very good price. The subject of this sketch, William H. Jennings, assisted in gathering this herd and accompanied them as far as Austin. In 1870, when he was twenty years of age, he took part in his first trail trip, when his father and Colonel George Neil drove 1,800 mixed cattle to Abilene, Kansas. Working as a cowboy, he rode a little Spanish mule all day and herded one-third of every night. It rained a great deal during the trip and the work was exceedingly hard. In 1871 William Jennings became a full-fledged trailsman. He bossed a herd from Caldwell county to Wichita, Kansas, consisting of 2,500 mixed cattle belonging to his father, an uncle and himself. In 1873 he drove cattle for J. F. Ellison and J. 0. Dewees, and from that time until 1880 he was associated with Blocker Brothers in buying and handling cattle. He made his last trip over the trail from Llano county with a herd of 3,500 twoyear-old steers for Mat Murphy of Montana.

On December 3, 1878, Mr. Jennings was married to Miss Agnes Adelia Daugherty of Caldwell county. To them were born three children, two sons and one daughter. Mrs. Jennings died in 1883. The daughter, Willis Blanche and one son, Walter are also dead. After moving to Pearsall, in 1882, Mr. Jennings bought and handled fat cattle in Frio counties. In 1877 he became Assistant Livestock Agent for the International & Great Northern Eailroad Co., working under Colonel Homer Eads. He represented the Gould system and the Chi- cago & Alton Bailroad in South Texas when cattle went via St. Louis or Kansas City and on to Chicago. He bought many thousand of fat beef cattle on his own account and shipped them to market.

In 1892 Mr. Jennings, while associated with John E. Blocker, Jesse Presnall, Andy Armstrong, Sr., and W. C. Irvin, shipped 18,000 head of cattle from Frio, La- Salle, Dimmitt and Zavalla counties to the Ponca Osage Indian Keservation. The transaction turned out very disastrously, for in that year cows were sold on the Kansas City markets as low as sixty-five cents a hundred, and $2.50 was a big price for a good steer. Mr. Jennings acquired extensive ranch interests in South Texas and in Mexico, being associated with T. J. and John Blocker in the Piedra Blanca Banch in Northern Mexico.

John B. Slaughter

John B. Slaughter was born in Sabine county, Texas, December 15th, 1848, and had a life of singular success and thrilling experiences. His father, G. W. Slaughter, was of German- American ancestry and married Miss Sallie Mason, a young lady of Irish descent.

John B. Slaughter is a cattleman by birth and education. Born on the frontier in Sabine county, as soon as he could ride a ptjny, he was kept at work on his father's ranch, with occasional intervals devoted to rounding up

C. C. Slaughter, and received $15.00 a month. This, with the little herd of thirty or forty head of cattle his father had given him, was his start in life. The trails to Kansas, the Chisholm, Dodge and Santa Fe trails, and the ranges of West Texas were his field, and the saddle and slicker his home. His father and brother located their ranches in Palo Pinto county in the days when Indian raids and outlawry demanded that every one should be a ready and fearless marksman and carry with him at all times sufficient arms to defend his life and interests. Encounters with Indians, who would swoop down like hungry wolves, were neither rare nor novel. Their desire for ponies was never satisfied, and a scalp now and then, as a trophy, was always in order. These were the dangers he had been born to and reared in, and the hand to hand battles and running fights he took part in in Palo Pinto, Jack and Young counties years ago, seem almost incredible. Where now are thriving villages and towns as well as cities, where a forest of oil derricks, highways, automobiles and rich farms cover the country, were once scenes of hot pursuits of marauding bands, or hasty retreats from overwhelming numbers of savages, in which he always took part.

In the spring of 1871, when preparing for the season's roundup with his father and other hands, the ponies were placed in a corral, an inclosure made of cedar pickets set close, to prevent Indians from stealing them. Going out into the corral before daylight to look after the ponies, he found a hole in the fence. At the instant he discovered the gap an Indian sprang up from the ground almost at his feet, and fired, the ball entering his right breast and coming out at his back. He did not fall, but ran back for his rifle, while the Indian joined his band which was near by, and escaped in flight. Though shot through the body, in six weeks he was in the saddle again and on the trail again with cattle for his father and brother, which were in charge of a Mr. Adams. At Victoria Peak, in Montague county, the cattle were stampeded by a storm and scattered all over the country. The following morning the cowboys set out in twos, to gather them up, Mr. Adams and a young man going west. At nightfall all returned except these two. As the Indians had, the day before, raided Bob Stevens' ranch at Victoria Peak near by, and stolen all of his ponies, the men believing Mr. Adams to be killed, after a short search, thought it useless to look further for him, but were prevailed upon by John and one of the hands to continue the search. John took charge of the herd, and three days later, attracted by a swarm of vultures they found the bodies of Adams and his young companion scalped and mutilated. The breast of one was cut open and his heart drawn out and laid on his stomach ; the other had parts of his person cut off and stuck in his mouth. They rolled them in blankets and buried them under the bank of the creek where they had made their stand for life.

They were again attacked near Lookout Mountain, in what was then the Indian Territory. Fifteen Comanches stampeded their ponies, which were driven out in a separate herd, and ran them off, leaving them with 2,000 head of cattle to handle and one pony apiece. Yet they did it, arriving at Abilene, Kansas, on foot, where the herd was sold.

Eeturning the next spring, he went to Weatherford and purchased of Counts & Hughes $2,500 worth of ponies, and went with his men to Jack county to receive a herd of cattle his father had purchased of J. C. Loving. On the night of their arrival, while he and one of his hands were standing guard over the ponies, which had been hidden in a valley, were surprised by a volley of shots, yells and flapping of blankets. The Indians seemed to have come out of the ground, and, like a whirlwind, swept off every horse, leaving them on foot. lie was almost in touch with the red brutes, shooting and being shot at. The cattle were scattered also and while they were being gathered he returned to Weatherford for a new supply of horses.

In 1877, he and W. B. Slaughter, with a combined capital of $6,000 entered the business together, buying steers and driving them up the trail to market, continuing until 1890, when he established a ranch in Blanco Canyon on Catfish River, on which he placed 2,000 cattle and remained five years. He then moved to Socorro county. New Mexico, and, in 1886 sold to an English syndicate for $125,000, and went to Utah, establishing a ranch on Green River, 30 miles east of Salt Lake City and remained there for two years. Returning to New Mexico he located near the Texas line and kept this ranch two years. In 1890 he moved to Glasscock county Texas, where he had a ranch of 160 sections, 6,000 head of cattle and 100 head of horses and was president of the Peoples' National Bank of Colorado City.

In 1898 he moved to Fort Worth, Texas, and built one of the handsomest homes, at that time, in the city. At about the same time he sold his Glasscock county ranch and leased ranches in Garza and Borden counties. This, being state land, was thrown on the market and in 1901 he bought the Square and Compass Ranch of 150,- 000 acres from the Nave-McCord Cattle Co., at $1.60 per acre, together with five thousand head of cattle. Six thousand head of cattle were brought up from the Glasscock county ranch. After living in Fort Worth seven years he moved with his family to the ranch in Garza county and built one of the finest homes in West Texas.

In 1906 he sold 50,000 acres to C. W. Post, of Post Toasties and Grape Nuts fame, who was building a town and colonizing large tracts of land in Garza county. The town of Post, named after its founder, is the shipping point for the ranch and is located on the Santa Fe Railroad. The ranch as it now stands is amply watered with tanks, wells, and is fenced and cross fenced thoroughly, large branding pens with dehorning chutes, squeezers, dipping vats and is especially fine in that it has plains lands for summer range and brakes for winter range. The cattle brand is U Lazy S on left side, crop the left ear. The home is modern in every respect, having electric lights, hot and cold running water, electric washing machine, churns, irons, woodsaw, etc. A radio receiving station is installed which picks up the daily markets and evening entertainments all over the United States.

One special achievement of Mr. Slaughter's is the crossing of the buffalo with Brahma cows, which is readily done and is known as the ^^cattalo." Then he has succeeded in producing a second cross, which has been thought impossible, resulting in a large, heavy, thrifty animal known as the ** Vernier."

He was married in July, 1880, to Miss Belle May of Dallas and they had three children, Mamie, J. B. Jr., and Louie, deceased. Mamie, the daughter, married Frank E. Lott, a real estate man of Kansas City, and lives there. J. B. Jr., is on the ranch with his father and mother having finished his education, graduating from Yale University in 1914.

John B. Slaughter is one of the best known cattlemen in the state and his superior judgment and thorough knowledge of the cattle industry has resulted in his success where others failed. He is loved by all his men and highly esteemed by all who have his acquaintance.

Although seventy-five years of age, every day except Sunday, which is vigorously held as a day of rest on the ranch, he will be found on his favorite horses riding over the range, looking after his cattle and inspecting windmills, tanks, fences, etc. This outdoor life keeps him fit and he is hale and hearty and can, as he says outride and outwork any man on the ranch today.

Dennis O'Connor

Dennis M. O'Connor, the subject of this sketch, a son of Thomas O'Connor of Ireland was born in Eefngio county, Texas, October 9, 1840, and died July 18, 1900. He received a fair education as he was growing up, but the Civil War coming on left his education incomplete. He entered the cattle business, assisting his father. Few men ever dreamed in the old country, where the elder O'Connor came from, of the possibilities for a poor boy that were possible in this glorious sun-kissed land. Thomas O'Connor, the father, arrived in Texas from Wafford, Ireland, in March, 1834, and located in Eefugio county. He served in the Texas War for Independence and was the youngest man in the battle of San Jacinto. After this Avar he returned to Eefugio county and engaged in raising cattle on a small scale and also in manufacturing saddle trees and ox yokes. He invested all of his earnings in cattle and land and foresaw that those broad rolling prairies could not always afford free grass. He inclosed the j&rst pasture in Eefugio county, 10,000 acres, with wire, and continued to fence pastures until he had 500,000 acres under wire and stocked with cattle and horses, his lands lying in Eefugio, Goliad, San Patricio, McMuUen and LaSalle counties, its estimated value being $4,500,000 at the time of his death October 16, 1887. This property descended to his sons, Dennis and Thomas O'Connor, Jr. The mother of these boys came from New York with her parents, the Fagans, in 1829, and was married to Thomas O'Connor in 1839, the

Shanghai Pierce

Of this remarkable character George W. Saunders says: ^^Col. Shanghai Pierce has a record in the cattle industry never surpassed and I doubt if ever equaled by any man. I spent ten years hunting his photo, and had about given up the search when A. P. Ward of San Antonio, a relative to Col. Pierce, suggested that I write to the Colonel's granddaughter, Mrs. Frank Armour, in Chicago. She directed me to write to her brother, Mr.

Pickett Withers of that city and to my surprise and delight I received a good photo of Colonel Pierce just in time to get it in this volume of the Trail Drivers of Texas. Then it dawned upon me that I had no knowledge of where he was from, where he was born, or when he died, and I regret that I am unable to give this information at present. My first recollection of Mr. Pierce was just after the close of the Civil War when he bought fat cattle all over South Texas. I remember seeing him many times come to our camp where he had contracts to receive beeves. He was a large portly man, always rode a fine horse, and would be accompanied by a negro who led a pack horse loaded with gold and silver which, when he reached our camp, was dumped on the ground and remained there until the cattle were classed and counted out to him, then he would empty the money on a blanket in camp and pay it out to the different stockmen from whom he had purchased cattle. He would generally buy 200 or 300 head at a time. The cowmen would round up large herds at different times and Colonel Pierce would select what he wanted. We all looked upon him as a redeemer, and were glad to sell our cattle at any price as money was scarce in those reconstruction days before the northern trail started. Col. Pierce would sometimes stay in camp with us two or three days waiting to get the cattle shaped up. He was a great talker and would keep all the boys awake until midnight, laughing at his thrilling stories. He owned a large ranch on the coast, but his cattle were not fat and he would buy beeves to ship to Cuba, New Orleans and St. Louis, and he often came to Goliad, Bee, Live Oak and many other counties to get fat beeves. He kept this up until 1867, when the trail started north, and he became one of the biggest trail drivers of Texas, and became nationally known. During the money panic of 1873, which all old timers remember and but few operators survived, Colonel Shanghai Pierce pulled off some stunts that baffled the Yankees. He sent many herds up every year for several years from Matagorda county ranch in his straight mark and brand. His coast steers became known from the Eio Grande to the Canadian line as Shanghai Pierce's sea lions. Mr. Pierce was a loud talker, and no man who ever saw him or heard him talk ever forgot his voice or appearance. He was a money maker, empire builder, and a wonder to his friends and I believe to himself. His old ranch is now stocked with one of the best herds of Brahma cattle in the state, and is operated by Mr. A. P. Borden."

J. D. (Dunn) Houston was born November 18, 1850, in Dewitt county, Texas, and died in San Antonio a few years ago. He was raised in the cattle business and knew it tlioroughly. During the trail days Mr. Houston drove many herds to different northern markets and became well and favorably known from the Rio Grande to the Canadian line. He owned large cattle ranches in Gonzales and other counties in Texas. For many years he owned and operated a large ranch on the Pecos River. At the time of his death he was a large stockholder in the Lockwood National Bank of San Antonio. It would require volumes to describe Mr. Houston's extensive operations and great achievements. No one man has done more for the development of Texas than Dunn Houston.

Dunn Houston Bob Houston

born April 25, 1849, in Dewitt county, Texas, and died February 1, 1895. He was raised on a cattle ranch and followed the cattle business all of his life, becoming one of the large trail drivers and sending many herds to northern markets, during the time maintaining large cattle ranches in this state, mostly in Gonzales county. All who knew Bob Houston liked him, for he was of a mirthful nature and could pull off more stunts purely for fun than any man in the country.

Seldom it is that when a bunch of stockmen congregated that you can't hear something recalled by them that Bob Houston said or did. He was the life of his company, at the chuck wagon, on the road, up at the branding pen, on the trail, at the markets, at Bank directors' meetings, or weddings, balls and at home. He left a host of friends.

Jess McCoy Avas born in Mississippi, July 27, 1841, died March 12, 1920. He came to Texas with his parents in 1848, settling in Gonzales county, where he lived all of his life. After serving four years in the Confederate army, Mr. McCoy entered the cattle business and was among the first to drive herds to Kansas. He followed the trail for many years and became well and favorably known on all the northern markets and all over South Texas. Jess Mc- Coy was one of the most honorable and substantial stockmen of his section, and his many good deeds will be remembered by those who knew him.

On The Fort Worth And Dodge City Trail

While stationed in a line camp on the south line of the E2 Ranch in Walbarger county during the month of May, 1883, a message came stating that I was wanted to go up the trail, and at once to go to the R2 headquarters situated on Mule Creek, a tributary to Red River. Within three days every employee and the herd was ready to hit the Fort Worth and Dodge City trail. The herd was owned by Stephens & Worsham, and was bossed by Daniel P. Gipson. The first night out a thunder storm came up and the cattle stampeded and we ran them all night. I held between 400 and 500, and Billie Gatling held about 600 until after daylight, when several of the boys helped us bring them back to camp. We had 1,800 steers in that herd and it took several days to gather all of them up.

We crossed near Doan's, where the Dodge City trail crosses Red River, and resumed our long and tiresome journey in the direction of the north star. Hour by hour, step by step and day by day we pursued our way, not knowing the hardships that were in store for us. We had from one to three rains a week. Our route lay through the Indian Territory, where the range was a paradise for the long horn. One night we had a stampede in the Wichita Mountains, and when the sun rose on the bedground the next morning there was not a steer in sight. After three days ' hard work we again had them ready to wend their way to a distant clime beyond the sands of the Cimarron.

One day Quannah Parker, accompanied by another Indian came to me and wanted ^'wohaw, plenty fat, heap slick." I pointed to Gipson and told Quannah he was the wohaw chief, but the little Indian shook his head and said Gipson was ''no bueno." Gipson told me to ride into the herd and cut them out a yearling, and they went off with it. There were about 500 Indians camped near the trail, and nearly every herd that passed gave them a beef. Hundreds of cowboys knew Quannah Parker, and he had scores of friends among tlie white people.

The grass was burned to a crisp, stock water was scarce, provisions were high and everything in the vegetable line was scarce. Irish potatoes the size of a hickory nut were $2.50 per bushel. Sometimes the boss had to pay $10 to water the herd. People there informed us that it had not rained there in seven months, and it looked to me like it had not rained in seven years. Holding one foot on the Kansas soil and the other on Territory soil was like having one foot in the submerged alluvial soil of the Nile and the other out in the desert where it had not rained enough to wet a pocket handkerchief in a hundred years. The cool nights and almost unbearable heat in the daytime about got the best of the cowboys.

Two days after we struck camp southwest of Dodge City several of the cowboys were excused by the boss to go to town for supplies. Soon after they arrived there they began to ^^tank up" on mean whiskey and proceeded to shoot up the town. As they came out at a high rate of speed one of them, John Briley, was killed by the marshal of Dodge City. I was in Dodge City the next day and saw that he was buried. Associating with bad company has cost many a man his life.

Man dieth and goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the street. At the cemetery in Dodge City I noticed a number of fresh mounds, and I said to the sexton there that an epidemic of some kind must have struck that place, but he said the graves were those of desperadoes who had died with their boots on. While looking around I noticed on a small tombstone the following inscription: **Here rests Mary Hamilton, aged 14." Then came the following lines:

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Before we reached Dodge City Mr. Gipson received a message that Stephens & Worsham had 1,500 steers on the trail and to wait until they arrived, as they wanted to put both herds together. When one herd was made out of the two, making 3,350 head, all of the scrub employees were turned off and all of the stout, able-bodied men were selected to go on with the herd. Mr. Gipson returned to Texas and Frank Watson took charge of the outfit, and we proceeded on our way. An old trail driver told me that after a herd crossed the Arkansas Eiver they would never stampede again. I was only pleased to find that his statement was true, for they did not stampede again. Solve this mystery if you can.

After we crossed the Kansas and Nebraska line we had a lovely range and plenty of water through Nebraska. When we crossed the plains of that state, for a distance of 75 miles we did not see a stick of timber as large as a hoe handle and there was not a single house on this inmiense domain, not a creek or a river. Luckily for us heavy rains had fallen over the entire plains, and we had water. Old cowmen claim that on this stretch of plains the mercury often drops to thirty degrees below zero, and it is snow-bound for several weeks at a time. During severe winters it is impossible for anything to live there in the open.

After leaving the Nebraska line we crossed over into Colorado, and there had the pleasure of feasting our eyes on the most beautiful range that was ever beheld by a cowboy. The gramma grass was half a knee high, and was mixed with nutritious white grass that was waist high, waiving in the breeze like a wheat field. We drove up the Arickaree, a distance of about 100 miles, and had a picnic along this bubbling stream every day. The Arickaree was a tributary of the Platte River. We delivered our cattle near Deer Trail, Colorado, fifty miles southeast of Denver, and sixty-five miles east of the foot of the Rocky Mountains, on September 25th, 1883, to a man named Fant, who had bought them on the trail a few days before their arrival. After four long and lonesome months on the trail we at last reached our destination safe and sound, and after spending three days sight-seeing in Denver we pulled out for our homes in Texas. The old K2 boys are scattered today from the Black Hills in Dakota to Buenos Ayres in South America.

Character Impersonation

Among the different forms of entertainment provided for the Old Time Trail Drivers at their reunion in San Antonio in October, 1922, the character impersonations by Miss Elizabeth Slaughter were considered the best by the old cowboys in attendance. Miss Slaughter is a granddaughter of Mr. and Mrs. W. B. Slaughter, and as an entertainer she capped them all when she appeared before the audience garbed as a cowboy and recited a poem entitled, ^^The Chisholm Trail," from John A. Lomax's book. She gave the gestures and the emphasis necessary to make it true to life, and did not hesitate to use the cowboy slang wherever it occurred in the poem. Another rendition by Miss Slaughter wasa blackface sketch, *' Husbands Is Husbands, "v wherein the young lady appeared before the audience as a negro washwoman. The ^* Chisholm Trail" sketch follows:

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 931

Oh, a ten-dollar hoss and a forty-dollar saddle - And I'm goin' to punchin' Texas cattle. I woke up one morning on the old Chisholm trail Eope in hand and a cow by the tail.

I jumped in the saddle' and grabbed holt the horn. Best blamed cow-puncher ever was born. I popped my foot in the stirrup .and gave a little yell. The tail cattle broke and the leaders went to hell.

The Trail Deivers Of Texas 933

Goin' back to town to draw my money, Goin' back home to see my honey. With my knees in the saddle and my seat in sky I'll quit punching cows in the sweet by and by. Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.

My Early Days In Good Old San Antonio

My parents, John G. and Katherine Miller came to San -Antonio in 1848, and I was born September 10, 1851, where they first lived on Main Street and a ten-foot alley, now West Commerce and Navarro Streets. They lived there but a few years, then moved east on Main Street near the graveyard and powder house, then used as an arsenal. One of my childliood pleasures was to go to the powder house and watch Mr. Lollard, the caretaker, make paper cartridges.

In those days all of the ditches were full of running water. The ditch west of San Antonio Eiver ran down North Flores Street part of the way, turned east and then south and ran on the west side of Main Plaza in front of the Southern Hotel. There were two ditches east of the San Antonio River. The first one ran back of the Alamo and under the Menger Hotel. The other ditch was farther east on what is now called Water Street. Most of the houses were built on the river and the ditch convenient to water.

At the river crossing on Commerce Street there was a very low bridge, and somewhat of a hill to pull on the east bank. There was a large spring on the north side of the bridge on the east bank, where all the neighbors procured their water. Houston Street had very few houses on it then. The Mavericks had an orchard fenced with cedar pickets, where the Moore building now stands and it ran up to the present location of the Gibbs building where Mr. Maverick lived. He had one of the finest pecan trees in his yard that could be found anywhere, and there were some large cottonwood trees back of the Alamo, which gave that historic building its name, as Alamo means cottonwood in Spanish.

The plazas were like duck ponds as the water would stand there for days after a rain. The old pioneers who I recollect were Messrs. Lewis, Maverick, Menger,

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 935

In 1857 we moved to the Salado on the Austin road, and lived there until 1859, then moved to Selma on the Cibolo, where my father kept the store, post office and stage stand. The old time stage coach was the only way of carrying mail and passengers from San Antonio to Austin.

From 1866 to 1869 Eiley Davenport and I sold beeves to San Antonio butchers. They were William Heffling and his slaughter house and pens were where Muth's Garden is now on Grayson Street. Loesberg and Speicer had their pens on the Alazan west of town. There were two markets in San Antonio then, one was the old market house on Market Street, and the other was in the middle of Alamo Plaza, south of Crockett Street. We delivered about forty head every two weeks. The prices we received were six or seven dollars for the first beeves weighing from 900 to 1,000 pounds, and if they kept it on hand until it got thin they would turn it loose and go out on the Salado, in the range, and get a big fat steer in its place. Sometimes we would sell them the same steer two or three times, but they were never short any steers.

In 1870 I went to Brownsville with Capt. W. L. Smith after horses which we brought to the Pettus ranch in the San Antonio Eiver and sold most of them to the United States government on Col. Ed H. Cunningham's contract. Then we went back after 300 mules which we took to the Brazos Eiver, sold some and worked the balance on the railroad for two years.

In 1873 I gathered what cattle I could, about 900 head, and drove to Wichita, Kansas, found the market dull and sold on a credit, for which I realized mostly experience. Some of the boys who went with me were John Davenport, Bob Murchison and Mike Connor. John Davenport now lives in Bandera county, Bob Murchison lives

When I was 22 years old I bought a small place on the Cibolo, in Comal county, and improved it. I afterwards sold this place, and in 1881 bought 3,500 acres of fine land near Bandera, the old James ranch, and moved onto it in 1882, and still live on this ranch. I quit the cattle business in 1876 (at the wrong time) when I sold all I could gather, about 700 head, to Jesse Evans of Lavernia, and have not raised many cattle since, but have devoted my time to stock farming on a small scale.