LORE & LEGENDS
By Andy Adams in 1906
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evening before the Cherokee Strip was thrown open for settlement, a number
of old timers met in the little town of Hennessey,
On the next day the Strip would pass from us and our employers, the
cowmen. Some of the boys had spent from five to fifteen years on this
range. But we realized that we had come to the parting of the ways.
This was not the first time that the government had taken a hand in cattle
matters. Some of us in former days had moved cattle at the command of
Negro soldiers, with wintry winds howling an accompaniment.
The cowman was never a government
favorite. If the
wards of the nation had a few million acres of idle land, "Let it lie
idle," said the guardian. Some of these civilized tribes maintained a
fine system of public schools from the rental of unoccupied lands.
Nations, like men, revive the fable of the dog and the ox. But the
guardian was supreme--the cowman went. This was not unexpected to most
of us. Still, this country was a home to us. It mattered little if our
names were on the pay-roll or not, it clothed and fed us.
We were seated around a table in the rear of a
saloon talking of the
morrow. The place was run by a former
It therefore became a rendezvous for the craft. Most of us had made up
our minds to quit cattle for good and take claims.
"Before I take a claim," said Tom Roll, "I'll go to Minnesota and peon
myself to some Swede farmer for my keep the balance of my life. Making
hay and plowing fire guards the last few years have given me all the
taste of farming that I want. I'm going to
"Why don't you go this winter? Is your underwear too light?" asked Ace
Gee. "Now, I'm going to make a farewell play," continued Ace. "I'm
going to take a claim, and before I file on it, sell my rights, go
back to old Van Zandt County,
winter, rear up my feet, and tell it to them scary. That's where all
my folks live."
"Well, for a winter's stake," chimed in Joe Box, "Ace's scheme is all
right. We can get five hundred dollars out of a claim for simply
staking it, and we know some good ones. That sized roll ought to
winter a man with modest tastes."
"You didn't know that I just came from Montana, did
you, Tom?" asked Ace. "I can tell you more about that country than you
want to know. I've been up the trail this year; delivered our cattle
on the Yellowstone, where the outfit I worked for has a northern
range. When I remember this summer's work, I sometimes think that I
will burn my saddle and never turn or look a cow in the face again,
nor ride anything but a plow mule and that bareback."
"The people I was working for have a range
in Tom Green County, Texas, and
another one in Montana. They
send their young steers north to mature--good idea, too!--but they are
not cowmen like the ones we know. They made their money in the East in
a patent medicine--got scads of it, too. But that's no argument that
they know anything about a cow."
"They have a board of directors--it is one of those cattle companies.
Looks like they started in the cattle business to give their income a
healthy outlet from the medicine branch. They operate on similar
principles as those soap factory people did here in the Strip a few years
ago. About the time they learn the business they go broke and retire."
"Our boss this summer was some relation to the wife of some of the
medicine people Down East. As they had no use for him back there, they
sent him out to the ranch, where he would be useful."
"We started north with the grass. Had thirty-three hundred head of twos
and threes, with a fair string of saddle stock. They run the same brand on
both ranges--the broken arrow. You never saw a cow-boss have so much
trouble; a married woman wasn't a circumstance to him, fretting and
sweating continually. This was his first trip over the trail, but the boys
were a big improvement on the boss, as we had a good outfit of men along.
My idea of a good cow-boss is a man that doesn't boss any; just hires a
first-class outfit of men, and then there is no bossing to do."
The Cattle Trail, 1905
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"We had to keep well to the west getting out
to the west of Buffalo Gap. From there to Tepee City is a dry, barren
country. To get water for a herd the size of ours was some trouble. This
new medicine man got badly worried several times. He used his draft book
freely, buying water for the cattle while crossing this stretch of desert;
the natives all through there considered him the softest snap they had met
in years. Several times we were without water for the stock two whole
days. That makes cattle hard to hold at night. They want to get up and
prowl--it makes them feverish, and then's when they are ripe for a
stampede. We had several bobles crossing that strip of country; nothing
bad, just jump and run a mile or so, and then mill until daylight. Then
our boss would get great action on himself and ride a horse until the
animal would give out--sick, he called it. After the first little run we
had, it took him half the next day to count them; then he couldn't believe
his own figures."
"A Val Verde County lad who
counted with him said they were all right--not a hoof shy. But the
medicine man's opinion was the reverse. At this the Val Verde boy got on
the prod slightly, and expressed himself, saying, 'Why don't you have two
of the other boys count them? You can't come within a hundred of me, or
yourself either, for that matter. I can pick out two men, and if they
differ five head, it'll be a surprise to me. The way the boys have brought
the cattle by us, any man that can't count this herd and not have his own
figures differ more than a hundred had better quit riding, get himself
some sandals, and a job herding sheep. Let me give you this pointer: if
you are not anxious to have last night's fun over again, you'd better quit
counting and get this herd full of grass and water before night, or you
will be cattle shy as sure as hell's hot."
"'When I ask you for an opinion,' answered the foreman, somewhat
indignant, 'such remarks will be in order. Until then you may keep your
remarks to yourself.'"
"'That will suit me all right, old sport,' retorted Val Verde; 'and when
you want any one to help you count your fat cattle, get some of the other
boys--one that'll let you doubt his count as you have mine, and if he
admires you for it, cut my wages in two.'"
"After the two had been sparring with each other some little time, another
of the boys ventured the advice that it would be easy to count the animals
as they came out of the water; so the order went forward to let them hit
the trail for the first water. We made a fine stream, watering early in
the afternoon. As they grazed out from the creek we fed them through
between two of the boys. The count showed no cattle short. In fact, the
Val Verde boy's count was confirmed. It was then that our medicine man
played his cards wrong. He still insisted that we were cattle out, thus
queering himself with his men. He was gradually getting into a lone
minority, though he didn't have sense enough to realize it. He would even
fight with and curse his horses to impress us with his authority. Very
little attention was paid to him after this, and as grass and water
improved right along nothing of interest happened."
"While crossing 'No-Man's-Land' a month later, --I was on herd myself at
the time, a bright moonlight night,--they jumped like a cat shot with No.
8's, and quit the bed-ground instanter. There were three of us on guard at
the time, and before the other boys could get out of their blankets and
into their saddles the herd had gotten well under headway. Even when the
others came to our assistance, it took us some time to quiet them down. As
this scare came during last guard, daylight was on us before they had quit
milling, and we were three miles from the wagon. As we drifted them back
towards camp, for fear that something might have gotten away; most of the
boys scoured the country for miles about, but without reward. When all had
returned to camp, had breakfasted, and changed horses, the counting act
was ordered by Mr. Medicine. Our foreman naturally felt that he would have
to take a hand in this count, evidently forgetting his last experience in
that line. He was surprised, when he asked one of the boys to help him, by
receiving a flat refusal."
"'Why won't you count with me?'" he demanded.
"'Because you don't possess common cow sense enough, nor is the crude
material in you to make a cow-hand. You found fault with the men the last
count we had, and I don't propose to please you by giving you a chance to
find fault with me. That's why I won't count with you.'
"'Don't you know, sir, that I'm in authority here?' retorted the foreman.
"'Well, if you are, no one seems to respect your authority, as you're
pleased to call it, and I don't know of any reason why I should. You have
plenty of men here who can count them correctly. I'll count them with any
man in the outfit but yourself.'
"'Our company sent me as their representative with this herd,' replied the
foreman, 'while you have the insolence to disregard my orders. I'll
discharge you the first moment I can get a man to take your place.'
"'Oh, that'll be all right,' answered the lad, as the foreman rode away.
He then tackled me, but I acted foolish, 'fessing up that I couldn't count
a hundred. Finally he rode around to a quiet little fellow, with pox-marks
on his face, who always rode on the point, kept his horses fatter than
anybody, rode a San Jose saddle, and was called Californy. The boss asked
him to help him count the herd.
"'Now look here, boss,' said Californy, 'I'll pick one of the boys to help
me, and we'll count the cattle to within a few head. Won't that satisfy
"'No, sir, it won't. What's got into you boys?' questioned the foreman.
"'There's nothing the matter with the boys, but the cattle business has
gone to the dogs when a valuable herd like this will be trusted to cross a
country for two thousand miles in the hands of a man like yourself. You
have men that will pull you through if you'll only let them,' said the
point-rider, his voice mild and kind as though he were speaking to a
"'You're just like the rest of them!' roared the boss. ’Want to act
contrary! Now let me say to you that you'll help me to count these cattle
or I'll discharge, unhorse, and leave you afoot here in this country! I'll
make an example of you as a warning to others.'"
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