EVEN IN PREHISTORIC times, before man had domesticated such animals for his use, it had been discovered that herbivorous creatures that lived in herds could be induced to move in a desired direction when necessary. With the development of agriculture, which made depending for a living on hunting unnecessary, the knowledge was put to good use when there was a need to move one’s livestock from place to place. Because of dire necessity, the technique had been brought to its highest state of development in America during the years following the War Between the States. Left practically unchecked throughout the four years of the conflict and well able to cope without the close human supervision required by more domesticated breeds, the half-wild longhorn cattle in Texas had grown until vast numbers roamed the open range. Men with vision such as Colonel Charles Goodnight, i his partner, Oliver Loving, Jesse Chisholm, Abel Head “Shanghai” Pierce, and General Jackson Baines “Ole Devil” Hardin—although Hardin had been confined to a wheelchair following a serious riding accident and had been prevented from participating at first hand with his OD Connected ranch’s drives ii—had seen how this could help them recover from the dire financial straits that had arisen from their support of the Confederate States. At first, the only markets had been the hide and tallow factories; their prices were never higher than four dollars a head, with calves required to be included free. Realizing that such sales would not solve the very serious monetary problems they were facing, the same men had sought and found other outlets. iii
The most important of the new sources for disposing of the herds were the intercontinental railroads, which offered a speedy means to take the cattle to the already heavily populated and meat-hungry Eastern states. However, before such a potential source of wealth could be exploited, the animals had to be delivered to the shipping points offered by the various towns that grew up along the tracks in Kansas. Despite the extremely long distances involved, especially from the southern parts of Texas, this had not proved insurmountable. Soon herds were flowing north in ever-increasing numbers and the skills of the men taking them were developed to a degree that many cowhands from the Lone Star State became expert in performing the various tasks required on the journey. iv
Sitting his fifteen-hand bayos-cebrunos gelding selected from his mount—no Texan used the word “string” for the horses rotated in use for his work—in the remuda in a relaxed posture—but maintaining himself the straight-backed posture imbued during his training at West Point prior to having left and served with distinction as an officer, rising to the rank of captain with Hood’s Texas Brigade in the Confederate States Cavalry through the Civil War—Martin Jethro “Stone” Hart studied what was happening to is rear with a sense of satisfaction arising from a belief that all was going well. In his early thirties, he was handsome apart from a livid white scar caused by a slash from a Yankee saber running down the length of his otherwise tanned right cheek. v He was just over six feet tall, and there was a suggestion of whipcord power to his slender frame. Regardless of his being the owner and trail boss of what he intended on arrival to start calling his Wedge Ranch, he wore the attire of a working cowhand, which showed signs that he did not merely supervise but had already helped handle the cattle he was now watching.
Sitting alongside his employer, with whom he had served as a sergeant major while “wearing the gray” in the War Between the States, Standish “Waggles” Harrison also experienced a sensation of well-being. He was around ten years older than Stone, matching Stone in height but more heavily built without being bulky. His hair and mustache were turning gray and his deeply bronzed rugged features were their usual expressionless mask. His clothing was that of a working cowhand and also indicative of his not having restricted himself to overseeing the rest of the crew in his capacity of segundo. Whereas his boss carried an ivory-handled Colt on a rig allowing it to be withdrawn swiftly, and could utilize its full potential if required, Waggles, admitting a lack of such skill, wore his—with standard factory walnut grips and the seven-and-a-half-inch Cavalry Model barrel—butt forward for a low-twist hand draw.
Because they had been together for so long and had shared so many perilous situations, the segundo could generally tell what his boss was thinking. At that moment, Stone was musing upon how this trail drive was not like any other they had made since taking up the task when deciding it offered them a better means of livelihood than anything else available in Texas at that time.
The methods being employed for keeping the animals moving were the same, but the herd that was wending a leisurely way across an area of rolling, predominantly open country in the warmth of an early-spring afternoon was traveling westward, not in the northerly direction required to reach the railroad shipping towns in Kansas. Furthermore, previously the cattle had belonged to ranchers who lacked sufficient stock or the money necessary to cover the costs and still show a worthwhile profit. This time, all the animals were Stone’s property and carried the Wedge brand, which previously was only added to whatever mark of ownership was borne prior to moving out. Nor were they intended for sale immediately on arrival at their destination. Rather, they were to add to the nucleus of stock on a ranch from which marketable herds would be produced. For this reason, such calves as were born were kept instead of being disposed of as an encumbrance to the pace that could be maintained with only grown animals and, as far as was possible, mainly steers.
While the longhorns that had been the source of wealth for Texas predominated in the herd, there was a significant number of the already predominantly red and white breed known as Hereford cattle originally imported from Great—as it was then—Britain in 1817 by Henry Clay, a landowner in Kentucky. From this small beginning of a bull, a cow, and heifer, the strain had gradually become popular in the East by virtue of its meat’s quality and its milk-producing capacity. The progress was slower west of the Mississippi River; the majority of ranchers there knew that the greater ease by which longhorns could proliferate with a minimum need for human supervision made them a better proposition.
Nevertheless, by the time of the present drive, Herefords were being raised in increasing numbers by forward-thinking cattlemen as offering a more substantial return when sold due to their providing a grade of beef superior to that from their free-ranging and at best only semidomesticated predecessors, whose way of life was not conducive to the cultivation of tender flesh. With a natural-born conservatism, many cowhands and not a few cattlemen damned the “new” stock as being too delicate to be allowed to range free and lacking the natural instincts to survive while doing so, which came instinctively to longhorns as a result of their only very rarely having been granted constant care and attention through countless generations. vi On the other hand, forward-thinking men of influence in the cattle business had gained faith in the “Limey critters,” and Stone, although he could not claim to be one of their number because his connection with the business was confined to his role as a successful trail boss handling other people’s stock, was willing to be guided by them now that he was to be engaged in raising stock on his own account.
Winding across the rolling plains country, the cattle were being kept moving by riders spaced along each side of the column. Those at the head of the line—on the “point”—were responsible for keeping the animals following the directions of the trail boss or his segundo, whoever was currently riding a short distance in front. Covering the first third of the line were the men designated as being on the “swing.” The “flank” men were positioned along the next third, and the rear was brought up by the cowhands riding the “drag.”
Although usually only two at most would be used, off to one side at the head of the column were five wagons; each was drawn by animals better adapted for doing the hauling than working the cattle. Since Stone would be making his home permanently at their destination, two of these—the first carrying his wife and a young woman married to one of the trail hands and serving as her maid-cum-housekeeper—had household furniture aboard. The third, known as a “blattin’ cart,” was used for transporting calves that were born along the way and could not as yet keep up with their mothers.
It was more usual to see the remaining pair of vehicles with a trail herd. The bed wagon, in addition to serving to transport various supplies—including, among other items, a thick rope to provide an extemporized corral into which the horses were placed for their riders to catch those selected for the day’s work, a keg of ready-made horseshoes, known as “good-enoughs,” as temporary replacements, and the means to fix horseshoes in place—carried the bedrolls of the crew when not in use, each man being responsible for placing his own there before starting out in the morning. If this was overlooked once, the cook would rectify the situation to the accompaniment of suitable comments on the owner’s return. However, should the failure occur again, the cook was at liberty to leave it behind.
A further function of the bed wagon was to provide accommodation of a primitive nature for the nighthawk, whose purpose was to keep watch over the remuda through the hours of darkness. Regarded as performing a menial, albeit important task, he was expected to get what sleep he could inside during the daytime while it was keeping pace with the herd, regardless of how rough the terrain being traversed. The majority of the crew had been employed in a similar fashion earlier in their career, and although they rarely expressed the sympathy they felt over his lot, they invariably told the nighthawk that the way he had to live was all part of the process they called “making a hand.” Stone considered himself fortunate on the drive to have obtained the services of a Negro who had given the name “Tarbrush,” saying when asking to be taken on, that he preferred it to the one supplied by his family. He had quickly proved to be more experienced in the task than was generally the case, and, in fact, frequently stated that he was so used to doing it he could hardly stay awake during the day.
Last, but far from least, was the specially adapted vehicle that was the pride and domain of the cook. Generally an experienced old-timer, the cook ranked next below the segundo in order of importance and accounted himself even higher when camp was formed. Not only was he responsible for ensuring that food was available for the hands regardless of the weather conditions and hot strong coffee ready for the entire camp, he was expected to be able to attend to injuries and illness sustained by the crew.
Under the supervision of the wrangler while on the move and until the nighthawk took over, about the same distance and toward the rear on the other flank was the remuda of spare horses to be used when those currently being ridden became tired. Again, although the duty was essential, the work tended to be carried out by a youngster who was not considered sufficiently experienced to be riding herd on the cattle. It was the hope of every wrangler—and nighthawk too—to attain the accolade “He never lost a horse.”
Almost every member of the crew had long experience and the trail was already several weeks old, so the herd had settled down to a great extent But there was more to keeping the cattle moving than merely riding alongside them in the position assigned by the segundo each morning. Particularly where the longhorns were concerned—although the Herefords were far from being devoid of the trait—there were frequently attempts made to leave the line for one reason or another. When that happened the nearest of the cowhands, generally cursing such behavior with a fluency and breadth of profanity depending upon the individual’s ability along those lines, would send his horse forward swiftly and direct the beast back to its companions.
Another task that Stone insisted upon being performed as a matter of precaution—and to save time later—was to ensure that cattle occupying the range through which the herd was traveling did not decide to join it. Accepting that there would inevitably be a few that succeeded, he considered the extra effort required to keep these mishaps to a minimum worth the effort. And although they might complain bitterly about it as they did everything else—this being a trait of cowhands—his men understood and agreed with his motives.
On the point of the herd, Stone and Waggles saw a big brown and white steer that had caused trouble on previous occasions burst from among the other cattle and dash away. Letting out an angry exclamation, the segundo reached toward the rope strapped to the low horn of his Texas-style saddle. Before he could liberate it, he saw the nearest cowhand already in motion and, duplicating the man’s action, shook open the loop of the lariat. Realizing who the cowhand was, he felt a touch of anxiety. Oswald “Thorny” Bush had acquired an acceptable ability at performing the ordinary tasks, but Waggles considered the way he was clearly contemplating dealing with the fleeing animal to be biting off more than he could chew.
Tall and skinny, although filling out in a way that was a tribute to the excellence of Chow Willicka’s cooking, Bush was a moderately good-looking blond youngster who sought to appear older than his seventeen years by letting his hair grow as profusely as it would on his top lip. His clothing showed that he had not been shirking his work, and around his waist was a gunbelt with a brace of white-handled Colt Civilian Model Peacemakers in the cross-draw holsters. Like another two of his six-horse mount, the horse he was sitting was a paint.
Urging his horse forward and letting it build to a gallop, the youngster closed with the fleeing steer. Arriving at a suitable distance, he gave the rope a twirl upward and then sent it sailing ahead so that its loop dropped in a head-catch over the wide spread of horns that gave the breed its name. However, the running noose did not pass down to neck level. Instead, having attained the first part of his intention in a way the watching segundo could not fault, he just as deftly drew the slack from the loop until it tightened around the base of the bony appendages. With this achieved, he kept advancing until he had gained sufficient slack to flip the spoke of the rope—as the section between the noose and the end was called, although the word “stem” was also employed—so it fell over the animal’s opposite flank and around the rump beneath the tail.
“Now comes the tricky part!” Waggles said quietly, despite his satisfaction with all he had seen so far.
“Why, sure,” Stone agreed, hoping that the youngster would come to no harm as a result of adopting such a risky measure instead of just turning the animal by getting alongside and using the coiled rope as a whip.
Both of the men were willing to concede that, in addition to having brought off the first part of the throw in a competent fashion, Bush had mastered the rest of it with a similar skill. At his signal, obeying as it had been trained, the paint turned at an angle of about forty-five degrees from the steer’s path. Not only did the tightened noose twist its head around and back, the spoke snatched the hind legs from the ground so that the steer reversed its direction in a violent corkscrew somersault. Landing with a resounding thud, it was so badly dazed by the impact that it was unable to resist when the youngster sprang from his saddle and darted over to remove the rope. He was back astride the horse before his victim was able to rise. Getting up on far-from-steady legs, and finding itself facing the herd, the steer trotted back to the safety of the ranks.
Responding to the whoop of approval from the next man down the line, with a wave of his hand, Bush suddenly became aware that he was being watched by his boss and segundo. Knowing that the method he had used to deal with the situation occasionally injured or killed the steer, he was uncertain whether they would approve as well. To add to his consternation, as he was starting to draw in and coil his rope, the two men—for whom he had admiration not exceeded by that given to any other man he had ever met—rode his way.
“Good work, Thorny,” Stone praised, guessing what was in the youngster’s mind and wanting to put him at ease.
“You took that sucker down as pretty as I’ve seen it done,” Waggles supplemented, always willing to give praise when it was due, and particularly when the recipient was an eager youngster who consistently showed a willingness to try to do his best.
“I hoped I wouldn’t bust its fool neck,” Bush admitted. “Which I’ve been to—allus found right easy to do.”
“That it is,” Stone agreed, hiding his amusement at the way the statement was amended to hide the fact that the feat had been performed for the first time. “I don’t know how you see it, Thorny, but I figure I’d sooner have a bunch-quitter like him made wolf bait when he goes rather than give the others similar notions.”
“I’ve allus seen it that way myself, Cap’n Hart,” the youngster declared, feeling fit to burst with pride at having had his opinion requested in such a fashion. “Well, I’d best get back and see that no more of them try quitting.”
“I hope they don’t,” Waggles commented dryly, yet without any suggestion of malice or derision, as Bush was riding back toward the cattle. “He’ll bust one’s neck if he keeps at it, and the kind that go are always as tough as old boot solings when Chow gets them in the cooking pot.”