—Reprinted from The Cattleman, March 1915, Vol. I, No. II

My first trail work was in 1859, helping my father move a bunch of stock cattle from Gonzales County to Goliad County, where we located. I was only five years old at the time, but well do I remember the trip.

We were short on saddles, and I had to use one of my sister’s saddles, and kept up the tail end of the herd all the way. Arriving at our new home, about 10 miles west of Goliad, my father and older brothers cut timbers and built log houses to live in. The country was thinly settled and very few cattle were on the range.

A few neighbors

Uncle Jim Pettus, father of the late J. A. Pettus, had a ranch where Pettus station of the S.A. & A.P. Railway now stands, and another ranch just above Goliad. The Lott and Hoges families, also Capt. Word, had ranches on the river above Goliad. These, and a few other settlers, were our only neighbors.

In addition to his own cattle, my father took two other bunches to care for, receiving in return every third calf. Those were busy days on the range, branding calves, herding, hunting those that strayed off and driving them back. We were in paradise and doing fine until the [Civil] war broke out in 1861. This took my father and brothers, James and William, from home, and left brother Jack and I to run the ranch for four long years, and busy ones they were.

With a few old men, boys and Negroes, we worked the range from Karnes County to Nueces County, branding calves for our neighbors who were away at war, and dividing mavericks with those who had cattle on our range. Occasionally we would stop work to rest our horses, set a time and place to meet, visit home for a few days, and then out for another trip.

Each of us carried a wallet of cooked bread, ground coffee, a few peloncias, coffee pot, tin cups, two or three blankets, and six or eight saddle horses—most of them wild, pitching rascals. Reaching the appointed place we would stake one horse apiece and hobble the balance out.

We worked in groups of from 12 to 15, and everyone helped cook, work around the camp and gather horses, and then all went together for the day’s work. We usually made our camp near some ranch that had corrals, covering the territory for 12 to 15 miles around, and then moving on the to next ranch. When provisions ran short, we would send a man back for more. Such was the cattle business on the range before the chuck wagon days.

We sold a few cattle to the government and to Mexico. I remember one bunch of 20 big steers, which we sent to Mexico by a neighbor to trade for supplies. He got back with one sack of coffee, a set of knives and forks, two pocket knives and two pairs of spurs. Today such cattle would sell for about $1,400.

During the four years of war cattle accumulated, and with little or no market for them, our range was soon overstocked. At the close of the war the soldiers who were not killed returned, including my father and brothers, and were soon busy gathering their cattle and hunting markets for them.

Many strangers came, too, and among them some thieves. Up to that time we did not know what stealing meant, but most of them soon caught the fever, and the man who could brand the most mavericks and get away with them without being hung, was [a big man].

Conditions were in this shape in 1868 and 1869 when we heard of the Chisholm Trail and Kansas markets, and the building of packing plants at Rockport. By 1870, from Mexico to the mouth of the Rio Grande, countless herds were taking the trail for Kansas. Neighboring stockmen would make up a herd of a few hundred head, and one of the most venturesome would take them over the trail to Kansas, sell them and settle with the owners on his return.

Any man of reasonable standing could buy a herd on his credit and pay for them on his return, and many of our largest trail men started that way. Some of them would buy or steal a bunch of 500 or 600 cattle and pick up twice as many on the trail. This caused lots of trouble between trail men and stockmen and farmers along the route, and led many of the latter to believe that all trail men were thieves.

In 1870, two of my brothers, Mat and Jack, took a herd to Baxter Springs, Kan., and on their return gave such glowing reports of the thrilling and exciting experiences that I decided to tackle the trail. In the spring of 1871 I was employed by the late Monroe Choate of the firm Choate & Bennett. Jim Boiler was boss of the outfit.

Starting from the Choate ranch in Karnes County, we went by Helena, filled the chuck wagon with provisions, then to the Mays ranch in Wilson County, where we received 2,000 large, wild steers, which Mr. Choate had previously bought. After several busy days and sleepless nights we started on our long journey. The steers were very wild, and for the first 200 miles of our journey, they stampeded day and night.

Our route was via Gonzales, Austin, Waco and Fort Worth. Fort Worth was then only a small frontier town, surrounded by wild and undeveloped country, and we camped for two days where the packing houses now stand. There was only one residence in that locality at that time.

Crossing the Red River at Red River station, we followed the Chisholm Trail through the Indian Territory to the Kansas line, having several scraps with the Indians, which was new and exciting to me. They stampeded our cattle and horses and held them for rewards, but after giving them several beeves, provisions and a few trinkets, we got through with most of our stock.

Buffaloes were plentiful. I had heard that they could not be turned from the route they were running, but we soon found that they would run any direction to get away from a bunch of cowboys with pistols. We ran into a bunch of about 200 and the boys quit the herd and flew after them, scattering and shooting them down for the sport. It was an exciting picture. After that buffalo hunting was common to us.

At Abilene, Kan., we were met by Mr. Bennett, who cut out 200 fat steers and sold them to a shipper. They were the first cattle I ever saw loaded on a train. Choate & Bennett had 14 herds on the trail that year, and after we had been at Abilene about 10 days, several other herds arrived.

We were no longer needed, and about 50 of us, including some of Choate & Bennett’s and Will Butler’s men, started back to Texas over the same route with about 150 horses and five chuck wagons. This was a rollicky bunch, and big times we had on the trip. We had several scraps with the Indians, but all arrived home in good shape. Ben Borroum, now of Del Rio, and Fate Butler of Kenedy were two of the lads on the return trip. I mention their names as I may need some proof.

After a few days rest I was on the range again branding calves and driving cattle to Rockport to sell to the packers at the following prices: steers, $10 to $15 each; cows, $7 to $10; yearlings and twos, $3 to $5. There was no market for calves in those days.

From 1871 to 1884 I was again on the trail, sometimes going through and sometimes only part of the way. My last three trips were in 1884; 1882 and 1883 I spent in San Antonio dealing in horses. San Antonio from 1882 to 1886 claimed to be the largest horse market in the world.

In the spring of 1884 I took a bunch of horses from San Antonio to Dodge City, Kan., and disposed of them. In the summer of that year I drove a bunch of cattle from Alpine, for Keeny-Wiley & Hurst to their ranch in New Mexico.

The roughest trip of all was in the fall and winter of 1884, when I took a herd of cattle from Toyah, for N. H. Hall, to his ranch in Luna Valley, Ariz., arriving there in the spring of 1885. During the winter we were constantly on the lookout for Geronimo and his famous band of Apaches.

My route was via Guadalupe Mountains, Crow Springs, up the Sacramento River, down Dog Canyon, around White Mountain via La Luce and Tularosa, crossing the Melphia at the Government crossing, across the Rio Grande at San Marcial, and on via Magdalena and Canudas Mountains to Luna Valley, Ariz.