The LS Brand: The Story of a Texas Panhandle Ranch 9781477300688

Citation preview

TttE LS BRAND T H E STORY OF A TEXAS PANHANDLE RANCH

THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

NUMBER 6 T H E M. K. BROWN RANGE L I F E SERIES

THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

THE L 5 BRAND T H E STORY OF A TEXAS PANHANDLE RANCH

By D U L C I E

SULLIVAN

Introduction by Loula Grace Erdman

UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS PRESS, AUSTIN

Library of Congress Catalog Card No. 68-8732 Copyright © 1968 by Dulcie Sullivan All Bights Reserved

Typesetting by G&S Typesetters, Austin Printed by the University of Texas Printing Division Bound by Universal Bookbindery, Inc., San Antonio ISBN 978-1-4773-0068-8 (library e-book) ISBN 978-1-4773-0069-5 (individual e-book)

TO

COLDEN HOFFMAN WHITMAN AND

the pioneer men and women of the LS Ranch, whose memories drift back like smoke from forever-gone campfires

THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

FOREWORD

M a n y years have passed since I filled the first notebook with recollections of the men and women who pioneered the LS Ranch from 1881 to 1905. One full book is devoted to Mr. and Mrs. J. E. McAllister and their daughter, Mrs. May McAllister Weills. M y father, A. L. "Bud" Turner, worked on the LS Ranch during the early 'eighties. His memories are preserved in m y notebooks. As a child, I knew many LS cowboys. I am grateful that I have their stories, for all of them are riding now in the pastures forever green. I am indebted to that grand old LS cowboy, Wilks McDade, who helped me with forgotten names. M y special thanks go to Colden H. Whitman, who so generously permitted me to use his parents', Charles and Pauline Whitman's, personal letters, records, and photographs of the LS Ranch. These sturdy men and women produced frontier history in the Texas Panhandle. I have neither exaggerated nor minimized their stories. They are recorded exactly as told to me. D.S.

THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

CONTENTS

Foreword Introduction 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

W. M . D . L e e J. E. McAllister Lucien R. Scott and the LS Cattle Rranding Charles N. Whitman Tascosa and Root Hill Lawsuits and a Cowboy Strike Chuck Wagons and Roundups A Ranch in Montana and Rustlers in Texas A Prairie Fire, a Land Swap, and a Wedding Rullets for Rrophy Rog Riders End a Feud Work and Play Lee and the Fort Worth and Denver . . Cattle Loss Lee Leaves the LS The Whitman Era Trail's End

Index

9 15

. .

.

23 27 34 43 50 56 63 73 . 8 1 . 92 101 108 118 .127 135 143 149 159 169

THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

ILLUSTRATIONS Examples of Rrands, page 44 Following page 64 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

The McAllister Family Mr. L. B. Scott Mrs. L. B. Scott Mrs. C. N. Whitman Mr. C. N. Whitman Alamocitas Headquarters Dunk Cage Outfit Alamosa Headquarters New Headquarters New Headquarters, Kitchen New Headquarters, Charlie Whitman's Office New Headquarters, Living Room New Headquarters, Bedroom LS Roundup Branding Calves Branding Calves LS Chuck Wagon Chuck Wagon Camp Alamosa Range Sierrita de la Cruz Men Who Worked for Charlie Whitman Ysabel Camp Two Cowboys Bradley Camp Cutting a Herd for Montana

14

The LS Brand 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

Willow Hollow Hole Hauling Fence Posts Plains Camp Dobbs Canyon James McMasters Store Tascosa's Main Street

INTRODUCTION

"Sometimes I sigh for those old Cattle Trail days," a former LS cowboy wrote in his story of driving a herd from the ranch to Montana. Reading Mrs. Dulcie Turner Sullivan's book, we find ourselves sighing with him. For here is Camelot in another setting with a king and his queen at its center, and knights riding forth daily to do brave deeds. There are villains, also, and wrongs to be righted. And over it all the romance and nostalgia which surround a way of life that is forever gone. The familiar details of ranch life are in the book—the roundups, the feuds, the rustlers, and the pleasures to be found in Old Tascosa. We are told about the background of the men who owned and managed the LS. There are statistics—so many cattle driven up the trail; so m a n y head lost in blizzards; so much money spent for food and necessary supplies. W e learn, too, of problems of a different nature, such as XIT's plans to build a fence that will cut the LS in half; the threat of the railroad; the encroachment of the nester. And, of course, there is the cowboy. "He rode straight and he rode proud," Mrs. Sullivan says. Her father, A. L. "Bud" Turner, had himself as a young man been a cowboy on the LS. At the time of her birth he was a merchant in Tascosa. Later he bought the Rica Ranch which joined the LS. She grew up knowing the manager and his wife and the cowboys on the LS. Later, when she heard the highly embroidered tales about Old Tascosa and the ranch, she would ask her father or grandmother (her mother had died when Mrs.

16

The LS Brand

Sullivan was young, and her grandmother had come to live with the family) if the story was really true. Usually, the answer was no. More than thirty years ago she began collecting the real stories straight from the lips of the people who had lived them. She filled innumerable notebooks with material about the cowboys of the LS and Mr. and Mrs. J. E. McAllister, the ranch manager and his wife. She did careful research into the backgrounds of Lee and Scott, the original owners. The Whitmans, one-time owners, gave her access to their files and letters. With so much primary source material in her possession, she might well have written a dry-as-dust record, complete with footnotes at the bottom of every page. Instead, she has presented a warm and human account which reads like fiction, but which the reader knows instinctively is documented fact. There is humor in the book. The reasons back of the nicknames the cowboys give one another; the story of the steers, so soothed by the cook's fiddle playing that they arrive at market the fattest, sleekest bunch that ever went up the trail; the cowboys who, finding the Tascosa barbershop locked and its owner in a faro game, employ their own methods to get him back on the job; the chuck wagon "with its rules of etiquette strict as any ever laid down by Emily Post." The LS made innovations unknown to other ranches. It was, for instance, the only one in the Panhandle with a pack of greyhounds used to run down the coyotes and the lobo wolves. These dogs were kept in a special compound, and the cowboy delegated to look after their care and feeding was called a "Mush Wrangler." There was also a "Baby Wrangler" (usually a very young cowboy) who helped look after the manager's children. Once, the baby carriage in which the children were riding broke loose from the Wrangler's hands and went careening down a hill. No one was hurt; the children loved it and begged to do it again. The book is not without its gentle pathos. Cowboys found

Introduction

17

excuses to come by Miss Annie's (Mrs. McAllister's) kitchen in order to catch the aroma of baking bread. They walked softly on her Axminster rugs, and looked longingly at the geraniums and begonias blooming in sunny windows. "Miss Annie, when we come in here with all your flowers blooming, it's like walking into heaven." Miss Annie was not above fostering the ideal. Regularly she received shipments of books and magazines from Eastern publishers. These offerings she examined carefully, removing any material she considered trash before turning it over to the cowboys. There is a touch of the theatrical in this narrative. Temple Houston riding into Tascosa, wearing his tailored buckskin, his hair shoulder length, a pearl-handled revolver strapped around his waist. He outshot Billy the Kid one day in a friendly shooting match, and even bested Bat Masterson. No Western writer could imagine a more dramatic situation than Mr. Mac and Miss Annie's wedding journey. Nor could a television or movie extravaganza think up anything to send shivers down our spines more surely than does the trip into Tascosa after the shooting of the LS cowboys there. "Get the boys up. We're going to town," Mr. Mac said when he heard about it. To town they went, the cowboys riding behind and beside the buckboard, forming a living shield for Mr. Mac and Miss Annie. Once they were there, Miss Annie busied herself seeing that the cowboys had a decent and proper burial, with a young lawyer reading the service from the Anglican prayer book. Mrs. Sullivan tears down the stereotype conception of the cowboys. They were not ignorant, drinking, swearing, gun-toting rejects from society. M a n y of them were educated men, often from good families. One, a newspaper correspondent, continued to write during the time he was with the LS. Others had equally good records. True, they were no strangers to Tascosa and the dance-hall girls and the saloons and the other rowdy

18

The LS Brand

pleasures the town had to offer. But all in all, they were very much like any other group of young men of their time. She also debunks the legend of Boot Hill Cemetery, a spot supposed to be filled with outlaws who met violent death. At first it was called merely The Graveyard. A Tascosa man, one regarded as a clown of sorts, promoted the idea of Boot Hill, saying the cemetery of that name had given good publicity to Dodge City. The name stuck. True, there were victims of violence there, but many decent law-abiding people also lay in the cemetery. Now and then we find touches of pure poetry in the book. The memory of the rainbow seen at night against the backdrop of a full moon. The old-timers' description of the Canadian River: "it ran clear and shallow between narrow, grassy banks, for all the world like a green and silver ribbon tossed upon the ground by a careless hand." The ranch had its own brand of Society. Fine company came to visit. Miss Annie's Christmas Balls were known all over the Panhandle. Later, with the coming of the Whitmans, an era of elegance and sophistication was ushered in. The best portions of the book, however, deal with the cowboy. His work, his play, his tremendous loyalty to and respect for Mr. Mac, the manager. The long rides up the trail; the heroism in time of danger. The grumblings; even the cowboy strike. The constant alert for rustlers and ticks and other threats to the cattle. But above all, the unshaken belief that the LS was the greatest ranch in the Panhandle, if not in the entire world. The LS finally passed into other hands, but this book deals only with the Lee-Scott-Whitman era. In one part, Mrs. Sullivan tells about the cowboys who rode the bogs looking for stranded cattle. No chuck wagon accompanied them, so they carried with them cans of tomatoes, the standard drink and food of the isolated cowboy. Behind them these bog riders left a trail of tin cans which in time became rusted and obscured. We might well draw a parallel between the anecdote and this

Introduction

19

book. The story of the LS Ranch and the cowboys who worked on it may have grown a bit dim and faded down the years, or have been obscured by legends or commercialism. But it is brought back on these pages, bright and shining and clear once more. And very real. Loula Grace Erdman Amarillo, Texas

THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

THE LS BRAND T H E STORY OF A TEXAS PANHANDLE RANCH

THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

1. W. M D.LEE

W. M. D. Lee was fond of saying, "A little money is a poor thing, unless made [to] grow into big money." Convinced that the free and untamed West offered financial rewards lacking in the state of Wisconsin, where he lived, Lee headed west to grow big money. He arrived in Leavenworth, Kansas, at the time huge wagons loaded with goods of every description were still traveling that long trail from Independence, Missouri, to Santa Fe, New Mexico. The prairie commerce fascinated Lee. Here was a business that showed important profits, and that could provide even more if a man obtained government contracts to supply the military forts and Indian agencies scattered across the Kansas and Indian Territories. On the lookout for someone to put hard cash into a business, Lee met E. Albert Reynolds, a successful mine operator who lived in Leavenworth. The two men agreed on a partnership that established the Lee and Reynolds Overland Freight Company. The new company made Dodge City, Kansas, its headquarters, and Lee began to bid on government contracts. The Lee and Reynolds venture boomed from the start. As

24

The LS Brand

more and bigger contracts were secured, the company reached a gigantic peak of prosperity. When grass was green, one thousand oxen pulled the wagons over the trails to the forts and agencies. During winter months, when stock had to be grain fed, six hundred mules replaced the oxen. Six or seyen hundred wagons were in constant use on the road or were waiting at headquarters for repairs and reloading. Between seventy-five and one hundred men drew regular pay from the company, but if Indians were on the warpath, Lee hired extra men, provided them with arms, and sent them along to protect the wagons. Because the problems connected with prairie commerce were many, Lee literally handpicked men to operate the Lee and Reynolds trains. This method produced wagon masters, bullwhackers, and mule skinners who could cope with accidents to men, teams, and wagons. They knew how to meet blizzards, heat, thirst, Indian attacks, swollen rivers, and sticky mud caused by torrential rains. These skills, linked with shocking vocabularies employed in times of stress, brought the Lee and Reynolds wagons to their destinations according to schedule. Late in the year 1868, General Philip Sheridan established Camp Supply in the northwestern part of the Indian Territory, to serve General George A. Custer, who was campaigning against marauding Cheyenne Indians. In November of that year Custer brought his command, the Seventh Cavalry, from Fort Dodge, Kansas, to the new supply base. "He was accompanied," so history says, "by the largest wagon train of equipment and supplies ever witnessed." Dust kicked up by the Seventh had scarcely settled over the camp when Lee and Reynolds wagons arrived, bringing Custer more supplies. Lee was in the lead wagon. He had come to set up a sutler store to sell goods to the soldiers. Custer wiped out the Cheyenne villages located in the Indian Territory, and peace more or less reigned until the buffalo hunters crowded into the Texas Panhandle. It was then that Fort Elliott was established to protect the hunters from the Comanches and Kiowas, who were enraged over the slaughter

W. M. D. Lee

25

of the great buffalo herds. Lee and Reynolds contracted to furnish the fort with everything required by the military. Lee went to Mobeetie, opened a second sutler store, and was appointed postmaster for Fort Elliott. Then he and Reynolds went into the hide business. It has been said that before the hide hunters began their deadly work, an estimated ten million buffalo roamed the wideopen spaces of Kansas, the Texas Panhandle, and the Indian Nations. Since no one ever actually "tallied this count," it is possible the figures were slightly exaggerated. Nevertheless, an incredible number of the huge animals grazed on these prairies. Excessive profits were made by hide dealers who vied with each other in paying cash for every buffalo killed. Lee went directly to the hunters' camps to buy hides. H e beat other buyers to the best hides by paying a little more for choice skins. It became a common sight to see Lee and Reynolds wagons piled high with hides, rumbling over the prairies, headed for Dodge City, where the skins were stacked by the acre awaiting rail shipment to eastern markets. The buffalo hunters and old timers around Mobeetie called Lee and Reynolds "Lee and Runnels." They were also called a monopoly, doing more business in army contracts and hides than all their other competitors put together. Lee always delivered his government contracts when rival contractors seemed unable to meet the demands of the forts and agencies. But times were changing. Overland freight gave way to railroads that were slowly but surely extending their lines west. The forts were no longer necessary when the Indians were confined to reservations. The buffalo hunters ended the hide business by killing all but a few straggling herds, and the cattlemen were beginning to push Longhorns into the Panhandle. Lee and Reynolds met the changing conditions by selling the great company that had made both men rich. Reynolds went back to his mining interests, while Lee sold the sutler store in Mobeetie and went on to Camp Supply to dispose of his goods there. Meanwhile, with a thought for the future, Lee had been

26

The LS Brand

buying cattle in small lots, and now trailed them to Camp Supply, where he put them into a pasture with the Seventh Cavalry's horses. This was a fine arrangement until the cow herd outnumbered the horses. The commanding officer at Camp Supply ordered Lee to remove the cattle from government property. The time had come for Lee to engage in the cattle business.

2. j , B. MCALLISTER

Jordan Edgar "Mac" McAllister was born on a farm near Martinville, Indiana, in March, 1846. At the age of fourteen, he left home in search of wort. He made his way to Independence, Missouri, where the great wagon trains outfitted for the Santa Fe Trail. Being big for his age and knowing how to handle oxen, as all farm boys did in those days, enabled him to get a job with one of the freight companies that sent wagons loaded with all kinds of goods to Santa Fe, New Mexico. McAllister spent the next seven years as a bullwhacker on the mighty Santa Fe Trail, leaving the Trail in 1867 to become an Indian scout. McAllister was one of several civilian scouts that came with General Custer to Camp Supply. Few men knew Indians as he did. H e could speak with Comanches in their own tongue, and talk in sign language to the prairie tribes. McAllister served six months scouting for Custer, just long enough to become thoroughly disgusted with the General's rash ideas about defiant Indians and to make up his mind to quit Custer cold.

28

The LS Brand

At this point, Lee's huge wagon train entered Camp Supply. McAllister watched the wagons unload. This was work he understood and he said to himself, "I just might get a job with this outfit." Custer never passed up a chance to fight Redskins. When Phil Sheridan declared in favor of teaching the Cheyennes a lesson, Custer was delighted. His scouts located the Cheyenne village on the Washita River, over the Indian Territory line near the present town of Cheyenne, Oklahoma. The scouts also reported Indians in large numbers camped along the river, but Custer paid little attention to the scouts. He ordered the Seventh to march, and this move resulted in the Battle of Washita, fought on the twenty-seventh day of November, 1868. When the battle ended, Custer had taught the Indians a bitter lesson. From the time the Regimental Band struck up the Seventh Cavalry's battle song, Garry Owens, in the surprise attack on the Cheyennes, until the conflict was over, McAllister carried out his duties as a scout. He saw women and children die with the braves who tried in vain to save them. He watched the village burn and the Indians' ponies succumb to slaughter. H e knew Major Joel H. Elliott had been cut off, and for lack of aid would die with his command fighting to the last man. While the battle raged, spirited strains of music could be heard coming from a nearby hill. Custer had placed the band there with orders to interrupt Garry Owens at intervals and play Carry on in Glory! During that bloody, violent day McAllister at no time failed to obey Custer's orders, but he also reached a decision: If he survived he was forever finished with Custer. When night dropped its mantle of darkness over the battle scene, Black Kettle, chief of the Cheyennes, lay dead in his own village, the bodies of his people around him. The mutilated corpses of Major Elliott and his men were slowly freezing in the stinging cold. For ten miles down the river Indian camps were smoking ruins. Indian survivors never forgave Custer the death of their women and children. Later, on the faraway Little Big Horn in Montana, they had their revenge when they joined

/ . E.

McAllister

29

the Sioux and utterly destroyed Custer and his command. At night, when a bitter cold wind blows in the Washita valley, the Indians say Cheyenne braves can still be heard keening their death songs. McAllister left Custer as soon as the Cavalry returned to Camp Supply. He was hired immediately by Lee to boss Lee and Reynolds wagon trains. McAllister spent the next twenty years working for Lee, with the exception of one year when General George Crook persuaded him to join his band of scouts during his campaign against the Sioux in 1876. McAllister scouted Crook's military operations from Fort Dodge, Kansas, to the Rosebud Creek in Montana, where they met the Sioux and their allies, the Northern Cheyennes. W h e n the Sioux attacked, General Crook realized he was outnumbered by the Indians. Some of his men received wounds. To save their lives and keep his force intact, Crook retreated. Of the four hundred Ute, Crow, and Pawnee Indian allies (long-time enemies of the Sioux) under Crook's command, one hundred were with him that day. W h e n the troops were ordered to retreat, the allies remained on the scene to fight their ancient foes. Every time an enemy was killed, the body was divided, each conquering Indian gleefully taking a piece of Sioux as a souvenier of the battle. On this exact spot, where General Crook engaged the Sioux and Cheyennes in battle, Custer and the brave Seventh Cavalry were massacred three days later. General Crook fell back to the Powder River and from there followed the Sioux and Cheyennes to the Black Hills. By that time McAllister had come through m a n y battles unscathed but he was exceedingly weary of fighting Indians. He left General Crook in the Black Hills and headed for Camp Supply. Lee was so pleased with McAllister's return that he put him to work at once. Again, McAllister traveled over the lonely trails, delivering supplies to the Cheyenne Agency and to Fort Sill in the Indian Territory. Meanwhile, Lee's cowherd was getting out of hand and required a full-time manager. Mc-

30

The LS Brand

Allister got the job, thus ending his ardous duties as a wagon master. At the time Lee was ordered to move his cattle from government property, most of the range around Camp Supply and Mobeetie was occupied. He was forced to seek grass elsewhere. Calling on McAllister, he said, "Mac, we need a ranch. Ride up the Canadian River until you locate a place with some improvements. Arrange to buy it, but make sure there is plenty of water and free grass we can use." McAllister rode as directed until he reached Romero Canyon, situated in Hartley County, a few miles east of the New Mexico line. A man by the name of Dolores Duran had settled in the canyon, had planted an orchard, shade trees, and a garden, and was growing flowers all around his house. When McAllister discovered this beauty spot he decided that it had everything Lee required for a headquarters. Duran wanted to sell out and move to Tascosa, so McAllister hurried back to Camp Supply for Lee. Lee bought the Duran place and pre-empted range on the Trujillo Creek in Oldham County which he later bought. Not one water hole or its source failed to come under the inspection of Lee, who was visualizing future needs. There were men who said that Lee counted the blades of grass along with the water holes, but these statements were a little farfetched, even if Lee was over cautious with a dollar unless it showed signs of doubling. Lee bought cattle in New Mexico to add to the Camp Supply herd, then sent Albert Reynolds a telegram. "Come at once," it read. "Bring $75,000.00 to buy half interest in ranch." Reynolds accepted Lee's offer, and the old friends were business partners again. The letters L and E connected were selected for a brand and the LE Ranch began to operate. McAllister trailed the Camp Supply cattle to the new ranch, and the herds from New Mexico were delivered. The ranch was destined to run a little less than one year under Lee and Rey-

7. £.

McAllister

31

nolds' ownership, but during that time twenty thousand cattle branded LE were scattered over their range. Every time Lee made up his mind to start a new business venture his enthusiasm soared, but Reynolds did not always view Lee's plans with such optimism. When Lee began gathering a herd at Camp Supply, he told Reynolds, "I need thoroughbred bulls with m y cows to build up fine cattle." "What's the matter with the kind you've got now?" the prosaic Reynolds wanted to know. "Longhorns!" snorted Lee. "I'm going to put prize Durhams in m y herd." At the moment Reynolds simply was not interested. Lee made a quick trip to Scotland and bought a carload of fine Durham bulls. After their boat ride the bulls arrived in Dodge City by rail, and from there were trailed to Camp Supply. Lee let everybody in hearing distance know that these wonderful animals would get special attention. As soon as the Durhams were penned, Lee rushed to the corral to see them. Reynolds leaned over the fence and stared at the bulls as if he were seeing some kind of strange animal for the first time. Lee became impatient with Reynolds' silence and asked, "Well, what do you think of 'em?" Reynolds replied slowly, "I think some Scotch so-and-so was fishing for a Yankee sucker and you walked right up and took the bait!" The answer made Lee furious. He refused to speak to Reynolds for a week. Some cowboys on hand to view the bulls were delighted with the scene and spread the story. From then on the Durhams were known as "Lee's Scotch Bulls." When McAllister moved the cattle from Camp Supply, Lee gave orders to leave the Durhams. He would send an outfit for them later. The reason for this order is only speculation. Perhaps he thought that the Durhams deserved better traveling company than the common herd, but more likely his reason involved certain plans he had for the near future and these plans did not include placing the LE brand on his precious bulls. Fifteen years had now passed since Lee had first met Lucien

32

The LS Brand

B. Scott, a wealthy businessman of Leavenworth, Kansas. At the time of that encounter, Lee's positive views on "big money" had stood him in awe of Scott's wealth, although it was the kind of money Lee hoped to find i n a partner. H e decided to wait until his assets matched those of Scott. Then if he could induce Scott to invest in a business venture, what a partnership that would be! If anyone had told Reynolds that Lee was preparing to end their partnership in the LE Ranch, he would have regarded the information as a bad joke. But Lee's financial position had reached a point that permitted an approach to Lucien Scott. Armed with plans and a set of impressive figures, Lee convinced Scott that hugh profits could be made by raising cattle on free grass in the Texas Panhandle. Scott became interested and agreed to a partnership. Lee hurried back to the LE where he found the ranch running smoothly. McAllister had great news. From the Hereford herd that Reynolds was developing, the first registered Hereford calf to be born in the Texas Panhandle had arrived! Apparently Lee was not impressed with the birth of the calf. Reynolds was surprised by Lee's lack of interest in ranch news, but he was completely unprepared for what followed. Lee said abruptly, "I want out of our LE contract. You buy m y half, or I'll buy yours." Reynolds was stunned but he answered promptly, "I'll buy you out," It was Lee's turn to be jolted. He had thought his partner would sell, because he would not be able to raise the money to swing such a big deal. Reynolds raised the money through a Denver bank and a New York investment company, and bought Lee out, but not before both men had resorted to bitter words. An LE cowpuncher who witnessed the scene told of it later: "They was just standing there talking peaceful like, and all of a sudden they was both on the prod! Looked like Reynolds was going to kill Lee, so I pulled m y freight in a hurry. Turned out to be one helluva cuss fight, but it sure ended Lee's time with the LE!"

7. E.

McAllister

33

Reynolds kept the cattle, the LE brand, and the western half of the range. Reynolds and his brother C. F. ran the ranch successfully for the next twenty years. When they sold out to The Prairie Land and Cattle Company in 1902, the LE ranked as one of the outstanding ranches in the Texas Panhandle. Lee was left with the range toward Tascosa and the Trujillo Creek country. McAllister went with Lee. Thus, Lee and Reynolds, their names synonymous with success throughout the Panhandle, dissolved their partnership. The two men had shared a staunch friendship through good years and bad while they were accumulating a fortune from a business started on a shoestring, but they parted implacable foes. After the last of the LE affairs were settled they never spoke to each other again.

3. LUCIEN B. SCOTT AND THE LS

If ever two men were cast in different molds, W. M. D. Lee and Lucien B. Scott were so. Their backgrounds, thinking, and personalities were completely alien, but when they teamed up to form the Lee-Scott Cattle Company, their partnership produced a ranch of unbelievable magnitude. It was the largest ranch in the Texas Panhandle until the X I T was established, but, unlike the XIT, no foreign or syndicated money was involved and no complaining stockholders had to be soothed every time cattle prices dropped. Lee and Scott simply combined their money and business aptitude with hard work, and made the LS grow into an outfit that is still famous throughout the cow country. Lucien Scott's parents had been pioneer settlers in Leavenworth, Kansas. The five Scott children—Lucien, a brother, and three sisters—were given liberal educations by their well-to-do parents. Lucien grew into manhood while Leavenworth was still a supply point for westbound travelers, and Kansas depended upon the Santa Fe Trail for freight transportation. However, men were beginning to dream of the Iron Trail that

Lucien B. Scott and the LS

35

would eliminate prairie commerce. Lucien Scott was not a dreamer, although he envisioned a future Kansas when the vast Territory would become a state of the Union and the land would offer opportunities to every person seeking a better way of life. He planned his career to keep pace with progress. In the Daily Times, published in Leavenworth and dated September 10, 1860, an advertisement appeared stating that Lucien Scott, his brother, Lyman, and John Kerr were bankers dealing in "Exchange, Warrants and Gold Dust." A short time after the Civil W a r ended, Lucien and Lyman established the First National Bank of Leavenworth. Lucien owned most of the stock and was the bank's president for the rest of his life. The bank became a united depository, and served a wide area of Missouri and Colorado as well as Kansas. Lucien Scott also acquired large mining interests and controlling stock in the Leavenworth Coal Company. "A man's word is as good as his bond," is an old saying, its meaning often lacking in our present American business scene. Lucien Scott lived by that adage, however, and, because he was honest, he expected honesty in others. Scott handled huge amounts of money, but a man with a small business caught in financial troubles could get a loan, the only collateral Scott required being the man's personal honesty and his name on a note in the usual banking procedure. And that's how Mickey McCormick got a loan. Mickey was a gambler. He came from heaven-knows-where to Tascosa by way of Dodge City and Mobeetie. Rumor said he was a member of a prominent Eastern family whose name was known to everyone who used farm machinery, which m a y or may not be true. However, his education was above average, and his conduct at all times that of a person well born. Mickey owned the Tascosa Livery Stable and a gaming room located in one of the town saloons. The livery stable provided a steady income for Mickey, but from time to time he created financial chaos in his business affairs by using the stable profits to offset losses at the gaming room.

36

The LS Brand

In the early days of the West the gambling business was conducted on a basis different from that which later brought it into disfavor. The frontier offered little in the way of entertainment, and, men turned to games of chance for amusement, social contacts, and sheer love of excitement. The code of the early days stamped approval on professional gamblers if they were honest, but condemned tinhorns and cheats. Mickey's background was dim, but his reputation for honesty was very clear. His game was above suspicion. In Tascosa one day on ranch business, Scott drove to the livery stable to leave his team. Unaware that Lady Luck had been unkind and the stable was on the brink of bankruptcy again, Scott was surprised that Mickey seemed overjoyed to see him. But his surprise vanished when Mickey said, "Mr. Scott, will you loan me a hundred and five dollars?" " W h a t for?" Scott asked. Mickey replied, "For a buckboard I've ordered from Milburn Carriage Maker in St. Louis. I've had a streak of bad luck at poker lately, and can't pay for it." "All right, Mickey," Scott said, "sign a note for Milburn, tell him to send it to me at the First National Bank in Leavenworth, and I'll pay him." Nothing more was said about the matter for seven months. Then on December 3, 1888, Mickey paid off the loan. The note was canceled by Scott's bank and returned to Mickey with a courteous letter from Charles Peaper, the bank's cashier, thanking him for his business. The deal cost Mickey $1.87 in interest, and $0.25 for exchange. William Urion was his rightful name, but his friends and everyone on the LS called the gentle old man Uncle Billy. Soon after organizing the ranch Lee and Scott hired him as a freighter. He hauled supplies from Tascosa to headquarters and the ranch camps. When a chuck wagon began to "run low on grub," Uncle Billy driving into camp was a welcome sight. Besides provisions, he often had mail for an outfit, sometimes even a newspaper, and he always carried a supply of tobacco.

Lucien B. Scott and the LS

37

One morning Uncle Billy was busy loading his wagons at Howard and McMasters' General Store in Tascosa, when a stranger riding down the street stopped and spoke to him. "Good Morning, Mister," the man said politely, "I wonder if you can tell me how to go from here to Endee, New Mexico?" " W h y sure," Uncle Billy answered obligingly. "You just start out and ride up the north side of the Canadian River west, 'til you come to where the Trujillo Creek is on the south side of the river. Cross over there and follow the creek, angling a little off to the southwest and you'll hit Endee." Completely uninformed about the country, the stranger was visibly shaken by Uncle Billy's directions, but he nerved himself to ask hopefully, "What about landmarks, can you describe a few I can go by, so I won't get lost?" Uncle Billy seemed puzzled for a moment by the man's inability to grasp such simple instructions, then his expression brightened and he said cheerfully, "Hell, Man! you don't need landmarks. Endee's only about a hundred miles from here. You can't get lost, you'll be in an LS pasture all the way!" It is doubtful if the man reached Endee. Uncle Billy failed to tell him that the LS pasture was a vast unfenced area, only a little smaller than the state of Connecticut. The Trujillo Creek country in Oldham County, and five sections of land on the Rita Blanca Creek in Hartley County— Lee's part of the divided LE Ranch—formed the nucleus of the LS Ranch. McAllister was made general manager of the LeeScott Cattle Company, and took charge of the first LS headquarters, a dugout located on Rita Blanca Creek, a few miles north of where the creek empties into the Canadian River. Lucien Scott joined Lee in an inspection trip of the area. They determined that free grass would be a thing of the past in a few years; therefore, in order for a ranch to stay in business, range must be secured by purchase. Each began to buy land, individually and together, under the name of the Lee-Scott Cattle Company. Scott bought land near the old town of Li-

38

The LS Brand

berty, New Mexico, to insure range and water rights in the Territory. By the time the LS began operating on a full-time basis, Lee and Scott owned close to 221,000 acres in Oldham, Potter, and Hartley Counties. Thirty-five sections were located in Oldham, all choice grass lands. Lee bought and dismantled the Sperling store at Trujillo. Sheep ranchers Austin-Campbell and Green sold out to the LS, and Captain Ellsworth Torrey on the Skunk Arroyo and Alamocitas Creek was ready to sell. Torrey leased his range from Gunter and Munson, members of a land and surveying company of Sherman, Texas. They had acquired immense blocks of land in the Panhandle through surveying contracts with the state of Texas, a lot of it bought with land script for nearly nothing. Any cowman buying land to establish a ranch in the Panhandle was practically forced to buy from Gunter and Munson. An encounter with the outlaw Billy the Kid had soured Torrey on the Panhandle, and he wanted to sell his holdings and return his family to Boston. One day, a group of the Kid's riffraff had ridden up to the Torrey home and had commanded the Captain (nearing his seventieth birthday) to serve them food, which he did, but their ugly behavior offended the old man. Calling them a low-down bunch of horse thieves, he ordered them off his ranch. The men left, warning Torrey they'd be back to "get even." A few days later, Torrey met Billy the Kid on Tascosa's main street. The young hoodlum jerked out his gun, shoved it into the Captain's portly middle, and demanded an apology. "No man," the insolent boy declared, "calls m y men horse thieves." Torrey knew it was either apologize or die. He preferred to apologize, but the old seaman was deeply humiliated. One can understand his desire to leave the country. Lee and Scott bought Torrey's cattle and improvements, and the Gunter and Munson land. By moving into the Torrey rock house with its fine Boston furniture, the LS established its

Lucien B. Scott and the LS

39

second headquarters on the Alamocitas. Captain Torrey, a respected man with a refined wife and children, left the Panhandle forever, all because Billy the Kid had vented his illtempered spite on a helpless old man. Lee loathed the sight of sheep. He wanted to see every last one of them on their way back to New Mexico, a wish shared by all cowmen in the Panhandle. Cattle did not thrive on land where sheep ate the grass down to the roots and contaminated the range with their odor. There were still quite a few pastores living in the plazas, using the range for their sheep in the same way cattlemen were grazing cows. As the LS wanted most of the land on which the plazas were situated, Lee announced that the time had come to remove the squatters. It has been stated by more than one person that Lee used harsh methods to force sheepmen off LS range, but what he actually used was a bag of money. Lee took $35,000 in currency, packed it in a valise, hitched a team to a buggy, and placed the valise near his feet. Starting out from Trujillo, he drove down the Canadian River to buy plazas. It was as simple as that! Although outlaws in the country at that time would have murdered Lee for the contents of his valise with about the same compunction they might have felt killing a rabbit, he made the trip without mishap, and as unconcerned as if a troop of United States Cavalry had been his escort. On his way down the river, Lee followed trails used by the pastores that led through some of the most beautiful and rugged country in the Panhandle. In those days, old timers said, "The Canadian ran clear and shallow between narrow grassy banks, for all the world like a green and silver ribbon tossed upon the ground by a careless hand." They also said it was full of the best channel catfish a man ever ate. About ten miles above Tascosa, the river windened into a bed of fine white sand, apparently harmless, but floods turned the innocent-appearing sand into treacherous quicksand. The numerous creeks that

40

The LS Brand

brought their crystal-clear spring waters to the river as a free gift delighted Lee. H e knew that cattle would drink as long as the springs held out. Black walnut and hackberry trees dotted the river meadows where small herds of antelope grazed. The graceful little chinaberry trees mingled their shade with that of cottonwoods and willows growing along the streams. Mustangs, disturbed by the noise of Lee's rig, left their favorite water holes in a long lope. Lee viewed these wild horses with the same distaste he held for sheep, for they were eating grass intended for LS cows. Scrub cedar covered the hillsides, and wild plum thickets offered sanctuary to plover and quail. Prairie chickens were everywhere. Long-eared jackrabbits and little cottontails hopped about, busily engaged with rabbit affairs that concerned no one but themselves. Wild flowers spread charm to the scene, creating patterns of color bright as the tints in a newly washed patchwork quilt. From every direction, mocking birds tried to outdo each other with songs of ecstatic joy. Wild and beautiful canyons along the river cut sharply into the hills to meet the Cap Rock that divided the breaks from the plains. A profusion of grapevines and currant bushes growing in the canyons provided flocks of wild turkeys a place to rear their young. Deer found cool, shady spots in which to hide during the daytime. It was a rich and lovely land not yet defiled by civilization that Lee and Scott were buying for a ranch! When Lee came to a plaza, little time was lost in closing a deal, although language difficulties certainly existed. Lee's Spanish was no better than the sheepherders' English. However, the Mexicans were able to understand Vamoose, pronto, and dinero was the easiest yet to make out—it was right before their eyes, when Lee opened the valise and pulled out a handful of cash. Soon after a visit from Lee, flocks of sheep could be seen grazing leisurely back to New Mexico, followed by wagons loaded with women, children, and household goods. The exodus was without incident. There was no war between the LS and the sheepmen. By 1884, most of the plazas were deserted.

Lucien B. Scott and the LS

41

The LS kept some of the plazas for camps, others were razed to keep the range free of clutter. All the plaza sites, creeks, canyons, and arroyos retained their Spanish names, but cowboys altered the pronunciations to suit themselves, especially the southern boys who, speaking with a drawl, slurred their word endings and ignored the letter R. Today, the exact spelling, correct enunciation, and accurate definition of those old names have been corrupted into pure localisms. In the eastern part of Oldham County the terrain is rough and broken. Near the head of a rugged canyon located in these breaks, a creek begins its journey to the Canadian River, and on its way flows by a hill rising from the canyon floor. The hill is called Sierrita de la Cruz, meaning Little Hill of the Cross. According to an old story, it was given this name a long time ago, because a Mexican bandit made himself so obnoxious his own people agreed to put an end to his career. I n due time, the bandit was dispatched and buried on the side of the hill. Then the executioners fashioned a cross from the limb of a cedar tree and placed it at the head of the grave, an act hard to define unless they thought that under the circumstances it was the least they could do for the bandolero. The wooden cross kept a lonely vigil over the grave for many years until the little hill became a landmark, and the canyon and creek were also named Sierrita de la Cruz. Today, the grave site and the cross are lost, erased by the ravages of time. Lee and Scott moved into the Sierrita de la Cruz country for their final land buying. Although the creek became a wide dry sandbed for several miles before it reached the river, deep holes held a year-round water supply. Grass was excellent and the hills and the small canyons protected the cattle during winter storms. In the late spring, yucca bloomed by the acre on this part of the range. A single taperlike stalk rose from a clump of rough sword-shaped leaves to burst into exquisite creamwhite flowers. The Mexican people called the beautiful stems of bloom the Candles of the Lord. The cowboys called them bear grass or soapweeds. The roots, crushed and swished in

42

The LS Brand

water, made a lovely shampoo. For some unknown reason, the cattle doted on yucca blossoms, and devoured every stalk they found. Meanwhile, the cowboys were losing a lingual battle with Sierrita de la Cruz, so they paraphrased it into "Sweetly Croose," and that is the way most people pronounce it today. At this time, Lee and Scott fixed their boundary lines on the open range by merely stating that certain areas of free land belonged to the LS. North of the Canadian River and Tascosa, LS grass ended near the present town of Hartley, in Hartley County. East and south of the river, beginning in the extreme western part of Potter County, the Sierrita de la Cruz country, most of Oldham County, all of Deaf Smith County, and on south for 150 miles was accepted by other ranches as LS domain. West, the range extended to Endee, in the New Mexico Territory, then angled northwest to Fort Bascom, situated on the Canadian River about twelve miles north of where the town of Tucumcari now stands. No one questioned an LS cowboy who said, "No matter where you begin on this ranch, it's a long ride before you start coming back."

4. CATTLE BRANDING

A brand is simply a mark burned on livestock with a hot iron. In Texas, a brand must be recorded by a county clerk to be legal, and the law states that no brand can be duplicated in the same county. In the open-range era, a brand was of great value even as it is today. It proved claim of ownership, and identified cattle, not only on their home range but on distant ranges to which they might stray. Brands were most effective, then, when they could be easily recognized and were hard to blot out by cattle thieves. Straight lines were preferred over sharp angles. The LS was such a brand. An LS brand was used in Fort Bend County, Texas, in 1845, by a man named L. S. Jennings. He moved to Hays County, and found an LS brand recorded there. Jennings changed his brand by adding a straight line between the L and S, making it read L Bar S. The Panhandle LS was recorded in Oldham County in 1881. Lee and Scott combined the first letters of their surnames to form the brand, applied it to both sides of cattle, and on the left hip of horses. All LS cattle were earmarked, a nick cut out of both ears called an underbit.

n

CALLED "N" OR "OPENA"

. PUT A N EX TENS/ON ON IT TO MAKE IT FL

.r\

. DROP THE EXTENSION

y/u

"WINE GLASS SLASH W

AND

OP

/T WOULD

DRAG

.y/b

'FORKED LIGHTNING" WAS THE SAME, BUT SLASH WAS LONGER AND CURVEDJN THE

RUSTLERS CHANGED

^MIDDLE */MIDDLE RUSTLERS' BRAND

AND CALLED "CIRCLE BAR", MCALLISTER HORSE BRAND RUSTLERS CHAN6EL IT TO * CIRCLE SPEAR

"ELEVEN O"

no

HORSEBRAND ON LS

_

AND,

COMANCHE POOL |^C\vA V < ^ BRANDS (KANSAS)

Cattle Branding

45

Brands are read from the top down, from left to right, and from outside to inside. They are not always easy to read, but an old-time cowpuncher could gaze at a brand so complex in make-up it appeared to be a hopeless puzzle, and he would call it correctly. A cowboy might not always know a ranch owner's name, but one look at the brand on a stray told him which outfit had lost the animal. Brands were often confused by an untrained eye. For example, an upside-down U could be called N or an open A. Put an extension on it to make it fly. Droop the extension and it would drag. A letter lying down was lazy, backward, crazy. At an angle, tumbling. A letter minus sharp angles was running. Brands also walked, swung, and forked. A slow brand was one not recorded. Then there were cattlemen with creative minds who rejected letters and numbers, and let their imaginations r u n wild. Their herds came up wearing designs, such as Doll Baby, Hog Pen, Diamond Tail, Spade, Fence Rail, Hog Eye, Spur, and Wine Glass. Most of these famous old brands now live only in the dim past of rawhide quirts and tin-bellied spurs, but a few are still in use. Cowboys took great pride in the brand they "rode for." A stranger arriving at a ranch for the first time could recognize the outfit immediately. The cowboys had the owner's brand stamped on the bunkhouse door, the chuck wagon, the corral gates, and the barn. One Lee and Scott chuck wagon had a sourdough keg burned with a neat LS. At times, it was hard to "call" the keg's brand, due to its sour contents bubbling and running over the side, but when the wagon camped, the cook was sure to wipe off enough dough so the brand could be read. Ranch kids learned to read brands before they mastered their ABC's. Brands speak the lingo of the range, representing a way of life favored by ranch people. A cowman regards his brand as a mark of integrity, a proud thing—in fact it's his coat of arms. He will defend it at the slightest provocation! I n the days before fences played havoc with the open range, if an owner or his outfit caught a rustler

46

The LS Brand

changing his brand to increase the value of his own herd, defensive measures often led to gunfire or the end of a rope. It was drastic treatment that left a brand blotter little or no time to reform his lax morals, but it served notice that cow thieves were an expense ill afforded by honest ranchers. During the year of 1882, Lee and Scott bought and contracted cattle by the thousands to stock their range. Receiving the herds was an immense job, but McAllister achieved the seemingly impossible by throwing an outfit together to handle the cattle. When the first herds began to arrive, six chuck wagons were ready, equipped with everything necessary to maintain men living and working on the open range. Each wagon had a boss, cook, ten riders, and a wrangler that kept the saddle horses or remuda moving with the outfit. Herd after herd of dusty, bawling, on-the-prod cattle of every size, color, and breed were brought in. Their ages ranged from young calves to old cows. There were Longhorn steers, some of them four or five years old, that needed one or two years on the Panhandle's nutritious short grass to change them from lean, stringy beasts into fat beeves. None were blooded animals, but, from the start, the LS had better-grade cattle in mind, which brings us back to Lee's Scotch Bulls. John Lang was sent with an outfit to Camp Supply to drive the Durhams to the ranch. Lang, aware of Lee's high regard for the animals, brought them to the LS in good shape, but that was the last of their special treatment. They were branded and turned out with the rest of the cattle. For some unknown reason, Lee lost interest in his prize bulls. Perhaps the "white faces" that cattlemen were beginning to notice captured his attention, and the aristocrats lost their social standing when they began associating with the common herd. Anyway, no further mention of the Scotch Bulls survives. Due to lack of time, not one branding pen or corral had been built on the LS during the first year. W h e n a herd was delivered an outfit worked it on the spot, branding, earmarking, and counting each animal before turning it out on grass. It would be

Cattle Branding

47

difficult to find labor more severe or exhausting than working cattle on an open range. The cattle were bunched and held together by several riders while a fire was started to heat the branding irons. One man was kept busy tending the fire. Earmarkers sharpened thin-bladed knives, a common pocketknife serving the purpose. The tally m a n got out a pencil and a dogeared notebook to put down the count. The wrangler held the remuda nearby. Because few horses, however good, can keep up the fast and killing pace required in cutting a herd, the roper must change mounts frequently. The chuck wagon camped well away from the herd to escape the dust. When the irons reached the proper degree of heat, the main work began. A cowpuncher rode into the bunched cattle and selected the animal he wanted cut out of the herd, then the horse took over. A cutting horse has an extraordinary sense of anticipating his rider's wishes, apparently recognizing the wanted animal as soon as the man does. Never losing sight of the animal running first one way, then another, the horse followed every twist and turn until he edged it out of the herd. Once clear, the puncher, a loop swirled in his rope, spread it over his head in a circle, cast it out and down as swift as the flick of a snakes' tongue, and caught the animal by the heels. With grown animals, the cutter and his horse often "throwed the big ones." When the animal was caught by the heels, the man twisted his rope around the saddle horn. The horse squatted and braced himself for a hard jerk. The animal hit the ground and the horse pulled back, keeping the rope taut. Cowboys rushed in to complete the job of holding, and not until the rope was released from the heels did the horse relax and get ready for the next one. No wonder a good cutting horse has always been a cowboy's darling! Two flankers, or "rasslers," met the roper dragging a calf to the branding fire. One man grabbed the calf by the ears and twisted its neck sideways. The other man grabbed the flanks and, with both men heaving together, the calf hit the ground. The flanker jerked the rope from the calf's heels, shoved one

48

The LS Brand

leg forward with his own foot, and pulled the other back with his hands. If the calf was big and unruly, the head man sat on its neck. The flanker pulled the tail between the calf's legs and held on for dear life. A man with an iron glowing red with heat approached and applied it to the calf's hide, which produced a pitiful bawl of pain and terror. A brander burns the hide just deep enough to peel and show the brand when healed. If a brand consists of two figures or letters, as the case with LS, two men, one handling the L iron and one the S, applied the brand simultaneously. The man with the knife cut the earmark, and the tally added another figure to the count. Ear bits were saved and counted after the branding was finished to compare with the total in the tally book. Clouds of dust hung over the bawling, restive cattle. Cutting horses dripped with sweat. The stench of burned hair and hide filled the air. A calf bawled a frantic plea for help. Its mother, nerves already frazzled, heard the call, rolled her tail, and charged out of the herd in pursuit of her offspring's persecutor. A cowboy trying to outrun a mama cow on the prod brought howls of glee from punchers not involved in the race. Men's faces turned into masks of sweat and dirt, and, in the strenuous scramble of hoofs and horns, some old boy always came tip with his shirt and pants torn to shreds. Finally, the last animal was tallied, and the cowboys began to scatter the cattle on grass and water. In the disorder of the day, cows and calves had become separated. A lost calf might become confused and not recognize its mother, but the mother could always find her calf. As soon as the herd was turned loose, the cows began walking and bawling in search of their missing young. Every stray was inspected until they found their own, and a joyful reunion took place. Despite sore ears and sides, the cattle seemed to forget their rough experience of the day and soon bedded down for the night; the range became hushed and peaceful. At the end of the lusty day, one might expect every man in the outfit to be in a state of collapse from sheer fatigue. But the

Cattle Branding

49

stamina of these cowboys who worked for twenty-five dollars a month and chuck was amazing. They left the herd and headed for the chuck wagon, yelling and riding like fiends. The supper they ate was also amazing. Beef, beans, sourdough biscuits, stewed dried fruit, or molasses, and coffee disappeared in staggering amounts. However, they didn't fool around about going to bed. After a cigarette was rolled and smoked, the cowboys fell into their bedrolls and were instantly asleep. When the first ray of morning light began to pale the eastern sky, breakfast was over and the outfit saddled up to begin another day. By the end of the year 1883, the LS owners had fifty thousand cattle grazing on their vast range.

5. CHARLES N. U/ftlTMAN

Work is never ending on a ranch, and one the size of the LS had many irons in the fire aside from those used in branding. One job concerned fixing boundaries and clearing titles on Lee and Scott's purchased lands. Scott sent his brother-in-law, Charles N. Whitman from Leavenworth, to the ranch to survey the LS holdings. Whitman, an able civil engineer, left his government job and reached the ranch in the early spring of 1882. Charles Whitman's parents lived in Clinton, Newr York, where his father, Seth S. Whitman, a college professor, taught in Hamilton College. His mother, the former Matilda Nicholas, belonged to one of the old Knickerbocker families that had moved to Philadelphia. Most of her girlhood had been spent in the home of her grandfather, the eminent jurist, Joseph Ogden Hoffman, of New York City, where she had associated with the brilliant and cultured society of that era. There were three Whitman children, Cadwallader Colden, the eldest son, a daughter, Julia Hoffman, and Charles Nicholas, the baby of the family. Failing health caused Mr. Whitman to give up teaching and

Charles N.

Whitman

51

move his family to Belvidere, Illinois, where he engaged in home missionary work in the Baptist Church. However, his health continued to decline and his death occurred in 1852. H e left a substantial estate, but the lawyer that managed Mrs. Whitman's affairs proved to be dishonest. Two years later, the family faced financial ruin. Colden and Julia immediately assumed the responsibility of supporting their mother and small brother Charles. Colden entered government work as a surveyor. Julia, who had marked musical gifts, began to give piano lessons. At that time, she was fifteen years old. Colden was sent to Mankato, Minnesota, with a party of surveyors. During the Sioux uprisings in 1854, the group engaged in several battles. From Mankato, Colden went to Nebraska, as a draftsman in the government land office, located in Nebraska City. A double-dealing agent in charge of Indian affairs in the Nebraska Territory involved Colden again in Indian troubles. Angered by his cheating, the Indians captured the agent, and were actually in the act of hanging the rascal when Colden arrived on the scene. He promised the Indians help if they would release the terrified man. After much talk, the agent was turned over to Colden. The tribes calmed down when the government discharged the agent and paid the Indians their allotments. Julia joined Colden in Nebraska City in May, 1860. T h e brother and sister rented a small house and put it in order to welcome their mother and Charles, who arrived a short time later. Julia found an old piano for rent, and coaxed it into tune with a tuning device she had learned to use before leaving Illinois. She began to teach a class in music to help stretch Colden's salary. Times were hard on the frontier, and the family with its reduced means suffered privations. Mrs. Whitman, reared in her grandfather's home staffed with servants, had never coped with household tasks until her marriage, but then she learned the domestic arts from cooking to candle- and soapmaking. Now she employed these skills to create a tranquil homelife for her children. Each afternoon, when Charles came home from

52

The LS Brand

school, Mrs. Whitman gave him extra training in reading and writing. Colden taught Charles how to fish and hunt, along with the rudiments of surveying. The family spent many happy evenings with books and Julia's music. Colden and Julia, ardent readers of Shakespeare, memorized Hamlet, Colden reading the male parts, and Julia taking the female roles, while their mother listened and corrected their accents and intonations. They read the poets with pleasure. One of their favorite poems, "Bingen on the Rhine," by the English author Caroline Norton, was popular everywhere then. Surely Julia did not read the poignant line, "Tell m y sister not to weep for me," with a prophetic sense of the future, when a similar message would come to her! The Whitmans moved to Leavenworth, Kansas, when the land office was transferred to that town in 1861. Although Kansas had just become the thirty-fourth state in the Union, it was sharing the unrest sweeping the country, for the Civil W a r had plunged the Nation into violence and strife. General James G. Blunt, a personal friend of Colden's, was in charge of the Western Division of the Army, with headquarters at Fort Leavenworth. Colden enlisted in the Union Army and was detailed to serve on Blunt's staff. Foreseeing a long stay in the army, Colden was concerned with his family's safety; to alleviate his worries General Blunt moved them into quarters at the Fort, to await Colden's return. General Blunt moved to Fort Smith, Arkansas, and ordered Lieutenant Whitman and his company to join him. Soon after arrival, Colden was sent with an escort to search for Union refugees. He completed the mission and was returning the party to the Fort, when one man in the group was reported to be a Rebel, and not to be trusted. Colden's men asked him to have the man shot but he refused, saying he would not order a man shot in cold blood. That night the Rebel escaped. In the morning while searching for him, the escort met a Rebel detachment. In the battle that followed, Colden was shot from his horse, and died a few hours later. While he was still able to

Charles N.

Whitman

53

speak, he sent a tender message to his family. His last thoughts were for their welfare. He was buried near the spot where he fell, September 15, 1863. Colden's death deeply grieved the Whitman family, especially Julia, who was severely shocked, believing she could not endure a world without the brother she loved so dearly. But she had to think of her mother and Charles. She gathered her strength to set the family affairs in order, and once more she began to teach music to enable Charles, thirteen years old at that time, to finish his education. It was sometime during the troubled times Julia experienced after Colden's death that Lucien Scott first knew her. H e must have admired the courage and loyalty of the lovely, gentle girl very much, an admiration that easily turned into love. Perhaps it was hard for Julia to accept romance while burdened with so much grief and responsibility, for Lucien and Julia were not married until February 1, 1877. About the time Charles Whitman was preparing to survey the LS Ranch, a survey of X I T ranch lands was also beginning. Texas had set aside three million acres of Panhandle land to pay for a new Capitol. The Farwell brothers, wealthy businessmen in Chicago, contracted to erect a magnificent building for the state in exchange for this huge block of land. When the Farwell brothers, John and Charles (who with Amos Babcock and Abner Taylor formed the Capitol Syndicate), began establishing the X I T Ranch, the state formed the Oldham Land District, and appointed W. S. Mabry, a soft-spoken Alabamian, surveyor for the Capitol Lands. Mabry went to Austin and procured the maps, files, and field notes of each of the nine counties where X I T land was located, and brought them to his office in Tascosa. The Capitol Lands were surveyed into league tracts. The league came into Texas surveys through the old Spanish and Mexican land grants. The league contained 5,000 varas, or 4,428 acres. The vara, under Spanish law, was the Spanish yard, 3 3 % inches. Whitman was none too well versed in

54

The LS Brand

leagues and varas, so Mabry made his office and information available to him. A few years later, when the X I T and the LS were involved in a land swap, knowledge gained in Mabry's office helped Whitman make valuable decisions. Whitman's first year on the LS was filled with activity. By court appointment, he served Oldham County as a commissioner for four months. However, when he failed to appear for the December court session, the county judge declared his office vacant, and appointed McAllister in his place. McAllister filled the office as long as he worked for the LS. Whitman was judge of the November general election held that year at the Alamocitas headquarters, known as the LS Precinct. Meanwhile, he made frequent trips to Tascosa, examining the records in Mabry's office. When Whitman began the first survey of the LS Ranch, the country was still new, in fact some areas were as primitive and spectacular as they were on the first day of Creation. Sunrise on the plains was an unforgettable sight. As the night vanished, a glorious golden haze spread over the llano, rivaling the color of the Seven Mystical Cities, until the sun suddenly shot up as if a giant had bounced a big red ball over the horizon, and the golden haze evaporated into pure sunlight. The sun went down with equal splendor, splashing red, gold, and orange hues across the western sky in awesome reflections of a million past sunsets. As dusk merged with the night, countless stars appeared to be floating toward the earth, until the dark prairies seemed touched with magic glitter, and the only sounds disturbing the silent land came with the cry of a nighthawk, or the weird howl of a coyote. When work brought Whitman near an LS outfit, he lived at the chuck wagon with the cowboys. This resulted in the loss of his name Charles, which was too formal for cowboy use, so they changed it to Charlie. Nicknames were common in the West, and no one could think up better ones than cowboys. Practically everybody on the LS had his name changed sooner or later. The most trivial incident could alter a name. A man's

Charles N.

Whitman

55

accent, the way he "throwed a rope," even the way he walked, was grist for the nickname mill. Some were changed in affection, as in Charlie's case. McAllister was known as The Old Man. Age had nothing to do with it. A ranch manager was always called The Old Man. The cowboys also called The Old Man, Mister Mac, a name old friends observed for the rest of his life. Lucien Scott was just plain Mr. Scott, but W. M. D. Lee did not fare so well. Lee was fanatical about the use of the three initials in his name. If anyone made the mistake of thinking W. M. was the abbreviated form of William, and wrote it Wm^ Lee took it as a personal insult. Among themselves, the cowboys called Lee, William. Steve Conklin, who had been with Lee since the old freighting days, occasionally went to Tascosa and "got on a high lonesome." Whiskey had a depressing effect on Steve, and he always ended a spree by threatening suicide. The cowboys paid little attention to Steve's warnings, but they formed the habit of removing his ammunition. Unaware of his friends' caution, Steve was wearing an empty gun by the time he reached a state of self-destruction. One day, Steve actually carried out his threats. With his gun held to his head, he seated himself against a saloon wall, gazed mournfully at his friends, said "Goodbye, Boys, here goes old Nobody," and pulled the trigger. When he realized nothing had happened, and his head was still in its proper place, Steve sobered up in a hurry. But he was bewildered by the cowboys' behavior. They howled with laughter, and one man shouted happily, "Hooray for good ole Steve Nobody!" Poor Conklin! From that moment on, he was known as Steve Nobody. He never mentioned suicide again.

6. TASCOSA AND BOOT HILL

During the early eighties, Tascosa grew into a lusty frontier town. Merchants carried on an enormous trade with the big ranches. It was an important court center, and the cowboys came to town to have a good time. Although the town was young and full of excitement, most of its citizens were honest, decent people who worked to make it a proper place in which to live. By tacit agreement, the town was divided into upper and lower Tascosa. The lower, or eastern part was set aside for the benefit of hardy souls who could never stiffle the impulse to "hurrah the town." People who opposed disorder called this section Hogtown, with the explanation "that the inhabitants behaved like swine, and visitors always came away hogdrunk." A motley collection of buildings housed several saloons, gambling rooms, and dance-hall girls. The girls were given strict orders not to appear in the main part of town during daylight or early evening hours, a rule that was rigidly enforced. Any time trouble started in Tascosa, it usually originated in Hogtown. There was nothing very remarkable about Tascosa's Main

Tascosa and Boot Hill

57

Street. It was only two blocks long, compared to city measurements of now, but the drama staged there each day was absorbing entertainment. Visitors and residents alike were never bored with the scenery, or with the actors who produced some startling situations at the most unexpected moments. Occasionally, people along the street were delighted to see Temple Houston, a Mobeetie lawyer and youngest son of General Sam Houston. When he appeared in a beautifully tailored buckskin, black hair worn shoulder length, and a pearlhandled revolver strapped around his waist, the street was lost in admiration. He referred to his gun as Betsy. Men who saw Houston use that gun said he could "outshoot any gunslinger in the West, if he'd a mind to." He and Betsy did outshoot one outlaw, Billy the Kid. It happenend in Tascosa, when a friendly shooting match was held. Houston easily won over Bat Masterson, who was in town at the time, as well as the notorious Billy. The target was a little tin star, removed from a plug of tobacco and stuck on the side of a fence post where it caught the sun. Local residents joyously injected their brand of tomfoolery in the pageant which helped keep the town in a constant state of expectancy. Bob Wright owned the big Wright and Farnsworth store. A couple of doors down the street, Alex "Scotty" Wilson had a restaurant. Bob and Scotty played practical jokes on each other. It was a private and good-natured war, but, when they were carrying out their absurb pranks, only sheer luck restrained the jokers from injury. One day, with a five-gallon pail of swill from the cafe kitchen, Scotty concealed himself on the flat roof of his restaurant. Two hours passed before Bob Wright came by. At the right moment, Scotty yelled, "Hey, Bob!" The unsuspecting victim looked up just in time to catch the garbage in the face. It was Scotty's habit to sit in front of the restaurant every morning, reading the Dallas News. Opening the paper wide, he wadded it up and let it fall to the ground. By the time the paper was read, Scotty was knee-deep in current events. The next

58

The LS Brand

morning after the garbage bath, Wright tied a small kerosenesoaked rag to the end of a long fishing pole, ignited it, and sneaked up close enough to set Scotty's paper on fire. It blazed with singular speed. Most of the town heard the squall that Scotty let out as he tried to separate himself from the burning news, but his chair collapsed, and he fell on the mass of paper at his feet, just as it burst into flames. Yelling and kicking, Scotty finally rolled free with singed hair and eyebrows. Then the air was filled with additional heat, as Scotty scorched Bob Wright's character. Ikey, a little Jewish barber, had his shop on Main Street. He was literally obsessed with faro. Any time a game was in session, he closed his shop and hurried off to buck the tiger. This happened so often that cowboy customers, after riding up to his closed door, headed for the nearest faro game, walked in, and hell's delight broke loose! The door of the gambling room would burst open and four cowboys, each grasping an arm or leg, emerged carrying the screaming Ikey spread-eagle fashion back to his shop. The gamblers, fighting mad over the interrupted game, rushed to the street to add anguished wails to the din. But the cowboys, with jaunty indifference, marched down the street and restored Ikey to his razors and scissors. Then they stood guard over the hysterical barber until he recovered enough to send every last cowpuncher from the shop, slicked up fit-to-kill! John Arnot, born in Scotland in sight of Glamis Castle, the ancestral home of more than one British queen, came to America when he was still young enough to be called a kid. He punched cows for the LX Ranch and later ran his own K-Bar brand in Oldham County on land that had originally been LS free range. He knew Tascosa from its earlier years, and John Arnot said, "Sure Tascosa was a wide-open frontier town! But she was never mean, and the best people on earth lived there." When Lee and Scott bought the Torrey cattle, they were left

Tascosa and Boot Hill

59

on the western part of the ranch, but the first herd delivered to the LS numbered about eleven hundred head and reached the ranch in the early part of 1881. A partner of Gunter and Munson, John Summerfield, had trailed the cattle to the Panhandle from East Texas. On the way, most of the original herd had died of Texas fever, an infection carried by the Spanish tick. The disease was common to cattle raised in eastern and southern Texas. At the time Lee purchased the herd from Summerfield, they had been held on range on the lower Panhandle long enough for the fever to clear up, for the ticks could not survive cold weather. Cows, calves, and steers made up the herd, and all wore the Gunter-Munson-Summerfield brand: G on the shoulder, M on the side, and S on the hip. Then Lee and Scott added LS, and the animals looked as if they'd been "choused" through a pot of alphabet soup! Fred Leigh was in charge of the outfit that brought the GMS cattle to the LS. He was a young man of soft speech and mild temper, until he started drinking. Whiskey turned him into a quarrelsome boor. Leigh had never been in Tascosa, but he knew cowboys went there to celebrate. As the last animal in the herd was tallied by an LS man, Leigh and his men left for Tascosa. An hour later, the outfit was lined up at a bar. Leigh was headed straight for Boot Hill. A woman's grief for her slain husband, and her contempt for his slayer, started Tascosa's Boot Hill. Bob Russell had had little to offer a wife except his cowboy wages. Nevertheless, in competition with several marriage-minded young men, he had staged a successful courtship and had wed the only single girl living in Tascosa at that time. Mrs. Russell was attractive, well educated, and in love with her husband, but Bob suddenly became jealous. He accused Jules Howard, a Tascosa merchant, of being enamoured of Mrs. Russell. One day, armed and belligerent, Bob went to Howard's store determined to end what undoubtedly in his mind was a genuine wrong. When Howard

60

The LS Brand

saw Bob in the door, gun in hand, he began to plead with him not to shoot. Bob, dazed with alcohol, was deaf to reason. He aimed and tried to fire. Howard shot him dead. At the time of Russell's death, Tascosa had been a wide-open town without organized law or a cemetery for two years. Now, Mrs. Russell had to select a place to bury her cowboy husband. She led friends to a rocky hill overlooking the town from the west. She paused, and looked down upon the main street of Tascosa. "This is the spot," she said to the startled friends. "Dig the grave here. It will be in plain sight of Howard's store. I will put a tall pole by Bob's side, so every time Howard leaves his front door, he can't help but see it and remember he murdered m y husband." Mrs. Russell's plan to convince Howard that her animosity was deep and real was carried out, and the grim reminder stood for years beside Bob's grave. Howard continued to pass through his doorway m a n y times each day. If his conscience was disturbed by the memorial dedicated to hate, no one ever knew it, and no one ever saw him look in the direction of the poleguarded grave. A few years later, Jules Howard became ill and died. He was buried near Bob Russell, where ironically the pole was still standing. Oldham County's first sheriff, Cape Willingham, was a fearless, level-headed man, who seldom wore a gun when he patrolled the streets of Tascosa. Meanwhile, Leigh and his cowboys had reached a blissful degree of intemperance that urged them to shoot up the town. Willingham, unarmed at the moment, went to investigate the commotion, and found the men in a saloon. He told them, "Hand over your guns, or ride out of town." The cowboys agreed good-naturedly to ride, but Leigh defied the Sheriff. Willingham said, "Get out, or I'll jail you," and Leigh obeyed. Back in camp the cowboys unrolled their beds and went to sleep. In the morning, Leigh was in one of his black moods. He had sat up all night, drinking whiskey and brooding over the

Tascosa and Boot Hill

61

fact that an unarmed sheriff had run him out of town. "I'm going back to get even with that sheriff," he told his men. When the boys failed to persuade him to avoid further trouble, they decided to go with him. A peaceful morning scene greeted Leigh as he rode into Tascosa for the second time. Few people were on the streets. Sheriff Willingham was standing out of sight behind a store building talking to a friend. Across the street, a woman stepped out into her backyard to feed a flock of ducks, just as Leigh and his gang rode by. Jerking out his gun, Leigh fired at the ducks gathered around the woman's feet. One duck toppled over dead. The lady promptly fainted. The sheriff ran to the scene, and this time he was armed. For a moment, he was petrified by the horrible sight across the street. The lady was stretched full-length on the ground, apparently as dead as the duck lying by her side. The rest of the frightened, squawking flock were running in all directions. Riding leisurely down the street, Leigh's cowboys were humoring their drunken leader with shouts of approving laughter. They failed to see Willingham sprinting after them until he yelled at Leigh to throw down his gun and dismount. Instead of obeying, Leigh went for his gun, but before he could use it, Willingham shot him from the saddle. Leigh was dead when he hit the ground. Sobered by the sudden death of their boss, Leigh's men were anxious to leave Tascosa. The Sheriff was just as anxious to get rid of them and hastened their departure by suggesting that since they were already traveling they should keep right on going. The lady recovered from her shattering experience, and the ducks calmed down. Late that afternoon, Fred Leigh became the second person buried on Boot Hill, and the burial ground began to follow a design shaped by destiny and a smart aleck. For the next decade, Tascosa people used the site to bury their dead. It was called The Graveyard, an old and dignified name seldom heard now. Some of the town's most commend-

62

The LS Brand

able pioneers are buried there. Men killed in gunfights were also given room in The Graveyard, with as decent a funeral as could be conducted in a frontier town, where even coffins had to be constructed by a local carpenter. People who claim that bodies were removed from the street, rolled in a tarp, and dumped in a hole on Boot Hill are sadly misinformed. During the years the town was said to be wild and woolly, only eleven men who met death in violence were buried there, which indicates that the streets of Tascosa were far from being littered every night with dead outlaws. There were too m a n y decent men and women in Tascosa who would not allow pagan rites performed in their little cemetery. The Graveyard was not called Boot Hill until a m a n who styled himself the town's leading humorist, but whom fellow townsmen considered a stupid clown, began to promote the idea. Calling attention to Dodge City, Kansas, he'd say, "Dodge is famous because she named her graveyard Boot Hill. Let's do the same with our hill, and put Tascosa on the map!' Rightminded people were appalled at the unseemly suggestion, but the name caught on. Much later, thrill lovers with loose tongues enlarged stories about Boot Hill, until Tascosa is referred to now as the wildest cowtown in all the Old West! At this point, it should be explained that the story of the LS Ranch cannot be told without bringing Boot Hill into the picture. One night, a long time ago, a tragic and senseless affair terminated on Main Street in Tascosa. Time has cast dim shadows on that unhappy night, yet the ghostly figures of three LS cowboys still remind a curious public that the ranch and Boot Hill are closely allied.

7. LAWSUITS AND A COWBOY STRIKE

At the time Lee was buying cattle to stock the LS, one transaction resulted in lawsuits. It seems odd that Lee's shrewd business sense failed to materialize on this one deal with L. A. Mosty, but it is possible he was following a code practiced by honest cowmen of the Old West, and assumed that Mosty was a man of his word. Mosty ran cattle in Wheeler County. He recorded two "highfalutin" brands, the Wine Glass Slash U and the Forked Lightning, which was the same as the Wine Glass, except the slash was longer and curved in the middle. Mosty's stay in the Panhandle was of short duration, but during that time he caused a great deal of trouble for several prominent cowmen. Details concerning the lawsuits are somewhat obscured by time, but the course of action still exists in the Wheeler County Court Records. The story begins when Mosty bought the cattle he sold Lee from R. L. McAnulty (sometimes spelled McN u l t y ) , owner of the Turkey Track brand. Mosty failed to tell Lee that McAnulty still had a legal claim on the herd, so Lee paid for the cattle and put the LS brand on them. In

64

The LS Brand

December, 1881, McAnulty brought suit against the Lee-Scott Cattle Company for property valued at $60,000. Lee and Scott immediately sued Mosty for a total of $73,301,075 for damages, failure to perform contract, and interest. To complicate matters further, Tower and Gudgell Cattle Company sued Mosty to recover $31,021,034, and described in their suit the same cattle as those in the Lee-Scott case. The Court instructed the sheriff to seize and sell the cattle, satisfy Lee and Scott, and give the remainder to Tower and Gudgell. In an unexpected move, the sheriff of Lampasas County stepped in and seized 4,800 head branded Turkey Track, Wine Glass, and LS. One can assume that Mosty had been in trouble before coming to the Panhandle. At this point, a Mobeetie merchant joined the legal battle and sued Mosty for a $429.63 grub bill. Among the items listed were 630 pounds of bacon and 40 sacks of flour. At the same time, Lee and Scott filed a second suit against Mosty for $20,000. The court dismissed this suit in favor of Lee and Scott. Mosty, however, was still in the fight. In April, 1882, he brought a new suit against McAnulty. Then McAnulty filed the last suit of the series against Lee and Scott for an even $100,000. This case was transferred to Donley County, and little is known today of the final results. Who lost or who won is still a question. Some of the suits were settled out of court, some were thrown out. The whole thing finally came to a close, and L. A. Mosty's rash sojourn in the Panhandle ended. The lawsuit wrangle was barely settled when the LS Ranch was embroiled in more controversy. In fact, the LX, T-Anchor, LE, and LIT were also in trouble. Cowboys working for these five big ranches organized a strike. They demanded higher wages and the right to brand mavericks and run small herds for themselves on the free range controlled by their employers. The word maverick found its way into the language of the Southwest when an old Texan, Samuel A. Maverick, decided not to brand or earmark his cattle. In the roundups, he claimed that all unbranded cattle belonged in his herd. At first, cow-

26. Outfit camped at Willow Hollow Hole, 1900. H e n r y McDade was the camp cook. Author's collection.

A~W->iv* .

27. Hauling fence posts cut from cedar trees that grew in the hills. The men driving the wagons are using their bed rolls for wagon seats. Courtesy Colden H. Whitman.

Lawsuits and a Cowboy Strike

65

boys spotting an animal with unmarked hide or ears would say, "Here's one for Maverick." Finally, anywhere unbranded cattle were found, instead of saying, "There goes a stray or slick-ear," the cowboys said, "There's a maverick." After the Civil War, when thousands of unbranded cattle roamed at will in southern Texas, it became customary for a cowman to put his brand on all the strays he could find, and no one regarded it as stealing. The cowboys did the same thing. In that way, a man working for twenty-five dollars or even less a month could build up a small herd for himself, and eventually ranch on a larger scale. The big ranches in the Panhandle disapproved of this practice. Owners claimed that a stray was the property of some ranch, and forbade cowboys to brand mavericks for themselves. They also refused to let a man run a small herd of cattle or horses within the boundary of the ranch he worked for, although the big cattlemen were operating on public lands. The dissatisfied cowboys figured that ranches without riders for the spring roundups would be more inclined to meet their demands. They saved their wages to tide them over a nonwork period and the strike became official in April, 1883. At that time, cowboy wages were around twenty-five dollars a month. Wagon bosses received higher pay, usually based upon efficiency and length of employment. The strikers issued a proclamation stating their demands and sent a copy to each ranch owner. Cowboys asked for fifty dollars a month, "good cooks" to receive the same, and not less than seventy-five dollars a month for wagon bosses. The ultimatum was signed by twenty-four cowboys, including three wagon bosses—Tom Harris for the LS, Waddy Peacock for the LIT, and Roy Griffin for the LX. The L I T Ranch owners offered their cowboys thirty-five dollars a month and their bosses sixty-five to continue working. When they refused, the ranch separated the boys from their horses. Afoot, they could do little but hang around the wagon, where at least they could eat. The LE owners fired their outfit

66

The LS Brand

on the spot, while the LX people just waited to see how things would turn out. Jules Gunter, owner of the T-Anchor, stocked up with buffalo guns and rigged a keg of gunpowder in his blacksmith shop. H e intended to explode the powder if the strikers used the shop to attack headquarters. But none of the cowboys used force, and it was not necessary for Gunter to set off his trap. When the LS cowboys brought their wagons to headquarters, McAllister offered to raise wages to forty dollars a month. Tom Harris, who had been selected to head the strike, refused the offer and was backed up by the men. McAllister then notified Lee and Scott in Leavenworth. Lee went to Dodge City by train, hired a rig for the rest of the trip, and arrived at Alamocitas thirty-six hours later. Between eighty and ninety strikers were camped near headquarters when Lee drove on the scene. McAllister was waiting in the office, and, for the first time in their long association, the two men had words over the way McAllister was handling the strike. McAllister suspected that some of the strikers were stealing LS cattle, and advised Lee to get rid of them at once. Lee favored dismissal, but wanted it done his way. " W h y don't you meet their demands, and keep 'em at work?" he stormed. "I can bring in all the men we'll ever need at m y own price, then I'll fire every LS m a n that's in this strike." "Settle it to suit yourself," McAllister answered, and refused to offer any more suggestions. Lee sent for Harris to come to the office. Harris, leery of Lee's intentions, took five or six armed men with him. On the way to the house some of the men fired their guns. If they expected to frighten Lee into submission, they were in error, for Lee, who seldom carried a gun, was never afraid of another man's sixshooter. During the talks between the two men, Harris admitted he had set his own price when he went to work for the LS and was drawing a monthly wage of one hundred dollars. Lee reminded him this was twenty-five dollars more than other bosses on the

Lawsuits and a Cowboy Strike

67

ranch were getting. Harris also admitted that a lot of the strikers were not worth the money they were demanding. At that point, Lee said, "I'll pay fifty dollars a month to every man you recommend as a top hand if they'll stay on the job." Harris refused. "You're fired!" Lee said. He walked out and fired every LS cowboy in the striker's camp and cut them off the LS chuck line. The men moved to a creek above Tascosa and set up a new camp. With money in their pockets, killing time became monotonous, so the crowd rode to Tascosa for a little fun. This proved to be a mistake. For several days Hogtown enjoyed a bonanza, then the boys were broke, and the strike was over. There were a lot of jobless cowpunchers in the Panhandle when the big ranches refused to hire men who had participated in the strike. M a n y left the country to seek work elsewhere, but some stayed in and around Tascosa, and succeeded in bringing a hornet's nest about the ears of the ranch owners. Angry over the outcome of the strike, the disgruntled men retaliated by rustling. For the next several years, the LX, LE, LIT, and LS were involved in a bitter struggle with brand changers. Because not all the thieves were smart enough to steal cattle without being caught, a company was formed and directed by a man with more brains than the easy marks who accepted his orders. This man blamed the LS for breaking the strike, and instructed his gang to ruin Lee and Scott by rustling their cattle. The grudge ended in bloodshed. W h e n W. M. D. Lee took a stand, he never wavered. H e placed the name of each cowboy who had had a part in the strike on a blacklist that disqualified the hand from ever working for the LS again. This left the spring roundup shorthanded, but the work was handled by men who had not joined the strike. Jim M a y took over the Harris wagon, and Dunk Cage, Sam Buford, and Tobe Robinson ran outfits. Kid Dobbs, a nonstriker, was hired by McAllister to boss a fifth wagon while branding was in full swing. Dobbs drew seventy-five dollars a month, the wage all LS wagon bosses were paid.

68

The LS Brand

Dobbs had been on the job about ten days when Tom Harris sent a man to him with this message: "If you want to keep a whole hide, and know what's good for you, quit the LS at once." The messenger was immediately returned with Dobbs' answer: "I work for whoever and wherever I blankety blank well please! If you don't like it, put on a gun and come see me." A short time later, the two men met out on the range. Harris staged a friendly act that was slightly overplayed, so Kid let the matter drop. A site on the LS where Dobbs maintained a camp is still known as Dobbs Canyon. The LS branded ten thousand head of calves that spring, and five thousand mixed cattle were trailed to Dodge City. Ab Owens, who claimed, "I've looked at the south end of more northbound Longhorns than any m a n in Texas," was in charge of the first herd. Owens was affable and easy to live with most of the time, but he had an ungodly temper he turned loose in magnificent verbal outpourings when he disagreed with ranch management, especially if he had to dig postholes. In a state of rage, he could invent the most fantastic misfortunes he hoped would happen to people and the world in general. Unusually displeased one day, he yelled, "I hope it starts to rain right this minute, and keeps on raining until everybody drowns! I hope it rains some more and the world sinks and I'll be the last man standing on the highest peak to see the mess go down!" One cowboy who had stood spellbound while the world berating was going on suddenly smiled and said to the rest of the outfit, "That ole' Ab, he just don't give a damn, does he?" But when Ab pointed 'em north, every last hoof walked to its destination safely or was accounted for. Jim M a y bossed the second herd. Jim never boasted of his skill with cattle, but he, too, could "string 'em out and keep 'em walking." If trouble was encountered on the way, he resolved it calmly and efficiently. Jim never used two words when one would do, and it was said that he could quell a rambunctious cowboy with a look. Word spread rapidly throughout the cow country that jobs

Lawsuits and a Cowboy Strike

69

could be had with the big Panhandle ranches. From New Mexico, Kansas, and lower Texas, cowpunchers pulled up stakes and headed for Tascosa. Many new faces began to appear on the LS. McAllister was able to pick and choose top hands. By the end of 1884, 150 men were riding for Lee and Scott. A. L. Turner was twenty years old when he went to work for the LS in the early spring of 1884. It has been said m a n y times that the Panhandle strike was the first and only one ever attempted by cowboys. Turner knew better. A cowboy strike in Kansas, about three months before the Panhandle rebellion failed, had cost him his job. Turner had been reared near Blanco, Texas. Like most Texas boys, he had worked with cattle since he was big enough to straddle a horse. He was sixteen years old when he made his first trip to Dodge City, Kansas, with a trail herd from Llano, Texas. Since he was the youngest member in the drive, the cowpunchers felt bound to call him "Bud." This was all right with the young man, who detested and refused to use his rightful name, Alexander. He kept the name Bud for the balance of his life. After the cattle were delivered in Dodge, Turner worked for various trail outfits until he got a job with Hunter and Evans, principal owners of the famous Comanche Pool Ranch. At that time they were running the Heart and the LU-Bar brands. The Kansas strike occurred against the Pool when one of their cowboys, hoping to get a better job for himself, persuaded the men a strike would compel the ranch owners to raise wages. After much dissension among the boys, most of the Pool outfit voted to strike. Headquarters were notified, and Billy Blair, general manager for the Comanche Pool, rode out to meet with the cowboys. He went to each man, and asked, "Are you striking?" If the answer was yes, he said, "You've just lost your job with the Pool, so ride in for your time!" Turner had given the situation much thought and decided his loyalty belonged to the

70

The LS Brand

cowboys. "I'm sorry," Blair told him, "I had a winter camp on Mule Creek for you, but you'll have to go with the rest." Perhaps Blair did feel sorry for the kid who needed a winter job in the worst way, but the kid was the sorriest young cowboy in all the state of Kansas. At that moment, Bud Turner was cured of striking; thereafter, he regarded strikes as an evil dish cooked up by the devil. About twenty-five good cowboys, including the strike agitator, rode to the Pool headquarters for their pay. The men fared no better than the Panhandle strikers. They had to seek jobs elsewhere. Bud Turner worked at any job he could find that winter, to keep from starving and freezing. When he applied for work with the LS, he was very careful not to mention why he left Kansas. The Cage brothers, Duncan and Hays, came from a prominent Louisiana family. They were well-educated young men, in fact, Duncan had been a newspaper correspondent, and during his stay on the LS wrote articles for the Louisiana Gazette, As Duncan was not very robust, the family physician had advised a trip to the West to improve his health. Since both boys had become interested in raising wild oats, their father not only agreed with the doctor's diagnosis, but also insisted the treatment start at once. The lighthearted pair were shipped out west with their father's last dictate ringing in their ears, "Both of you get a job. Maybe you'll learn money doesn't grow on bushes." The Cage boys did get jobs and learned to punch cows, skylarking around from one ranch to another. By the time they reached the LS they were seasoned hands, and Dunk was put in charge of a wagon. McAllister sent Bud Turner to Dunk's outfit, where Turner determined to do anything that was necessary to please the boss in hopes of keeping a regular job. He did not intend to go through the frightening experience of a jobless winter again. Dunk was easily pleased if a man knew how to handle cattle and horses. However, he had a sense of humor he used to benefit himself. If the boys finally caught on to his subtle maneuvers, Dunk always laughed first.

Lawsuits and a Cowboy Strike

71

Dunk owned a tent. When the outfit moved, he took the tent down, packed it in the wagon, and then set it up again at the next campsite. Dunk was not fond of the work attached to this chore, but he and that tent were inseparable. W h e n Turner reached the outfit, he was extremely impressed with a boss who lived in a tent, a rare sight indeed for a cow camp in those days. A few days later, Dunk told Bud, "If you'll take care of the tent, I'll let you sleep in it with me." Bud was overwhelmed by the offer. For a kid who had spent the better part of his life sleeping outdoors rolled up in a tarp, this was luxury far beyond his wildest dreams! Thereafter, along with his other duties, Bud rode herd on the tent. That fall when the outfit reached headquarters, Bud was a weary, worn-oiit cowboy. And Dunk? He was fresh as a daisy. His summer had been restful and carefree. One day when the chuck wagon was camped on the Sierrita de la Cruz Creek, Dunk found a hole of clear water teeming with crayfish. H e brought Bud to the spot with a delighted whoop, and said, "I haven't eaten crawfish since I left Louisiana. Help me catch a mess and I'll cook 'em for our dinner." Bud was horrified. I n his part of Texas, people didn't eat crayfish. Dunk showed him how crayfish could cling to small hunks of beef tied on lengths of string, and then could be lifted from the water. Bud set to work, thinking, "Holy heavens! Dunk's crazy if he thinks I'll eat crawdads!" They soon had a ten-pound lard can full of the little creatures. Dunk poured boiling water over them, then shelled and saved every tail. The cook took a look at the contents of the lard can and yelled, "Are you going to cook that nasty mess in one of m y skillets?" "They're not nasty," Dunk answered, "and I need some tomatoes and onions to make a sauce." This increased the cook's wrath, but he finally produced the wanted items, including some lard. "Add a few potatoes," Dunk said, "since we haven't got any rice," and ignored the cook's sarcastic reply: "Rice, huh? Well, I didn't know the LS was furnishing the outfit with fancy grub or I'd got some."

72

The LS Brand

When the cowboys began their noon meal Dunk invited them to share his culinary effort, stressing the fact that he'd made it with crawfish tails. Their refusal was vigorous, to say the least. Bud began thinking, "Since everybody has been so rude about it, maybe crawdad stew won't kill me if I sample a bite or two." So he tasted the mixture and got the surprise of his life! It was so delicious he filled his plate, and sat down by Dunk; the pair cleaned the skillet using sourdough biscuits to sop the sauce. Bud called it gravy, but, by whatever name, it was the first and only time a gourmet dish was served at an LS chuck wagon. Before barbed wire enclosed the ranches, line riders were cowboys who rode imaginary lines that set range limits. During the winter of 1884, Bud Turner lived at the "Sweetly Croose" line camp, a dugout located about one mile east of where the creek empties into the Canadian River. His job was keeping LS cattle on their range south of the river, and driving strays, mostly LX and L I T cattle, back to their range north of the Canadian. Line camps were lonely places. Occasionally Turner met an LX or LIT rider and they paused to exchange news. Once in a while a cowboy showed up at the dugout to share a meal, but there were weeks at a time when Bud never saw another person. However, he had a regular job, a warm dugout, plenty to eat, and a string of good horses to ride. W h a t more could a man want?

8. CHUCK WAGONS AND ROUNDUPS

During the first six years of the 1880's, the LS ran ten chuck wagons. Four were used for trail work, two were called "extras," and four were "floaters," regular outfits that were constantly on the move. No one would ever choose the word elegant to describe an old-time chuck wagon, but it was an indispensable part of range life. Designed to provide food for cowboys, it followed them from place to place as they worked cattle in open country. A chuck box built in the back of the wagon served as a kitchen. A hinged lid on the box let down from the top, and was supported by a single leg or prop to form a work table for the cook. Inside were shelves that provided space for tin cups, plates, and cutlery along with cans of coffee, sugar, salt, and lard. A water keg was fastened on the outside of the wagon, and a coffee grinder was attached near the chuck box. The cook's extra supplies of flour, bacon, coffee, dried fruit, beans, canned tomatoes, and lick (cowboy name for molasses) were stored in the wagon bed. Branding irons and a few needed tools rode in the wagon. Grain for the teams was usually packed in the

74

The LS Brand

front end under the spring seat. If the weather was cold, the sourdough t e g was placed in the wagon, to insure proper "risin' temperature." In warm weather, the cook often tied it on the outside. The boys' beds, containing their personal belongings, were rolled in tarps and piled on top of the loaded wagon. Most wagons had a box suspended under the chuck box for the cook to store his Dutch ovens, skillets, pans, and coffee pot. A cuna, meaning cradle, was nothing more than a dried cowhide hung underneath the wagon to carry fuel where wood was scarce, or to keep it dry in wet weather. When wood ran short, cowchips were used. The cowboys corrupted the word cuna, to cooney. They also referred to the fuel carrier by other names, most of them unprintable. When speaking of their outfit, cowboys left off the chuck, and simply said "the wagon." I n most cases, depending upon a fellow's accent, it emerged "the waggin." The supreme ruler of the chuck wagon was the cook. Nobody questioned his authority, not even the wagon boss. Cowboys said all range cooks were cranky and ornery. However, if cowpunchers were fed three meals a day, they were not greatly disturbed over the fact that the cook's life was not exactly easy. One m a y easily understand how an amiable man could be reduced to a bad-tempered tyrant, after he had endured the daily grind of range cooking for a few years. But, regardless of conditions, he fed his outfit three times a day. Breakfast was ready at daybreak—fried steak or bacon, hot biscuits, molasses, and coffee. If the wagon camped in the same spot for several days, the cook took his time cleaning up and starting dinner. If the mood struck him just right, he might even "build" a dried-apple cobbler. It was a different story when the wagon moved to a new roundup site, or traveled with a trail herd. As soon as the breakfast dishes were washed and stored, the horse wrangler helped load the wagon. Beef hung out to chill during the night was wrapped in a slicker or tarp and placed near the bottom of the wagon bed, and the bed-

Chuck Wagons and Roundups

75

rolls were piled on top to keep out daytime heat. Meat carried in this manner could be kept fresh for a week. The wrangler helped harness the teams (four mules or horses pulled a heavily loaded wagon), the cook drove ten or more miles, made camp, and had dinner ready on time for ten or fifteen hungry men. If the outfit was still on the move, the cook loaded up and drove as before, pitched camp, and cooked supper before sundown. After the supper dishes were washed, his chores became somewhat lighter. All he had to do was mix sourdough, grind coffee for breakfast, make coffee so the nighthawks could have a cup before going on or after coming off guard, and check the woodpile and water keg. Cowboys said the cook was always the first man in bed every night, a custom they seemed to regard as strange! The chuck wagon had rules of etiquette as strict as any Emily Post ever laid down. If a cowboy rode too near the wagon and caused dust to fall on the food, he was lucky to get off with the cook's tongue lashing instead of having a pothook wrapped around his head. No man tied his horse to any part of the wagon during mealtime. If he went for a drink and found an empty bucket, he filled it. When he poured himself a cup of coffee, he put the pot back where it would keep hot for the next man. He was careful not to let a pot lid touch the ground. Woe to the fellow who failed to have his bed rolled, tied, and ready to go when camp moved! The cook simply drove off and left it, or he might show his spite by tying it to the back of the wagon, and dragging it to bits. This was guaranteed to teach a careless cowboy to mind his bed manners. If one of the boys took pity on the bed loser and shared his blankets, they called it "cutting the bed." If the cowboys arrived for a meal that was not ready, no one dared ask, "When do we eat?" It was an unpardonable sin to lift a pot lid to see what was cooking. The men waited meekly until the cook yelled, "Come and git it!" Then each man selected his plate, cup, knife, fork, and spoon from the

76

The LS Brand

mess-box table, and helped himself from the pots and pans. Then while still standing balancing his plate and cup in his hands, he crossed his feet, let his knees move outward, and squatted Turk fashion on the ground. He rose with the same motions when he finished eating, cleaned up the scraps, and dumped his dishes into the roundup or wreck pan, a big dishpan the cook had placed under the chuck-box lid. A tenderfoot never made the mistake twice of leaving his dishes on the cook's table instead of in the roundup pan. This rash act was corrected by the cook's strong language. Most range cooks were extremely clean with their person and their cooking utensils, but some were not only poor cooks, but were slovenly as well. Range work often left cowboys badly in need of soap and water, but as a whole they were essentially clean. They complained bitterly when a secondrate "pot rassler" ruled their chuck wagon. One time, the regular cook for the Cage outfit took a month's vacation. A substitute cook was sent out from headquarters, a man whom the cowboys called Old George. His last name has not survived the years, but men who ate the meals he cooked, and experienced his disregard for sanitation, remembered him with rancor. Old George joined the outfit as it worked toward Salinas Lake, the cowboys' favorite campsite. The lake was fed by a huge spring, where the water came from the ground in big clear bubbles, boiling hot and so full of salt that it collected in white drifts around the banks. As the water flowed into the lake, it cooled to an ideal bath temperature. As soon as an outfit reached Salinas, the cowboys celebrated in an orgy of bathing, and claimed that the hot salt water was a perfect cure for saddle soreness. Then bundles of clothes and blankets were tied on the end of ropes and staked out in the spring. Two hours later when the boys pulled them out of the hot water, everything was fresh and clean. George had been with the outfit about a week when the

Chuck Wagons and Roundups

77

wagon expected to reach Salinas the next day. Soon after the boys went to bed that night, first one, then another, complained of itching. All night someone was scratching, shaking his blankets, and cussing. In the morning, one boy asked, "What kinda bug nest are we camped in? Something crawled on me all night." It was the Mexican horse wrangler who identified the bug. "Mister Dunk," he said to Cage, "I think it is the louse that crawls on the cowboy." He was right. The men were lousy as a bat's roost! Dunk demanded to know the scoundrel so lost to virtue that he'd think nothing of bringing graybacks into camp. The horrified boys exchanged dark looks and angry words, but the question remained unanswered. Old George was the only calm man in camp as the outfit loaded up in record time and pulled out for Salinas. Everything the men possessed in the way of clothing, bedding, and saddle blankets was tied in the spring. Even hats were given a quick dip. Then the lake was full of cowpunchers, scrubbing and splashing in the warm salt water. Suddenly, someone noticed George. None of his gear was in the spring, and he was certainly not preparing to take a bath. Dunk yelled, "George, are you going to clean up?" "No I ain't," he answered. "A few little ole' graybacks don't worry me none." No one said a word, but they rose from the water as one man and, led by Dunk, made a beeline for Old George. It required a few minutes to stretch the protesting cook on the ground, jerk off his clothes, and head back to the lake. When George, his bed, and his garments hit the water, his pitiful howl fell upon deaf ears. Next day, George seemed to think time off would help him recover from the unnerving experience of a forced bath. H e asked Dunk's permission to visit his family, who lived near Tascosa. "I got nine kids," he told Dunk. "I'd sure like to see how m y ole' woman's makin' out with me gone. I'll git back day after tomorrow." The wrangler said, "Let him went, Mister Dunk, I best cook." So George made a trip home and

78

The LS Brand

returned as he'd promised. Three days later, the outfit was scratching again. This time there was no doubt about who had brought graybacks to camp! The boys were fit to be tied when the delousing process started again. Alarmed by their anger, George took off for the lake under his own power, but this did not appease the outraged men who were threatening to string him up. They were actually mad enough to do it, when Dunk shouted, "Hold on, Boys! He needs hanging all right, but I'm sending him to headquarters for his time." At that point, Old George panicked, jumped on the first horse he could find, and streaked off in the direction of headquarters. When the star-studded dusk came to the troubled camp that evening, bone-weary cowpunchers again crawled into clean beds, and a lovely, hygienic peace settled over the sleeping men. The floater outfits worked the range practically the year round. Two wagons ran the western Texas and New Mexico range. One worked the southern area, and one moved about the "Sweetly Croose" and Tascosa country. W h e n needed, an extra was sent to the range above Tascosa. These outfits branded calves missed in the roundups, pulled cattle out of bogs, watched for prairie fires, and checked water holes, but their main work had to do with drift cattle. During blizzards, cattle walked with the wind, seeking shelter. Severe storms drove stock from Kansas, Colorado, the Cimarron country, and as far away as Nebraska, to the Canadian Breaks and on south to the Pecos River in New Mexico. Panhandle cattle would join the drift. Some were never found, but m a n y were recovered from the spring roundups held on the Pecos River. I n one instance, cattle wearing the LS brand were discovered as far south as the Rio Grande. The floaters spent most of their time trying to keep LS cattle at home, and pushing strays in the direction of their proper range. In 1882, Canadian River ranchers agreed to share the expense of building a fence to keep northern cattle from enter-

Chuck Wagons and Roundups

79

ing the Breaks. The drift fence, as it was called, spanned the Panhandle from west to east on a line about where the towns of Hartley and Dumas are now located. The fence, however, was not as effective as planned. In warm weather when the barrier prevented cattle from reaching water, men cut the wire to let them pass, but winter results were tragic. Storm-driven cattle, stopped by the barbed wire, perished by the hundreds in the bitter cold. During blizzards, dead animals piled up so high that oncoming cattle were able to cross over the fence on the frozen bodies and continue south. Once a year a general roundup was held for the purpose of returning stray cattle to their rightful owners. Usually, the roundup consisted of two herds, one near the New Mexico line in the upper Panhandle, and one in the Mobeetie area. Cattlemen in Colorado, New Mexico, the Oklahoma Strip, and even Kansas, sent outfits to join Panhandle ranchers in this great cow hunt. Some ranchers sent only one or two men to represent their brand. These men, known as Reps, were welcome to eat at any of the chuck wagons as long as the roundup lasted. An experienced cowman was elected roundup boss. All the outfits and Reps obeyed his orders. There were always unbranded cattle in drifts, especially young stock that fell into the maverick class. They were easy prey for a rustler's running iron. Interesting situations developed when an obviously changed brand appeared, or a cow was observed extending nursing privileges to a calf, each wearing a different brand, although nobody ever heard of a calf sucking the wrong cow. The roundup boss was then called upon to settle an argument. If the dispute got out of hand, the boss selected two or more men, each from a different outfit, to examine the brands and earmarks on the animals and declare ownership. Their decision, seldom wrong, was accepted as final. Forty years after the last general cow hunt was held in the Texas Panhandle, ex-cowboys who had long since followed other pursuits recalled the times they had participated in those immense open-range roundups. They told of two hundred cow-

80

The LS Brand

boys holding thirty thousand cattle in one loose herd; wranglers with sixteen hundred saddle horses in the various outfits' remudas; the aroma of boiling coffee blending with the wood smoke of thirty chuck wagon campfires; Reps arriving with bedrolls strapped on pack horses; the incredible performance of cutting horses and the men who rode them; ropers, night guards, brands, and tallies; laughter, profanity, and punishing work. Finally, the last stray was ki-yied into a bunch where it belonged, and cowboys began to string herds out on trails that led to home ranges, followed by their chuck wagons and remudas. Dust settled slowly over the roundup ground and silence absorbed the last echo of bawling cows and bellering calves. Let it be said now! The cowboy who worked those roundups was not the fabulous figure portrayed today riding across a television screen, trigger-happy, and hellbent on hanging a psychotic gunslinger who dared insult a pure-minded saloon strumpet. First of all, he was an individual who made his own rules, yet stuck to his own kind with the stubborness of an army mule. He could lie with a straight face, and laugh at himself at the telling. He could cuss time out of mind, but would rather die than use profanity in the presence of a lady. He could get drunk, gamble, and waste his money on a trifling dance-hall girl, yet he lived by a code of ethics that included honesty, generosity, loyalty, and chivalry. His faith in God, which he seldom mentioned, was as simple as the prairie air he breathed. He wore a six-shooter on his hip, was slow to draw, and half the time couldn't hit the bunkhouse door if he tried, but in a fight he was deadly. He was the old-time cowpuncher. He rode straight and he rode proud! He was a breed the world will never know again, but as long as one narrator is left to recount his deeds, the cowboy of the Old West will ride across the American scene.

9. A RANCH IN MONTANA AND RUSTLERS IN TEXAS

It was well known among cowmen that southern cattle were fattened in a remarkably short time by the climate and the luxuriant grass of the Panhandle. This was also true of Panhandle cattle sent to the northern territories. Steers grew to greater size, put on weight, and brought higher prices on Eastern markets. Several Panhandle outfits maintained "finishing ranches" in Montana, where they sent large numbers of young stock to mature. Lee and Scott established a Montana ranch in the early months of 1884 by leasing a settler's headright and improvements located on a creek thirty miles north of Miles City. The improved place was used for headquarters, and later the creek was named LS. Lee and Scott did not buy land in Montana. All their range was leased or free. Al Popham was put in charge as general manager, and the first herds from the Panhandle arrived that summer. When a herd was ready to start for Montana, Lee and Scott

82

The LS Brand

gave the trail boss a letter of credit. If the outfit ran low on supplies, the boss could take his letter to any mercantile firm located in towns along the trail, and restock the wagon with anything from a slab of bacon to a red bandana. He could also draw money from these firms to pay for unexpected emergencies. The store mailed the bill to the LS headquarters or to Scott's bank in Leavenworth for payment. This was common practice among cattlemen with trail herds. It cut down on the load a chuck wagon had to carry at the beginning of a trip, saved teams from pulling so much weight, and helped the cook's temper when he packed and unpacked. Supplies for the Montana ranch were bought in Miles City. Jim May, Ab Owens, and George Collins drove the first cattle to Montana. Each man had 2,500 big steers in his outfit. M a y left the ranch the last week in April, 1884, with the lead herd. Owens and Collins followed a few days later. The only trouble Jim had on this trip came from farmers (called nesters by cowmen) living near the trail towns. There was never any love lost between cattlemen and nesters. Cowboys declared, "When a nester's plow destroys growing grass, the land is also destroyed." On the other hand, nesters firmly believed that cowboys and their steers were in league with the devil. However, cattlemen helped many nesters who were having a hard time establishing a homestead and were often found on the verge of starvation. When this happened, and a man butchered a calf to feed a hungry wife and children, the owner simply looked the other way. If a rancher learned a family was suffering from lack of food, he ordered a beef killed and a quarter sent to the nester's dugout. The cowboy who delivered the meat always excused his gift by saying the outfit had more meat on hand than it could use. In some areas nesters were noted for harassing trail herds. "Outta' pure meanness," the cowboys said, but in most cases money motivated their acts. A man plowed a furrow around his claim, called it a fence, and charged a fee for every animal

A Ranch in Montana and Rustlers in Texas

83

that crossed over. A nester with a sheriff in tow would suddenly appear in the wake of a herd and demand pay for damage caused by driving the cattle across his property. Sometimes the nester made his claim stick and the trail boss had to pay. But cowboys could be ornery too and often used tricks to outwit the nester. The best one employed was refusing to let anyone stop a herd's northbound journey. The Montana trail crossed the South Platte River near Brush, Colorado. Adjacent to the river was a strip of land unused except by herds on their way to the ford. Two men built a fence across the strip and charged herds five cents a head before they were allowed to continue. When May arrived at the fence and learned that he must pay toll or turn back, he paid, but his rage plus that of the cowboys was an awesome sight! He swore he'd get even with the swindlers if it took the rest of his life. One year later May, Ab Owens, and A. C. Sanders were in charge of the Montana herds. Each outfit started with three thousands steer yearlings, a cook driving four mules to the chuck wagon, ten riders besides the boss, and a wrangler with ninety saddle horses in the remuda. M a y was driving the lead herd, grimly determined that no man would stop his outfit or compel him to pay toll. All went well until M a y reached the mouth of the Big Sandy where the trail crossed the Arkansas River in Colorado. Swollen by recent rains, the river forced the cattle to swim in crossing. The lead animals began to mill in midstream. A mill was as unpredictable in a herd as a stampede. Cowboys believed that fear caused cattle to suddenly turn to the right and circle until they formed a tight ring. The inner cattle would go down and were often trampled to death. A mill was useful in halting a stampede if men could turn the leaders into a circle, but it was a different story in a river. The center cattle drowned when pushed under. "Breaking a mill" in deep water endangered men and horses. Jim and the boys swam their mounts to the frightened cattle, and roped and dragged them

84

The LS Brand

one by one to the bank, but before the circle was broken twenty steers drowned. From the Arkansas the herd traveled sixty miles up the Big Sandy to Kit Carson. The Republican River was crossed without incident and the outfit headed for the South Platte. M a y knew the lay of the land around Brush better than he had the previous year, and decided the river could be crossed above the grafter's strip. Just before the herd reached the tollgate M a y turned the cattle off the old trail, pushed them around the fence, and blazed a new route to the river. The cowboys were spoiling for a showdown and grew more annoyed than ever when the fence owners did not come out and fight, but M a y yelled, "Keep the herd moving!" so the outfit stayed with their steers. However, M a y deemed it a moral victory, marked the new trail for oncoming herds, and put the toll fence out of business, but by that time the two men had made a pile of money. From the South Platte the drive was uneventful until the outfit approached Lodge Pole Creek in Wyoming. One group of boys left the herd at noon to eat dinner. They were running their horses (a habit with cowboys headed for the chuck wagon), and Boss Neff was severely injured when his horse stumbled and fell. Neff was carried forty miles to Cheyenne, the nearest town with a doctor, who said Neff would be unable to ride for two weeks. M a y used his credit letter to pay the doctor, Neff's expenses, and his salary up to that time. When Neff recovered he worked at various jobs until he made it back to the LS about a year later. Ab Owens and Collett Sanders brought in their herds about ten days after May's yearlings were turned over to Al Popham. M a n y years later Sanders wrote about his drive, and sent a copy to McAllister. Sanders' story follows: I drove for the LS Co. from Tascosa to Montana. J. E. McAllister sent with me, a young man from Illinois who came to Texas to learn Trail work. We reached the Simeron River in No Mans Land

A Ranch in Montana and Rustlers in Texas

85

and camped in the valley. Just after we had finished our supper, and saddled our night horses, it began to rain and we all had to go to the herd and stay through the night, but my new recruit did not show up till morning. I asked him why he did not go out with us, and he said, he could not find one of his socks, so he crawled in the mess wagon with the cook to wait for daylight so he could find his sock. So after that, we called him Socks. When we reached the Arkansas River, it was up, but we put the cattle in, and they were swimming fine until my right hand pointer stopped to make a cigerette, and they got to milling on a sand bar in the middle of the river. I had already crossed to the north bank, but seeing them milling, I swam back and roped a cow and dragged her across by the horn of the saddle, then all the cattle followed to the north bank. About the time I landed and turned my cow loose, I heard someone crying for help. I looked and saw it was Socks. He had in some way got loose from his horse, and was about to drown. I threw him a rope, he grabbed at it but missed it. I threw him the rope again, and he caught it, and held on till I pulled him out. We rolled him on the grass until we got the water out of him. Always after that, when we came to a swollen stream, we had to make a raft, and carry him over. Sometimes, I sigh for those Old Cattle Trail Days. While the trail herds had troubles on the long drives to Montana, they were only a drop in the bucket compared to problems facing the home ranch. Lee was feuding with Oldham County over taxes. Thieves were stealing cattle in increasing numbers. Some of the cowboys were engaged in a vendetta with a clique of Tascosa gamblers, friends of the rustler organizer. The X I T announced fencing plans that would cut the western LS range in half, and, on top of all this, Mister Mac fell in love! Lee regarded any form of taxation as a direct threat to personal liberty. He believed in free enterprise if it included free grass, unfenced range, and the right to tend strictly to his own business and let others do the same. Most Texas cattlemen of the time thought as did Lee about such matters, but even then the Panhandle was undergoing change, and Oldham County adopted a firm policy in keeping with the times. Lee viewed

86

The LS Brand

this plan as economic ruin. He told Court officials, "Progress means taxes," and immediately engaged the County in a freefor-all fight against advancement. Lee protested, but was unable to stop, a school district created by Oldham County in 1884. Then the County proposed a new courthouse. Lee reacted in a manner worthy of a man who had just been robbed of his last dollar. He accused the County commissioners of reckless use of the taxpayers' money. It has been said that Lee and Scott loaned Oldham County money to build the courthouse. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Lee, with his violent objection to taxes, never once considered helping the County impose additional levy on the LS Ranch. The County proceeded with an election to float bonds to finance the courthouse. McAllister, representing the LS Precinct, and one other commissioner tied the ballot, but the County judge cast an affirmative vote and ordered bonds issued in the amount of sixteen thousand dollars. The First National Bank of Austin accepted the bonds. The courthouse and jail were finished the following year. Losing the courthouse battle made Lee very angry, and he told the Court officials that future taxation would start another fight. From the time the LS started until the latter part of 1885, the ranch was definitely a man's world. Cowboys were a selfsufficient breed. If the bunkhouse cook could produce first-rate biscuits, keep the beans from burning, and make a dried-apple pie, the outfit saw no reason to have a female around to upset the routine. But Mister Mac decided that a housekeeper would improve conditions at headquarters. Besides, he was faced with a decision he hoped a housekeeper would help solve. McAllister had gone to Iowa in 1884 to spend Christmas with a brother. During this visit he met a charming young lady, Luanna McCalister, a friend of his niece, Lou McAllister. Luanna's parents had died when she was very young. Her foster parents were neighbors of the McAllister family, and the girls, with names so much alike, were devoted companions. Mister Mac fell in love with Annie (Luanna's pet name) and

A Ranch in Montana and Rustlers in Texas

87

was completely buffaloed by a situation he didn't know how to handle. As the ranch required his immediate return, he did not have time for a proper courtship with the gentle girl who had captured his heart. He left Iowa, encouraged only by Annie's promise to answer his letters. Ranch affairs made a return trip to Iowa impossible. In desperation McAllister decided to end his courtship troubles by inducing Annie to visit the ranch, and then rely on his persuasive power to do the rest. At this point, a housekeeperchaperone was an important part of his plan. He hired Mr. and Mrs. Charley French of Trinidad, Colorado, to take charge of the house and chores at headquarters—a truly fortunate arrangement. Under Mrs. French's capable hands the old Torrey home came to life again. Meanwhile, Mister Mac wrote Lou, asking that she persuade Annie to join her in a visit to the ranch. The girls were delighted with the invitation, but Annie's foster parents opposed the trip. Protests were finally overcome, and the girls arrived in September, 1885. In the eighties, a Panhandle ranch lucky enough to have pretty girl visitors caused cowboys all over the range to become mildly irrational. Alamocitas gave Miss Lou and Miss Annie a royal welcome. The only complaint came a short time later when Mrs. French said, "Since the girls got here I'm shooing cowboys out of m y kitchen from morning till night." However, the boys were not spending all their time in the kitchen. Most of them were out on the range looking for rustlers. Cattle stealing had reached such proportions that owners of the big ranches were outraged. Cowboys called the men who supervised most of the rustling "The System." McAllister and the boys knew that some of these men were stealing LS stock but Lee and Scott's range was so large it was impossible to catch them in the act. Other ranches had the same problem. As a last resort cattlemen called upon the governor for help. He gave them permission to hire Home Rangers, provided the ranch owners paid their expenses. The ranchers sent for Pat

88

The LS Brand

Garrett, former sheriff of Lincoln County, New Mexico. He had helped the cowmen when Billy the Kid was stealing Panhandle cattle, and had succeeded in killing the Kid at Fort Sumner in the spring of 1881. Garrett agreed to the ranchers' proposals, and hired cowboys familiar with the range to form a company of Home Rangers. He made the LS his headquarters. Years later this use of the LS helped spread the story that Lee and Scott hired gunmen to protect their cattle. Garrett and his men worked the roundups, rode the range, and scared the daylights out of several nefarious characters, but they failed to effect arrests that could be tried in court with proof of theft. Cowboys began to resent the range surveillance and hard feelings developed. Everybody began to take sides, especially in Tascosa, where three or four gamblers were suspected of helping the rustlers. This was the beginning of a private but vindictive war between LS cowboys and members of The System. McAllister tried to stop the dispute by advising the cowboys to stay out of town until things settled down. "You're stirring up more trouble," he told them, "but if you do go, stay on your side of the streeet." The boys knew what was meant by "your side of the street." The business firms and saloons in upper Tascosa were friends of the LS. Hogtown favored the other side. But whoever heard of a cowboy backing away from trouble? It was his freeborn right to go wherever he pleased; consequently, certain boys continued to visit Tascosa and walked on any street that took their fancy. Stolen cattle became so numerous along the Canadian River and over the line into New Mexico that it was impossible to track down the altered brands or find out who claimed them. In the summer of 1884, Oldham County Commissioners Court deemed it necessary to take a hand, and ordered all cattle marked with dubious brands and all strays rounded up and turned over to the County. If ownership could not be proved, the Court would handle the cattle as it saw fit. The Court was criticized for its action, and accused of overstepping its lawful

A Ranch in Montana and Rustlers in Texas

89

rights. Nevertheless, the County entered the mavericking business and was good and sick of the deal before it was finished. Lee and Scott's brand was a perfect target for the rustler who changed LS and called it T-Forty-eight. But the altered brand that caused the most trouble was an absurb design formed to resemble a table top with four legs attached. Old timers said that with a little ingenuity all the Canadian River brands, except the LIT, could be changed into a Table Top. It was the principal brand appropriated by Oldham County and, while it lasted, provided a topic of conversation among cowboys that equalled the interest displayed later when it was claimed that X I T was turned into a Star Cross. Oldham County engaged the LS to round up "burned cattle." At the same time the ranch presented its expense account to the Court, LS cowboy Ed King presented one, too, asking pay for inspecting the cattle. One commissioner, who by then had had about all the maverick cattle he could stand, leaped to his feet and shouted, "Somebody go tell that damn Ed King we know he was paid by the Stock Association. This Court denies his application!" Somebody delivered the Court's decision to Ed, who laughed and said, "Well, I didn't think they would, but it didn't hurt to try!" While Ed King was a cattle inspector for the Panhandle Livestock Association, and later when a member of Garrett's Rangers, he made enemies among the cattle thieves. When he went to work for the LS, Lee and Scott were accused of hiring Ed to shoot rustlers. Under the circumstances one is tempted to ask, why not? But men who worked with King said, "He was just another cowpuncher, afraid of nothing, loyal to friends, and, sober, could hold his own with a six-shooter." Ed was usually contrary and overbearing after a few drinks. He was the main agitator in the fuss with the gamblers, creating a situation that sooner or later was bound to end with trouble. A mother cow's brand clearly identified her unweaned calf. Rustlers used sly and cruel methods to separate cows from their calves until they would no longer seek each other. Severing

90

The LS Brand

the muscles that supported the eyelids so they dropped shut prevented a calf from backtracking to the spot where it had last seen its mother. The muscles eventually healed, but the lids were left with a slight droop. A calf burned between the toes with a hot iron could not walk for several days. One with a slit tongue could not nurse. While recovering from this inhuman treatment, the miserable little creatures bawled incessantly for their mothers. By the time they could walk, see, and nurse again, they were thoroughly weaned. They were then branded and left on the range to be claimed later in roundups. The LS had its share of mutilated calves. When the cowboys found one, they called the rustlers every dirty name they knew. "Which was considerable," one man said, "but didn't catch any thieves." Meanwhile, McAllister suspected that men working for The System had been placed on the LS payroll. He was trying to think of a way to single out the culprits but so far did not have enough evidence to fire them. Tobe Robinson's outfit discovered the most brutal crime the rustlers had yet achieved. Twenty cows were found with severed udders and bags swollen to enormous size with pentup milk and infection. Hungry calves, approaching mothers for nourishment, bawled in fear when the cows kicked and butted them away. Several head were near death. Tobe shot them to end their agony. The cowboys gazed at the suffering animals in silence. For once, they'd run out of swear words. Tobe was an angry man as he headed for Alamocitas to tell headquarters about the maimed cows. As McAllister listened to the report, his anger matched that of Tobe's. He turned to the bookkeeper, George Jones, and said, "Send a runner with notes to all the wagon bosses. Tell them to let the roundup go, and bring their outfits to headquarters at once!" Jones was dumbfounded, but the expression on McAllister's face forbade questions, so he began writing notes as fast as he could. McAllister was playing a hunch, but he hoped it would rid the ranch of rustlers before the cowpunchers decided to use bullets.

A Ranch in Montana and Rustlers in Texas

91

Tobe didn't ask questions either. He started out to bring his outfit in. The cowboys refused to believe that Mister Mac would stop work in the middle of a roundup, but each wagon boss had a letter to prove it. Everyone asked questions, but no one had an answer. Bob Perkins said to his boss, "Dunk, do you think the Old Man's gone loco?" "I don't know," Cage replied, "but we're going in to see." By nightfall of the second day, every wagon boss, cowboy, cook, and horse wrangler on the LS had arrived at headquarters. Early the next morning, McAllister entered the office and told Jones, "Get ready to write checks, I'm firing every m a n on the ranch." "Good Lord, Mister Mac!" was the only comment the shocked bookkeeper had to offer as he reached for the payroll and prepared to write. Then McAllister had one m a n at a time called in and told him bluntly, "You're fired! Jones has your time ready." When a cowboy stared at the Old M a n in utter disbelief, and asked quietly, "What have I done to get fired, Mister Mac?" McAllister answered, "Nothing, you're still working for the LS, so get back to your outfit." The bewildered cowboy left the office convinced Mister Mac had lost his wits. Some of the men did not take their "walking papers" quietly. When a man began cursing, hurling threats, and yelled, "You can't fire me like this," McAllister answered clamly, "You're fired, and you're going to stay fired! Now get off this ranch!" Jones handed him his check and the man stormed out, cursing everyone and everything connected with the LS Ranch. The ordeal finally ended. As the last man left the office, Jones said, "By Jove, Mister Mac, I believe you got every last one of 'em." It was a simple test, but it worked. Fifteen men left the ranch, and from that day on no more disfigured cattle were found on LS range, although the ranch continued to lose cattle.

10. A PRAIRIE FIRE, A LAND SWAP, AND A WEDDING

The ranch was left shorthanded after the wholesale firing, but the wagons pulled out to finish the delayed roundup. New men soon replaced The System's friends. One young drifter, who said his name was Ed Doheny, stayed with the LS for the next year, then moved on and was forgotten, until Edward L. Doheny, owner of the Pan American Petroleum Company, and the Teapot Dome scandal flared into headlines. At that time, an old LS cowpuncher remembered working with Doheny, and said, "He was just a hand like all the rest of us. W e got to talking one day, and Ed told me before he landed a job with Lee and Scott, he was stranded in Wichita, Kansas, and washed dishes at the Texas House Hotel to keep from starving." Several years after the Teapot Dome disaster, McAllister received a letter from the oil millionaire. Doheny wrote, "Do you remember when I worked for you on the LS Ranch for twenty-five dollars a month? In those days I never dreamed I'd ever make big money."

A Prairie Fire, a hand Swap, and a Wedding

93

Tobe Robinson's outfit camped on Alamosa Creek during the winter of 1885, branding calves missed in the summer roundup. Late one afternoon, one of the boys shouted a warning and pointed north into the great distance that formed its own skyline against the hills. A vast cloud of smoke was sending grey streamers upward as it advanced and spread on a twentymile front. Tobe yelled, "Grab your slickers and get an axe! The XIT's on fire!" Various mishaps created havoc upon the range, but none could inspire more dread among cowboys than prairie fire. It made no difference whose grass was burning, range custom demanded that men stop whatever they were doing and head for the blaze to help fight it. In a few minutes the men had their night horses saddled and were riding north. They crossed the Canadian River and, before long, met bunches of fear-driven cattle trying to outrun the approaching flames. Bands of mustangs galloped by. Antelopes and coyotes forgot they were enemies and together ran for safety. Small animals scurried through the grass. Rabbits fled for their lives, and birds flew in front of the smoke cloud. When the lead fire was met, Tobe shot the first two cows that crossed his path. Men quickly cut off the heads, slashed the bodies almost in half lengthwise, spread the open side down, and tied a rope to a fore and a hind leg. Two men tied the ropes to their saddle horns, one m a n riding inside the rim of fire and one outside, and dragged one of the bloody carcasses over the blazing grass. The second body was dragged along the fire line in the opposite direction. Men on foot followed, using slickers to beat out flames missed by the drags. Some of the boys used their saddle blankets to whip out spots of burning grass. Glowing cowchips were kicked back into the burned area, to smolder and finally go out. The fire raged on, consuming the short grass, and sent flames and sparks upward in dense smoke when it hit clumps of sagebrush and tall sedge. One boy brought a sack of cold meat and biscuits from camp, the only food the men had while they

94

The LS Brand

fought the fire for three days and nights. There was very little drinking water. Rest was impossible as, grim faced and silent, they battled the rim of fire with superhuman effort to save the good grass that meant so much to LS cattle. At last, the fire was out. By the time the men reached camp, they were literally out on their feet. The cook had hot food and coffee waiting. The exhausted men ate and fell into bedrolls, asleep before they could stretch out. Three hours later, McAllister rode into camp and yelled, "Everybody awake." The fire was raging again. The weary men started a second ride north. Crossing the river, they met a norther. A huge black cloud of soot and ashes from the burned area sailed along with the wind. When it struck the outfit, men and horses turned black as smudge pots. Only men of whangleather toughness could stand the incredible toil and exertion the cowboys employed in the next eight hours to check the fire, but this time they definitely put it out. Other men were still fighting to the west but the LS boys could see the fire coming under control. Before leaving the scene, the worn-out men paused long enough to gaze northward. As far as they could see, the beautiful country lay waste, a charred, desolated land. It was a sorry-looking crowd that made it back to the Alamosa. Clothes stiff with grime and soot were riddled with holes burned by flying sparks. Everybody had singed hair, and there wasn't a whole pair of eyebrows left in the outfit. Several boys were almost blind from the irritating smoke and ashes. All the men had burns on their faces and hands. Some of the boys applied tallow to their burns, others used axle grease. Bud Carter suffered the worst injury. Blisters caused his face to swell, until his lips turned inside out. One horse received severe burns about the feet. Later, when his hoofs began to slough, the animal was destroyed. Grass loss north of the Canadian River was heartbreaking. To the west, starving X I T cattle were pushed over the line into New Mexico and left on range already stocked. To the south, cattle were driven to the unburned area along the

A Prairie Fire, a Land Swap, and a Wedding

95

Canadian River. This permitted X I T cattle to graze on Lee and Scott range, a move the LS considered domineering. At that time, Panhandle ranchers were beginning to resent the XIT. They believed the big ranch was ignoring the rights of other cowmen. The LE Ranch suffered heavy loss. Miles of grass were ruined and a number of cattle died in the fire. Albert Reynolds thought the runaway blaze came from a camp of X I T fence builders, and accused them of negligence. The XIT's reply to Reynolds was as hot as the fire itself, but angry words did not decide its origin. Later it was said that the fire began in the Arkansas River country in Kansas, jumped the Cimarron River in New Mexico, and from there pursued its widespread destruction south until it was put out a few miles north of the Canadian River. When the X I T fenced the vast Capitol Lands, the border of New Mexico Territory and the Texas Panhandle was closed with 260 miles of barbed wire. T h e LS Ranch was cut in half, and grass in Deaf Smith County that had been used by Lee and Scott now belonged to the XIT. The tenure of free-range rights was over in the Panhandle, and disgusted cowboys swore "bobwire" had ruined the country. There was nothing Lee and Scott could do about their divided range but remove LS cattle from New Mexico and the XIT's future pastures. The land Lucien Scott owned in New Mexico had been bought from Jose and Juan Garcia in 1883. The improvements on the place were near the old town of Liberty and were used for an LS camp. Lee and Scott tried to interest their cowboys in filing on New Mexico government land with the promise of buying it later if they did not wish to keep it. Since few cowboys in those days wanted to be tied down with a New Mexico claim or any other claim, Lee and Scott's offer was given little heed, a course of action which proved to be wise, as Scott decided to sell all LS holdings in New Mexico when the cattle were moved.

96

The LS Brand

The X I T was not interested in Lee and Scott's loss of range and cattle disposal. But the Capitol Syndicate had moments of anxiety, too, when it was discovered that Lee and Scott owned the Alamocitas country and that the LS headquarters were located almost dead center in the X I T range. The Syndicate members wanted to keep their land in one huge unbroken tract, so they proposed a land swap with the LS which Lee and Scott accepted. Lee and Scott conveyed the Alamocitas country, containing 106,574 acres of land, to the Syndicate, which in turn deeded the same number of acres east of Alamocitas to Lee and Scott. Each ranch retained the right to any coal found on the exchanged land, but if coal lay beneath the soil of those old LS and X I T pastures it is still there. As soon as the last deeds were signed the X I T began to fence the Alamocitas. The LS selected a site on Alamosa Creek, about twenty-five miles east of Alamocitas, for the new headquarters. Tom Nolan, an expert stone-mason living in Tascosa, was hired to construct of native rock a manager's house and a bunkhouse. The plans included a frame cottage to be built especially for Mrs. Scott, who intended to visit the ranch as soon as it was finished. McAllister faced decisions, too, with cattle he and a partner, Kim Ritter, had bought and placed on grass around Red Rio Springs, adjacent to Lee and Scott's open range in New Mexico. McAllister also had 150 head of excellent saddle horses located near the present site of Endee. The LS outfits always had used the McAllister remuda when they worked that part of the New Mexico range. McAllister now made up his mind to move out of New Mexico with the LS. One night, thieves rounded up the McAllister horses and drove them out of the country. John Brophy said casually, "So they got our horses! Well, I'll just go bring 'em back." "Don't be a fool, John," the boys warned, "Billy the Kid's outlaws stole the horses, and you know it." "Billy the Kid's dead," was John's airy answer. "We know he's dead," his friends persisted,

A Prairie Fire, a Land Swap, and a Wedding

97

"but some of his old gang's still riding and they'll shoot you on sight!" But caution had never been one of John's virtures. As he rode away, the outfit commented, "That durn fool never would listen to anybody." About ten days later John returned with the horses. "I missed two head," he apologized, "but I got the rest of 'em." The amazed cowboys began to question John. They wanted to know how and where he had found the remuda and asked hopefully if he had had to kill anybody. "I just tracked till I found 'em, and it was a cinch getting 'em back," he told the men, none of whom believed it had been that easy. But that was all John ever told anyone about his horse hunt. The thieves had changed McAllister's brand, Circle Bar, to a Circle Bar Spear. Recovering the horses did not elevate John's social standing among the rustlers, who sent him word they'd kill him when they met again and who later tried to carry out their threat. Meanwhile, Mister Mac's courtship plan achieved success. Miss Annie said, "Yes." Now one would suppose that all the romantic worries were over but this was not the case. Miss Annie regarded marriage as impossible unless a minister officiated. At that time, only two clergymen resided in the Texas Panhandle, an army chaplain stationed with the Fort Elliott troops in Mobeetie and a Methodist preacher who lived in Clarendon. McAllister was not in favor of getting married in either town. Mister Mac decided that Kansas City, Missouri, would solve the problem of a minister and would also provide a fine hotel in which to spend the honeymoon. Since Miss Lou's parents were getting impatient with her extended vacation, it was decided that she could leave from Kansas City instead of making the long stage trip from Tascosa to Dodge City to get a train home. Several days were required to drive the two hundred miles from headquarters to Springer, New Mexico, the nearest town

98

The LS Brand

with rail service to Kansas City. McAllister planned the route so that nights could be spent in the small settlements along the way that provided lodging for travelers. The girls were enchanted with the impending journey that would take them through some very rough but beautiful country. The weather was extremely cold and snow covered the ground, although the day was bright with winter sunshine when the wedding party left Alamocitas on January 17, 1886. The girls, wrapped in buffalo robes, were settled in the buckboard, then the cowboys brought heated rocks rolled in gunny sacks to place near their feet for added warmth. A team of surefooted mules pulled the buckboard and, with Dunk Cage and Ab Owens leading the way on horseback, the gay little crowd started up the trail to Springer. Lee and Scott sent Dunk and Ab with McAllister in case trouble was encountered along the way, a possibility not to be ignored in those days, for the Springer trail led through lonely country. From Springer the boys were going by train to Santa Fe, to file on some New Mexico government land wanted by Lee and Scott. The ranch was paying their expenses and the filing fees. When the claims were "proved up," Lee and Scott intended to buy the land from the boys. The drive was uneventful until the party crossed the icecovered Revuelto Creek (Ab called it Ro-welta) in New Mexico. The weather had turned much colder when Miss Annie, wearing new French kid gloves, slipped her hands outside the warm robe. In a matter of minutes her fingers were benumbed by the icy air. She was terrified, but Mister Mac rubbed her hands until feeling was restored, and explained that kid gloves and zero weather were a dangerous combination. Years later Miss Annie said, "I'd never had a pair of French kid gloves before. They were so beautiful and m y hands looked so elegant, I wanted everyone to see them! But m y vanity never tempted me to wear kid gloves while driving in zero weather again." Miss Annie and Mister Mac were married on January 26, 1886. They went to the St. James, a hotel noted for fine food

A Prairie Fire, a Land Swap, and a Wedding

99

and luxurious service, where they intended to spend the next two weeks. But a telegram from Lee and Scott upset their plans. McAllister was asked to meet the ranch owners at once in Leavenworth. Now Miss Annie had been at headquarters long enough to learn that an LS cow was the most important asset on the ranch, and was not surprised that her honeymoon was deferred by ranch business. She accepted the telegram with good grace, and her bridegroom caught the first train leaving Kansas City for Leavenworth. The McAllisters had been surprised to find Tascosa friends, the John Cones, who had also arrived at the St. James to spend their honeymoon. When the Cones learned that Miss Annie was alone for the evening, they invited her to be their supper guest. The brides wore their wedding gowns. Mrs. McAllister's dress was fashioned of silk brocade in a lovely shade of blue, and Mrs. Cone's dress was also silk brocade in a striking wine color. When the party entered the supper room, more than one admiring glance was directed toward the beautiful ladies dining with John Cone. The next day, when McAllister returned from Leavenworth, a second telegram was waiting. Lou, who was on the way home, sent word that her train was snowbound a few miles outside Dodge City. The McAllisters decided that she was in need of help and caught the first train west. The storm grew worse and huge snow drifts stopped their train at Dodge City. Passenger trains kept coming from the east until seven had arrived and were unable to proceed. All the Pullmans were lined up on one track, and the passengers began visiting the various cars and organizing games to while away the time. The McAllisters were traveling in a drawing room and Mister Mac had all their meals sent in as they settled down to wait out the storm. Miss Annie enjoyed the layover immensely. Six days and nights were required to clear the tracks and start the trains running again. Just before the McAllisters 7 train was scheduled to leave, they received the last telegram

100

The LS Brand

of the series that plagued their honeymoon. Lou's train had been the first one rescued from the snowdrifts and she had finally arrived home. The McAllisters continued their journey to Springer, exchanged the deluxe Pullman drawing room for their buckboard and buffalo robes, and a few days later were back at Alamocitas. The Kansas blizzard roared into Texas with unprecedented fury and lasted for three days and nights. Cattlemen described it as the most destructive storm that had ever struck the Panhandle. Cattle loss was so great that even the big ranchers were in financial trouble when they tallied their cattle in the spring roundup. Small ranches were completely wiped out. Cattle seeking relief from the icy wind and snow came up against the North Plains drift fence and perished in such numbers that a m a n who witnessed the terrible results of the deathtrap said, "One could walk for miles on the frozen bodies of dead animals without touching the ground with his feet." The LS endured the blizzard better than most of the big ranches. Cattle that took shelter in the hills and rough country along the Canadian River survived in good shape. Animals drifting in storms reduced the danger of freezing to death if they were able to maintain a steady pace. LS cattle that drifted to the south were not hampered by fences. They simply walked with the storm until the wind and snow ceased. Most of these drift cattle were recovered in the spring and summer roundups.

1U BULLETS FOR BROPfiY

LS cowboys staying at the Garcia Camp attended Mexican bailes held in the old village of Liberty, New Mexico. Most of the time the dances were orderly, but Liberty favored a brand of hospitality that attracted a number of questionable characters residing in the area and the dances sometimes turned into brawls. McAllister frowned upon the bailes a n d cautioned the outfit to let trouble that was none of their business alone. Range talk usually informed the cowboys when rowdies intended to break up a dance and they remained in camp. One afternoon John Brophy told the outfit he was going to the baile that night. The boys were shocked. "Are you plumb loco?" they asked. "Going to a Liberty dance with that gang of horse thieves laying for you?" "Aw, they're just bluffin'," John answered. "Besides a little senorita promised to do a fandango with me." M a n n y Leppard, one-time bullwhacker for Lee and Reynolds, was a man of plain words. "Fandango, hell!" he snorted. "You'll dance with a bullet in your back if you

102

The LS Brand

go to that baile tonight." John laughed. "I'm not that crazy," he said. "I'll keep m y back to the wall." The dance was in full swing when Brophy arrived and he joined the merry crowd at once. Two hours later he was approached by a man who said, "A friend of yours just rode in. He's waiting outside with an important message." John was sure he knew the friend, but he thought of Leppard's blunt warning, and sidled along the length of the room with his back to the wall. The moment he appeared in the doorway a bullet hit him in the chest. As he toppled out the door a second bullet lodged in a hip. Apparently his assailant had great faith in his marksmanship and believed Brophy to be dead, for he rode away in the night and was never identified. But John was very much alive! A big silver watch he always carried in his vest pocket had caught the bullet dead center. The impact flattened the watch, drove shreds of clothing into his skin, and left a black and purple bruise twice the size of a saucer exactly over his heart. A Dr. Black came from Las Vegas, New Mexico, removed the bullet from John's hip, pulled the bits of cloth out of his chest, and took him to Las Vegas for additional treatment. When John was able to travel, two cowboys drove a covered wagon from Alamocitas to Las Vegas to bring the invalid home. John was placed on a mattress in the wagon bed, covered with blankets, and told to "holler" if he wanted anything. The boys did their best to ease the trip for John, but his exaggerated moans were dreadful when the wagon jolted over rough spots in the road. His attendants wasted more sarcasm than sympathy on him. "Oh, shut up," they'd yell. "You act like we're tryin' to kill you." When headquarters were reached, John was in good condition, and the cowboys proudly announced, "We've brought the pore sufferin' so-and-so home in style and comfort, but he bellered at us all the time!" John was put in bed in the bunkhouse where Mrs. McAllister helped the boys nurse him until his father and a sister arrived from the Dakota Territory. The Brophys were

Bullets for Brophy

103

guests of the ranch until John no longer needed their care. Lee and Scott also paid John's expenses in Las Vegas. John gave his bullet-scarred watch to Dr. Black for a souvenir. The Doctor was so pleased with the gift that he placed it in the Magill Bank in Las Vegas for safekeeping. In 1881, the newly organized Panhandle Livestock Association forbade trail herds infected with Texas fever to cross the Texas Panhandle. At that time the Spanish fever tick responsible for spreading the disease had not been discovered by scientific study. The ticks flourished by the millions in South and East Texas. Southern cattle became immune to the fever, but it attacked northern cattle with deadly results. Cattle acting as hosts to the parasites scattered them along the trail. Mornings found bed-grounds literally crawling with the ugly pests. Although the answer to tick bites was still in the future, experience had taught cowmen that southern herds left a path of contagion across "clean range." Determined ranchers agreed to keep the Panhandle fever-free by force if necessary, and "Six-shooter Quarantine" persuaded more than one northbound herd to seek a new route. McAllister resolved to keep the LS free of contagion. He ordered the wagon bosses to stop and turn back all trail herds discovered crossing LS range. The LS owned one of the best fords on the Canadian River, located near Tascosa. It was a favorite crossing for trail herds. Outfits usually bought fresh supplies in Tascosa, and trail-weary cowpunchers splashed a little red paint around Hogtown. The LS now refused trail herds permission to use the ford, and several outfits were ordered to find'a new trail. Tascosa merchants missed selling goods to the trail outfits and were quite annoyed with the LS, but the ford remained closed. One day, a remote cloud of dust indicated cattle moving toward the river. McAllister and several cowboys rode out to investigate. When they met the herd, the trail boss identified himself as A. G. Boyce, driving for the Snyder Brothers, who ranched below the Panhandle. "Below" was all McAllister

104

The LS Brand

needed to know. "Turn your herd back," he ordered. "Fever cattle are not allowed to cross the LS." " M y cattle don't have fever," Boyce snapped. "I drive wherever I please. Right now, it pleases me to cross the river!" Both outfits were armed. Tension mounted while McAllister spoke to one of his men, who rode off in the direction of Tascosa. A short time later the boy returned with the sheriff and a Home Ranger. The sheriff tried to explain the Association's rule, but Boyce refused to budge. Finally, the sheriff said, "Mr. Boyce, I'll have to arrest you unless you turn back. I'll take your gun now." Boyce was wearing a beautiful white-handled revolver. Every Snyder cowboy knew the boss was not in the habit of handing that gun to another man, law or no law. It was touch and go for a moment as to whether Boyce would comply. Then he reached slowly for his gun. As he handed it to the sheriff, a young Snyder cowboy, awed by the unexpected sight drawled, "Well, I'll be damned! There went old Whitey." The sheriff detained Boyce overnight in Tascosa. The next morning, with old Whitey strapped in its proper place again, Boyce returned to his outfit and moved his herd off the LS. About a year later, A. G. Boyce became the general manager of the X I T Ranch. A man of high morals, he guided the X I T through some of its most turbulent years with a strong and fearless hand. Meantime, LS cattle continued to disappear, although the number declined as the cowboys redoubled their efforts in safeguarding the range. However, hard feelings increased. Men who as a rule never wore a gun put on six-shooters and began to carry a Winchester on their saddles. The cowboys were determined to defend the ranch regardless of the outcome. In fact some of the younger boys were perhaps overzealous with their allegiance. A few weeks after the Snyder herd incident, one of The System's outfits rode into Tascosa, spent a few hours in the saloons, and then proceeded to shoot up the town. The Rangers arrested the leader and lodged him in jail. Newt Bartlet, the

Bullets for Brophy

105

boy who lost his socks on the Montana trail, was in town during the affray. Since the man in jail was openly antagonistic toward the LS, Newt immediately told McAllister, who decided to leave at once for Tascosa to consult with the Rangers. Bud Turner described the events that followed: I was the only cowboy at headquarters when Newt arrived from Tascosa. He talked to Mister Mac for a few minutes, then went to hitch the mules, Fiddler and Red Eye, to the buckboard, while Mister Mac came to the bunkhouse and said, "Let's go to town." Now, I knew there was usually some kind of trouble going on in town during those days. I'd tried to stay out of Tascosa for that reason. I had sense enough to know I was just a kid, and had no business mixing in things the older men took in their stride. So I answered as politely as I knew how, "Thank you, Mister Mac, but I don't believe I'll go today." The Old Man gave me a look I'll never forget, and said, "We're going to town. Do you have a gun?" "No Sir," I told him. He never answered me, just turned around and started back to the house. My spirits dropped to zero. Knowing Mister Mac like I did, I resigned myself to whatever fate awaited me. I knew I was going, but I didn't know if I'd come back. Mister Mac wasn't gone a minute until he was back with a Winchester and two six-shooters. My heart was already in my boots, so I tried not to let on when Mister Mac handed me a holster and gun. He said, "Put this on and let's get started." My legs felt like jelly but I made it to the buckboard. Before we left, Mister Mac told Newt (his nephew), "Go to the house and stay with Annie. Don't let her out of your sight." I thought to myself, "I know I'm in trouble, but I'd hate to be in Newt's place, if anything happens to Miss Annie while the Old Man's gone." Mister Mac had his six-shooter on and he laid the Winchester across his knees. He drove the team hard, and it seemed to me he was looking in all directions at the same time. He said, "Watch out Bud, if you see anybody be careful. They may shoot us first." In all my life I'd never been as scared as I was at that moment! Come to think of it, I've never been that scared since. I expected to stop a bullet at every turn of the road and as we topped each hill.

106

The LS Brand

The road twisted around Torrey Peaks where big red bluffs made a perfect hideout for the enemy, then crossed a long flat. As we started to pass by the Peaks, Mister Mac said, "Look sharp Bud, here's where we may be ambushed." Heaven knows I was looking as sharp as I could but, by that time, if I'd met my best friend riding down that road, I'd have shot him for a rustler! We got around the Peaks all right and crossed the flat. As we drove over the hills to Alamosa, we saw a band of riders coming to meet us. Mister Mac yelled, "Whoa," and stopped the team. He said calmly, "Get ready Bud, they're coming. Now, don't let 'em get the drop on us." It was a sorry effort I made getting ready, but I finally got my gun out of the holster. While we were waiting, I looked at Mister Mac, wondering if he was scared too. He sat there as unconcerned as if meeting a bunch of outlaws was an everyday occurrence. When the riders got close to us, we recognized the Rangers. They had started to Alamocitas to consult with Mister Mac. Those Rangers looked big as the United States Cavalry to me, and my spirits began to rise. We turned back to headquarters, the Rangers riding with us. I never knew what information passed between them and Mister Mac, except it was about the rustlers. You may be sure I never told the outfit how scared I'd been. They'd have joshed me off the ranch! About this time, everyone on the ranch realized the range was anything but safe for McAllister. The rustlers blamed him for helping the Rangers and too m a n y men remembered how he'd cut them off the LS payroll. The cowboys decided the Old Man needed protection. Now the last thing McAllister wanted or expected was a bodyguard. But when cowboys made up their minds to do something, bespotted devils couldn't change them. Thereafter, everytime McAllister left headquarters, two or four armed men rode along with him whether he liked it or not. Lee and Scott sanctioned this procedure, for they, too, were alarmed at the growing resentment among the enemies of the LS. Many years later, Bud Turner recalled those stormy times.

Bullets for Brophy

107

We expected trouble at the general roundup that spring so the outfit took several extra men along. We thought Mister Mac intended to stay at headquarters during the roundup but just as we had a big herd ready to cut, he joined us. He had his gun stuck down in the waistband of his pants, right where everybody could see it. There were at least twenty men riding around the herd or nearby, who wanted to kill him. We knew it and McAllister knew it, but if he was afraid, no one could tell it, in fact Mister Mac was the most fearless man I ever knew. Six men from our outfit immediately surrounded him, and we rode that way all day. If a man dropped out, another took his place. You can bet no one pulled a gun on the Old Man while we rode herd on him like that! If the rascals had tried, we'd have made mincement out of the whole sorry crowd, and every last one of them knew it.

12. BOQ RIDERS END A FEUD

During the first warm days of March, heel flies start distracting cattle by attacking their heels. Ordinarily, cattle sense mud or quicksand traps and avoid them. But cattle with the aggravating flies clinging to their heels panic and stampede toward the nearest water hole. Disregarding danger signs they plunge in to relieve their tormented feet. If the place of refuge happens to be boggy, the animals are in trouble. Unable to extricate themselves, they chill rapidly and die, or sink into the water and drown. The LS maintained a string of line camps along the Canadian River from Sierrita de la Cruz to just below the New Mexico line. During fly time the camps were occupied by "bog riders," men who "rode the river" each day to rescue cattle bogged in the quicksand. Four men were assigned to a camp. Working in pairs, the cowboys rode in opposite directions until they met riders from the next camp. Then the men turned back and reworked their routes. In this way, few cattle were left in bog holes overnight. Cowboys despised working with bogged cattle. When an

Bog Riders End a Feud

109

animal was stuck no more than knee-deep, a man roped it by the neck, wrapped the end of the rope around his saddle horn, and dragged the unfortunate creature to the bank. But the job was not that easy with a cow bogged belly-deep. Stripped to the waist, the men waded the cold water to dig the tenacious sand away from the cow's body. Even the tail had to be lifted free of the sand before a rope was tied around the horns or neck to pull the animal to dry land. Frequently a rescued cow was so weak and stiff that men had to lift her up. Then it was wise to get in the saddle quickly and give her plenty of room. Enraged by the events leading up to this final humiliation, the cow tried to get even in the only way she knew: she charged her rescuers! Nine times out of ten the cow misjudged her strength and promptly fell down. The men had to go through the same struggle again, "tail her u p " and run for their horses. It was the kind of thing that never improved a cowpuncher's disposition. By the time a pair of riders met the men from an adjacent camp, they had covered several working miles and were far from a noon meal. But every saddle bag carried one or two cans of tomatoes, the emergency food and drink of the oldtime cowpuncher. The boys slit the top of a can with a pocket knife and ate dinner. The bog rider of the Canadian is now riding an invisible range, but for m a n y years the cans he left rusting along the river spoke eloquently of the past. The riders paused for a brief rest, smoked a roll-your-own cigarette, condemned all bogged cattle to perdition, and then started working the river toward camp, arriving near sundown. At the end of fly season, bog riders were embittered men! Jerry Springs was located about four miles west of Tascosa, where the most treacherous strip of quicksand in the Canadian River extended east and west of the camp. Extra men were always placed there during fly time, and the cowboys liked it for two reasons, the short ride to Tascosa and a camp cook, whom the boys called "a biscuit-puncher to do the greasy work." When the heel-fly invasion began in 1886, Ed King,

110

The LS Brand

Frank Valley, Fred Chilton, Johnny Lang, Bud Turner, and W. McCurry were sent to Jerry Springs to ride the river. Felix Martinez was the cook. The free and easy social life that flourished after dark in Tascosa was a great temptation to a cowboy, especially one bored with bog riding. The LS never proposed a set of rules for the employees to follow. The ranch hired a man to work. If he neglected his job he was fired, but he could do as he pleased in his spare time. The boys at Jerry Springs could ride to Tascosa after supper, enjoy a gay evening, and return to camp by midnight. However, King, Valley, Chilton, and Lang began spending more time in town than at camp. McAllister's warning that too much time in Tascosa meant trouble was ignored. Meanwhile, Ed King and Lem Woodruff, a Tascosa bartender, were at odds over a dance-hall girl known as Sally. Woodruff regarded himself as the sole possessor of Sally's charms. The cowboys claimed that the bartender was a System man, so King, with malice aforethought, made a special effort to gain Sally's affections. Bang's flattery easily won the girl's favors, increasing the antagonism the two men were displaying for each other. Then their friends took sides. Tom and Charley Emory, John Gough (known in Tascosa as The Catfish Kid), and Louis Bouseman lined up with Woodruff. Valley, Lang, and Chilton supported King. Although LS cowboys didn't care who knew they were ill-disposed toward rustlers, the rest of the outfit refused to join in a fuss complicated by personal spite. Late in the afternoon, on March 20, 1886, the Jerry Springs riders returned to camp as usual. Bang and his three friends made haste to clean up and eat supper so they could depart for Tascosa. McCurry took Turner aside and said, "Bud, Ed and that bartender are bound to have a showdown soon. Let's stay in camp tonight, so we won't be mixed up with the locoed bunch." Turner, who had no intention of mixing in King's business, replied, "Suits me, I wasn't going anyway." Later

Bog Riders End a Feud

111

when King urged them to "come along," they refused the invitation and remained in camp with Felix. The evening sun was just beginning to paint the hilltops a golden yellow when the cowboys "hit the trail in a long lope" for Tascosa. It was a pleasant ride in the warm spring air, and, along with much good-natured banter, plans were made for a big night. When the boys reached town they left their horses at Mickey McCormick's livery stable, and immediately began seeking the brand of pleasure suited to each one's fancy. The next several hours cannot be described accurately, but near midnight the four boys met in the Equity Bar, a saloon owned by Jim East. Meanwhile, Dunk and Hays Cage arrived in town and were told that Jerry Springs boys were celebrating. Alarmed by the news, Dunk and Hays hurried to the saloon and found the quartet happily engaged with a fresh round of drinks. Dunk tried his best to persuade the men to leave town but King said, "I'm going to Hogtown and dance one more time with Sally before I leave." Dunk told Hays, "We might as well go home, they won't listen to anybody now," and the brothers left the saloon. A few minutes later it occurred to Lang that King's visit to Hogtown should be stopped. He suggested that it was time for everybody to start for camp and volunteered to go after the horses. King decided to go with Lang. Valley and Chilton waited in the saloon. The night was radiant with the silver light of a new moon as King and Lang rode back from the livery stable leading the other boys' horses. They were unaware that Lem Woodruff and Charley Emory were concealed in the shadow of a nearby building, watching every move they made. The cowboys had almost reached the saloon when a scene began to unfold before Woodruff's gaze that plunged him into a malevolent rage. From a side street Sally stepped into view and approached King, who quickly dismounted, grabbed the girl by an arm and playfully slapped her on an inelegant and highly improper spot. It was the last act of Ed King's life. From his hiding place,

112

The LS Brand

Woodruff's gun shattered the still air with an unexpected roar. King died instantly with a bullet lodged in his head. For a moment, Lang was paralyzed by the sudden attack. Then he ran to the saloon and yelled to Valley and Chilton, "They've shot Ed!" The three men rushed to the spot where King was lying in the street and met a stream of bullets. Woodruff's friends had joined the battle. The cowboys took cover as best they could and began shooting at anything that moved. The next five minutes evolved into a nightmare of hellish sound and fury. Bullets flying from several directions announced the quick and mysterious arrival of men lending a helping gun to one side or the other. Afterwards, men who lived through that grim night would never admit friends came to their aid. Sheriff Jim East and his deputy, L. C. Pierce, had retired. Awakened by the noise, they quickly dressed and ran to the street just as the last shots echoed across a now disturbed town. Both officers were familiar with frontier disorder, but they were horrified by the scene that greeted them. King, Valley, and Chilton were dead. So was Jesse Sheets, a restaurant owner. During the shooting he had opened a door facing Main Street, and had caught a bullet squarely between the eyes. Sheets was sprawled across the restaurant doorstep. Charley Emory was huddled in a doorway, bleeding badly from a leg wound. Woodruff was missing, although Emory said he was shot twice, once in the groin. Lang was unhurt but his coat was past mending. A bullet had ripped off a sleeve. No one seemed to care that Sally was also missing. Much later a man told of seeing her leave the battle area. "When I first saw her," he said, "she was running toward Hogtown liked a scared antelope. Then a stray bullet landed near her heels. If she needed encouragement to increase speed, that was it! Her leaps and bounds were a sight to behold!" But at the moment, flippancy was not a part of the distressed people gathering in the street. East and Pierce tried to keep order in the crowd and immediately began searching for men involved in the fight. A few hours later Louis Bouseman and the Catfish

Bog Riders End a Feud

113

Kid were jailed. Because of his wound, Emory was placed in his room under guard. Lang claimed self-defense and was not arrested. Dunk and Hays had started home and were about a half mile from town when they heard the exploding guns. They turned back, running their horses as fast as they could go, but the fight was over when they reached the scene. Stunned by the sight, the men stared at their friends' bodies in disbelief until Hays said, " M y God, Dunk, this is terrible." Dunk replied, "I'm going after Mister Mac. You get all the boys from the camps." Sheriff East deputized several men to search for Woodruff. The boys at Jerry Springs learned the tragic news when a "runner" arrived with a message for Bud Turner, who was ordered to get Tobe Robinson and join the manhunt. Disturbed and angered by the news, the men acted at once. Felix and McCurry started for Tascosa. Robinson was staying in a camp on Rita Blanca Creek. Turner met him there and the two men rode as far north as the present town of Hartley, but there was no sign of the wanted man. They rode on to Tascosa and were told that Woodruff had been found. Theodore Briggs, who lived on Rica Creek tnree miles west of Tascosa, reported to the Sheriff that during the early morning hours Woodruff had crawled to within calling distance of his house, begging for help. Briggs had taken the man in and had done what he could for him. H e asked the Sheriff to send a doctor to Woodruff, who he feared was near death. Sheriff East, with Briggs, Dr. P. L. Shelton, and two other men^ picked up Woodruff's gory trail near the edge of town. As the men followed the blood stains left on the grass and bushes by the wounded man, they were awed by the superhuman effort Woodruff had achieved as he dragged himself along those three agonizing miles. Dr. Shelton patched up the gravely injured man as well as he could. Then the Sheriff put Woodruff under arrest, but the Briggs family nursed the culprit for weeks before he could be moved to Tascosa.

114

The LS Brand

Dunk reached Alamocitas shortly after two o'clock in the morning. Mrs. McAllister, roused suddenly from sound sleep, became uneasy when she heard the running horse approaching. "Something has happened," she called to Mister Mac. "None of our boys would run a horse like that unless he's after help." McAllister listened a moment. "Something is wrong," he agreed. "That horse is run down!" They were both up and dressed by the time Dunk arrived, his horse and himself more dead than alive by the long run. The McAllisters were shocked into silence by Dunk's news, but when he added, "It's awful, Mister Mac, the boys were still lying in the street when I left," McAllister found his voice and it seethed with anger. "Get the boys up," he told Dunk. "We're going to town." The McAllisters left headquarters before dawn. As usual the guards took their places by the buckboard, Kid Dobbs riding on Mister Mac's side, Lon Chambers providing a shield for Miss Annie. The rest of the outfit brought up the rear. When they arrived in Tascosa, Mrs. McAllister stopped at the C. B. Vivian home. Vivian had been the first bookkeeper employed by the LS, but was now serving as clerk for Oldham County. By the time McAllister got to Main Street, the cowboys had been placed in a row on the porch of Wright and Farnsworth's store and were covered with a tarpaulin. McAllister immediately had the bodies removed to a vacant room in a nearby adobe house. He notified Lee and Scott, then tried to find out who had started the fight. This was hard to do at the time. Everybody wanted to talk about it and everybody told a different story. But one significant piece of evidence turned up: When Ed King's body was removed from the street, his gun was found in his holster. It had not been fired. News of the fight spread quickly and every cowboy in the country who heard about it armed himself and headed for Tascosa. Some were impartial, but most of them came as friends who intended to stand by the LS men or side against them. Every man on the LS rode in, armed, angry, and ready to fight at the bat of an eye. Then someone circulated a sense-

Bog Riders End a Feud

115

less rumor that the LS cowboys were planning to burn the town to avenge the murder of their comrades. The cowboys wanted revenge all right and intended to vent their wrath on the rustler clique, but it never entered their minds to harm the respectable people of Tascosa. At this point McAllister declared that he would deal with any LS cowpuncher caught shooting at members of the rival party, but tension continued to mount. McAllister selected several dependable LS men and told them to keep the rest of the outfit in line. The cowboys joined the Sheriff, Deputy Pierce, and several prominent Tascosa citizens in maintaining peace and order. The combined efforts of these men prevented further trouble even on the day of the funeral, when close to five hundred men, most of them wearing guns, milled about the streets of Tascosa. During this critical time, when McAllister appeared on the street, Kid Dobbs and Lon Chambers walked or rode by his side. Meanwhile, the townspeople helped the McAllisters and the Sheets family with funeral arrangements. Men went to the cemetery to dig graves. Carpenters were ready to construct caskets, but the town could not produce a single piece of new lumber. Men removed boards from a barn for the purpose. After the uneven spots and rough edges had been planed, the boards were sawed, shaped, and hammered into four coffins. Mrs. McAllister supervised the finishing touches on the cowboys' coffins, making sure that each was padded soft and smooth under a lining of white material. The exteriors were covered with black cloth. Sunday closing rules were observed by Tascosa merchants, but James McMasters opened his store so the McAllisters could select graveclothes. They bought a fine black suit and a white shirt for each boy. When the boys were dressed and placed in their coffins, the LS cowboys watched over them until time for the burial service. The cowboys were buried on Monday, March 22, 1886. The three coffins were placed in a wagon and driven to Main Street where the procession formed. As the half-mile journey to the

116

The LS Brand

cemetery began, the McAllister's blackboard followed the wagon. Dobbs and Chambers, each wearing a gun, rode beside Mister Mac and his wife. Seventy-seven LS cowboys came next, riding two and two. Then Tascosa people and cowboy friends joined the column. People rode in wagons and buckboards and some walked. The cowboys rode in the same manner as the LS men, two and two. On that sad day a clergyman could not be reached, so the McAllisters asked a young lawyer, H. H. Wallace, to conduct the funeral. When the front part of the procession reached the hilltop graveyard, riders were still joining the line on Main Street. Wallace, James McMasters, and C. B. Vivian were waiting by the open graves, but the service did not start until all the people arrived. In those days it was customary to open a casket at the graveside, permitting friends a last view of the dead. When this ceremony ended, Wallace stepped forward. H e held the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, given to him by his mother when he left his Virginia home for the West. Selecting an old Anglican version of the Twenty-third Psalm, he began the service with these words, "The Lord is m y shepherd: Therefore can I lack nothing." After the Psalm, in a voice filled with dignity and feeling, he read the beautiful Episcopal Service for the Dead. As he uttered the awesome words, "Dust to dust," Vivian reached for a handful of loose soil and dropped it gently upon the three coffins. The service was closed by a group of ladies who sang two hymns. The strains of Rock of Ages had barely ceased when the Jesse Sheets procession approached the cemetery. Mrs. Sheets blamed the cowboys for her husband's death and did not want him buried near them. At her request his grave was placed on the east side of the graveyard. When the Sheets funeral arrived, the people moved from the cowboys' graves to the spot reserved for Jesse's burial. Some of the LS men were reluctant to pay their respects to Jesse. They were not sure his death was accidental but thought it was the result of an active part in the melee, an assumption they were never able

Bog Riders End a Feud

117

to prove or settle among themselves. But the Sheets had m a n y friends who shared their sorrow. On the morning of the funeral, McAllister had told his cowboys that further temper displays would not be tolerated and that every m a n was expected back on his job as soon as the burial was over. Most of the men were sick of trouble and were more than willing to comply. They waited at the cemetery until all the people had departed. Then the outfit said farewell to the boys in their own way: As he rode by the graves, each man removed his hat in a silent tribute to friendship. Felix, the Jerry Springs cook, held his hat over his heart as he passed the mounds of fresh raw earth and said softly, "Adios, compadres." The feud, cruel and without purpose, had closed, but it left hearts filled with bitterness and hateful memories that lasted for m a n y years.

13. WORK AND PLAY

When Lee and Scott arrived at the ranch a few days after the boys' funeral, Mr. Scott was a very angry man. H e knew that the cowboys were trying their best to stop the rustlers, yet LS cattle were disappearing at an alarming rate. H e told McAllister, "If our men lost their lives protecting LS property, I'll put the guilty persons in prison if it takes every dollar I possess!" Lee was angry, too, but McAllister explained, "This trouble has been growing ever since the first LS cattle were rustled and the cowboys tried to stop it. But the boys were killed because King let his hard feelings get out of hand and began fussing with Woodruff over a dance-hall girl." Acting upon McAllister's advice, Lee and Scott decided to let the law deal with the suspects. Lee and Scott immediately ordered tombstones for the boys' graves. Native gray sandstone was used to construct simple, dignified markers. On each stone, in addition to name and dates of birth and death, a Lone Star was engraved near the top. At that time everyone knew the Lone Star was symbolic of all Texas cowboys. However, years later, writers who were care-

Work and Play

119

less with facts viewed the headstones and hurried away to write lurid stories about the "Gunslingers of the Lone Star Ranch." The markers stood unharmed for years. Then sightseers discovered Boot Hill and with ghoulish glee chipped the stones into souvenirs. Today, no trace of the stones remain and the graves have lost their identity. Although the entire ranch was dominated by sadness during the weeks following the tragedy, Mrs. McAllister performed the saddest task of all. She wrote the bereaved parents and sent them the boys' personal effects. Their saddles, bridles, guns, and chaps were also sent to the parents. When Mrs. McAllister was collecting the boys' things, she found a rabbit's foot in Frank Valley's pants pocket. Puzzled, she asked Mister Mac about it, but he was perplexed too and said the thing didn't make sense. Later Johnny Lang explained the puzzle. He said, "Miss Annie, its hard for me to talk about what happened, but on our way to Tascosa, a cottontail ran across the trail in front of us. Frank shot it and cut off a foot. We asked him if he'd lost his mind, but he started laughing and said, 'Don't you fellows know a rabbit's left hind foot is the luckiest charm in the world? Watch me tonight, Boys, I've got m y luck in m y pocket!' " It is a popular belief today that during the heyday of the early West, any unfortunate cowpuncher who died with his boots on was an outlaw or a professional gunfighter employed by the great cattle companies to protect their herds. This was not always true, yet the LS men who died in the street fight are now listed with the Old West's elite guntoters—an opinion not shared by men who worked with them. It was said that Ed King killed a man in a shooting scrape somewhere in South Texas. Although whiskey made Ed arrogant and prone to fight, he never notched his gun in the Panhandle. He was a good cowhand, and his loyalty to friends and the LS brand was never questioned. Frank Valley was an educated young man who came from a prominent Missouri family. His good nature and faultless

120

The LS Brand

manners won many friends in Tascosa. While he worked for the LS, if Valley had proclaimed himself a gunfighter the outfit would have "laughed him off the ranch." Fred Chilton and his brother Sam were hired by the LS when they came to Tascosa from East Texas. Fred was an agreeable youngster who was easily influenced by older men, whom he admired for their worldly wisdom. In a book by a well-known author of Western lore, the writer lists an impressive number of gunmen and outlaws who stayed in and around Dodge City, Kansas, in 1877. King, Valley, and Chilton are included in this roll. Fred Chilton was twelve years old in 1877. It seems odd that one so young measured up to the rules the outlaw gentry lived by in that era. He was barely twenty-one years old when he was killed. Lena Woodruff, Charley Emory, Louis Bouseman, and J. B. Gough were charged with murder by the Oldham grand jury. Johnny Lang was also charged with the same offense. About a year later, due to prejudice in Tascosa, the men were tried in Clarendon. When the jury was unable to agree, the case was moved to Mobeetie. The second trial resulted in conflicting testimony, missing witnesses, angry lawyers, and a jury that brought in a not-guilty verdict! Friends thought that Lang's indictment was unjust, since he had been forced to join the fight in self-defense. But Johnny, supported by the LS, stood trial to have his name cleared by law of any wrongdoing. Lang left the Panhandle the latter part of 1887. He settled in Oregon, where he was elected to the state legislature for several terms, and enjoyed a long and successful life. Although the cowboys were angry and resentful, McAllister told them that more violence would not help the situation and that work must be resumed at once. Four men were sent to Jerry Springs to finish out the fly season. One of them replaced Johnny Lang, who was so embittered by the death of his friends that Mister Mac took him to headquarters where he could keep an eye on him. The trail herds began to move out

Work and Play

121

for Montana, and roundups were started to remove all LS cattle from the X I T range. The LS always kept good saddle horses. When a cowboy referred to his "string," he meant the six, eight, or ten horses a ranch furnished him to ride as long as he remained in its employ. An unwritten law among cowboys forbade a man to "drop a rope" on a horse belonging in another fellow's string unless he was looting for a fight. Most cow horses, even the gentle ones, pitched when first saddled, especially on a frosty morning. Breaking wild horses was difficult work. Old-time cowpunchers claimed it aged a man quicker than anything else. In those days, a bronc was saddled in the open instead of in a chute. A man got on and turned him loose. Then one of two things happened—the cowboy stayed with the horse until it quit, or he sailed through the air "looking for a soft place to light." During the winter of 1886, Lee purchased two hundred horses in South Texas and contracted to have them delivered to the ranch in the spring. In April the Cage outfit received the horse herd on the Sierrita de la Cruz and put the LS brand on the animals. The horses, which were excellent saddle stock, were wearing the owner's brand, a neat 110. So the cowboys named them the Eleven-0 remuda. Some of the horses were broken to ride, to stand hitched when the bridle reins were dropped to the ground, and to follow a rider's wishes with cattle. The rest had never been bridled or saddled. When the horses arrived, two young men so much alike it was impossible to tell one from the other and speaking as if they were one person, told Dunk, "We're the boss of this outfit." Now two bosses with one herd was rather unusual. The LS cowboys were observing the pair with profound interest when they announced, "We're twins and we got horse twins with us. We rode 'em most of the way up." The thought of twin boys riding twin horses up the trail was too much for the cowboys' sense of humor. They burst into laughter that

122

The LS Brand

became hilarious when they saw the twin horses, beautiful dun-colored animals so exactly alike one could not tell them apart either. The twin boys' outfit spent a week with the LS outfit. They helped brand the horses, rode some of the wild ones, and watched gleefully while the cowboys discovered how to distinguish between the twin horses. Both animals were very gentle; however, one never pitched, but his twin, when first mounted, bucked as if possessed by a demon. Then he settled down and worked the rest of the day, sweet tempered and willing as an old plow horse. The twin horses seemed to have a natural feeling for cattle work and developed into superb cow horses. However, it was the animals' devotion to each other that intrigued the cowboys, who claimed they actually grieved when separated even for a short time. At the end of day when the men turned their mounts into the remuda, the twins began a frantic search, running and neighing until they met and touched noses. After a thorough examination of each other, apparently to satisfy themselves that neither had suffered harm during the day, they began grazing side by side and remained that way until work began next morning. Outfits working the eastern range were always glad to reach the Juan Dominguez Canyon. Located north of the Cap Rock where the plains end and the hill country begins, it offered ideal campsites. The canyon was beautiful throughout the year, and especially lovely in the spring. Protected from cold winds and late frosts, grass greened early and great patches of yellow buttercups and white primroses bloomed in small meadows. Hackberry and chinaberry trees grew along a little creek, watered by Borregos Spring that rose near the canyon's head. Cage moved the Eleven-O's to the canyon and the men began the calf roundup. The outfit had worked the Dominguez range the preceding year. One day, while eating dinner, the boys discussed the improved qualities of that year's calf crop. Someone said, "The calves are better because Lee and Scott are buy-

Work and Play

123

ing better range bulls." Dunk remarked, "Lee and Scott are astute men who know the value of high-bred cattle." Now Dunk could use words and expressions that seemed unbearably pretentious to Dick Boren, who always tried to get back at him by using big words of his own. Dick's quick response was meant to be withering. " W h y everybody knows that! I never knew two 'stuter' men anywhere than Lee and Scott." Later, the rest of the story was told by Hank Smith: There was dead silence for a minute. We even quit eating and looked at Dunk, who never let on till someone snickered, then everybody began laughing. Dick got up and stalked off so mad he was blue-in-the-face and that made the outfit really whoop. When Dunk passed out the afternoon jobs, he told Dick to bring in some cows we'd missed in a nearby draw. Dick acted like he'd got over being mad and rode off, but when he got to the draw, he just kept riding! Almost to the day a year later, we were holding a herd in the same place. We'd started back to work after dinner, when we heard a racket in the draw and there came Dick driving some cows, just like he'd been gone an hour instead of twelve months. As he drove the cows into the herd, he yelled at Dunk, "Ten head was all I could find." Dunk's outfit worked west along the Canadian until they reached a flat south of the river, where later the LS shipping pens were located. At that time the flat was owned by the Prairie Land and Cattle Company, known as the LIT Ranch. The L I T foreman, Frank Mitchell, joined the LS men to "rep" the roundup. Bud Turner and Mitchell were friends. Men who worked with them said, "They could lasso calves all day, and never miss a throw." Dunk picked them for the roundup ropers! Roping big calves around the middle instead of the heels was a favorite trick that seasoned hands pulled on young cowboys. When the flankers grabbed an animal caught in this manner, a spirited contest began to determine who "got throwed first!" Usually, the men went down and the calf landed on top of them. It was sport that destroyed a youthful cowboy's faith in the benevolence of mankind and interfered with work unless

124

The LS Brand

an irate boss put a stop to the monkey-shines. Bud Turner had endured the older boys' pranks for six months. A chance to get even with the jokers was a lovely thought. He asked his friend, "Can you miss the big one's heels today?" Mitchell grinned and replied, "I can sure try." When Frank Mitchell and Bud Turner were old men, they still laughed about that day's roping. Frank said, "At first the boys were inclined to excuse a couple of greenhorns. Then they used sarcasm. When that didn't work, they really got hot under the collar. Everytime one of 'em crawled out from under an oversized yearling, he'd stand up and swear at us with all the cuss words he knew which sure was a-plenty! Its a wonder Dunk didn't fire us, but he knew the bunch had it coming and never said a word, but he sure had some mad cowpunchers in his outfit at the end of that day!" One stormy night, while the outfit was camped in the L I T flat, Bill Doggett and Bud Turner were standing guard with the remuda. About three o'clock, a huge black lightning-split cloud rolled in and burst wide open with rain and hailstones that were larger than golf balls. The horses, terrified by the pounding chunks of ice, stampeded. The boys folded their slickers, wrapped them around their heads and shoulders to break the force of the hail, and followed the running horses. The cowboys endured the dark fury of the night with the hope that their mounts would not stumble and fall. Daylight brought an end to the storm, and the boys discovered they were twenty miles south of where the stampede had begun. But, as all the horses were in sight, they rounded them up and started back to camp. Doggett noticed Turner shaking with a chill but he was so wet and cold himself he paid little attention to Turner's discomfort. However, before they reached camp, he realized that Turner was a very sick man. The next morning, the boys knew he required medical aid at once. Tascosa was only four miles from camp but the river was dangerously high from the torrential rain that fell during the

Work and Play

125

storm. Dunk took a look at the sick cowboy and said, "River or no river, we're taking him to the Doctor!" Floating a wagon across a swollen river involved great risks but no one opposed Dunk's decision. The chuck wagon was unloaded and cottonwood logs tied along the sides. "River horses" were saddled, special mounts the cowboys always rode when swimming hazardous streams. By that time Turner was delirious but he was wrapped in a blanket and placed on a tarp in the wagon bed. A man who volunteered to "hold him down" got in beside him, and the outfit pulled out for Tascosa. Final arrangements for the crossing were made at the river. The boys tied a rope on each side of the wagon near the front and one on the end of the tongue. Stripped down to their underwear, they tossed their boots and clothes into the wagon, and then mounted their horses. The man with the rope on the tongue led the way, the driver shouted encouragement to the team, and the outfit plunged into the swirling flood. All the horses were immediately swirnrning and the wagon, held up by the logs, began drifting downstream in the swift current. But the boys used the ropes to steady the wagon and helped the team pull it to the opposite bank. Dunk took Turner to the Russell Hotel and summoned Dr. Shelton, who announced that Turner had the mumps, and that the long ride, cold rain, and wet garments had caused grave complications. The boys were dismayed by the diagnosis, but none of them developed the disease later. Turner never knew how he came in contact with mumps. George Suddeth, who had been an army nurse, was engaged to care for Turner, who remained in a serious condition for two weeks, but cowboys were a tough lot and he slowly recovered. Two months later, when he was able to rejoin the outfit, the wagon was camped at Fort Bascom. As the outfit moved on from the L I T flat, it came to a strip of country just west of Parker Creek where the intensity of the storm had left utter destruction. In an area about one mile wide and twice as long, the men could only guess at the size and

126

The LS Brand

force of the hailstones that had pulverized the grass and had beat mesquite bushes and even the tough yucca into the ground. Numerous dead birds, rabbits, and coyotes were mute evidence of the storm's fury. I n a spot where a small grove of cottonwood trees grew, the scene was incredible. In a mass of shattered limbs, six LS cows and three bulls seeking shelter beneath the trees had been battered lifeless by the hail. The following spring, the tree trunks showed signs of life, but their struggle for a new existence resulted in a weird growth of grotesque limbs and foliage.

14. LEE AND THE FORT WORTH AND DENVER

The Forth Worth and Denver City Railway Company began extending its trackway toward the upper Panhandle in 1886. The railroad was regarded by Tascosa people as a dream come true. It meant daily mail and express and freight service. Trips to Fort Worth, Texas, and Denver, Colorado, were anticipated with delight and there was much talk about cattle markets that could be reached by rail. None of these benefits appealed to Lee when he learned that the railroad required several miles of LS range for a right-ofway. The thought of good grass destroyed by a roadbed and trains screeching their arrogant way across the ranch angered Lee. H e called the railroad "nothing but a damned public nuisance." But he was forced to contend with the Company's right to lay tracks on LS land. He therefore employed legal means to have the right-of-way condemned and to compel the Fort Worth and Denver to pay damages to the ranch before he and Scott signed a release. Meanwhile, the railroad decided to bypass Tascosa in favor of a site two miles west as a better place to bridge the Canadian River. A state law required that a company building a rail

128

The LS Brand

line within five miles of a county seat give the town depot facilities. Tascosa resented losing the railroad and demanded this privilege. The Company agreed, but disappointed the town again, by announcing that the station would be located one mile from Tascosa, south of the river on land owned by Lee and Scott, although, at the time, the Fort Worth and Denver did not have a legal title to the site. The Oldham commissioners immediately declared that the County would span the river with a wagon bridge so people could reach the depot in spite of floods and quicksand. When railway officials asked Lee to sell them the land for the depot, and at the same time he was informed that the County intended to finance a bridge with a bond issue, his emotion can best be described as a conniption fit. H e made short work of the railroad's request. "You've got your right-ofway," he told them, "so don't expect more LS land for a depot or anything else." Then he prepared to pounce on the commissioners at their next Court session. I n the meantime, he went to Leavenworth to consult with Scott. It is doubtful if his partner was much help in suggesting ways to outwit Oldham County or the railroad. Lucien Scott seldom interfered in Lee's disputes. During the time Lee was in Leavenworth waiting for Court to convene, McAllister was involved in a confusing situation. His trouble began at the time Dunk Cage and Ab Owens were sent to Santa Fe to file on New Mexico land that the LS wanted. Cowcamp talk claimed a cowboy could have a "high-heeled time in the Territorial Capitol if he didn't mind spending his money." Dunk and Ab didn't mind, in fact they could hardly wait to find out if the stories were true. Creating difficulties for the ranch or Mister Mac never entered their heads, yet their high jinks did just that. Arriving in Santa Fe the cowboys agreed "business comes before pleasure," so the dutiful pair immediately went to the Land Office. Now the boys knew that the law required a person

Lee and the Fort Worth and Denver

129

to stake a claim by inspecting the prospective homestead before filing on it. However, the clerk in charge of the office was such a friendly and obliging fellow that the boys followed his advice when he told them, "Viewing the locations isn't necessary. It's legal to stake claims in the office here on our land map." So the claims were staked, filing fees were paid, and the clerk filled out papers declaring the cowboys to be bona fide homesteaders. One week later the cowboys who didn't mind spending money were forced to pool their ready cash in order to board a train for Springer. But the cantinas, or barrooms, had received their earnest support. They had discovered bailes where, Ab said, "We danced in all directions with pretty little senoritas." A cockfight had proved interesting, and they had lost their hard-earned wages playing monte at the gambling tables. It had been an extremely rewarding week, although some of its finest moments were so hazy they were forever lost. In due time, Dunk and Ab arrived at Alamocitas and delivered the filing papers to McAllister. Since the documents were apparently in order he did not question the boys. Thus, they omitted the details of their Santa Fe spree and departed rather hastily to join their outfits. However, the cowboys honestly believed the Land Office clerk to be trustworthy and never dreamed he was embezzling filing fees and using the land map to cover his guilt. A few months later the clerk was apprehended and government officials began searching for persons who had been swindled. McAllister was completely in the dark about the cowboys' homestead deal until two deputy United States marshals came to Alamocitas during the last week in May, 1886. The officers had orders to conduct the manager of the LS Ranch, Cage, and Owens to Santa Fe to testify in the clerk's trial. It would exceed the bounds of truth to say McAllister took the news calmly. Observing his mounting anger, an officer said, "We're sorry, Mr. McAllister, but your men staked claims without seeing

130

The LS Brand

them. Our orders say you and your men must appear in federal court, so you're under arrest. We are taking you to Santa Fe." At the word arrest an expression of shocked disbelief spread over McAllister's face and he shouted, "You mean to tell me the boys did not ride out to those claims?" "They sure didn't," a marshal replied. "They located 'em on a map." At this point, the marshals were startled by a stream of orders issued by McAllister. He said, "You'll wait while I arrange some ranch business and get the cowboys in from their work. There's no one to stay with m y wife. I'm taking her with me or you'll go back by yourselves." Finally a marshal had courage to say, "After all, Mr. McAllister, nobody's going to jail. We're after witnesses." Without another word, McAllister turned and strode into the house. A trip to Santa Fe did not disturb Mrs. McAllister the least bit but the enormity of the affair, coupled with the fact that two deputy marshals were waiting outside, suddenly overwhelmed Mister Mac. For a moment he stared at his wife in complete frustration, then said furiously, "We've got to feed and bed those marshals until I get those good-for-nothing cowpunchers in from the roundup!" Two days later the same group that had traveled together on the wedding trip started out on the Springer trail again, heading for a train that would take them to Santa Fe. But this time the high spirits shared by the party on the previous trip were noticeably absent. The cowboys were considerably toned down by the officers' presence and, with the Old Man along to keep an eye on them, they knew that a second spree would be a very limited affair. McAllister was grimly silent and the look on his face warned the marshals not to waste words trying to start a conversation. But the unexpected journey delighted Annie McAllister and the ludicrous situation caused by the cowboys appealed to her sense of humor. The dishonest clerk had defrauded many homestead seekers along with the LS cowboys. When court opened, people from far and near were there to testify. The LS witnesses were or-

Lee and the Fort Worth and Denver

131

dered to remain in Santa Fe until the case was completed. It required a week to hear all the testimony, convict the culprit, and sentence him to prison. Viewing the capital city as Mister Mac remembered it during the time he was a wagoner on the Santa Fe Trail was a happy experience for Mrs. McAllister. She was delighted with the ancient adobe houses, narrow winding streets, and the Governor's Palace. Mister Mac pointed out a spot in the plaza where he used to stop his ox-drawn wagons when the huge prairie caravans had at last reached the end of the Santa Fe Trail. But most of all she enjoyed staying at a hotel that had a roof garden where meals were served. Every evening the McAllisters dined underneath a silver-starred sky, while Mexican musicians strumming guitars enhanced the night's beauty with haunting melodies as they strolled among the guests. Dunk and Ab found time to dance with the dark-eyed beauties again, but, knowing their present status had reached rock bottom with the Boss, they passed up the monte games. By the time the party began the long trip home, the pageantry and excitement so characteristic of old Santa Fe had restored everybody's good humor. However, the subject of deputy United States marshals was carefully avoided. The old trail from Fort Smith, Arkansas, to Fort Bascom, New Mexico, crossed a small creek called Skunk Arroyo, situated between Alamocitas and Torrey Peaks. A day or two after Dunk joined his outfit again the wagon camped by a spring near the old trail crossing. The cook, Frank Butler, while cleaning the spring to obtain fresh water, discovered a large lump of metal lying on the bottom. When Butler pulled the object from the water he was mystified by the odd-looking thing and called Dunk to see it. Bending over the rusty pile of metal to get a better view, Dunk exclaimed in wonder and not a little awe, "It's a suit of chain armor! Spanish soldiers wore them, when they were exploring this part of the country."

132

The LS Brand

That evening the boys examined the armor with much interest and speculation. As most of the outfit had never heard of the conquistadores, Dunk told them, "It's possible a Spanish soldier with Coronado wore this armor and probably died in it. But we'll never know who found it or why it was put in the spring." One cowboy expressed his opinion by saying, "That's the craziest contraption I ever saw made for a man to wear. If he rode a horse in that riggin' no wonder he died and I'll bet the horse died too." The armor rode in the bed of the chuck wagon for the rest of the summer. Then it disappeared, creating another mystery that was never solved. The outfit had four hundred dry cows and two thousand cows with calves which they were moving from Fort Bascom to Sierrita de la Cruz. While the boys were occupied with the armor, storm clouds gathered that sent all hands to the herd. The night guard needed help, for the cows, sensing the weather change, were moving nervously about the bed-ground trying to keep an eye on their calves. The storm was the kind that cowboys used to say "busted right square-dab in the middle." The men held the cattle until an old cow, apparently scared witless by a wicked crack of lightning, gave a terrified bawl and bolted. The entire herd followed in a mad, wild run. It was noon the next day before the outfit had the scattered cattle rounded up, tallied, and headed toward "Sweetly Croose." At this time, Lee returned, prepared to finish his business with Oldham County, and discovered that another emergency had developed during his absence. A group of Tascosa men had bought some homesteaded land located on the railroad line and had offered it to the Company for a depot site. Lee was disturbed, because this land was surrounded by LS range. H e decided the ranch would be better off if the station facilities were placed on acreage the railroad had wanted in the first place. So he offered to trade sites with the Tascosa men. After considerable bargaining and bickering, an agreement was

Lee and the Fort Worth and Denver

133

reached that gave Lee the homestead land and gave the Fort Worth and Denver title to a small piece of LS land. The tworoom frame depot built on the plot was the delight of Tascosa. While the railroad was still trying Lee's patience, he called upon The Prairie Land and Cattle Company, the XIT, and the Reynolds Cattle Company to join the LS in opposing Oldham County's plan to finance a river bridge. The four big ranches hired lawyer J. N. Browning to draw up a legal document accusing County officials of issuing bonds contrary to the law and spending an exorbitant amount of money that involved the ranch owners who were already paying most of Oldham County's taxes. When the Court held its next regular session, Lee and Browning presented the petition. The commissioners refused to consider any part of it and ordered $21,999 made ready to defray construction cost of the bridge. The commissioners had learned to expect Lee's appearance in Court when tax discussions came up and regarded his protests as more or less a game of wits. But this time, they were unprepared for his vindictive reaction to their decision. Lee jumped to his feet and said, "Gentlemen, if you build that bridge, I'll build a town within three miles of you that will ruin Tascosa forever!" Before the stunned commissioners recovered their breath, Lee turned and left the room. The King Bridge and Iron Works of Cleveland, Ohio, built the wagon bridge for Oldham County. Lee started his town on LS land where the railroad crossed Cheyenne Creek three miles west of Tascosa. He had the townsite surveyed, named it Cheyenne, and called the main street Scott Street in honor of his partner. Then he offered to donate the townsite to promoters for development. Fort Worth and Denver City Railroad officials quickly accepted the offer, and Lee, who had resented every inch of rail laid down on LS land, turned the townsite over to them. He retained just enough interest in the venture to give him a say in the town's progress. The promoters thought up fantastic schemes to induce people

134

The LS Brand

to buy lots, build homes, and establish business firms in Cheyenne. Thousands of handbills praising the town that was just beginning were distributed over a wide territory. The scribe who created the literary gem printed on the handbills undoubtedly dipped his pen into rose-colored ink and let his imagination r u n wild. His description led one to believe that Cheyenne was located about a half mile from the Garden of Eden. The Fort Worth and Denver built a small depot in the town and erected a water tank. Shipping pens and feed lots for cattle were promised by the Company but never materialized. Excursion trains were run out of Fort Worth. People who wished to inspect the place were sold half-fare round-trip tickets which included a free meal when Cheyenne was reached. The promoters put up a two-story frame hotel, one merchant opened a store, three saloons and one gambling hall moved in, and five or six homes were occupied for a time. Cheyenne boomed for six months but by the end of the year was a miserable failure. Soon the depot and the water tank were the only buildings left to mark the site of Cheyenne. Even its name was changed to Magenta, and Tascosa rejoiced in its downfall!

15. CATTLE LOSS

Lee and Scott were running 35,000 cattle in New Mexico and Deaf Smith County that had to be moved during the summer of 1886. The ranch was hard-pressed for grass, but vacant range in the upper Panhandle at that time was practically nonexistent due to X I T fences. The LS had 12,000 head of mixed cattle on the eastern range. The Montana Ranch, stocked with 6,000 yearlings and 1,500 two-year-old steers, was unable to graze additional cattle. Although it meant overstocked grass, there was nothing to do but bring the western herd to the home ranch. The situation was somewhat eased by sending cattle to market; 2,500 beef steers, cut from the New Mexico range, made up the first herd trailed to Dodge City, Kansas. About this time, the Cage brothers decided to end their cowboy careers. Dunk returned to Louisiana, Hays followed six months later. Then Tobe Robinson quit to run for sheriff of Oldham County. George Collins took over Tobe's outfit. Bud Turner replaced Dunk. Jim May, Sam Buford, Ab Owens, and Kid Dobbs were also in charge of outfits. This was the last year the LS had six wagons working at the same time. The

136

The LS Brand

ranch was so reduced in size that two or three regular outfits and one floater were able to handle the range. As more cattle were driven in from New Mexico, Collins and Turner were sent to Sierrita de la Cruz to round up trail herds destined for Dodge City. Collins gathered 2,500 dry cows in his herd. Turner cut out 2,500 big steers which, Lee and McAllister decided, needed to put on more weight before being trailed to market. Turner started the steers north with orders to locate some unclaimed grass in New Mexico and graze the herd for six weeks before taking it on to Dodge City. Good grass and water were found near Rabbit Ear Mountain in what is now Union County, New Mexico. The outfit made camp and during the day "loose-herded" the steers on the prairie. In the evening the animals were brought to a bed-ground near camp. Bud Turner recalled: I had ten men in my outfit and seventy-five horses in the remuda. Pulo Martinez, the best horse wrangler I ever saw, took care of the remuda. My riders were Hays Cage, Johnny Lang, Dick Boren, Boss Neff, George Barnett, Jack Leonard and two Mexican boys whose names I've forgotten. Pulo would call for the Mexican boys if he needed help with the horses. Our cook Elven Moore played the violin. Grazing a bunch of steers is dull work and the only entertainment we had was the cook and his fiddle. After supper, Elven would play for us and we'd dance. Some of the boys acted as "ladies" by tying a bandana on their arms. When Elven started fiddling and called, "Grab yore partners and all prominade," we'd do-cee-do until our poor cook was worn out. The weather was perfect and we didn't have any trouble with the herd, in fact I never saw range cattle, before or since, behave like those steers. Every night when Elven started to play, some of the steers would leave the herd and bed down near camp. Soon the entire herd changed their bed-ground and crowded up so near the wagon we'd have to make them move back. Then while Elven fiddled and we danced, our steers were bedded down all around camp. From their contented looks we knew they were enjoying the music and didn't pay any attention to our fool

Cattle Loss

137

dancing. They got so gentle only one of us at a time stood night guard. Since then, I've often wondered if Elven's music would have stopped a run, if the herd had started a stampede. We had started the herd to Dodge City, when I got word from Lee saying instead of Dodge he'd meet us in Lamar, Colorado, as the Santa Fe Railroad had reached that place and we could ship from there. When we were about a day's drive from Lamar, I sent John Lang ahead with a saddled horse for Lee, and he rode out to meet us. When he saw the steers he was pleased with the way we'd handled them. They were all fat and slick. We turned the herd over to a buyer the next day. The outfit had grown so fond of the gentle music-loving animals, all of us hated to part with them. They were the nicest bunch of steers I'd ever trailed. In the fall, before cold weather set in, the LS moved to Alamosa. The two-story manager's house and the bunkhouse, designed alike, faced each other along a small stream called Ranch Creek, where the terrain was rough and hilly. A rock retaining wall connected the spacious, comfortable houses. Steps built into the wall led up to the yard laid out between the dwellings, which are still used as a ranch home, a tribute to the master masonry of Tom Nolan, builder of the Alamosa headquarters. Nolan still had some minor work to do on the houses when he took off to visit Tascosa. Although he was gloriously drunk by the end of the day, he started back to the ranch. On the way he fell asleep, and tumbled from the wagon, the wheels passing over his body. The cowboys discovered the driverless team standing at the corral gate about sunrise and began searching for Tom at once. He was found lying by the side of the road, more or less sober, but in great pain. The boys took him to Tascosa for medical care but his injuries proved fatal. Nolan had not commenced work on Mrs. Scott's cottage. Later a frame house was built for her. The LS left Alamocitas with mixed emotions. Precarious times had produced painful memories and the loss of range was keenly felt. But best remembered were the homely and

138

The LS Brand

gay events that had centered around the old Torrey house: The aroma of baking bread and pies drifting out of Mrs. French's kitchen, which sent every cowboy within sniffing distance straight to the back door; Mrs. McAllister's living room, with its thick Axminster carpet, leather-covered couches and chairs, and book-lined walls, with one end of the room filled with masses of geraniums and begonias that bloomed for Mrs. McAllister in happy profusion. The cowboys would say, "Miss Annie, when we come in here with all your flowers, it's like walking into heaven." An eastern publishing company supplied Mrs. McAllister with books and periodicals. When a big box arrived, she looked through the collection and burned everything she considered trash before sharing it with the bunkhouse. "I'll not have our boys' minds contaminated by worthless literature," she declared. So the cowboys read the Christian Herald and Leslie's Monthly from cover to cover. But best remembered by the cowboys were Mrs. McAllister's Christmas parties, given solely for their pleasure. Later "Miss Annie's Christmas Ball" became an LS tradition. Each year a Christmas dance was given at headquarters for the cowboys. The week preceding Christmas was spent getting ready for the party. Mrs. McAllister and the house cook baked a dozen cakes, some filled with raisins and spice, and some creamy white, topped with sugar icing. Big brown loaves of bread and pies appeared in astonishing numbers. A ham of great size was boiled, and several wild turkeys were baked. The boys killed a beef and roasted one whole quarter. The bunkhouse was scrubbed from one end to the other and one room was cleared for dancing. The boys knew a fellow who could play dance tunes on a fiddle. All the men from the camps came in before dark so they could slick up in time to greet their guests arriving from Tascosa and neighboring ranches. At the last minute, two big coffee pots used by the chuck wagons were brought in to boil coffee, and Mrs. McAllister made hot chocolate, an unusual treat in

Cattle Loss

139

those days. Then the party belonged to the cowboys. They "sweet talked" the lady guests, played pranks on each other, served the wonderful food at midnight, and danced until the sun reminded them that Christmas Day had arrived. During the summer of 1886, the LS outfits branded 20,000 calves, which brought the total number of cattle on the ranch to 45,000 head. McAllister knew that the ranch had insufficient grass to carry a herd of that size through the winter, and advised Lee and Scott to expect a serious cattle loss unless additional range was obtained. Scott seemed unable to grasp the significance of McAllister's warning and friction developed. It was never clear why Lee stayed out of the argument, but he did. The dispute ended when McAllister refused to take the responsibility of a "winter die-up," handed in his resignation, and quit the LS. McAllister and Kim Ritter discontinued their ranch in New Mexico. McAllister took his share of the cattle, valued at $75,000, and with his horse herd trailed them to Walsenburg, Colorado, where he established his own ranch. Seven years passed before the LS saw Mister Mac again. Scott hired James H. East, former sheriff of Oldham County, to succeed McAllister. For a few weeks the ranch operated as usual. Cattle stealing subsided, as the rustlers were afraid to rile the short-tempered cowboys since the night of the street fight. Several old hands quit at the time McAllister left, and some lost their jobs because the decreased range required fewer riders. Legal work concerning the X I T land trade was progressing. Then winter swooped down upon the Panhandle and, no matter how well a ranch was organized, weather could shift a cowman out of his hopes and securities. The worst cattle loss ever suffered by the LS was chalked up during the winter and spring months of 1887, just as McAllister had predicted. Loyalty that an old-time cowpuncher held for the m a n who employed him was not measured in words but in deeds. A ranch owner hired him for twenty-five or thirty dollars a

140

The LS Brand

month to work cattle. So he worked the cattle and at the same time protected the owner's brand and wealth with pride, and, if necessary, with force. His loyalty was not a passive thing, for he was ever a free and independent soul. Yet he followed a trail herd three months at a time, endured heat, cold, and thirst, and struggled with swollen rivers. H e risked his life trying to save stampeding cattle from destroying themselves. He laughed at danger, but found fault with the sourdough if the biscuits failed to push at the lid of a Dutch oven. While standing night guard he sang sentimental ballads to the herd, often ending his song abruptly to curse a fool steer that refused to bed down as a well-behaved animal should. He grouched at the weather and freely expressed his disapproval of the boss. At least once a day he swore he'd quit cowpunching and get a job picking cotton, before he'd ride north again with a bunch of dogies. But at trail's end he was still with the cattle. He was simply extending his own deep sense of self-respect to the man who was paying his wages. Men who worked for the LS in 1887 never fully understood why experienced cattlemen like Lee and Scott had overstocked their range. It was said by the same men that the cowboys' skillful handling of cattle pulled the LS through that disastrous year by saving enough livestock to keep Lee and Scott from going broke. When the cattle began suffering from lack of grass and cold weather, no one had to tell the cowboys what to do. They left headquarters and the camps every morning at daybreak and worked with the cattle until the sun went down. Cattle losing the most weight were moved to sheltered spots that afforded better grazing. Each man carried an axe tied to his saddle, to chop up the ice in holes and creeks so the cattle could get water. Even strays that were normally left on the range until the spring roundups were driven off the ranch in order to save grass for the LS livestock. Nightfall brought the weary cowboys in from the range hungry, half frozen, and in a mood that did not suggest loyal devotion to the LS! Instead, the bunkhouse was overcharged with complaints. The men

Cattle Loss

141

swore that only those with feeble minds could stand the hard life demanded of a cowpuncher, blamed Lee and Scott for starting the ranch in the first place, and vowed that come morning they'd ask for their time. But next morning the outfit started working with the cattle again. Spring and summer brought more woes to the LS. The cattle were still in poor condition when the heel flies arrived. Animals weak from insufficient feed were unable to free themselves when bogged only a few inches deep and m a n y died before the cowboys could reach them. Drought followed the heel flies and, for the first time, the ranch faced a summer water shortage. Some creeks ceased to flow, water holes dried up, and the Canadian River was dry. The cowboys hitched teams to scrapers and scooped out shallow holes in the river bed. On the surface, the sand was bone dry, but at night water beneath would rise and fill the holes. Cattle in large numbers were watered in this way. One evening while the cowboys were gathering yearlings for the Montana drives, black thunderheads began to form, which the men hoped would bring rain to the dry range. As usual when storm trouble was anticipated, all the men stayed with the herd. As the sky became overcast, the night turned so black the boys could not see the herd or each other except during flashes of brilliant lightning. But instead of a storm only a few scattered showers fell before the clouds began breaking up and drifted away. Suddenly a full moon appeared and, at the same time, a glorious rainbow arched across the heavens. Mingled with the radiant moonlight and twinkling stars, the rainbow's iridescense glowed with ineffable beauty, while wonder-struck cowboys watched the lovely colors fade and slowly disappear. Men who saw that rainbow never forgot their awed delight in the spectacular scene! When the trail herds reached Lusk, Wyoming, in the late spring of 1887, the Lusk Herald printed this news item: "Two herds, numbering 4300, passed through Lusk last week. They belonged to Lee and Scott and were being driven to Montana."

142

The LS Brand

These were the last herds sent to the northern Ranch by the LS. The following year Lee and Scott sold out to the Home Land and Cattle Company of Montana. After Al Popham turned the outfit over to the new owners, he came to Alamosa and assumed the job of managing the LS Ranch.

16. LEE LEAVES THE LS

When Lee began spending most of his time promoting Cheyenne, Lucien Scott was extremely annoyed. Although Lee's attitude toward Oldham County was unchanged, Scott realized that his partner was losing interest in the ranch. In June, 1885, the Court ordered the LS Ranch to increase the number of cattle rendered for taxation to 24,000 head. Lee had turned in a lower number, a subterfuge employed by cattlemen in those days to reduce tax expense on their great herds. The scheme worked unless a county refused to accept the discrepancy in actual figures. Lee grudgingly complied with the court order, and all cattle in Oldham County were assessed at ten dollars per head for that year. The following year Lee paid the increased tax without protest, which gave the County officials an uneasy feeling of future opposition. The Frying Pan Ranch and the LS were neighbors with adjoining range in Potter County. The Frying Pan bought its supplies in Tascosa, which could not be reached except by crossing LS range. The Frying Pan therefore petitioned Oldh a m County for a road. The Court granted the request by having a route surveyed, calling it a public thoroughfare, and

144

The LS Brand

announcing the way open to travelers. Although the route was scarcely more than a trail shaped by the wheels of Frying Pan freight wagons, Lee claimed that the LS was unduly impaired by a public road. He demanded $350 in damages from the County, which quickly paid the sum before Lee changed his mind and raised his price. Lee's last fling at Oldham County occurred when he proved that 2,100 head of cattle included in the 1885 court order were at the time ranged and assessed in New Mexico. He also pointed to the fact that Oldham County had collected taxes on three and one half sections of LS land situated in Hartley County. The Court admitted erroneous assessment and refunded the LS $215.47 in county warrants. The commissioners decided that Lee had finally lost his zest for debate, as he accepted the warrants without commenting upon the County's lack of cash. By the time Cheyenne was beyond hope as a town, Lee had discovered the Brazos Harbor and Dock Company. This concern was organized to build a deepwater port and docks at Velasco, Texas, where the Brazos River enters the Gulf of Mexico. Large profits promised to stockholders appealed to Lee. He asked Scott to buy his share of the ranch so he could invest in the venture. Scott accepted the request and Lee began transferring his lands, cattle, and the LS brand to Scott during the summer of 1889. The final deed that made Scott the sole owner of the LS Ranch was signed by Lee and his wife, Lena, in November, 1890. Thus, two great cattlemen, founders of a great ranch, terminated the partnership of Lee and Scott. At the time Lee invested in the Harbor Company, it was said that twenty million dollars had been raised by industrialists and shipping interests to finance dredging of the river mouth and to build docks. Then mighty floods racing down the Brazos River left an immense and permanent sandbar in the harbor. The Company's hopes for future development were ruined. The catastrophe cost Lee his fortune, and he never regained his great wealth.

Lee Leaves the LS

145

When Scott began running the ranch to suit himself, tax disputes with Oldham County ceased and he supported decisions made by the Court. Range troubles subsided also, as rustlers were shifting their allegiance to the XIT. But the ranch hands still kept an eye on the cattle. Amarillo, a town that began with the advent of the railroad, had become a main shipping point for the Panhandle. Scott hired C. B. Vivian to inspect herds arriving at the shipping pens, to see if any LS cattle had been caught in various roundups. Vivian recovered a surprising number of LS strays and returned them to home range. Mrs. Jim East had spent most of her life in the West and, understanding its ways, was seldom upset by or afraid of anything. But she knew that peace officers of that era, by enforcing the law, made enemies as well as friends, and that Jim East was no exception. Any unexplained noise at night terrified Nettie East. It could mean that an outlaw, nursing an old grievance, was hiding outside to shoot her husband in the back. One night East was late getting home. Nettie was not worried. She was used to being alone; besides, most of the cowboys were in the bunkhouse. Nettie was passing the time with some sewing when she was startled by a noise outside. As the noise continued, she made up her mind that an ambush was being planned for Jim. She picked up a shotgun, quietly stepped out on the porch, and discovered a dark object only a few feet away. Aiming carefully, she pulled the trigger, and when Nettie East aimed at a target she hit it! The cowboys were startled by the unexpected sound of gunfire, in fact, they were downright scared. Mrs. East was alone and undoubtedly in trouble. So they ran to aid the lady and, in the excitement, every man in the outfit left his gun in the bunkhouse. The confusion increased when the boys saw Mrs. East standing on the porch holding a shotgun but apparently unharmed. One cowboy asked, "Did you shoot

146

The LS Brand

at something, Mrs. East?" Bursting into tears, she anwered, "Yes, a man. He was crawling up to the house, so I shot him!" The boys were shocked but consoled her by saying, "Aw, don't cry, Mrs. East, we'll look around to see who you shot." They looked and came back with good news. "You can stop crying now," she was told. "You didn't shoot a man, it was just an old steer prowling around out there!" Then Jim arrived, laughed at Nettie's fears, and went out to view the carcass. Five minutes later he rushed into the house shouting, "Good God, Nettie, you didn't shoot a steer. You killed the best bull the LS owned!" For the second time that night, Nettie East burst into tears. Fencing the LS had begun in 1888, and Scott continued the work until the entire ranch was enclosed by barbed wire. Charles Whitman surveyed the fence lines, using in some areas an odometer, an intricate instrument employed by surveyors to measure long distances. When the device was fastened on the hub of a wagon driven over a straight line, each revolution of the wheel measured a certain length. He also used a KueblerSeelhorst compass and Lemair binoculars that came from Paris, France. Whitman's survey divided the LS into four areas: North Alamosa, South Alamosa, Sierrita de la Cruz, and Parker Creek. Later, smaller pastures were fenced out of the original survey. Then windmills began appearing in all the pastures, for Scott was determined that the mistakes of 1887 would not occur again. Cattle could be moved from one pasture to another if overgrazing threatened, and the windmills would provide adequate water. In many spots on the ranch, water could be obtained at a depth of 15 or 20 feet but the windmill wells averaged around 125 feet. Wooden Eclipse windmills were used, and water was piped into cypress tubs that measured about twenty-five feet in diameter. Overflow from the tubs was caught in earthen tanks. Water was also utilized by placing a pipe in a spring to direct the natural flow into tubs located downslope. A unique windmill was located in Dobbs Canyon. Tubs were

Lee Leaves the LS

147

placed on level ground some distance from the mill. A wooden flume, upheld by posts, carried water downhill to the tubs. Although the flume was not a thing of beauty it was very practical, but the cowboys were not impressed. They discovered to their horror that windmills had to be repaired occasionally, a job they were unable to do on horseback. However, the outfit admitted that mending windmills beat walking behind a scraper. Mrs. Scott and her companion, Pauline Lingenbrink, made their first trip to the ranch in the summer of 1889. Pauline was a small child when her parents came from Germany to the United States and settled in St. Louis, Missouri. The Scotts had become very fond of the lovely young girl and regarded her as one of the family. Mrs. Scott and Pauline spent hours riding over the ranch, always with one or two cowboys as an escort, for Mr. Scott disliked having them ride alone. Mrs. Scott's handsome saddle horse, Prince, was brought to the ranch when she came for a lengthy stay, and her pigskin handmade sidesaddle was the only saddle Prince was allowed to wear. A cowboy never permitted a lady wearing a long riding skirt to get on a cow horse until he knew the animal was gentle, or in his words, "skirtbroke"—accomplished by a cowboy wearing a slicker and riding with it flapping the animal's sides until the horse was no longer afraid of flying coattails. The boys always had a gentle mount waiting for Pauline. Meanwhile, the cowboys were saying that barbed wire was ruining the LS. They were revolted by the sight of posthole diggers, wagons hauling cedar posts, and wire staples carried in bags made from the uppers of worn out boots. Some of the men refused to do "nester chores" and departed for Montana or Wyoming, where fences were yet to come. Ab Owens swore it was impossible for a man to drive a wagon through a gate without tearing down the posts. H e quit the LS and went to

148

The LS Brand

work with X I T trail herds, but the change did little to improve his social standing. The X I T required cowboys to do more odd jobs than any ranch in the Panhandle. When Al Popham began managing the LS in 1889, the fence surveys were all but finished and Whitman was doing the bookkeeping and office work at headquarters. The Fort Worth and Denver had built shipping pens east of the Tascosa depot on LS land, which gave the ranch a direct line to cattle markets. Apparently the LS was enjoying better times, but the ranch had not recovered completely from the 1887 cattle loss. The expense of erecting fences and windmills was causing the ranch to operate without profit. Popham hoped to correct the situation. Scott gave him authority to run the outfit to suit himself. Popham's first act concerning the ranch created disputes with ranchers in the vicinity, who claimed they were unable to use the Tascosa shipping pens because he refused to let their herds cross LS range. Popham belonged to the old order of cowmen, who believed that a man had a right to protect his holdings as he saw fit. He did not intend to see LS grass trampled by any other than LS cattle, and broken fence lines were not to be tolerated. So he declared, "The LS Ranch is a closed range and I mean to keep it that way." Men in charge of herds resented orders that forbade them to drive as they pleased, but Popham could be very aggressive when provoked. Cattle were turned to stock pens located at other points along the Fort Worth and Denver route, and the Tascosa pens were seldom used except by the LS. However, Popham could handle cattle, and conditions on the ranch improved under his management.

17. THE WHITMAN ERA

Charles Whitman, a tall good-looking young man, stood and walked with an air that suggested military training instead of a man accustomed to carrying surveying instruments. He was fond of hunting, fishing, and card games. H e liked good food and worthwhile conversation, and nothing suited him better than long evenings with friends, playing cards or discussing subjects that often became controversial. I n fact, Charlie was gay and fun-loving, but the Scotts, especially Lucien, thought young men should do with less fun and more endeavor and advised Charlie to settle down. Now, Charlie loved his sister very much and held a deep respect mixed with affection for his brother-in-law, but he paid little attention to their advice. The hard work and long hours spent surveying the ranch were not exactly marks of an idle man, not to mention his help at headquarters. So Charlie continued to do as he pleased. But an old cowpuncher, who knew Whitman from the first survey of the ranch, did not appreciate the criticism of Charlie's conduct. "What's the matter with them Scotts?" he wanted to know. "Charlie don't drink and he

150

The LS Brand

don't smoke. He can borrow money from anybody in the country! By Golly!" he added vehemently, "Charlie Whitman doesn't have to settle down!" Although the old man's comments seemed a bit confused, Charlie's friends endorsed the statement. It made sense to them. Meanwhile, Charlie and Pauline fell in love, became engaged, and announced a wedding date. The Scotts immediately voiced objections. Pauline was too young for marriage, they declared, and they advised a waiting period to see if Charlie really intended to settle down. Again the Scotts' advice fell upon deaf ears. Charlie went to Denver, Colorado, bought a house on Capitol Hill, and had it made ready to occupy. Charles Whitman and Pauline Lingenbrink were married on August 5, 1891, moved into their new home, and were completely happy. Eighteen months later, Lucien B. Scott died at his home in Leavenworth, Kansas. He left the LS Ranch to his wife Julia, so arranged that she could do as she wished with the land and cattle. The Whitmans came to Alamosa at once to aid Mrs. Scott, and Charlie relieved his sister of management worry, but she found any business decisions that required her authority very oppressive. Mrs. Scott was interested in theosophy and desired to study abroad. Consequently, Julia Hoffman Scott solved her problem by presenting the LS Ranch to her brother, Charles N . Whitman. James C. Horton of Kansas City, who had been Mr. Scott's attorney and close friend, drew up the deeds that gave Whitman 206,000 acres of land, 14,000 cattle, 400 head of saddle horses, and 30 head of mules. The legal work involved was enormous, but the last deed was executed by Mrs. Scott in London, England, on November 8, 1899. By the time Whitman received full control of the LS, the ranch was burdened by debt, a fact Whitman had known for some time. But he knew that the outfit could be saved by good management, and he immediately contacted McAllister, who had recently returned to Tascosa. Mister Mac had sold his

The Whitman

Era

151

Walsenburg ranch because Mrs. McAllister's health was affected by the Colorado climate. H e agreed to Whitman's request that he resume his old job with the LS, and the two men began the task of pulling the ranch out of the red. When the livestock was turned over to Whitman, the cattle tally came out short, a sure sign that thieves were working the LS again. The cowboys said, "Charlie sure was ringy." Whitman went to Denver and purchased twelve 8-mm. Mannlicher Austrian Cavalry guns, the most powerful guns of their kind then in existence. H e distributed them among the cowboys and told them, "Anytime you see a stranger riding or walking in an LS pasture, take a shot at him!" The men were delighted. They began practicing shots on coyotes, and spread the word that LS cowpunchers were armed with guns capable of killing a coyote a quarter of a mile away. It was the most effective means yet employed by the ranch to discourage rustlers. Stealing cattle from the LS came to a sudden end. The LS was the only big ranch in the Panhandle that maintained a dog pack to hunt coyotes and lobos, the big prairie wolves the cowboys called "loafers." The wolves denned in the Canadian River breaks, wandering about at night to seek food. Grown cattle were easy prey for lobos, and baby calves were killed by hungry coyotes. A n astonishing number of cattle were lost to these voracious beasts. Both animals were very swift and could outrun a horse. T h e dogs, large greyhounds, were trained to jump a wolf, chase it until the animal tired, and then close in for the kill, or a m a n following the dogs shot the wolf. W h e n a cowboy killed a lobo on LS range, the ranch gave him a ten-dollar bonus. The dogs had always been well fed and kept in pens, but Whitman declared that the hounds worked hard at their job, and deserved better care. " A dead wolf," he said, "gives an LS cow a chance to raise her calf." The kennels were improved to insure the dogs' comfort. Then Whitman had a small oneroom house built, where a big iron pot was used to prepare dog food. It required a lot of corn meal and meat scraps cooked

152

The LS Brand

into mush to feed seventy-five hungry greyhounds every day! One man was given a full-time job to "manage the mush-house, and run the dogs." H e was also furnished a string of the best horses on the ranch to ride with the pack on hunts. Chasing wolves was such exciting sport that Whitman never lacked a "mush-pot wrangler," the cowboys' name for a dog man. When Allen Stagg, a young cowpuncher, came to Tascosa looking for a job, Whitman hired him to r u n the dogs. Allen said, "The job wasn't work, just fun, and I got to carry a Mannlicher to boot! I was so crazy about that gun, Charlie gave it to me." Jack Cooper, member of a prominent and wealthy family back East, had been sent to Germany to finish his education. He arrived in Tascosa straight from Heidelberg University, and wrangled the mush pot for Charlie Whitman at thirty-five dollars a month. One time an X I T cowboy, R. M. Dudley, quit his job and went to work for the LS when he had a chance to care for the dogs. But, despite the fun, the dogs were given much credit for helping to make the range a safer place for cattle. For the first time since the LS was established, the sound of happy children at play now echoed about headquarters. The Whitmans and their year-old son, Colden Hoffman, lived in the Scott cottage. The McAllisters occupied the rock house with their three children—six-year-old Earl Mack, a little daughter, May, and Jordan Edgar, a baby the same age as Colden Whitman. The cowboys regarded the children as their special pets, and were often scolded by Miss Pauline and Miss Annie for spoiling the tots with too much attention. But spoiling the children was a small matter. The days were filled with wholesome activities during those happy years. In the summer of 1893, torrential rains in the upper Panhandle produced a flood in the Canadian River that old timers described as "the worst in memory." The roaring waters cut new channels and carved the river banks into huge bluffs. Rattlesnakes, washed out of dens, escaped the muddy waters

The Whitman

Era

153

and crawled by the hundreds along the river banks. The railroad bridge collapsed, was swept downstream, and destroyed a section of the wagon bridge. Taxpayers in the County refused the expense of having the bridge repaired, so people had to ford the river again. The LS missed the convenience of the bridge. Now, when the Canadian was rampaging, a trip from Alamosa to Tascosa required a drive from headquarters to the depot, a wait for a train to Cheyenne, and then a ride on the mail hack back to Tascosa. If the railroad bridge washed out, everybody stayed at home. But the cowboys used a rise as an excuse to spend a few days in town. They simply rode into the flood about a mile above Tascosa, let their horses swim downstream with the current, and landed on the north bank of the river near Tascosa. For the next few days, Main Street was amused by the boys' pretense. "We can't go home yet," they explained. "We are afraid to swim the river!" Every time the boys pulled the river caper, Whitman threatened to fire them as soon as the river went down, but he never did. At the time of Lucien Scott's death, Pulo Martinez and Ysabel Gurule were the only hands on the ranch that had worked for Lee and Scott during the early eighties. But the outfit consisted of dependable cowpunchers, and Whitman kept them all on his payroll. He also helped young boys living in Tascosa by giving them work. Mel Armstrong, Johnny Snider, and Joe Mitchell were fifteen years old when they hired out to the LS. The older hands called them "Tascosa Kids," but despite their tender years the Kids handled man-sized jobs. The LS had always employed Mexican men for wranglers, camp cooks, and riders. Pulo Martinez and Ysabel Gurule were true examples of these loyal, courteous men, who performed their work well and never made trouble in the outfit. Pulo wrangled remudas with a gentle hand, cooked at various camps, and watched over the young cowboys. Each month he managed to save a few dollars from his wages. A boy who "went broke" between paydays could count on Pulo for a loan.

154

The LS Brand

Not only was Ysabel Gurule an able cow hand, but also, fellow cowboys claimed, he made a remarkable contribution to Stetson hat history. In the spring of 1886, the boys said, Ysabel bought a Stetson from the McMasters store in Tascosa and wore it everyday, winter and summer, rain or shine, for the next twenty-five years. Describing the hat's last years, Mel Armstrong said, "That old hat never did go to pieces. It just kinda sagged all over and went down. Finally the brim got so droopy, Ysabel couldn't see where he was going, and had to give it up!" When McAllister found the outfit shorthanded, the payroll was increased. Waddy Peacock, whom Lee had refused a job because he had participated in the Cowboy Strike, was the first man Whitman hired. The Bradley brothers, Lon and Jack, lived in a dugout and rode the Alamocitas fence that separated the LS and X I T range. Later their dugout was known as the Bradley Camp. Walter Bliss spent several years with the LS, then joined an X I T trail herd. While the outfit was crossing the Yellowstone River, Walter was thrown from his horse and drowned. Tom Jones, Joe Christy, Louis Trujillo, Bill Boulden, Guy Galbreath, and Johnny Johnson were also employed by Whitman at that time. One night as the outfit camped on Parker Creek, an inquisitive skunk wandered among the sleeping cowboys and bit Johnny Johnson on his right thumb—a serious matter if the animal was infected with rabies, which was often the case. Next morning Johnny was perfectly able to ride to Tascosa without anyone's help, but the cowboys with their everlasting "hoorawing" told the unfortunate victim, "We know you're mortally wounded. It'll take six men to get you to a doctor!" So Johnny started to town with a six-man escort. On the way the boys began betting with each other as to who would "go mad and die first, Johnny or the pole-cat." Odds were placed on the skunk. By the time Tascosa was reached Johnny was mad all right, and was describing his companions' characters in language that lacked both gratitude and brotherly

The Whitman

Era

155

love. When the escort returned to camp they told the cook, "Maybe Johnny won't get hydrophobia, but when we left him, he sure was acting funny!" But Johnny escaped rabies, although his wound was very painful for several days. About this time Jimmy Whitfield, fourteen years old and small for his age, got a job with the LS. M a n y years later Jimmy recalled, "When I hired out to the LS, Charlie told me I could be one of the horse wranglers. But I wound up wrangling every job on the ranch. I even helped Mrs. Whitman and Miss Annie wrangle the kids!" Every morning Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. McAllister placed Colden and Edgar in a baby carriage built for two, and with M a y and Earl Mack made a grand tour of headquarters. Jimmy went along to push the carriage. One morning at the end of their stroll, the group paused on a small hilltop near the rock houses. Suddenly, the baby buggy slipped from Jimmy's hands and lurched down the hillside at an alarming rate of speed. Jimmy raced after the childen in a vain effort to stop the carriage. Pauline and Miss Annie started running down the hill, screaming for help. The kennels were disturbed by the commotion and all the dogs began to bark. The bunkhouse cook ran into the yard, saw the runaway and yelled, "Circle 'em, Jimmy, circle 'em!" Jimmy did his best but was outdistanced. The buggy rolled to a stop at the foot of the hill, upright and intact. The frightened mothers arrived and found their children squealing with joy. They wanted to ride down the hill again, a request that caused Jimmy to shudder! The LS made a rapid comeback under McAllister's management. When the ranch was practically free of debt, and 8,000 head of good range cattle had been added to the Scott herd, Mister Mac decided that his work with the LS was finished. He moved to Channing, Texas, and entered the mercantile and banking business. He also began building up a purebred Hereford herd that became one of the best in the Panhandle. Whitman hired George Compton to take Mister Mac's place.

156

The LS Brand

Compton brought his wife, Bess, and his sister, Fanny, to live at Alamosa. In those days, a lady did not ride astride and was never seen wearing men's clothing. Understandably, when Fanny galloped into Tascosa one day, riding cowboy style, and clad in a pair of pants and a shirt borrowed from her brother, eyebrows all over town lifted in shocked disapproval. But Fanny's feminine apparel was tied in a roll on the back of her saddle. A friend's house was her first stop, and when next seen she was dressed in style becoming to a lady. Fanny Compton was as natural and unaffected as a prairie breeze, and everyone became accustomed to her unconventional way of riding. The 1895 Christmas party was held in the Alamosa bunkhouse. Whitman hired the Kimball String Band from Trinidad, Colorado, to play for the dance. Midnight supper was served in the boys' dining room. The long, wide table was arranged with a tempting array of holiday food, spaced down the center with baked turkeys, roasts of beef, and boiled hams. Gallons of Arbuckle Coffee came to the table, boiled as ranch people liked it, black and strong. Charlie surprised the boys at the last moment by adding oysters to the menu, a rare treat in those days. The oysters, iced down in wooden kegs, were shipped by express from Denver. The party lasted all night. Whitman had forty men on his payroll that Christmas, and he gave each one a fine Stetson hat. The boys liked their Christmas present so well that Whitman continued to give them to his employees every year. When a cowboy referred to his headgear as a "Whitman," it was a sure sign he'd worked for the LS long enough to wear one of Charlie's Christmas Stetsons. On May 1, 1896, the judge of Oldham County resigned, and the Court appointed Whitman to fill the vacancy. He accepted the office, which paid a salary of sixty dollars a month. Apparently the Court was in an expansive mood that day, for Whitman was voted an extra hundred dollars a year, to make out quarterly statements. Then the Court joined the Office

The Whitman

Era

157

of Public Instruction with that of county judge, and added four hundred dollars a year to Judge Whitman's salary. I n the fall of 1896, Whitman began building a new headquarters four miles south of Tascosa, where rugged, big-bouldered hills looked down upon the Canadian River. The house was located at the foot of a hill, where, directly on top, artesian water came bubbling to the surface in a clear, cold stream. Pipe installed in the spring carried water into the house, barn, and corral. A wide porch ran the length of the house, a long, low frame structure with the bunkhouse attached at a lower level on the west end. Two large cellars built under the house provided storage for cured meats, flour, lard, and other supplies. Furniture for the new house was bought in Denver. Alamosa headquarters were left furnished and used for a camp. The barn, saddle room, tool shed, and corral were built south of the house. An icehouse was kept filled with ice shipped from Denver. A bell on top of the bunkhouse summoned the cowboys to meals, and at the same time announced a meal was ready to serve in the "Big House." Someone decided that an old-fashioned well would be nice to have in the front yard, but when the well was completed, the water contained so much soda it was nauseating. A teacup filled with the well water and left to evaporate in the sun would contain an inch of pure soda. It became a standing joke with the cowboys to offer strangers a drink of water, and then watch their startled and sometimes violent reaction. New Headquarters satisfied Whitman's expectations in every way. The shipping pens were near. The Fort Worth and Denver depot, where the LS warehouse was located, could be reached in thirty minutes. Supplies shipped to the ranch in carload lots were stored in the warehouse, then hauled to various points on the ranch as needed. The Tascosa Post Office made it possible to get mail daily instead of once a week. I n April of 1897, the Whitman's second son, Paul Lingenbrink, was born, and the family moved into New Headquarters

158

The LS Brand

in June. Friends from far and near came to see "Charlie's Show Place," and usually stayed for dinner. A cowboy, neighbor, or drifter was never turned away from headquarters or camp until he was given a meal, feed for his horse, and a place to sleep. Doors on the LS Ranch were never locked.

18. TRAIL'S END S8888338833$3888888833S3SS8888888a

Lee and Scott had brought seven carloads of Hereford cattle to the LS during the first year of their partnership, but had decided that purebred cattle were impractical for range herds. English farmers of Herefordshire had produced the Hereford beef breed from their own cattle of unknown origin in the eighteenth century. Whitman, along with cowmen who got their start with Longhorns, believed that the whitefaces were the best beef cattle in the world. Although LS herds had been improved and brought good prices for range cattle, Whitman was convinced that purebred Herefords would produce better beef and would cost no more to raise than ordinary breeds. He resolved to try Herefords on the LS. Whitman began to cull the range of nondescript cattle and each year bought a number of purebred heifers and registered bulls for breeding stock. One bull came from the Sunny Slope Stock Farm, owned by Charles S. Cross of Emporia, Kansas. Whitman paid $2,500 for the animal, an unheard-of price at that time. The bull's registered name was Salisbury, and he created more talk among Panhandle cowmen than any bull

160

The LS Brand

before or since. Charlie was called a highflier by some, but others agreed that if more breeders could afford herd bulls with Salisbury's pedigree, the Hereford industry would benefit. Anyway, Salisbury's value was proved a few years later, when his descendants won blue ribbons at the livestock shows. Whitman established a farm in Leavenworth County, Kansas, for the sole purpose of breeding and raising pedigreed Herefords. The farm was stocked with three hundred head of whiteface purebreds. He bred these animals into a herd of registered Herefords that became famous for their fine blood lines. The farm furnished the LS with bulls, and many were sold to Hereford men who regarded Whitman as an outstanding breeder. Henry McDade and his brother, Wilks, were in charge of Plains Camp and the pasture where the registered bulls were kept. The camp was situated just above the Cap Rock, a few miles north of the present town of Wildorado. The boys lived in a house that began as a dugout and ended with a small frame addition on top. Along with the everyday work of looking after the bulls, windmill, and fences, Wilks improved the corral by building a cutting chute, designed to separate cattle as they were driven into the branding pen. In between jobs, the McDades found time for social activities. One night while they were attending a dance several miles from camp, a heavy rain fell and in its wake a dense fog settled over the plains. On the way home the McDades got lost and rode in circles until Henry said, "If we let our horses decide, they'll take us home." About an hour later^ the horses stopped at a fence. Henry dismounted and by feeling and counting the strands recognized the fence that enclosed their camp. Then, holding on to the top wire, Henry groped his way along the fence until he reached the corral gate. Wilks said, "It sure was a silly feeling, lost in our own pasture! But that fog was thick as a wet saddle blanket." One time, Henry McDade caught a man cutting the wire in an LS fence. Cowboys entertained strong feelings about fence

Trail's End

161

cutters and longed for the day when their membership in the human race would be revoked. Henry was unarmed, but he rode up to the man, leaned over, and began slashing him in the face with his quirt. The fence cutter panicked, stumbled to his horse, and escaped in a cloud of dust. It was drastic punishment, but the man was never seen near an LS fence again! An LS wagon boss and a young Mexican cowboy who had decided to go into the cattle business put their brand on a yearling that had strayed into an LS pasture. Whitman learned of the affair when the calf's owner charged the men with theft. Whitman was furious. It had not occurred to him that any LS cowboy, knowing the long and bitter struggle maintained by the ranch to drive rustlers from the range, would deliberately steal another man's cattle. The wagon boss was married and the boy's aged mother lived in Tascosa. Despite his anger toward the men, Whitman considered their families. H e hired a lawyer who succeeded in keeping the pair from going to the penitentiary. Whitman permitted the men to remain on the ranch while their case was undecided, but the moment he knew they had escaped prison terms, he denounced them for common cow thieves and warned, "Don't ever let me catch you on the LS again!" The wagon boss left the country. W h e n the boy got a job with the LS again, the ranch was under new ownership. At the beginning of the year 1898, George Compton started ranching for himself. The new manager, Cecil H. Withington, spoke with a British accent, which was very annoying to the outfit. But this time, Whitman ignored the cowboys' likes and dislikes. Withington stayed on and his wife, Catherine, and their two small daughters joined him at headquarters. Eight months later Whitman resigned his county office, and Withington was appointed by the Court to fill the unexpired term. Katie and Maggie (their last names long forgotten) were Mrs. Whitman's housemaids, and she also employed an English nurse for the children. The maids were lively Irish girls, who flattered the cowboys by calling each one "Me darlin!" Non-

162

The LS Brand

sense did not appeal to the nurse, an extremely plain looking young woman whose prim English ways were completely foreign to the cowboys. Now, a cowboy was always ready to teach a pretty girl how to ride. However, when Mrs. Whitman asked the boys to give the nurse riding lessons, their consent lacked the enthusiasm usually displayed for such pleasant work. They were dismayed at the thought of amusing a girl whom they regarded as "stuck-up and homely as a mud fence." Then a cowboy suggested, "Maybe she's trying to catch a husband," a remark that failed to help the situation. When the first lesson came due, the boys had decided that feminine guile could be controlled by a crowd. They rounded up all the children big enough to sit on a horse, and invited Katie and Maggie to go along; then the brave Knights of the Range loose-herded the cavalcade out upon the prairie. An anxious moment occurred when a little Withington girl lost her balance, caught her foot in a stirrup, and was left swinging head down on the side of her mount. But the cowboys were prepared for mishaps. As the surprised horse started to run, Mel Armstrong grabbed the bridle and stopped him. Calming her fear, he lifted the moppet back into the saddle, and the ride continued. No one but the nurse was upset by the accident. She accused the boys of negligence and called them a "crew of imbeciles." The rides turned into gay events for everyone but the poor nurse. The cowboys could have saved themselves the trouble of safeguarding their bachelor status if they had asked the English girl's opinion of ranch life. She wanted no part of it, despised horses, and believed that cowboys were strange creatures totally lost to civilization. The Whitmans spent the 1898 holidays in their Denver home, but Charlie made arrangements for the boys' Christmas party to be held as usual. That year, instead of hats, Whitman gave the men buckskin gloves that were soft as kitten fur, had been tanned a lovely light color, and could not be harmed by

Trail's End

163

water. The gauntlets were deep and fringed with little strips of pliant leather that fluttered with every passing breeze. This was the last lavish Christmas Ball given on the LS, for Charlie Whitman was not with his cowboys the next year. The Whitmans continued to live in Denver, although Charlie made frequent trips to the ranch. He was at the spring roundup and selected the beef cattle intended for fall markets. H e brought cattle buyers to the ranch several times during the summer. Meantime, friends were becoming worried about Whitman's health, but he dismissed their concern with a casual mention of gastric upsets. Whitman always directed the fall shipping and was expected to arrive at headquarters on September 15, 1899. Five days later Withington received a telegram announcing Charlie Whitman's death. Withington immediately notified the cowboys, who were stunned by the news, and emotions were intensified by the lack of details. Every man on the ranch saddled up and rode to headquarters. A short time later they learned that Whitman had been stricken suddenly with abdominal pain and that death had resulted from peritonitis. Word of Whitman's death spread quickly and his many Panhandle friends expressed their shock and sorrow in messages to Mrs. Whitman. Obituaries appeared in newspapers throughout the West and Midwest. A Denver daily, dated September 21, 1899, stated: "Charles N . Whitman, the famed cattleman of Texas, and one of the best known cattlemen in the United States, died at his home yesterday afternoon. He was an outstanding Hereford breeder and a prominent figure in the National Livestock Growers Association. He leaves a wife, two small sons and a sister, Mrs. Lucien Scott, who left Denver recently to study theosophy in India." The Editor of the Charming Courier wrote: "The news of Charles N . Whitman's death came in the nature of a shock, and was the sole topic of conversation on the streets during the day. Charles Whitman was the largest individual ranch owner in the State of Texas, proprietor of the noted LS Ranch,

164

The LS Brand

containing a quarter million fenced acres, with 12,000 high grade Hereford cattle. The owner of this vast domain, more extensive than some Dukedoms, was a m a n of generous impulses combined with rare business qualifications, and those that knew him intimately, were enthusiastic in their friendship for him." And so Charlie Whitman passed into Time, mourned by his family and many friends, and eulogized in countless written words. But the most heartfelt tribute came from Charlie's cowboys. They said simply, "We've lost our best friend." Pauline Whitman was prostrated by the sudden death of her husband. Several weeks passed before she realized that the future of the LS depended upon her decisions. She was familiar with routine affairs on the ranch but, at that time, running the ranch by herself was a sad and distressing thought. Then, when Withington resigned, Mrs. Whitman returned to live at headquarters, and her brother, Will Lingenbrink, came with her to help manage the outfit. The cowboys, however, were not pleased with Lingenbrink as a boss. It was plainly a case of their resenting any man whom they thought was taking Charlie Whitman's place. Several men left to seek jobs elsewhere. John Blain, an old stoveup cowpuncher, could not do heavy work, but Whitman had placed him on the payroll as a fence rider. Blain and Allen Stagg quit one evening when the chore boy was absent. Lingenbrink had ordered them to do the milking, a task shunned by cowpunchers, who considered it beneath their dignity. "Why, the idea," Blain protested, "Charlie never asked us to milk cows!" However, Lingenbrink and most of the outfit worked together very well. Along with cowboys already mentioned, the outfit included Louis Capps, Josh Neeley, Frank Freeman, Tom Goodman, Ed Abbot, Smokey Moore, and Ira Miller. Later, Joe Peters, Henry Lyman, and the Meyers brothers, Charley and Ollie, joined the outfit.

Trail's End

165

Living on the ranch where she and Charlie had spent so many gratifying years was an unhappy experience for Mrs. Whitman. She decided to establish a home in St. Louis, where the Lingenbrink family had lived when Pauline was a child, and manage the ranch from there. Her brother, Will, would remain at headquarters to r u n the outfit. Mrs. Whitman resolved to maintain the high-grade Hereford cattle that distinguished the LS Brand. She attended cattle shows and sales rings to keep informed on progress made by Hereford breeders and to keep up with cattle prices. The time had arrived when breeders thought nothing of paying $2,500 for registered Hereford animals, which confirmed Charlie Whitman's faith in Herefords when he purchased Salisbury. As Mrs. Whitman's competent management of the LS continued, experienced cowmen recognized her as an outstanding ranch woman. On January 25, 1902, Pauline Whitman and Frederick H. Kreismann were married. Mr. Kreismann owned the ThebusKreismann Insurance Company of St. Louis, was prominent in the city's civic affairs, and from 1909 to 1913 was the mayor. Meanwhile, LS calves were winning blue ribbons at the stock shows in Chicago and Kansas City. Midwest feeders, and buyers from Canada, attracted by the quality of the prize calves, were coming to the LS to buy cattle. As Pauline's approval of cattle sales was required, the Kreismanns were obliged to spend most of their time at the ranch. At that time cattle were sold by the head. As long as animals were fat and healthy, weight did not matter. High-grade calves could be bought from feed lots at $24.75 and $25.25 per head. However, in January, 1903, C. S. Batcheldor, a feeder of Warrensburg, Illinois, sold one lot of eighteen-month-old LS steers at the International Livestock Exposition at Chicago, for $6.30 per hundredweight. A year later, LS yearlings fed by W. H. Brevoort, of Vincennes, Indiana, topped the Chicago market at $5.85 per hundredweight.

166

The LS Brand

Cowboys staying at headquarters often rode to Tascosa after supper, and spent a couple of hours visiting friends, or enjoyed a card game and a few drinks at the saloon. Tascosa was a mere village then and the only drink one could buy at the old Exchange Saloon was a bottle of beer. A far cry, indeed, from the exciting years of the 1880's. One evening Henry and Wilks McDade, Charley and Ollie Meyers, and a Mexican cowboy lingered in town later than usual. According to Wilks, the last bottle of beer sent them home in a mild state of hilarity that ended abruptly when they arrived at the ranch. There was no sense in disturbing the boss at that hour of the night! On the way to the corral, the group had to pass the pigpen. The cowboys had been scandalized when Lingenbrink had had a number of shoats delivered to the ranch, so that the LS could raise its own pork. A milkpen was bad enough, but allowing hogs on a time-honored ranch like the LS was shameful! As the boys started riding by the pen, the hogs were deep in slumber, but their odor made the horses nervous. Then one hog roused and snuffed fiercely, and the entire lot, snorting and grunting, scrambled to their feet. The rude sounds were more than the skittish horses could bear! They downed their heads and came up pitching high and hard. Five frantic cowpunchers pulled leather, a disgraceful way to ride a bronc. But in an emergency of such magnitude, a m a n grabbed at the first thing handy, preferably the horn, to keep himself in the saddle. As the horses bucked into various objects that happened to be in their path, the noise was terrific. When the horses were finally controlled, Charley Meyers was heard addressing the hogs, and such impassioned language had not been heard on the LS since Ab Owens' verbal tantrums. Charley told the hogs that "the Dark Ages produced your scrubby ancestors and since that time, not one single hog has felt the need of self-improvement. This wanton disregard for culture has succeeded in demoralizing a proud and respectable ranch, and I hope you are satisfied!" When the

Trail's End

167

clatter and orating ceased, not only the boss but also everybody else at headquarters had established the time of the cowboys' return from Tascosa. The Kreismanns wished to return to St. Louis so that Mr. Kreismann could devote more time to his business. They decided to sell the ranch, or at least reduce the number of cattle and a part of the range. I n 1904, P. H. and John Landergin leased, with a five-year option to buy, the western half of the LS Ranch. The Landergin brothers, who were well-known cattlemen of Eureka, Kansas, established headquarters at Alamosa, the beginning of a long and successful cattle venture in Oldham County. In January of 1905, the Kreismanns announced that the LS Ranch was for sale. In April of that year, Edward F. Swift, representing Swift and Company of Chicago, offered to buy the ranch and cattle. As the Landergin lease and option were still in effect, the Kreismanns tried to get in touch with the men, to find out if they would surrender their contract, but the Landergins avoided a meeting. Will Lingenbrink contacted first one brother, then the other, but was unable to get a satisfactory answer from either. At last, the Landergins were located at their home in Eureka. Both men agreed to do the right thing, but refused to release their option to buy. All parties concerned finally reached an agreement. W. H. Gray, of Chicago, bought thirty sections located in the eastern half of the ranch. The Landergin brothers retained their option, and bought the western half, including the old Alamosa headquarters, when their contact terminated four years later. Mrs. Kreismann wished to perpetuate the LS Brand and so stipulated in her negotiations with Swift. Therefore, Edward Swift, under the laws of West Virginia, formed a corporation known as the LS Company, and bought the LS Brand, the livestock, and the rest of the LS Ranch lands. The LS Ranch sold for $2.25 per acre, 6,765 cattle averaged $25.00 per head, 157 saddle horses sold for $25.00 each, while 20 mules brought $50.00 per head. It is interesting to note

168

The LS Brand

that these figures were average, or slightly high, land and livestock prices in the Panhandle at that time. The final deed to the LS Ranch was turned over to Edward F. Swift of the LS Company, in June, 1905. The scene that marked the end of the trail for the Lee-ScottWhitman era took place on the long porch of the "Big House," when Pauline Whitman Kreismann bade farewell to her cowboys. She presented a gold watch, properly inscribed by a leading Denver jeweler, to each cowboy who had been with the LS a certain number of years. She gave an extra check to boys who had spent less time on the ranch. Twenty-four years had passed since Lee and Scott had established the first LS Headquarters in the dugout on Rita Blanca Creek. Mingled with the sadness of farewell were memories of the strong men who had taken free grass and unfenced range to build the LS Ranch into a cattle empire as they blazed pioneer trails into Panhandle history; memories of cowpunchers with their vigorous self-assurance and arrogant loyalty as they rode for the LS Brand; memories of laughter-filled days and times of bitter grief; and memories of trail herds, roundups, and weary men sharing the warmth of lonely campfires. Those herds had moved on to a new range where Stardust falls gently upon old chaps and saddles. But the LS was still a great ranch beginning a new era.

INDEX

Abbott, Ed: LS cowboy, 164 Alamocitas Creek: 38 Alamocitas Headquarters: Torrey Ranch on, 38, 87; second LS headquarters, 39; girl visitors at, 87; in land swap, 96; wedding party leaves, 98; LS moves from, 137; fence separates X I T from, 154; mentioned, 90, 100, 102,114, 129, 131 Alamosa Headquarters: wagon camp on, 93; LS headquarters move to, 137, 142, 153; Christmas Ball at, 156; permanent camp, 157 Amarillo, Texas: shipping point, 145 Arkansas River: 83, 84, 95 Armstrong, Mel: one of "Tascosa Kids," 153, 154, 162 Arnot, John: L X cowboy, 58 Austin, Texas: 53, 86 Austin-Campbell and Green Company: sheepmen, 38 Babcock, Amos: Capitol Syndicate member, 53 Barnett, George: LS cowboy, 136 Bartlett, N e w t ("Socks"): 85, 104105 Batcheldor, C. S.: Illinois feeder, 165 Belvidere, Illinois: Whitmans in, 51 Big Sandy: Arkansas River tributary, 83, 84 Billy the Kid: meeting with Captain Torrey, 38; shooting match,

57; killed b y P a t Garrett, 88; outlaws of, 96 Black, Dr.: removes bullet from John Brophy, 102, 103 Black Hills: Indian retreat, 29 Black Kettle, Chief of Cheyennes: dies in battle of Washita, 29 Blain, John: LS cowboy, 164 Blair, Billy: Comanche Pool foreman, 69 Blanco, Texas: 69 Bliss, Walter: drowns in Yellowstone river, 154 Blunt, Gen. James G.: i n charge of Western Division of Army, 52 bog camps: and cattle during heel fly season, 108, 109, 141 Boot Hill: at Tascosa, 59, 60, 61„ 62; Fred Leigh buried on, 6 1 ; LS cowboys buried on, 116 Boren, Dick: LS cowboy, 123, 136 Borregos Spring: 122 Bouldin, Bill: LS cowboy, 154 Bouseman, Louis: friend of Woodruff, 110; jailed, 112-113; charged with murder, 120 Boyce, A. G.: trail boss for Snyder Brothers, 103; General Manager of X I T , 104 Bradley brothers, Jack and Lon: fence riders, 154 Bradley Camp: 154 brands: cattle, 43, 44; LS, 43; pride in, 45; reading of, 45; rustlers change, 88, 89; X I T Star Cross, 89 Brazos Harbor and Dock Company: Lee invests in, 144

170 Brazos River: 144 Brevoort, W . H.: Indiana feeder, 165 Briggs, Theodore: aids Woodruff, 113 Brophy, John: recovers stolen remuda, 96-97; shot at Mexican dance, 101-102 Browning, J. N.: attorney, 133 Brush, Colorado: toll fence near, 83 buffalo: slaughter of, 24-25 Buford, Sam: wagon boss, 67, 135 Butler, Frank: camp cook, 131 Cage, Duncan ( " D u n k " ) : LS wagon boss, 70, 80, 90; cooks crayfish, 71, 72; at Salinas Camp, 7678; humor of, 76, 123; fires Old George, 78; in wedding party, 98; in street fight, 111, 113, 114; and Eleven-0 remuda, 121, 122; outfit works Canadian, 123-126; Santa Fe spree, 128-131; and stampede, 132; quits the LS, 135 Cage, Hays: joins LS, 70; in street fight, 111, 113; follows Dunk, 135, 136 Camp Supply, I. T.: base for Gen. George A. Custer, 24-31 passim, 46 Canadian Biver: early description, 39; breaks of, 40, 78; LS and, 42, 103; cattle loss along, 78-79,100; stolen cattle along, 88; prarie fire north of, 93-94 Capitol Syndicate lands: 53, 95, 96 Capps, Louis: LS cowboy, 164 Cap Rock: divides north and south plains, 40, 160 Carter, Bud: burned in prairie fire, 94 Catfish Kid. SEE Gough, John Chambers, Lon: guards McAllisters, 114, 115 Channing, Texas: 155 Cheyenne, Oklahoma: 28

The LS Brand Cheyenne, Texas: Lee's town, 133, 134, 144, 153 Cheyenne, Wyoming: 84 Cheyenne Indians: agency, I. T., 29; Custer wipes out villages, 28, 29 Chilton, Fred: bog rider, 110; killed in street fight, 111, 112; in list of gunslingers, 120 Chilton, Sam: older brother of Fred, 120 Christy, Joe: LS cowboy, 154 chuck wagon: description of, 73, 74; floaters, 73, 78; cook's chores at, 74, 75; rules of etiquette at, 75-76 Cimarron River: drift cattle from, 78; in N e w Mexico, 95 Circle Bar: McAllister horse brand, 44; thieves change to Circle Bar Spear, 44, 97 Civil W a r : mention, 35, 52, 65 Clarendon, Texas: trial held in, 120; mentioned, 97 Clinton, N e w York: W h i t m a n family home in, 50 Collins, George: LS trail boss, 82, 135,136 Colorado: drift cattle from, 78; mentioned, 35 Comanche Indians: 24, 27 Comanche Pool Ranch, Kansas: cowboy strike against, 69 Compton, Bess (Mrs. George): 156 Compton, F a n n y : sister of George, 156 Compton, George: LS general manager, 155, 156; quits LS, 161 Cone, M r . and Mrs. John: wedding trip, 99 Conklin, Steve ("Steve Nobody"): 55 Cooper, Jack: LS cowboy, 152 Cowboy Strike: organized, 64; details of, 65-67 cowpuncher: the old time, 80, 139140

Index Crook, Gen. George: Indian campaign, 29 Cross, Charles S.: Kansas Hereford breeder, 159 Crow Indians: 29 Custer, Gen. George A.: at Camp Supply, 27; in Battle of Washita, 28; command wiped out, 29 Dakota Territory: 102 Deaf Smith County, Texas: LS range in, 42, 135; X I T in, 95 Denver, Colorado: W h i t m a n home in, 150, 157; mentioned, 127 Diamond Tail: cattle brand, 45 Dobbs, Kid: wagon boss, 67, 135; reply to Tom Harris, 68; guard for McAllisters, 114, 115 Dobbs Canyon: named, 68; windmill in, 146-147 Dodge City, Kansas: Lee and Reynolds in, 2 3 ; shipping point for hides, 25, 135, 136; list of gunslingers around, 120; mentioned, 35, 61, 62, 66, 69, 97 Doggett, Bill: and horse herd stampede, 124 Doheny, Edward L.: oil millionaire on LS, 92 Doll Baby: cattle brand, 45 Donley County, Texas: 64 drift fence: cattle die against, 79, 100 Dudley, R. M.: LS cowboy, 152 Dumas, Texas: 79 Duran, Dolores: sells place to Lee, 30 D u r h a m Cattle: 31, 46 East, James H.: sheriff of Oldham County, 111; and street fight, 112, 113, 115; general manager of LS, 139, 145 East, Nettie (Mrs. James H . ) : 145, 146 Eclipse windmills: erected by LS, 146

171 Eleven-0 remuda: 121,122 Elliott, Major Joel H.: dies in Battle of Washita, 28 Emory, Charley: friend of Woodruff, 111; in street fight, 113, 114; acquitted of murder, 120 Emory, Tom: brother of Charley, 110 Endee, N e w Mexico: LS range around, 42; remuda stolen from, 96; mentioned, 37 Equity Bar: in Tascosa, 111 Eureka, Kansas: 167 Exchange Saloon: in Tascosa, 166 Farwell brothers, John and Charles: form Capitol Syndicate, 53 Fence Rail: cattle brand, 45 First National Bank of Austin, Texas: 86 First National Bank of Leavenworth, Kansas: owned by L. B. Scott, 35, 36, 82 Forked Lightning: L. A. Mosty's cattle brand, 45, 63 Fort Bascom, N e w Mexico: LS boundary, 42; old Fort Smith trail to, 131, 132 Fort Bend County, Texas: 43 Fort Dodge, Kansas: 24, 29 Fort Elliott, Texas: 24, 25, 97 Fort Leavenworth, Kansas: 52 Fort Sill, Indian Territory: 29 Fort Smith, Arkansas: 52, 131 Fort Sumner, N e w Mexico: 88 Fort Worth, Texas: 127 Fort W o r t h and Denver City Railw a y Company: depot south of river, 128; extends track, 127; officials promote Cheyenne, 133; shipping pens, 148, 157 Freeman, Frank: LS cowboy, 164 French, Charley: 87 French, Mrs. Charley: housekeeper, 87, 138 Frying P a n Ranch: road to Tascosa, 143

172 Galbreath, Guy: LS cowboy, 154 Garcia, Jose and Juan: Scott buys out, 95 Garcia Camp: line camp in New Mexico, 95, 101 Garrett, Pat: organizes Home Rangers, 87-88 Goodman, Tom: LS cowboy, 164 Gough, John ("Catfish Kid"): HO, 112, 120 Gray, W . H.: buys LS land, 167 Gunslingers of the Lone Star Ranch: 119 Gunter, Jules: T-Anchor Ranch, 66 Gunter and Munson: land and surveying firm, 38, 59 Gurule, Ysabel: LS cowboy, 153; Stetson h a t worn by, 154 Hamilton College: 50 Harris, Tom: strike leader, 65, 66, 67; message to Kid Dobbs, 68 Hartley, Texas: 42, 79, 113 Hartley County, Texas: 30, 37, 38, 42 Hays County, Texas: 43 Heart: Comanche Pool cattle brand, 44,69 Hereford cattle: first born in Panhandle, 32; LS develops, 159, 160; blue ribbons for, 165 Hoffman, Joseph Ogden: jurist of New York City, 50 Hogeye: cattle brand, 45 Hog Pen: cattle brand, 45 Hogtown: disorderly section of Tascosa, 56; favored The System, 88; mentioned, 67, 103, 111, 112 Home Land and Cattle Company, Montana: 142 Home Rangers: employed by Panhandle ranchers, 87, 104, 106; LS Ranch headquarters of, 88; Pat Garrett organizes, 88 horses: cutting, 47; remuda, 80; breaking, 121; twin, 121, 122;

The LS Brand in stampede, 124; "river," 125; "skirt-broke," 147 Horton, James C : Scott's attorney, 150 Houston, Temple: 57 Howard, Jules: Tascosa merchant, 59; kills Bob Russell, 60 Howard and McMasters' Store: in Tascosa, 37, 115 H u n t e r and Evans: owners of Comanche Pool Ranch, 69 Ikey: Tascosa barber, 58 Independence, Missouri: 23, 27 Indian Territory: 23, 24, 28, 29 International Livestock Exposition, Chicago: 165 Iowa: McAllister in, 86, 87 Jennings, L. S.: LS brand used by, 43 Jerry Springs: bog camp, 109, 113, 117, 120 Johnson, Johnny: bitten by skunk, 154-155 Jones, George: LS bookkeeper, 90, 91 Jones, Tom: LS cowboy, 154 J u a n Dominquez Canyon: camp site, 122 Kansas: cowboy strike in, 69; drift cattle from, 78 Kansas City, Missouri: honeymoon in, 97-100 Kansas Territory: statehood, 52; mentioned, 23, 24, 25 Katie: housemaid, 161 Kerr, John: 35 Kimball String Band: 156 King, Ed: cattle inspector, 89; bog rider, 109; courtship of dancehall Sally, 110; killed in street fight, 111, 112, 114, 118; called gunslinger, 119, 120 King Bridge and Iron Works: 133 Kiowa Indians: 24 Kit Carson, Colorado: 84

Index Kreismann, Frederick H.: marries Pauline W h i t m a n , 165; business of, 167 Kreismann, Pauline Lingenbrink W h i t m a n (Mrs. Frederick H . ) : arrives at LS, 147; marries Charles Whitman, 150; at Alamosa headquarters, 152,155, 161; and children's nurse, 162; manages ranch, 164^-166; marries Frederick H . Kreismann, 165; sells LS ranch, 167-168 Lamar, Colorado: shipping point, 137 Lampasas County, Texas: 64 Landergin brothers, John and Pat: buy western half of LS, 167 Lang, John: trails bulls, 46; bog rider, 110; in street fight, 111, 112; stands trial, 120 Las Vegas, N e w Mexico: 102, 103 Leavenworth, Kansas: Lee and Scott in, 23, 32, 66, 99, 128; supply point, 34; bank in, 35, 36, 82; W h i t m a n from, 50 Leavenworth Coal Company: 35 L E Ranch (Lee and Reynolds): formed, 30; brand, 30; registered calf on, 32; Reynolds buys, 32, 33; rustlers on, 67; grass loss in fire, 95 Lee, Lena (Mrs. W . M . D . ) : 144 Lee, W . M. D.: partner with Reynolds, 23; at Camp Supply, 24, 25, 29, 30; sutler at Mobeetie, 25; postmaster at Fort Elliott, 25; buys D u r a n place, 30; sells L E Ranch, 30, 35; and "Scotch Bulls," 31, 46; partner with Scott, 34, 37; buys plazas, 39, 40, 42, 46; in lawsuits, 63, 64; and cowboy strike, 66, 67; blacklist of, 67; in tax fights, 85, 86, 133, 144; buys horses, 121; objects to railroad, 127, 128, 132, 136; terminates LS partnership, 144 Lee and Reynolds Overland Freight

173 Company: formed, 2 3 ; government contracts, 23, 24; hide business, 2 5 ; hires McAllister, 29 Lee-Scott Cattle Company (LS Ranch): established, 34; dugout headquarters, 37; boundaries of, 37, 38, 39; plazas camps, 4 1 ; brand, 43, 44; surveys, 43, 50, 58; branding cattle, 46-49; trail herds, 63, 82, 83, 85, 136, 142; in lawsuits, 63, 64; cowboy strike, 64-65; and rustlers, 67, 87, 104, 105, 106; round up stolen cattle, 89; mutilated cattle, 90; prairie fire, 93-95; land swap, 95-96; blizzard, 100; bog camps, 108109; tombstones for cowboys, 118; F . W . D. pays damages to, 127; cattle loss of, 135, 139, 140, 141. SEE ALSO Alamocitas Headquarters; Alamosa Headquarters; LS cowboys; LS Montana Ranch; N e w LS Headquarters Leigh, Fred: shot by sheriff, 59, 60; Boot Hill burial, 61 Leonard, Jack: 136 Leppard, M a n n y : bullwhacker, 101, 102 Liberty, N e w Mexico: old town of, 38; LS camp near, 95, 101 Lincoln County, N e w Mexico: 88 Lingenbrink, Pauline. SEE Kreismann, Pauline Lingenbrink W h i t m a n (Mrs. Frederick H.) Lingenbrink, Will (Pauline's brothe r ) : manages ranch, 164, 165, 166, 168 L I T Ranch. SEE Prairie Land and Cattle Company Little Big Horn, Montana: 29 Llano, Texas: 69 lobo wolves: 151 Lodge Pole Creek, Wyoming: 84 Lone Star: symbolic of all Texas cowboys, 118 Longhorn cattle: LS bought, 46; mentioned, 25, 31 LS cowboys: cowboy strike, 64^-65;

174 put on guns, 104, 151; guard "Old Man," 106, 115, 116; involved in street fight, 111-117; loyal to LS, 140, 141; see rainbow, 141; and "bob wire," 147; "mush-pot wrangler," 151-152; swim horses across river, 153; and Withington, 161; reaction to Whitman's death, 163; and Lingenbrink, 164 LS Montana Ranch: purchased, 8 1 ; drives to, 83-85, 121; sold, 142 LS Ranch. SEE Lee-Scott Cattle Company LU-Bar: Comanche Pool cattle brand, 44, 69 Lusk, Wyoming: 141 L X Ranch: 58, 64, 66, 67 Lyman, H e n r y : LS cowboy, 164 Mabry, W . S.: surveys Capitol Lands, 53-54 McAllister, Earl Mack: 152, 155 McAllister, Jordan Edgar (Mister M a c ) : Indian scout, 27, 68; at Battle of Washita, 28; at Camp Supply, 28, 30, 31, 32; wagon master, 29; locates L E Ranch, 30; general manager of LS, 37, 46; county commissioner, 54; romance of, 85, 86, 87, 97; and rustlers, 88, 89; letter from Doheny, 92; remuda stolen, 96; marries Luanna McCalister, 9 7 100; and Texas fever, 103, 104; guard for, 106, 115, 116; and street fight, 114-118, 120, 128; and Santa Fe swindle, 129-131, 136; quits LS, 139; returns to LS, 150, 151, 155 McAllister, Jordan Edgar, Jr.: 152, 154 McAllister, Lou: 86, 87, 97, 99, 100 McAllister, Luanna McCalister (Mrs. Jordan Edgar) ("Miss A n n i e " ) : at Alamocitas, 86, 138; marriage of, 97, 98; wedding trip of, 97-100; at funeral of cowboys,

The LS Brand 114, 115, 119; trip to Santa Fe, 130, 131; Christmas parties of, 138, 151 McAllister, M a y : 152, 155 McAnulty [ M c N u l t y ] , R. L.: 63, 64 McCalister, Luanna. SEE McAllister, Luanna McCalister (Mrs. Jordan Edgar) McCormick, Mickey: 35, 36, 111 McCurry, W.: bog rider, 110 McDade, H e n r y : at Plains Camp, 160, 161; and hogs, 166 McDade, Wilks: 160, 166 McMasters, James: Tascosa merchant, 115, 116 Maggie: housemaid, 161 Magenta, Texas: 134 Magill Bank of Las Vegas, N e w Mexico: 103 Mankato, Minnesota: W h i t m a n in, 51 Martinez, Felix: LS cook, 110, 111, 117 Martinez, Pulo: LS wrangler, 136, 153 Martinville, Indiana: birthplace of McAllister, 27 Masterson, Bat: 57 Maverick, Samuel A.: 64, 65 May, Jim: wagon boss, 67, 135; on Dodge City trail, 68; on Montana ranch trail, 82-84 Miles City, Montana: supplies bought in, 81, 82 mill, cattle: 83 Mitchell, Frank: L I T foreman, 123, 124 Mitchell, Joe: one of "Tascosa Kids," 153 Mobeetie, Texas: general roundup near, 79; court at, 120; mentioned, 35, 57, 97 Moore, Elvin: fiddle-playing LS cook, 136, 137 Moore, Smokey: LS cowboy, 164 Mosty, L. A.: lawsuits, 63, 64 Mule Creek, Kansas: 70

Index mustangs: 40 Myers, Charley: oration to hogs, 166; mentioned, 164 Meyers, Ollie: brother of Charley, 164, 166 Nebraska City, Nebraska Territory: W h i t m a n in, 51 Nebraska: drift cattle from, 78 Neeley, Josh: LS cowboy, 164 Neff, Boss: injured at Lodge Pole Creek, 84; mentioned, 136 nesters: helped by ranchers, 82; harass trail herds, 83 N e w LS headquarters: 157, 158 N e w Mexico Territory: cattle trailed from, 30, 135, 136, 139; pastores return to, 39, 40; L S range in, 42, 69, 108; mentioned, 37 Nolan, Tom: stonemason, 96, 137 Norton, Caroline: author, 52 Old George: camp cook, 76, 77, 78 Oldham County, Texas: LS range in, 4 1 , 42; LS brand recorded in, 43; LS Precinct, 54; first sheriff of, 60; taxation, 85, 143; courthouse, 86; stolen cattle in, 88, 89; Grand J u r y of, 120; wagon bridge, 128, 132, 139; paid Lee for road, 144; refunds LS taxes, 145; mentioned, 58 Oldham Land District: formed, 53 Oregon: Johnny L a n g in, 120 Owens, Ab: verbal tantrums of, 68, 166; trails cattle to Montana, 82, 83, 84; with wedding party, 98; spree in Santa Fe, 128, 129; returns to Santa Fe, 130, 131, 135; quits LS, 147,148 P a n American Petroleum Company: 92 Panhandle Livestock Association: 89, 103 Parker Creek: hail storm west of,

175 125-126; pasture, 146; camp site, 154 pastores: Mexican sheepherders, 39, 40 Pawnee Indians: 29 Peacock, Waddy: L I T wTagon boss, 65; with LS, 154 Peaper, Charles: 36 Pecos River, N e w Mexico: drift cattle on, 78 Perkins, Bob: LS cowboy, 91 Peters, Joe: LS cowboy, 164 Pierce, Deputy L. C : 112, 115 Plains Camp: bull pasture, 160 plazas: Mexican settlements, 39, 40, 41 Popham, Al: manager of Montana Ranch, 8 1 ; manager at Alamosa, 142,148 Potter County, Texas: LS Range in, 38, 42 Powder River, Wyoming: 29 Prairie Land and Cattle Company ( L I T Ranch): buys L E ranch, 33, 123; rustlers on, 67, 124; opposes Oldham County taxation, 133; mentioned, 64, 65 Rabbit E a r Mountain: 136 Ranch Creek: b y Alamosa headquarters, 137 Red Rio Springs, N e w Mexico: 96 Reps: at roundups, 79, 80 Republican River, Colorado: 84 Revuelto Creek, N e w Mexico: 98 Reynolds, C. F . : brother of Albert, 33 Reynolds, E. Albert: partner in Lee and Reynolds, 2 3 ; establishes L E Ranch, 30, 3 1 ; buys Lee's half of L E Ranch, 32, 33; and prairie fire on LE, 95; opposes taxation, 133 Reynolds Cattle Company: 133 Rica Creek: Briggs' home on, 113 Rio Grande River: LS cattle found on, 78 Rita Blanca Creek: first LS head-

176 quarters on, 37, 168; LS camp on, 113 Ritter, Kim: 96, 139 Robinson, Tobe: LS wagon boss, 67; and mutilated cattle, 90-91; and prairie fire on X I T , 93, 94; in Woodruff search, 113; sheriff of Oldham County, 135 Romero Canyon: 30 Rosebud Creek, Montana: 29 roundups: open range, 46, 47, 48; general, 78, 80 Russell, Bob: killed by Jules Howard, 59, 60 Russell, Mrs. Bob: selects site for grave, 59, 60 Russell Hotel: in Tascosa, 125 rustlers: active on LS, 85; along Canadian River, 88; change brands, 89; methods used by, 89, 90; cowboys a r m for, 104 St. James Hotel, Kansas City: 98, 99 St. Louis, Missouri: 147, 165 Salinas Lake: cowboys at, 76, 77, 78 Salisbury: registered Hereford bull, 159, 165 Sally: dance-hall girl, 110; and street fight, 111, 112 Sanders, A. Collett: Montana trail boss, 83, 84, 85 Santa Fe, N e w Mexico: spree in, 128, 130, 131; mentioned, 23, 98 Santa Fe Trail: 27, 34, 131 "Scotch Bulls": 31, 46 Scott, Julia Hoffman W h i t m a n (Mrs. Lucien B.): sister of Charles, 50; teaches music, 51, 52; marries Lucien Scott, 53; cottage for, 96, 137; arrives at LS, 147; gives ranch to Whitman, 150; opposes Pauline's marriage, 150; in London, England, 163 Scott, Lucien B.: banker, 32, 35, 36, 82; partner with Lee, 32, 44; dealer in gold dust, 35; loan to

The LS Brand McCormick, 36; buys land, 37, 55; marries Julia Whitman, 53; sells land, 95; reaction to street fight, 118; approves of railroad, 128; and Lee's town, 143; support given county, 145; fences ranch, 146; advises Whitman, 149; dies, 150; wills ranch to wife, 150 Scott, Lyman: brother of Lucien, 35 Scott Street: in Cheyenne, Texas, 133 Seventh Cavalry: Gen. George A. Custer's command, 24; in Battle of Washita, 28-29; battle song, 38 Sheets, Jesse: killed in street fight, 112; funeral of, 116 Sheets, Mrs. Jesse: blames cowboys for husband's death, 116, 117 Shelton, Dr. P. L.: treats Woodruff, 113; cowboy doctor, 125 Sheridan, Gen. Philip: establishes Camp Supply, I. T., 24, 28 Sherman, Texas: 38 Sierrita de la Cruz: story of, 41-42; Cage outfit on, 71, 121, 132; bog camp, 108; pasture, 146; mentioned, 136 Sioux Indians: 29, 51 Skunk Arroyo: 38, 131 Smith, Hank: LS cowboy, 123 Snider, Johnny: one of "Tascosa Kids," 153 Snyder Brothers: 103 South Platte River: 83, 84 Spade: cattle brand, 45 Sperling Store: on Trujillo Creek, 38 Springer, N e w Mexico: rail service of, 97, 100, 129 Spur: cattle brand, 45 Stagg, Allen: LS cowboy, 152, 164 Star Cross: X I T Brand changed to, 89 Suddeth, George: nurses sick cowboys, 125

Index Summerfield, John: partner of Gunter and Munson, 59 "Sweetly Croose": cowboy name for Sierrita de la Cruz, 42, 72, 132, 136 Swift, Edward F.: buys LS Ranch from Mrs. Kreismann, 167-168 System, The: band of supervised rustlers, 87; LS cowboys feud with, 88; places m e n on LS payroll, 90, 9 1 ; member of, arrested, 104 Table Top: rustler brand, 44, 89 T-Anchor Ranch: 64, 66 Tascosa, Texas: frontier town, 3 5 37, 56; Billy the Kid in, 38-39, 57; L S range near, 42; m a i n street in, 57, 58, 115; Boot Hill, 59, 6 1 , 62, 119; gamblers in, 85, 87; scene of street fight, 111-114; railroad bypasses, 127, 128, 133, 148; mentioned, 33, 67, 77, 84, 104, 110, 124, 143, 166 Taylor, Abner: 53 Teapot Dome: 92 Texas: cattle brand law, 43; land paid for capitol, 53; unbranded cattle in, 65; Lone Star cowboys of, 118; railroad depot law, 128 Texas fever: cattle disease, 59; infected herds forbidden in Panhandle, 103; "Six-shooter Quarantine," 103, 104 Texas Panhandle: buffalo hunters in, 24, 25; Texas fever in, 59, 103, 104; jobless cowboys in, 67; general roundups in, 79-80; grass in, 8 1 ; changes in, 85; mentioned, 32, 33, 34, 38, 39, 79, 81, 95, 127, 148 T-Forty-eight: LS Brand changed to, 44, 89 Thebus-Kreismann Insurance Company of St. Louis: 165 Torrey, Captain Ellsworth: sells Alamocitas to LS, 38; meeting

177 with Billy the Kid, 38-39; mentioned, 87 Torrey Peaks: 131 Tower and Gudgell Cattle Company: 64 Trinidad, Colorado: 87, 156 Trujillo, Louis: LS cowboy, 154 Trujillo Creek: 30, 33, 37, 39 Tucumcari, N e w Mexico: 42 Turkey Track: brand owned by R. L. McAnulty, 63, 64 Turner, A. L. ("Bud"): i n Cage outfit, 69, 70, 71, 123, 124, 125; at line camp, 72; rustler scare described by, 105-106; guards McAllister, 106, 107; at J e r r y Springs, 110, 113; wagon boss, 135; and music-loving steers, 136-137 Union County, N e w Mexico: 136 United States marshals: at Alamocitas, 129, 131 Urion, William ("Uncle Billy"): L S freighter, 36; gives directions, 37 Ute Indians: 29 Valley, Frank: J e r r y Springs bog rider, 110; killed in street fight, 111, 112; rabbit's foot for luck, 119; listed as an outlaw, 120 Velasco, Texas: 144 Vincennes, Indiana: cattle fed in, 165 Vivian, C. B.: first LS bookkeeper, 114; at cowboy funeral, 116; LS cattle inspector, 145 Wallace, H . H.: conducts cowboy funeral service, 116 Walsenburg, Colorado: 139, 151 Warrensburg, Illinois: cattle fed in, 165 Washita River: 28, 29 Washita Valley: 29 Wheeler County, Texas: 63

178 Whitfield, Jimmy: wrangles kids, 155 Whitman, Cadwallader Colden: brother of Charles, 50; enlisted in Union Army, 5 1 ; dies in battle, 52,53 Whitman, Charles Nicholas ("Charley"): surveys, 50, 146; serves Oldham County, 54, 156, 157; marries Pauline Lingenbrink, 150; LS ranch gift to, 150; hires McAllister, 150; LS dogs of, 151, 152; Christmas parties, 156, 162, 163; new headquarters, 157, 158; Hereford cattle, 157, 159, 160; fires cattle thieves, 161; dies i n Denver, 163, 164 Whitman, Colden Hoffman: son of Charles and Pauline, 152, 155 Whitman, Julia Hoffman. S E E Scott, Julia Hoffman W h i t m a n (Mrs. Lucien B.) Whitman, Matilda Nicholas (Mrs. Seth S.): mother of Charles, 50, 51, 52, 53 Whitman, Paul Lingenbrink: second son of Charles and Pauline, 157 Whitman, Pauline Lingenbrink (Mrs. Charles). SEE Kreismann,

The LS Brand Pauline Lingenbrink W h i t m a n (Mrs. Frederick H.) W h i t m a n , Seth S.: father of Charles, 50, 51 Wichita, Kansas: 92 Wildorado, Texas: 160 Willingham, Sheriff Cape: 60, 61 Wilson, Alex ("Scotty"): 57, 58 windmills: on LS, 146-147 W i n e Glass Slash U : cattle brand, 63, 64 Withington, Catherine (Mrs. Cecil H . ) : 161 Withington, Cecil H.: general manager of LS, 161, 163, 164 Woodruff, Lem: bartender, 110; kills Ed King, 111, 112, 113; cleared of murder charge, 120 Wright, Bob: 57, 58 W r i g h t and Farnsworth: Tascosa store, 57, 114 X I T Ranch: established, 34, 53, 54; fenced, 85, 95; prairie fire on, 93, 94, 95; mentioned, 89, 104, 121, 133, 135,145 Yellowstone River: 154 yucca: description of, 41, 42