I sold my land in Live Oak county and all of my Beeville property, and paid everything I owed. In 1912 I moved from Dickens to San Patricio county, and went to work in the Tax Assessor's office for Chris Rachal, who was assessor at that time. In 1916 I was elected Tax Assessor for San Patricio county, and am still holding it down, and hope I will be able to hold it down a few years longer. November 27th, 1921, I took C. T. Harmon to San Antonio in my old reliable Ford, to attend the Old Time Trail Drivers' Convention with no intention whatever to attend myself, but Charlie persuaded me to go over to the hall with him, and I met so many of the old timers it made me feel good, so I walked right up and joined and paid my dues, received a badge, and was as happy as a lark, and am very proud I belong to the Association. I shall always take off my hat to the old timers of Texas. Too many people never give them credit for anything, much less for blazing the way for the development of the greatest state in the Union, Texas. May God bless them. is my prayer. NOTED QUANTRELL WAS WITH HERD ON TRAIL Dr. J. Hargus, of Dimmit County I was born in Washington county, Mo. My parents were T. J. and M. A. Hargus. In 1854 we moved to Texas and settled in Caldwell county, near Lockhart, when I was just a small boy. Then my father went into the cow business. He died in 1858 and was buried near Lockhart, Texas. My mother married Rev. W. H. Farmer in 1860, who was the grandfather of "Farmer" Jennings, the present secretary of the Old Time Trail Drivers' Association. In 1860 we moved to the present site of Martindale. Here my stepfather traded his holdings for beef cattle and we started up the trail in March, 1866. We traveled the lower trail, passing through Austin, Waco, Dallas and Sherman and crossed at Talbot's Ferry, which, I believe, is the present site of Denison. Our cart drivers consisted of myself, two stepbrothers, R. C. and M. K. Farmer, and a nephew, Cyrus Robinson. The hired hands were Neal Barefield, Dave Hall and Watkins, also a Confederate soldier, C. C. Gibbs, and a man who called himself Porter. When we reached Waco, we camped on a little creek, at which time we had a fight with a negro band in which my stepfather was badly cut. After this nothing of particular importance happened until we crossed the Red River; it was very much swollen on account of recent rains. The herd ahead of us belonged to Millett, Lane and Colonel Meyers. Their cattle would not take to the water under any circumstances, but when we came up with our cattle they crossed the river as if it were a little brook. The cattle of Millett and Lane were placed right at the heels of our herd, as well as Colonel Meyers', then they passed over without any trouble. Since the negro would not ferry the people across, they were left stranded on the banks. of the Red River. Several of us cowboys tried to swim across, the stream being about three hundred yards wide, with very high waves, but none were successful except R. C. Farmer and myself and I only upon second trial, as my first horse drowned and I was forced to another. We two had our hands full, as we had to sing to about six thousand head of cattle in order to keep them together. It was midnight before any of the others could cross over. This was a pretty cold job, as it was in the early part of April and was rather cool, and we had on only our shirts. After spending two or three days there we had no trouble until we reached the Kansas and Missouri line, where we found Mr. Daugherty tied to a tree after being whipped by some people of Kansas and Missouri. They claimed our cattle would give their cattle the Texas fever; this was the first time we had ever heard of this. My stepfather was well acquainted in Newton and Jasper counties, Mo., where he had lived several years and obtained permission to enter Missouri, providing he would pay for all cattle that died within ten miles of his camp. We located in Jasper county, Mo., the present site of Joplin, Mo., where we herded cattle all summer. When we reached the Missouri line, Porter left us, claiming that he had to go back to Kentucky. He afterwards proved to be Quantrell, the noted guerrilla. I wish to say that W. H. Farmer, our worthy secretary's grandfather, drove cattle across the plains in the early fifties, long before this, so you see that our secretary is more than worthy to be an old trailer's son. I returned to Texas in 1876 and since that time have been water bound by the Nueces River and the Rio Grande. I am at present residing in the county of Dimmit. This is God's country. LOST MANY THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS C. S. Brodbent, 110 East Craig Place, San Antonio, Texas In the early days of the trail drivers I lived in Summer county, Kansas. Caldwell, in that county, was one of the chief herd rendezvous after running the gauntlet of the Indian Territory. From Caldwell the trail led north through Summer county to Wichita, Newton and Abilene, Kansas. There was no Wellington or Newton at the beginning and Wichita was but a frontier hamlet. We bought trail cattle and drove them to our farms and made good money, as we put up large quantities of hay and raised some corn. As winter came on, the trail cattle on the open range starved and froze by the thousands, and many owners met disastrous losses. The prevalent idea that the trail days were halcyon days of easy money making is erroneous. Many a man in comfortable circumstances in Texas became impoverished, and many a Kansas farmer who thought he was getting cattle dirt cheap from the trail, found himself a loser before spring by not having prepared enough feed. Living so near the trail I was near the center of this great industry and became acquainted with Texas cattle. owners and cowboys and, I suppose, became somewhat fascinated with the life, and in 1875 I located in the Rio Grande valley, in the Nueces and Devil's River country and about the last year of the Overland Drive, put up two herds and drove from Val Verde county to Indian Territory. Our cattle were dying from drouth and the drive was our only recourse. The venture was not a success. There was almost no demand in the Territory and the constant expense and Indian tax made sad inroads. I got out of this mess with a loss of over $10,000; not all, however was legitimate loss, for I heard of my brands being sold on the Kansas market, for which I never received any pay. There was some dishonesty in this trail driving. A trail boss who did not reach his destination with an equal or greater number than he started with was considered incompetent. Hence ranchers along the trail made bitter complaints of moving herders "incorporating" their stock. On the other hand many of the cattle. lost from the herds were picked up by these ranchers, which partially recouped their losses thereby. We had no Cattle Raisers' Association as we have now, and the business of the cattle trail was, in its nature, not such as encouraged a high standard of honesty, though many of the drivers and owners were of the strictest and loftiest moral character. It is perhaps a surprising feature of the cattle drive that the owners of many herds that illegitimately increased the most on what they made a piratical journey north, went broke, and some of the most noted "cattle kings" became herdsmen or dropped into oblivion. A considerable number of Texas home ranchers got pay for the cattle they had sold to drivers. In some cases losses were unavoidable—in other cases dishonesty. The most fortunate ranchers in the increase of herds in those open range days, were, I think, those bordering on the Gulf coast. Cattle drifting from the north before winter storms, could drift no further, and I have often been told that some of the greatest fortunes there were based on drift cattle. The Texas fence law and railroads obliterated the Texas cattle trail, and in its passing there should be no cause for regret. The old-time cowboy had heroic attributes, was generous, brave and ever ready to alleviate personal suffering, share his last crust, his blanket and often more important, his canteen. He spent his wages freely and not always wisely, and many became an easy prey to gambling and other low resorts. Some among them became leading men in law, art and science-even in theology, proving again that it is not in the vocation but in the man, that causes him to blossom and bring a fruitage of goodness, honor and godly living. This screed is not much of a story of the trail, but you will have enough recitals of hairbreadth escapes from Indians, floods, lightning and accidents, enough of suffering from cold, heat, hunger, thirst and dust, and this variety may be one of the species of your book. You will also hear many amusing incidents for fun and frolic formed a part of the cowboys' life-many pathetic stories, too, for sickness and death followed the trail. But I had seen such before trail days when wearing a soldier's uniform, and I do not care to dwell thereon. Paraphrasing a favorite stanza: Cowboy rest, thy labor o'er. Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking; Days of toil and nights of waking. |