Horse Tradin'

by Ben K. Green

  Preface

  Books have been written about horses in all the known languages; and if all the books written in English alone about horses could be loaded on a Conestoga wagon, it would take a six-horse hitch of Ohio-bred Percherons to untrack the wagon. Tribute has been paid to the breeders of rare individual horses in all breeds by the number of generous awards and distinctions for their accomplishments.

  Yet historians and writers of other categories have completely neglected the greatest brotherhood of mankind ever associated with the horse. Three generations of people have passed on since the beginning of the machine age, and today the thought of power automatically implies automobiles, tractors, etc., with origins in Detroit and the other manufacturing centers of America. But when horses and mules were the sole source of power for farming and all methods of transportation, it was necessary that big business be involved in the buying, selling, and distribution of horses and mules from the areas of the United States where they were raised to the different parts of the country where they were needed. In 1900 the value of horses and mules in the United States totaled more than that of all the cattle, sheep, goats, and hogs on the farms and ranches in the United States.

  The Mississippi Valley and all the territory east of the Mississippi Valley did not produce more than a small number of the horses and mules that were needed in their own territory. The middle west and northwest raised on the range vast numbers of draft horses that had to be marketed and distributed to other parts of the United States. The western and southwestern states produced most of the light-boned horses that were needed and practically all of the mules used in the southern states. Mules are by nature adapted to hotter climates and were much easier raised in the southwest; and by their nature again were more readily adaptable to the summer temperatures in the fields of the southern states.

  The marketing of vast numbers of horses and mules required men of good judgment with a general knowledge of the horse power needs of the various parts of the United States. The purchase, shipment, and sale of horses and mules demanded the use of millions of dollars in capital investments. The managers of the central markets, who were also the financers of the horse and mule industry, had to know the types of soil and the amount of rainfall in the various parts of their trade territory which would, in any case, cover several states. These men also had to have a thorough knowledge of the crops to be grown and of the seasons of the year when the demand for horses and mules was best in each locality.

  For a big dealer in a central market to be successful he also had to acquire a keen understanding of human nature, since he was in a sense the wholesale dealer relying on country shippers to furnish him with stock and then ship them out on account to local dealers to be sold to farmers. None of the knowledge needed by a high-class horse and mule dealer could be learned from books or schools, and it would be well understood that these men were usually middle age or over.

  Last but not least, he had to be a man with a lot of nerve, who was willing to back his own judgment and that of his buyers and to face the risks involved in shipping, loading, and unloading (together with the possibility of various shipping diseases) that were a hazard of the business. There were necessarily other risks in collecting for the mules that were shipped out to be sold in the country by local dealers. It is easy to see that with money going out in both directions it took larger amounts of capital, accompanied by a good nerve and judgment, to be a successful central market dealer.

  A number of central markets (Chicago, Kansas City, St. Louis, Memphis, Tenn., Ft. Worth, Denver, etc.) sprang up after the Civil War; before the 1900’s they were financed by horse and mule dealers and conducted on the highest ethical basis of good business. These were men of keen judgment and good finance, who in turn picked men who knew horses and mules and were well distributed over the states that had the most stock. Most any good, responsible horse and mule man could go to one of the central markets and get a big dealer furnish him a checkbook. There were never any written contracts. Generally, a short visit and a handshake could seal a partnership that might endure for a lifetime. The horse and mule buyer from the country carried the big dealer’s checkbook and bought horses and mules in whatever number they were available in his territory at prices that would yield a profit. The profit was usually split fifty-fifty between the buyer who rode the country and bought the stock and his partner in the central market who furnished the money for purchase and all expenses such as transportation, feed bills, shipping, etc., as well as the contacts for the sale of the livestock.

  A good country horse and mule buyer needed to have a thorough knowledge of the many classes that he would be offered while buying in the country. There are no more models and types of vehicles today than there were horses and mules for specific purposes when they were the means of power and transportation. A country buyer who rode up on a mixed lot of horses and mules would need to know what number of them would go for farm “chunks,” and which would be good enough for heavy draft to go to city streets for dray wagons; and if there was a team of nice wagon horses that were generally thought of as being light draft that would move a load at a trot he needed to recognize them for what they were worth. There might also be a horse good enough to go for a hunter or jumper or maybe a light harness team for fancy driving, and many other classes that could all be mixed up in some farmer’s lot or rancher’s pasture; and in most cases a good country buyer would strike an average price and take the bunch. Knowing where to place them was part of his central market partner’s operation—but they had to be brought to where each horse would stand on his own average price and make a profit. A good country buyer was often referred to as a man that would bid on anything that walked.

  This same dealer many times had customer accounts in the farming regions of the agricultural part of the United States that were short on work stock. These customers would come to the auctions at the central markets or might even place an order for so many carloads of horses and mules of given weights, ages, heights, and sometimes even designate the colors they wanted. These customer accounts were usually sold on credit and financed until they had sold the horses and mules in teams to their customer, the farmer, who might have been from one to two hundred or two to three thousand miles from where the teams he purchased were raised.

  History heretofore has ignored these men of finance, foresight, and brains who actually furnished the distribution and finance for the horse power of early America.

  The next class of dealer was the good, responsible, solid citizen who lived in the county seat or other better town of the farming areas of the United States. He had his regular customers, whether plantation owners who used several hundred mules or his neighbor farmer who only had a team or two. He shipped his mules and horses from the central markets and in most cases guaranteed them satisfactory for whatever purpose he sold them for. He usually took in trade the older or worn-out or horses or mules that were unsatisfactory for any reason in trade and drew the difference in cash or notes or maybe even other classes of livestock such as cattle. He was the sort of citizen who helped establish the first banks, general mercantiles, and who served on the local school board.

  His counterpart in the buying and shipping of horses and mules was the good live buyer, operating maybe on his own money or maybe with the central market money of some partner. By furnishing a market to the growers in the range country at a reasonable price, he handled thousands of head at a marginal profit in order to provide a market for the growers who had furnished him stock for many years and with whom he hoped to do business for as long as he was active in the horse and mule trade. The same individual might be attending an auction at some central market with orders from customers to ship them stock for resale; in the course of a day’s busin
ess at a central market generally from one to two thousand or more would be sold at auction in singles and teams. A good live buyer and seller would oft-times have contracts for several different classes of stock. He could by buying small cotton mules weighing about 800 to 900 pounds that he would probably be shipping to Georgia, maybe with no limit to the number he needed to fill his orders; and at the same time be buying fancy sugar mules that were a high-class trade weighing from 1,000 to 1,250 pounds that went to the sugar cane plantations. And while he was watching for these two types of mules coming through the auction, he might be looking for farm “chunk”-type mares to be shipped to some Dutch settlement hundreds of miles from where the mules were going. All these operations required large sums of money, keen judgment, and the highest order of human integrity.

  There were other members of this great brotherhood of horse and mule men who had very special kinds of customers and business. One example was the importer who bought breeding stock in foreign countries and imported them into the United States to be sold for the improvement of the quality of our domestic livestock.

  Another class of dealer catered to the “carriage trade,” a term that is still in use in modern times to denote quality. He handled only the finest of light harness and heavy harness horses (coach horses) for the carriage trade needed in the cities for transporting people in business to and from trains or other central points, as well as the horses that were used purely for driving pleasure. This same dealer would probably buy and sell a great many of the very choicest saddle horses to be used for pleasure and practical purposes by the city dwellers.

  In times of war, the veteran country horse buyers and horse dealers were relied on by the government to assemble thousands of horses for cavalry or artillery purposes, and thousands of mules for wagon and pack animals; and I say with due respect that neither America, England, France, nor any other nation that ever depended upon the American producer and the American buyer to furnish horses and mules has ever lost a battle for the want of horsepower.

  The local horse and mule business usually referred to as trading was carried on at the Country Trade’s Day—usually First Monday, or some other designated Monday in the separate towns where they had their local trade squares—and farmers gathered and brought in something they didn’t want to trade to somebody else for something he didn’t want, both of them with the full intention of cheating the other.

  Many humorous stories, most of which were true, originated from the instances that occurred at the local trade’s days, and the champion characters of such occasions were the road traders who were gypsys—though many were Irish-Gypsy crossbreeds or any other nondescript who cared to drift across the country and live in a camp wagon with his family, leading his stock to trade in the form of various kinds of “snide” stock hooked to the back of his wagon or many times having the children drive or lead the extra trading stock as they moved along the road from some trade ground or campsite down the creek bank all over the farming regions of the United States. This form of horse trader was opposed to work and unacquainted with the principles of honesty, but had an ever-abiding sense of humor and light-heartedness as long as he managed to cheat a few farmers and other traders sufficiently to keep in a good supply of groceries and tobacco and a reasonable amount of hard whisky.

  I claim to be one of the few men left this side of walking-cane age who took advantage of early educational opportunities around the wagonyards, livery stables, and mule barns that afforded me a genuine wagonyard background. No modern-day horseman will ever have the opportunity to gain such inside knowledge of the horse business since the passing of these old institutions.

  These Hoss Trades of Yesteryear are retold just as they occurred during my early years of experience as a horse trader. Nothing has been added or left out in order to varnish them for modern reading. It is my hope that they will add to your pleasure, and possibly cause many of you to reminisce over some humorous incidents that may have occurred to you in your experiences with horses and horse traders.

  BEN K. GREEN

  Contents

  Gypsy Hoss Trade

  Rebel Commander

  Homer’s Last Mule

  Nubbin’

  Angel

  Maniac Mule

  Matched Mares

  The Rockcrusher and the Mule

  Poor Heifers—The Judge—Wild Mules

  A Road Horse for a Broodmare

  Cowboy Trades for a Wagon ‘n’ Team

  Horse from Round Rock

  Easter Lily

  Mule Colts

  Mine Mules

  When Big Horses Went Out of Style—Almost

  Traveling Mare

  The Parson’s Mare, Bessie

  The Gray Mules

  The Schoolmarm and Ol’ Nothin’

  Gypsy Hoss Trade

  My family had a high standard to raise children by, and as soon as they could tell that one wasn’t going to be a credit to the family name, they shipped him West—which explains why I left home at such a tender age. After I was full grown and was an experienced cowboy and horse trader of about sixteen years old, I’d drift back to the farming country to visit my kinfolks, rattle my spurs, and loll around the farm boys.

  I rode one good horse on this particular trip which was going to last about thirty days, and led another one that I hated—and only rode occasionally to rest my good horse. This horse was one of the few paints I had ever owned or rode. He was a nice-made horse and had a very stylish way of traveling. He walked and trotted just like he couldn’t hardly stand to hit the ground. This beautiful paint horse had more bad habits than any horse I think I ever had. With all his style—and at that time his color was popular, too—he had about as much sense as a weak-minded West Texas jackrabbit. He was hard to saddle, hard to mount, and because he was so snorty, snaky, and boogery, he was hard to ride—although he was not bad to buck.

  One of the worst of his many bad characteristics was the way he pulled back when you tied him. He broke his bridle reins and the headstall of his bridle several times, and I had made a habit of tying him with a rope halter. He had his head pretty well skinned up around his ears and across his nose from settin’ back when he was tied hard and fast to a gentle telephone pole or a nice big tree that would hold him.

  While I was visiting, I had let him out in a little pasture, and in a few days the skinned places around on his head had healed up and peeled off; he had a little bit of grass bloom on him and was in nice shape to trade off. On Trades Day in Greenville, Texas, I got up early in the morning, rode him pretty hard about fifteen miles into town, and came in on the trade square with some sweat and lather showing around on him.

  It was middle morning, and the trade square was covered with work horses, work mules, the general run of milk cows, wagonloads of pigs, and so forth that might be seen at any trades day. Very few saddle horses were in sight.

  I moseyed around awhile on my horse and found a trader’s wagon with a number of saddle horses eating fresh hay out of the wagon. There was a good dappled gray gelding about fifteen hands high, in hard, sound flesh, and he was properly shod. The hair was rubbed short over his loins, there was a light mark on each side where the cinch ring of the saddle had rubbed, and you could tell by his general appearance that he was very much a usin’ horse.

  Pretty soon the trader spotted me looking at his horses and came over. He walked around my paint and asked: “You want to trade stock?”—which was the usual way of opening up conversation.

  I told him that I wasn’t hurtin’ to trade, that I was pretty well mounted, but that I did like the looks of the gray horse. He made an awfully big speech about the gray horse but wound up by saying that he couldn’t trade him for a few days yet because he had made a man a proposition and had promised to wait until he heard from him. That was pretty rare and a little hard to believe, but still I didn’t know any different, so I looked around the wagon. On the other side tied to the front wheel was a real nice bay mare. She was
about fourteen-two, which was about the size of my paint, and she was well kept and very gentle.

  This little short, fat, squatty trader had every appearance of being an Irishman or some other breed of white man. He suggested to me that this was a mighty nice mare; he had known her a long time and knew her to be nice and gentle. He untied the little bay mare, jumped on her bareback, rode her off across the trade ground and back toward me. She traveled nice and smooth, had clean legs, and was a very nice kind of a little mare. When I was a boy, there were hundreds of horses that had never been ridden bareback, and when a horse would ride bareback it was proof of its gentleness—and it was generally assumed that it would ride even better with a saddle.

  I got down, looked in her mouth, and she was about an honest eight-year-old. Her feet and legs were exceptionally clean, and she didn’t give any appearance of ever having been used hard or mistreated. The trader asked to ride my horse, so I handed him the reins and he rode off. The paint horse wasn’t shod and was a little tenderfooted. The trader rode back, got off, and said he thought this would be a pretty nice horse if I had some shoes on him—that he was too sore to travel. The trader didn’t know it, but that horse came nearer to traveling when you could stand to ride him tenderfooted than he would have shod.

  We had quite a visit, and I finally gave him $20 boot. He took the halter off the little mare and I took my bridle off the paint, unsaddled him, and pitched my blanket and saddle on the bay mare. I reached under her and started drawing the cinch up. All of a sudden she swelled up like a toy balloon, walled her eyes, bawled, ran backward for about twenty feet, fell over on her side, and started groaning. I looked over at the trader and he showed every expression of shock and surprise and appeared to be terribly embarrassed. He said he didn’t know that a nice mare could act so bad.

  My first fast young impulse was to stomp her head in the ground or kick her in the belly and make her get up. About the time I was about to hit her, the trader yelled: “Wait a minute!”