Cattle Brands: A Collection of Western Camp-Fire Stories

by Andy Adams

  XIII

  A QUESTION OF POSSESSION

  Along in the 80's there occurred a question of possession in regardto a brand of horses, numbering nearly two hundred head. Courts hadfigured in former matters, but at this time they were not appealed to,owing to the circumstances. This incident occurred on leasedIndian lands unprovided with civil courts,--in a judicial sense,"No-Man's-Land." At this time it seemed that _might_ graced thewoolsack, while on one side Judge Colt cited his authority, only to bereversed by Judge Parker, breech-loader, short-barreled, a full-choketen bore. The clash of opinions between these two eminent westernauthorities was short, determined, and to the point.

  A man named Gray had settled in one of the northwest counties in Texaswhile it was yet the frontier, and by industry and economy of himselfand family had established a comfortable home. As a ranchman he hadraised the brand of horses in question. The history of this man issomewhat obscured before his coming to Texas. But it was known andadmitted that he was a bankrupt, on account of surety debts which hewas compelled to pay for friends in his former home in Kentucky. Manya good man had made similar mistakes before him. His neighbors spokewell of him in Texas, and he was looked upon as a good citizen ingeneral.

  Ten years of privation and hardship, in their new home, had been metand overcome, and now he could see a ray of hope for the better. Thelittle prosperity which was beginning to dawn upon himself and familymet with a sudden shock, in the form of an old judgment, which healways contended his attorneys had paid. In some manner this judgmentwas revived, transferred to the jurisdiction of his district, and anexecution issued against his property. Sheriff Ninde of this countywas not as wise as he should have been. When the execution was placedin his hands, he began to look about for property to satisfy thejudgment. The exemption laws allowed only a certain number of gentlehorses, and as any class of range horses had a cash value then, thisbrand of horses was levied on to satisfy the judgment.

  The range on which these horses were running was at this time an openone, and the sheriff either relied on his reputation as a bad man, orprobably did not know any better. The question of possession did notbother him. Still this stock was as liable to range in one county asanother. There is one thing quite evident: the sheriff had overlookedthe nature of this man Gray, for he was no weakling, inclined to sitdown and cry. It was thought that legal advice caused him to take thestep he did, and it may be admitted, with no degree of shame, thatadvice was often given on lines of justice if not of law, in the LoneStar State. There was a time when the decisions of Judge Lynch in thatState had the hearty approval of good men. Anyhow, Gray got a fewof his friends together, gathered his horses without attractingattention, and within a day's drive crossed into the Indian Territory,where he could defy all the sheriffs in Texas.

  When this cold fact first dawned on Sheriff Ninde, he could hardlycontrol himself. With this brand of horses five or six days aheadof him he became worried. The effrontery of any man to deny hisauthority--the authority of a duly elected sheriff--was a reflectionon his record. His bondsmen began to inquire into the situation;in case the property could not be recovered, were they liable asbondsmen? Things looked bad for the sheriff.

  The local papers in supporting his candidacy for this office had oftenspoken of him and his chief deputy as human bloodhounds,--a terrorto evil doers. Their election, they maintained, meant a strictenforcement of the laws, and assured the community that a better erawould dawn in favor of peace and security of life and property. Nindewas resourceful if anything. He would overtake those horses, overpowerthe men if necessary, and bring back to his own bailiwick that brandof horse-stock. At least, that was his plan. Of course Gray mightobject, but that would be a secondary matter. Sheriff Ninde would taketime to do this. Having made one mistake, he would make another toright it.

  Gray had a brother living in one of the border towns of Kansas, andit was thought he would head for this place. Should he take the horsesinto the State, all the better, as they could invoke the courts ofanother State and get other sheriffs to help.

  Sixty years of experience with an uncharitable world had made Graydistrustful of his fellow man, though he did not wish to be so.So when he reached his brother in Kansas without molestation, heexercised caution enough to leave the herd of horses in the territory.The courts of this neutral strip were Federal, and located at pointsin adjoining States, but there was no appeal to them in civil cases.United States marshals looked after the violators of law against thegovernment.

  Sheriff Ninde sent his deputy to do the Sherlock act for him as soonas the horses were located. This the deputy had no trouble in doing,as this sized bunch of horses could not well be hidden, nor was thereany desire on the part of Gray to conceal them.

  The horses were kept under herd day and night in a near-by pasture.Gray usually herded by day, and two young men, one his son, herdedby night. Things went on this way for a month. In the mean timethe deputy had reported to the sheriff, who came on to personallysupervise the undertaking. Gray was on the lookout, and was aware ofthe deputy's presence. All he could do was to put an extra man on herdat night, arm his men well, and await results.

  The deputy secretly engaged seven or eight bad men of the long-hairedvariety, such as in the early days usually graced the frontiertowns with their presence. This brand of human cattle were not thedisturbing element on the border line of civilization that writersof that period depicted, nor the authors of the bloodcurdling dramaportrayed. The average busy citizen paid little attention to them,considering them more ornamental than useful. But this was about thestripe that was wanted and could be secured for the work in hand. Agood big bluff was considered sufficient for the end in view. Thiscrowd was mounted, armed to the teeth, and all was ready. Secrecy wasenjoined on every one. Led by the sheriff and his deputy, they rodeout about midnight to the pasture and found the herd and herders.

  "What do you fellows want here?" demanded young Gray, as Ninde and hisposse rode up.

  "We want these horses," answered the sheriff.

  "On what authority?" demanded Gray.

  "This is sufficient authority for you," said the sheriff, flashinga six-shooter in young Gray's face. All the heelers to the play nowjumped their horses forward, holding their six-shooters over theirheads, ratcheting the cylinders of their revolvers by cocking andlowering the hammers, as if nothing but a fight would satisfy theirdemand for gore.

  "If you want these horses that bad," said young Gray, "I reckon youcan get them for the present. But I want to tell you one thing--thereare sixty head of horses here under herd with ours, outside the'96' brand. They belong to men in town. If you take them out of thispasture to-night, they might consider you a horse-thief and deal withyou accordingly. You know you are doing this by force of arms. Youhave no more authority here than any other man, except what men andguns give you. Good-night, sir, I may see you by daylight."

  Calling off his men, they let little grass grow under their feet asthey rode to town. The young man roused his father and uncle, who inturn went out and asked their friends to come to their assistance.Together with the owners of the sixty head, by daybreak they hadeighteen mounted and armed men.

  The sheriff paid no attention to the advice of young Gray, but whenday broke he saw that he had more horses than he wanted, as there wasa brand or two there he had no claim on, just or unjust, and they mustbe cut out or trouble would follow. One of the men with Ninde knew ofa corral where this work could be done, and to this corral, which wasat least fifteen miles from the town where the rescue party of Grayhad departed at daybreak, they started. The pursuing posse soon tookthe trail of the horses from where they left the pasture, and as theyheaded back toward Texas, it was feared it might take a long, hardride to overtake them. The gait was now increased to the gallop, notfast, probably covering ten miles an hour, which was considered bettertime than the herd could make under any circumstances.

  After an hour's hard riding, it was evident, from the trail left, thatthey were not
far ahead. The fact that they were carrying off withthem horses that were the private property of men in the rescue partydid not tend to fortify the sheriff in the good opinion of any of therescuers. It was now noticed that the herd had left the trail in thedirection of a place where there had formerly been a ranch house, thecorrals of which were in good repair, as they were frequently used forbranding purposes. On coming in sight of these corrals, Gray'sparty noticed that some kind of work was being carried on, so theyapproached it cautiously. The word came back that it was the horses.

  Gray said to his party, "Keep a short distance behind me. I'll openthe ball, if there is any." To the others of his party, it seemed thatthe supreme moment in the old man's life had come. Over his determinedfeatures there spread a smile of the deepest satisfaction, as thoughsome great object in life was about to be accomplished. Yet in thatdetermined look it was evident that he would rather be shot down likea dog than yield to what he felt was tyranny and the denial of hisrights. When his party came within a quarter of a mile of the corrals,it was noticed that Ninde and his deputies ceased their work, mountedtheir horses, and rode out into the open, the sheriff in the lead, andhalted to await the meeting.

  Gray rode up to within a hundred feet of Ninde's posse, anddismounting handed the reins of his bridle to his son. He advancedwith a steady, even stride, a double-barreled shotgun held as thoughhe expected to flush a partridge. At this critical juncture, his partyfollowing him up, it seemed that reputations as bad men were due toget action, or suffer a discount at the hands of heretofore peaceablemen. Every man in either party had his arms where they would beinstantly available should the occasion demand it. When Gray camewithin easy hailing distance, his challenge was clear and audible toevery one. "What in hell are you doing with my horses?"

  "I've got to have these horses, sir," answered Ninde.

  "Do you realize what it will take to get them?" asked Gray, as hebrought his gun, both barrels at full cock, to his shoulder. "Bat aneye, or crook your little finger if you dare, and I'll send your soulglimmering into eternity, if my own goes to hell for it." There wassomething in the old man's voice that conveyed the impression thatthese were not idle words. To heed them was the better way, if humanlife had any value.

  "Well, Mr. Gray," said the sheriff, "put down your gun and take yourhorses. This has been a bad piece of business for us--take your horsesand go, sir. My bondsmen can pay that judgment, if they have to."

  Gray's son rode around during the conversation, opened the gate, andturned out the horses. One or two men helped him, and the herd wassoon on its way to the pasture.

  As the men of his party turned to follow Gray, who had remounted, hepresented a pitiful sight. His still determined features, relaxed fromthe high tension to which he had been nerved, were blanched to thecolor of his hair and beard. It was like a drowning man--with thestrength of two--when rescued and brought safely to land, faintingthrough sheer weakness. A reprieve from death itself or the blood ofhis fellow man upon his hands had been met and passed. It was somelittle time before he spoke, then he said: "I reckon it was best, theway things turned out, for I would hate to kill any man, but I wouldgladly die rather than suffer an injustice or quietly submit to what Ifelt was a wrong against me."

  It was some moments before the party became communicative, as theyall had a respect for the old man's feelings. Ninde was on the uneasyseat, for he would not return to the State, though his posse returnedsomewhat crestfallen. It may be added that the sheriff's bondsmen,upon an examination into the facts in the case, concluded to standa suit on the developments of some facts which their examination haduncovered in the original proceedings, and the matter was dropped,rather than fight it through in open court.

  XIV

  THE STORY OF A POKER STEER

  He was born in a chaparral thicket, south of the Nueces River inTexas. It was a warm night in April, with a waning moon hanging like ahunter's horn high overhead, when the subject of this sketch drewhis first breath. Ushered into a strange world in the fulfillment ofnatural laws, he lay trembling on a bed of young grass, listening tothe low mooings of his mother as she stood over him in the joy andpride of the first born. But other voices of the night reached hisears; a whippoorwill and his mate were making much ado over theselection of their nesting-place on the border of the thicket. Thetantalizing cry of a coyote on the nearest hill caused his mother toturn from him, lifting her head in alarm, and uneasily scenting thenight air.

  On thus being deserted, and complying with an inborn instinct offear, he made his first attempt to rise and follow, and althoughunsuccessful it caused his mother to return and by her gentle nosingsand lickings to calm him. Then in an effort to rise he struggled tohis knees, only to collapse like a limp rag. But after several suchattempts he finally stood on his feet, unsteady on his legs, andtottering like one drunken. Then his mother nursed him, and as the newmilk warmed his stomach he gained sufficient assurance of his footingto wiggle his tail and to butt the feverish caked udder with hisvelvety muzzle. After satisfying his appetite he was loath to lie downand rest, but must try his legs in toddling around to investigate thisstrange world into which he had been ushered. He smelled of the richgreen leaves of the mesquite, which hung in festoons about his birthchamber, and trampled underfoot the grass which carpeted the bower.

  After several hours' sleep he was awakened by a strange twitteringabove him. The moon and stars, which were shining so brightly at themoment of his birth, had grown pale. His mother was the first torise, but heedless of her entreaties he lay still, bewildered by theincreasing light. Animals, however, have their own ways of teachingtheir little ones, and on the dam's first pretense of deserting him hefound his voice, and uttering a plaintive cry, struggled to his feet,which caused his mother to return and comfort him.

  Later she enticed him out of the thicket to enjoy his first sun bath.The warmth seemed to relieve the stiffness in his joints, and aftereach nursing during the day he attempted several awkward capers inhis fright at a shadow or the rustle of a leaf. Near the middle of theafternoon, his mother being feverish, it was necessary that she shouldgo to the river and slake her thirst. So she enticed him to a placewhere the grass in former years had grown rank, and as soon as he laydown she cautioned him to be quiet during her enforced absence, andthough he was a very young calf he remembered and trusted in her. Itwas several miles to the river, and she was gone two whole hours, butnot once did he disobey. A passing ranchero reined in and rode withinthree feet of him, but he did not open an eye or even twitch an ear toscare away a fly.

  The horseman halted only long enough to notice the flesh-marks. Thecalf was a dark red except for a white stripe which covered the rightside of his face, including his ear and lower jaw, and continued ina narrow band beginning on his withers and broadening as it extendedbackward until it covered his hips. Aside from his good color theranchman was pleased with his sex, for a steer those days was betterthan gold. So the cowman rode away with a pleased expression on hisface, but there is a profit and loss account in all things.

  When the calf's mother returned she rewarded her offspring forhis obedience, and after grazing until dark, she led him into thechaparral thicket and lay down for the night. Thus the first day ofhis life and a few succeeding ones passed with unvarying monotony. Butwhen he was about a week old his mother allowed him to accompany herto the river, where he met other calves and their dams. She was but athree-year-old, and he was her first baby; so, as they threaded theirway through the cattle on the river-bank the little line-back calf wasthe object of much attention. The other cows were jealous of him, butone old grandmother came up and smelled of him benignantly, as if tosay, "Suky, this is a nice baby boy you have here."

  Then the young cow, embarrassed by so much attention, crossed theshallow river and went up among some hills where she had once rangedand where the vining mesquite grass grew luxuriantly. There they spentseveral months, and the calf grew like a weed, and life was one longsummer day. He could have lived there alwa
ys and been content, for hehad many pleasures. Other cows, also, brought their calves up tothe same place, and he had numerous playmates in his gambols on thehillsides. Among the other calves was a speckled heifer, whose damwas a great crony of his own mother. These two cows were almostinseparable during the entire summer, and it was as natural as thefalling of a mesquite bean that he should form a warm attachment forhis speckled playmate.

  But this June-time of his life had an ending when late in the fall anumber of horsemen scoured the hills and drove all the cattle down tothe river. It was the first round-up he had ever been in, so he keptvery close to his mother's side, and allowed nothing to separate himfrom her. When the outriders had thrown in all the cattle from thehills and had drifted all those in the river valley together, theymoved them back on an open plain and began cutting out. There weremany men at the work, and after all the cows and calves had been cutinto a separate herd, the other cattle were turned loose. Then withgreat shoutings the cows were started up the river to a branding-penseveral miles distant. Never during his life did the line-back calfforget that day. There was such a rush and hurrah among these horsementhat long before they reached the corrals the line-back's tonguelolled out, for he was now a very fat calf. Only once did he evencatch sight of his speckled playmate, who was likewise trembling likea fawn.

  Inside the corral he rested for a short time in the shade of thepalisades. His mother, however, scented with alarm a fire which wasbeing built in the middle of the branding-pen. Several men, who seemedto be the owners, rode through the corralled cows while the cruelirons were being heated. Then the man who directed the work orderedinto their saddles a number of swarthy fellows who spoke Spanish, andthe work of branding commenced.

  The line-back calf kept close to his mother's side, and as long aspossible avoided the ropers. But in an unguarded moment the noose of arope encircled one of his hind feet, and he was thrown upon his side,and in this position the mounted man dragged him up to the fire. Hismother followed him closely, but she was afraid of the men, and couldonly stand at a distance and listen to his piteous crying. The roper,when asked for the brand, replied, "Bar-circle-bar," for that was thebrand his mother bore. A tall quiet man who did the branding calledto a boy who attended the fire to bring him two irons; with one hestamped the circle, and with the other he made a short horizontal baron either side of it. Then he took a bloody knife from between histeeth and cut an under-bit from the calf's right ear, inquiring of theowner as he did so, "Do you want this calf left for a bull?"

  "No; yearlings will be worth fourteen dollars next spring. He's afirst calf--his mother's only a three-year-old."

  As he was released he edged away from the fire, forlorn looking. Hismother coaxed him over into a corner of the corral, where he droppedexhausted, for with his bleeding ear, his seared side, and a hundredshooting pains in his loins, he felt as if he must surely die. Hisdam, however, stood over him until the day's work was ended, and keptthe other cows from trampling him. When the gates were thrown open andthey were given their freedom, he cared nothing for it; he wanted todie. He did not attempt to leave the corral until after darkness hadsettled over the scene. Then with much persuasion he arose and limpedalong after his mother. But before he could reach the river, which wasat least half a mile away, he sank down exhausted. If he could onlyslake his terrible thirst he felt he might possibly survive, for thepain had eased somewhat. With every passing breeze of the night hecould scent the water, and several times in his feverish fancy heimagined he could hear it as it gurgled over its pebbly bed.

  Just at sunrise, ere the heat of the day fell upon him, he struggledto his feet, for he felt it was a matter of life and death with him toreach the river. At last he dragged his pain-racked body down to therippling water and lowered his head to drink, but it seemed as ifevery exertion tended to reopen those seared scars, and with the onething before him that he most desired, he moaned in misery. A littlefarther away was a deep pool. This he managed to crawl to, and therehe remained for a long time, for the water laved his wounds, and hedrank and drank. The sun now beat down on him fiercely, and he mustseek some shady place for the day, but he started reluctantly toleave, and when he reached the shallows, he turned back to the comfortof the pool and drank again.

  A thickety motte of chaparral which grew back from the scatteringtimber on the river afforded him the shelter and seclusion he wanted,for he dared not trust himself where the grown cattle congregatedfor the day's siesta. During all his troubles his mother had neverforsaken him, and frequently offered him the scanty nourishment ofher udder, but he had no appetite and could scarcely raise his eyes tolook at her. But time heals all wounds, and within a week he followedhis dam back into the hills where grew the succulent grama grass whichhe loved. There they remained for more than a month, and he met hisspeckled playmate again.

  One day a great flight of birds flew southward, and amidst the cawingof crows and the croaking of ravens the cattle which ranged beyondcame down out of the hills in long columns, heading southward. Theline-back calf felt a change himself in the pleasant day's atmosphere.His mother and the dam of the speckled calf laid their heads together,and after scenting the air for several minutes, they curved theirtails--a thing he had never seen sedate cows do before--and stampededoff to the south. Of course the line-back calf and his playmate wentalong, outrunning their mothers. They traveled far into the nightuntil they reached a chaparral thicket, south of the river, muchlarger than the one in which he was born. It was well they soughtits shelter, for two hours before daybreak a norther swept acrossthe range, which chilled them to the bone. When day dawned a mist wasfalling which incrusted every twig and leaf in crystal armor.

  There were many such northers during the first winter. The onemysterious thing which bothered him was, how it was that his mothercould always foretell when one was coming. But he was glad she could,for she always sought out some cosy place; and now he noticed that hiscoat had thickened until it was as heavy as the fur on a bear, and hebegan to feel a contempt for the cold. But springtime came very earlyin that southern clime, and as he nibbled the first tender bladesof grass, he felt an itching in his wintry coat and rubbed off greattufts of hair against the chaparral bushes. Then one night his mother,without a word of farewell, forsook him, and it was several monthsbefore he saw her again. But he had the speckled heifer yet for acompanion, when suddenly her dam disappeared in the same inexplicablemanner as had his own.

  He was a yearling now, and with his playmate he ranged up and down thevalley of the Nueces for miles. But in June came a heavy rain, almosta deluge, and nearly all the cattle left the valley for the hills, fornow there was water everywhere. The two yearlings were the last to go,but one morning while feeding the line-back got a ripe grass burr inhis mouth. Then he took warning, for he despised grass burrs, and thatevening the two cronies crossed the river and went up into the hillswhere they had ranged as calves the summer before Within a week, at alake which both well remembered, they met their mothers face to face.The steer was on the point of upbraiding his maternal relative fordeserting him, when a cream-colored heifer calf came up and nourisheditself at the cow's udder. That was too much for him. He understoodnow why she had left him, and he felt that he was no longer her baby.Piqued with mortification he went to a near-by knoll where the groundwas broken, and with his feet pawed up great clouds of dust whichsettled on his back until the white spot was almost obscured. The nextmorning he and the speckled heifer went up higher into the hills wherethe bigger steer cattle ranged. He had not been there the year before,and he had a great curiosity to see what the upper country was like.

  In the extreme range of the hills back from the river, the two spentthe entire summer, or until the first norther drove them down to thevalley. The second winter was much milder than the first one, snow andice being unknown. So when spring came again they were both very fat,and together they planned--as soon as the June rains came--to go ona little pasear over north on the Frio River. They had met others oftheir
kind from the Frio when out on those hills the summer before,and had found them decently behaved cattle.

  But though the outing was feasible and well planned, it was not to be.For after both had shed their winter coats, the speckled heifer was aspretty a two-year-old as ever roamed the Nueces valley or drank outof its river, and the line-back steer had many rivals. Almost dailyhe fought other steers of his own age and weight, who were payingaltogether too marked attention to his crony. Although he neveroutwardly upbraided her for it, her coquetry was a matter of no smallconcern with him. At last one day in April she forced matters toan open rupture between them. A dark red, arch-necked, curly-headedanimal came bellowing defiance across their feeding-grounds. Withouta moment's hesitation the line-back had accepted the challenge and hadlocked horns with this Adonis. Though he fought valiantly the battleis ever with the strong, and inch by inch he was forced backward. Whenhe realized that he must yield, he turned to flee, and his rival withone horn caught him behind the fore shoulder, cutting a cruel gashnearly a foot in length. Reaching a point of safety he halted, and ashe witnessed his adversary basking in the coquettish, amorous advancesof her who had been his constant companion since babyhood, his wrathwas uncontrollable. Kneeling, he cut the ground with his horns,throwing up clouds of dust, and then and there he renounced kith andkin, the speckled heifer and the Nueces valley forever. He firmlyresolved to start at once for the Frio country. He was a proudtwo-year-old and had always held his head high. Could his spiritsuffer the humiliation of meeting his old companions after suchdefeat? No! Hurling his bitterest curses on the amorous pair, heturned his face to the northward.

  On reaching the Nueces, feverish in anger, he drank sparingly,kneeling against the soft river's bank, cutting it with his horns, andmatting his forehead with red mud. It was a momentous day in his life.He distinctly remembered the physical pain he had suffered once in abranding-pen, but that was nothing compared to this. Surely his yearshad been few and full of trouble. He hardly knew which way to turn.Finally he concluded to lie down on a knoll and rest until nightfall,when he would start on his journey to the Frio. Just how he was toreach that country troubled him. He was a cautious fellow; he knew hemust have water on the way, and the rains had not yet fallen.

  Near the middle of the afternoon an incident occurred which changedthe whole course of his after-life. From his position on the knoll hewitnessed the approach of four horsemen who apparently were bent ondriving all the cattle in that vicinity out of their way. To get abetter view he arose, for it was evident they had no intention ofdisturbing him. When they had drifted away all the cattle for a mileon both sides of the river, one of the horsemen rode back and signaledto some one in the distance. Then the line-back steer saw somethingnew, for coming over the brow of the hill was a great column ofcattle. He had never witnessed such a procession of his kind before.When the leaders had reached the river, the rear was just coming overthe brow of the hill, for the column was fully a mile in length. Theline-back steer classed them as strangers, probably bound for theFrio, for that was the remotest country in his knowledge. As heslowly approached the herd, which was then crowding into the river, henoticed that they were nearly all two-year-olds like himself. Why notaccompany them? His resolution to leave the Nueces valley wasstill uppermost in his mind. But when he attempted to join in, adark-skinned man on a horse chased him away, cursing him in Spanishas he ran. Then he thought they must be exclusive, and wondered wherethey came from.

  But when the line-back steer once resolved to do anything, thedetermination became a consuming desire. He threw the very intensityof his existence into his resolution of the morning. He would leavethe Nueces valley with those cattle--or alone, it mattered not. Soafter they had watered and grazed out from the river, he followed ata respectful distance. Once again he tried to enter the herd, but anoutrider cut him off. The man was well mounted, and running his horseup to him he took up his tail, wrapped the brush around the pommel ofhis saddle, and by a dexterous turn of his horse threw him until hespun like a top. The horseman laughed. The ground was sandy, and whilethe throwing frightened him, never for an instant did it shake hisdetermination.

  So after darkness had fallen and the men had bedded their cattle forthe night, he slipped through the guard on night-herd and lay downamong the others. He complimented himself on his craftiness, but neverdreamed that this was a trail herd, bound for some other country threehundred miles beyond his native Texas. The company was congenial; itnumbered thirty-five hundred two-year-old steers like himself, andstrangely no one ever noticed him until long after they had crossedthe Frio. Then a swing man one day called his foreman's attention to astray, line-backed, bar-circle-bar steer in the herd. The foreman onlygave him a passing glance, saying, "Let him alone; we may get a jug ofwhiskey for him if some trail cutter don't claim him before we crossRed River."

  Now Red River was the northern boundary of his native State, andthough he was unconscious of his destination, he was delighted withhis new life and its constant change of scene. He also rejoiced thatevery hour carried him farther and farther from the Nueces valley,where he had suffered so much physical pain and humiliation. So forseveral months he traveled northward with the herd. He swam riversand grazed in contentment across flowery prairies, mesas and brokencountry. Yet it mattered nothing to him where he was going, for hisevery need was satisfied. These men with the herd were friendly tohim, for they anticipated his wants by choosing the best grazing, soarranging matters that he reached water daily, and selecting a drybed ground for him at night. And when strange copper-colored men withfeathers in their hair rode along beside the herd he felt no fear.

  The provincial ideas of his youth underwent a complete change withinthe first month of trail life. When he swam Red River with the leadersof the herd, he not only bade farewell to his native soil, but burnedall bridges behind him. To the line-back steer, existence on theNueces had been very simple. But now his views were broadening.Was not he a unit of millions of his kind, all forging forward likebrigades of a king's army to possess themselves of some unconqueredcountry? These men with whom he was associated were the vikings ofthe Plain. The Red Man was conquered, and, daily, the skulls of thebuffalo, his predecessors, stared vacantly into his face.

  By the middle of summer they reached their destination, for the cattlewere contracted to a cowman in the Cherokee Strip, Indian Territory.The day of delivery had arrived. The herd was driven into a pasturewhere they met another outfit of horsemen similar to their own. Thecattle were strung out and counted. The men agreed on the numbers. Butwatchful eyes scanned every brand as they passed in review, and themen in the receiving outfit called the attention of their employer tothe fact that there were several strays in the herd not in theroad brand. One of these strays was a line-back, bar-circle-bar,two-year-old steer. There were also others; when fifteen of them hadbeen cut out and the buyer asked the trail foreman if he was willingto include them in the bill of sale, the latter smilingly replied:"Not on your life, Captain. You can't keep them out of a herd. Down inmy country we call strays like them _poker steers_."

  And so there were turned loose in the Coldwater Pool, one of the largepastures in the Strip, fifteen strays. That night, in a dug-out onthat range, the home outfit of cowboys played poker until nearlymorning. There were seven men in the camp entitled to share in thisflotsam on their range, the extra steer falling to the foreman.Mentally they had a list of the brands, and before the game opened thestrays were divided among the participants. An animal was representedby ten beans. At the beginning the boys played cautiously, countingevery card at its true worth in a hazard of chance. But as the gamewore on and the more fortunate ones saw their chips increase, theweaker ones were gradually forced out. At midnight but five playersremained in the game. By three in the morning the foreman lost hislast bean, and ordered the men into their blankets, saying theymust be in their saddles by dawn, riding the fences, scattering andlocating the new cattle. As the men yawningly arose to obey, DickLarkin defiantly said to t
he winners, "I've just got ten beans left,and I'll cut high card with any man to see who takes mine or I takeone of his poker steers."

  "My father was killed in the battle of the Wilderness," replied Tex,"and I'm as game a breed as you are. I'll match your beans and pit youmy bar-circle-bar steer."

  "My sire was born in Ireland and is living yet," retorted BoldRichard. "Cut the cards, young fellow."

  "The proposition is yours--cut first yourself."

  The other players languidly returned to the table. Larkin cut a fivespot of clubs and was in the act of tearing it in two, when Tex turnedthe tray of spades. Thus, on the turn of a low card, the line-backsteer passed into the questionable possession of Dick Larkin. TheCherokee Strip wrought magic in a Texas steer. One or two winters inits rigorous climate transformed the gaunt long-horn into a marketablebeef. The line-back steer met the rigors of the first winter and byJune was as glossy as a gentleman's silk tile. But at that springround-up there was a special inspector from Texas, and no sooner didhis eye fall upon the bar-circle-bar steer than he opened his bookand showed the brand and his authority to claim him. When Dick Larkinasked to see his credentials, the inspector not only produced them,but gave the owner's name and the county in which the brand was amatter of record. There was no going back on that, and the Texas mantook the line-back steer. But the round-up stayed all night in thePool pasture, and Larkin made it his business to get on second guardin night-herding the cut. He had previously assisted in bedding downthe cattle for the night, and made it a point to see that the pokerthree-year-old lay down on the outer edge of the bed ground. The nextmorning the line-back steer was on his chosen range in the south endof the pasture. How he escaped was never known; there are ways andways in a cow country.

  At daybreak the round-up moved into the next pasture, the wagons, cutand saddle horses following. The special inspector was kept so busyfor the next week that he never had time to look over the winter driftand strays, which now numbered nearly two thousand cattle. When thework ended the inspector missed the line-back steer. He said nothing,however, but exercised caution enough to take what cattle he hadgathered up into Kansas for pasturage.

  When the men who had gone that year on the round-up on the westerndivision returned, there was a man from Reece's camp in the Strip,east on Black Bear, who asked permission to leave about a dozen cattlein the Pool. He was alone, and, saying he would bring another man withhim during the shipping season, he went his way. But when Reece's mencame back after their winter drift during the beef-gathering season,Bold Richard Larkin bantered the one who had left the cattle for apoker game, pitting the line-back three-year-old against a white pokercow then in the Pool pasture and belonging to the man from Black Bear.It was a short but spirited game. At its end the bar-circle-bar steerwent home with Reece's man. There was a protective code of honor amongrustlers, and Larkin gave the new owner the history of the steer.He told him that the brand was of record in McMullen County, Texas,warned him of special inspectors, and gave him other necessaryinformation.

  The men from the Coldwater Pool, who went on the eastern division ofthe round-up next spring, came back and reported having seen a certainline-back poker steer, but the bar-circle-bar had somehow changed,until now it was known as the _pilot wheel_. And, so report came back,in the three weeks' work that spring, the line-back pilot-wheel steerhad changed owners no less than five times. Late that fall word camedown from Fant's pasture up west on the Salt Fork to send a man or twoup there, as Coldwater Pool cattle had been seen on that range. Larkinand another lad went up to a beef round-up, and almost the first steerBold Richard laid his eyes on was an under-bit, line-back, once abar-circle-bar but now a pilot-wheel beef. Larkin swore by all thesaints he would know that steer in Hades. Then Abner Taylor calledBold Richard aside and told him that he had won the steer about a weekbefore from an Eagle Chief man, who had also won the beef from anotherman east on Black Bear during the spring round-up. The explanationsatisfied Larkin, who recognized the existing code among rustlers.

  The next spring the line-back steer was a five-year-old. Three wintersin that northern climate had put the finishing touches on him. He wasa beauty. But Abner Taylor knew he dared not ship him to a market, forthere he would have to run a regular gauntlet of inspectors. There wasanother chance open, however. Fant, Taylor's employer, had many Indiancontracts. One contract in particular required three thousand northernwintered cattle for the Fort Peck Indian Reservation in northeastMontana. Fant had wintered the cattle with which to fill this contracton his Salt Fork range in the Cherokee Strip. When the cowman castabout for a foreman on starting the herd for Fort Peck, the fact thatAbner Taylor was a Texan was sufficient recommendation with Fant. Andthe line-back beef and several other poker steers went along.

  The wintered herd of beeves were grazed across to Fort Peck in littleless than three months. On reaching the agency, the cattle were infine condition and ready to issue to the Indian wards of our Christiannation. In the very first allotment from this herd the line-back beefwas cut off with thirty others. It was fitting that he should die inhis prime. As the thirty head were let out of the agency corral, agreat shouting arose among the braves who were to make the kill. Amurderous fire from a hundred repeaters was poured into the runningcattle. Several fell to their knees, then rose and struggled on. Thescene was worthy of savages. As the cattle scattered several Indianssingled out the line-back poker steer. One specially well-mountedbrave ran his pony along beside him and pumped the contents ofhis carbine into the beef's side. With the blood frothing from hisnostrils, the line-back turned and catching the horse with his horndisemboweled him. The Indian had thrown himself on the side of hismount to avoid the sudden thrust, and, as the pony fell, he was pinnedunder him. With admirable tenacity of life the pilot-wheel steerstaggered back and made several efforts to gore the dying horse andhelpless rider, but with a dozen shots through his vitals, he sankdown and expired. A destiny, over which he had no seeming control,willed that he should yield to the grim reaper nearly three thousandmiles from his birthplace on the sunny Nueces.

  Abner Taylor, witnessing the incident, rode over to a companion andinquired: "Did you notice my line-back poker steer play his lasttrump? From the bottom of my heart I wish he had killed the Indianinstead of the pony."