A Lone Star cowboy : being fifty years experience in the saddle as cowboy, detective and New Mexico ranger, on every cow trail in the wooly old West ...

Front matter

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A BOOKLET OF OLD FAVORITE COW-GAMP SONGS

ENTITLED:

Preface

This volume is to take the place of *'A Texas Cowboy," the copyright of which has expired. Since its first publication, in 1885, nearly a million copies have been sold. In this, ' ' A Lone Star Cowboj^," much cattle history is given which has never before been published.

CHAS. A. SIRINGO,

Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Being the recollections of a life-time spent in the saddle as COWBOY, DETECTIVE, and NEW MEXICO RANGER.

Giving the true history of the cattle business, and the building up of the Great West by the "Fool hoe-men," as the cowboys called the new settlers squatting on the open cattle ranges.

Also the history of the noted Chisholm Cattle Trail, from the Gulf coast of Texas, to Kansas ; as well as the doings of some "Bad" cowboys, including "Billy the Kid," "Kid Curry,'' and "Wess" Harding, the killer of thirty-one men.

By Chas, A. Siringo

Author of "A Texas Cowboy" and "A Cowboy Detective. ' '

Chapter I. My First Cowboy Experience

TWO YEARS IN YANKEE-LAND, AND THE

CITY OF NEW ORLEANS

The writer was born and brought up amidst wild, long-horn cattle and mustangs in the extreme southern part of the Lone Star State.

I first saw the light of day, and had my first warm meal on the seventh day of February, 1855, in the county of Matagorda, Texas.

At the age of four I got my first book "larnin" from a '' Yankee" school-master by the name of Hale. A year later war broke out between the North and South, and my beloved schoolmaster hiked north to join the Yankee army.

During the four years of bloody rebellion I saw much fighting on land and water, along the gulf coast, between the Federals and Confederates. Also saw many dead and wounded soldiers.

During the war our food consisted of fish, oysters, corn-bread and sweet potatoes. Coffee was made of parched corn and sweet potatoes.

When the cruel war was over, and I was eleven years of age, in the spring of 1867, 1 became a full-fledged Cowboy, wearing broad sombrero, highheeled boots, Mexican spurs, and the dignity of a full-grown man. I had ''hired out" to run cattle for a Mr. Faldien, at a wage of ten dollars per month. During the season our work was mostly around Lake Austin, and on Bay prairie, where now stands the thriving little city of Bay City.

The country was literally covered with wild mustangs, and long-horn cattle. We did nothing but round up and brand mavericks from one to lour years old, and I soon became handy with the lasso, as these Avild mavericks had to be lassoed, thrown and branded with Mr. Faldien 's brand. The un-branded c«ittle were public property, and our object was to "Make hay while the sun shined" by putting Mr. Faldien 's brand on as many cattle as possible.

There were many other branding outfits in liic field, doing the same for themselves.

In 1868 my widowed mother married a "Yankee," and sold our home and cattle. The land brought seventy-five cents an acre, and the cattle one dollar a head. Then we boarded a Morgan Steampship at Indianola, and started for Yankeedom by way of Galveston and New Orleans; thence up the Mississijjpi Eiver on a steamboat to Saint Louis, Missouri, and by rail to Lebanon, St. Clair County, Illinois, which I considered the heart of Yankee-land.

Now the misery of a boy began. Having to work out in the cold fields during the late winter months, only half clothed, at a wage of eight dollars a month, which I never got the benefit of, as it went to bny whiskey for my drnnken Yankee step-father; — but thank the stars, dnring springhe 'Miit the road" for parts unknown; then I drew the wages myself, as my Mother and only Sister went to St. Lonis, Missouri, to try their luck in a strange city. That same Sister still lives in St. Louis, having married a prosperous business man. Four girls and one boy spring from that union, and most of them have families of their own, and are prosperous.

Mother and Sister had promised to write to me, giving their city address, but for some reason they failed to do so — hence a Texas long-horn Kid was left alone among strangers, and in a strange land.

During the summer I quit my heart-breakingjob with Mr. Moore, and went to Lebanon to learn the carpenter trade. I had bound myself to an old skin-flint who was building a new dwelling- for a Mr. Sargent, in the edge of town. He made me sign a contract that I would work for him three years to learn the trade.

I worked one whole day, from sun-up to sundown, turning a grindstone to grind a lot of rusty tools. That night, by the light of the moon I walked twelve miles east, and next morning hired to a farmer with a heart, by the name of Jacobs, for twelve dollars a month.

During the harvest I made a half a liand binding and shocking wheat.

Late in the fall, 1869, I quit my job and walked to St. Louis, a distance of twenty-five miles, in hopes of finding Mother and Sister.

Little did I dream of the difficulty in finding two people in a city of nearly half a million souls.

Xo need to recite the hungry spells, and the hard beds on platforms and dry-goods boxes for two long weeks until I secured a job as bell-boy in the swell Planters Hotel.

My wages were ten dollars a month, ])ut I averaged several dollars a day from tips. Often a crowd of gamblers plajdng for high stakes in a room would give me a ten or twenty dollar bill to l)uy a tray-load of drinks, telling me to keep the change.

The other dozen or more bell-boys did equally well in the way of easy tips, and Avhen off duty we spent the money like drunken sailors.

One year later, in the fall of 1870, 1 had a rough and tumble fight with one of the bell-hops while on duty, and was slapped on the cheek by the chief clerk, Cunningham. This slapping stirred up the anger in my system, and I threw up the soft job of bell-boy.

With a few dollars in my ])ocket I started for the levee to board a steamboat headed toward Texas, Init on the road to the levee I butted into a gambling game, and lost every cent of my money.

Late in the evening I stole my way onto the Bart Able, which was ready to steam down the Mississippi river for New Orleans, and hid among the freight sacks and boxes.

While loading freight from an old abandoned steamboat, in a town in Arkansas, I fell over backward into ah open hatchway, abont thirty feet deep and was fished ont by the captain and crew more dead than alive.

On waking up I found myself in a clean bed in the captain's private room.

On reaching New Orleans I was able to walk but couldn't bend my back, and the back of my head had a lump on it the size of a cocoanut.

After eating a nice dinner on the Bart Able the ))oat steamed back up the river for St. Louis, leaving me in a strange city with not a cent in my pocket.

After two days of hunger, and sleeping on cotton bales, I was picked up by a kind hearted man., AVm. R. Myers, and taken to his lovely home, 18 Derbigny Street.

Mr. Myers was connected with the Couens Red River line of steamboats, and was wealthy in his own name.

After ringing the bell at the Myers fine home, Mrs. Mary P. Myers opened the door. She was evidently shocked at the sight of a dirty faced urchin at her husband's side. Mr. Myers introduced me as a young Texas "Hoosier" whom he had brought home to fill up, as I was half starved.

The five o'clock dinner was ready to be served by the two negro servants, but bless you, I had to endure the agony of having the meal delayed until I could take a bath in the neat bath-room adjoining the dining room.

Don 't wonder if my stomach was puffed out like a "Pizened pup" when dinner was over. It was, and the world appeared like one round ball of glory and contentment.

That night in the elegant parlor I was made tell my pedigree, and past life. The result was, this old couple who had no children, offered to adopt me as their own son, and to give me a fine education, with a start in lousiness when twenty-one years of age.

Of course I consented, as the rosy picture^ of more juicy porterhouse steaks, broiled on a charcoal fire, loomed up in the future.

The next forenoon Mrs. Myers took me down to one of the swell clothing establishments and fitted me out like a young prince. I objected to the peaked toed gaiters and asked for a pair of star-top, high heeled boots, but the good lady thought boots would make me look too much like a 'Mioosier. ' '

Seeing that she was lavish with her money, I asked her to buy me a violin, so that I could learn to play "The old blind mule came trotting through the wilderness," and other favorite Texas songs. This she agreed to do, and later carried out her promise.

After the crick in my back and the lump on my head had ''vamoosed," in other words ''flew the coop," and the rare beef-steaks had painted my cheeks with a rosy tint, I was sent to Fisk's Public School to start my education.

One week in school and I had a rough and tumble fight with another boy in the school room. In making my 'get-away' for the door, I ran over the good looking young teacher, Miss Finley, who was trying to prevent nay escape. The poor girl fell flat on her back, and I stepped on her silk, pinkwaist as I went over her for the door. No doubt she thought it was a Texas stampede.

A few days later I was sent to a pay school. This old professor only had a few select scholars, all boys, to whom he taught the German, French and English languages.

In the course of a few months I had to shake the dust of New Orleans from my peaked toed gaitors on account of stabbing one of the scholars with a pocket-knife. He was much larger than myself and had my face bloody.

Night found me wrapped in slumber among the cotton bales on board the MoUie Able, en-route to St. Louis. My slumber was not a peaceful one, as I awoke often to worry over my future, should the boy Steamcamp, die. I had seen the blood gushing from his wound as he ran screaming over the grassy lawn, where we had been playing during the afternoon recess.

On reaching St. Louis, after eight days and nights of hiding in the cotton bales, arid stealingfood after the deck hands finished their meals, I spent a day trying to find Mother and Sister. Then I crossed the river on a ferry boat and walked to Lebanon, Illinois, thence to the Jacobs farm, where I was received with open arms, and put to work in the harvest field, where I had worked the season previous.

When the harvest was over I longed for the easy life under Mrs. Mj^ers' wing. Therefore I drew my wages and struck out afoot for St. Louis. I arrived there in time to board the Robert E. Lee, which was starting down the river on her great race with the Natchez. Thousands of dollars were l)et on which one w^ould reach New Orleans first.

I slipped onto the steamer and kept hidden most of the time Avhen the captain, or the other officers were in sight. The cook kindly gave me food.

AVe landed in New Orleans ahead of the Natchez, and there was great rejoicing aboard. The citizens of New Orleans presented the captain with a pair of gold antlers to place on the bow of his swift steamer.

On the same evening of our arrival I hunted up Babe Fisher, a yellow negro whom I knew could be trusted, and who afterwards became a noted outlaw, to find out if the victim of my fight had recovered. I was informed that it required the skill of two prominent doctors to save young Steamcamp's life, but he was now about as sound as ever.

This encouraged me to ring the door bell at the Myers mansion. My dirty face was showered with kisses by Mrs. Myers, who was happy over my return. When Mr. Myers returned at night from his office, he too, gave me a hearty welcome.

Mr. Myers made three visits to the German professor before he could induce him to take me back as one of his pupils.

Now I took up my same old studies, German, French and English, I was a hero among the scholars for winning the fight with young Steamcamp, who had been the bully of the school. He had never returned to take up his studies after recovering.

Everything went on lovely, and I continued to enjoy the juicy beef-steaks which were served every evening, fresh from the charcoal furnace on the brick paved back yard.

In the latter part of November a big fire broke out near our school, and the street was lined with people going to the fire. I asked the professor if I could go and see the blaze. In a gruff voice he answered "No!" I then yelled "Goodbye," and broke for the door.

It was night when the excitement of the fire died down. I then walked to the levee, and after a wait of an hour or more I slipped onto the St. Mary, a Morgan steamship bound for Indianola, Texas.

I kept hid out all night, and next morning was l)ut to work scouring brass railings to pay for my food and passage.

After a stormy trip we arrived in Indianola, Texas, one morning about sun-up.

On viewing the old warf, from which I stepped onto the gang-plank of the Crescent City about two years previous, I shouted deep down in my heart: Back at last to the dear Lone Star State; the natural home of the cowboy and long-horn steer.

The winter was spent working for H. Selickson, in his beef factorj'^, where cattle were butchered for their hides and tallow ; my wages being fifteen dollars a month.

Early in the spring of 1871 I visited among m;/ friends in the town of Matagorda, and on the peninsula, the place of my birth.

About April the first I hired out to Tom Nie, now known as **the Onion king" of Lerado, Texas. He was making up a crew of cowboys to work on the Ranclio Grande, on Trespalacios Creek, about twenty-five miles northwest from the to\-n of Matagorda.

We went by sail-boat to Palacios Point, where tlio Rancho Grande Company had an outside camp. There we joined other cowboys, making a crew of twenty, and from there went overland to the Rancho Grande headquarters

We found the headquarter ranch a busy place, getting ready for the spring work. Here there were a company store, a church house, and the nice home residence of Jonathan Pierce.

The two Pierce Brothers, Abel (''Shanghai") and Jonathan, were in partnership with Mr. Sam Allen, and a Mr. Pool, of eastern Texas. They owned this Rancho Grande, and the more than 100,000 long-horn cattle, scattered over hundreds of miles of grassy range.

There were about 50 cowboys at the headquarter ranch; a few Mexicans, and a few negroes among them. We had unlimited credit at the company store. My credit was stretched almost to the breaking point, in purchasing a cowboy outfit, such as saddle, bridle, spurs, pistol, bowie-knife, bedding, sombrero, silk handkerchiefs, slicker (rain coat), high-heel boots, etc.

"Shanghai" Pierce and his crew of cowboys had just arrived from the Rio Grande River with 300 wild Mexican ponies for the spring work. He had paid two dollars and fifty cents a head for them. They were what was termed "wet" ponies on the Rio Grande. In other words were stolen stock; hence the low prices.

On the Rio Grande river which separates Texas from Old Mexico, there were many traders in

"wet" ponies, A deal was made for any number of geldings put into the river on the Mexican side. All those which swam over and landed on the Texas side were paid for by the purchaser. Of course they were still dripping with river water when they climbed up the sandy bank on the eastern shore of the river. Hence the term ' ' wet ' ' ponies. They had been stolen by organized Mexican thieves from the large bands of Mexican ponies in Old Mexico. These wild ponies were divided among the three crews which started on the Spring work in different directions.

Some of the boys were thrown from their bucking bronchos, but not so with the writer. I always managed to stick on, even though the pony bucked into the timber. Our camps were generally pitched at the edge of a belt of timber; hence there was great danger of being killed or crippled if the wild pony went into the timber, instead of heading for the open prairie.

We always started the day's work at the first peep of day, and never thought of eating a noon meal. Often it would be pitch dark when we arrived in camp, where a warm camp-fire meal awaited us. These meals were made up of meat from a fat heifer calf, with corn bread, molasses, and black coffee. The negro cook, who drove the mess-wagon, generally had two kinds of meat, the calf ribs broiled before the camp fire, and a large dutch oven full of loin, sweet-breads, and heart, mixed with flour gravy.

For breakfast we often had pork and beans which had been simmering over hot coals all night. In those days knives and forks were seldom used in the cow-camps; each cowboy used his bowie-knife or pocket knife to eat with. Nor were there tents to sleep in when it rained. The boys slept on the ground, covered w^ith a canvas or wagon-sheet to turn the water.

The crew of which I was a member consisted of fifteen men and boys. We started work on the Navidad River, in Jackson County, gathering a herd of eleven hundred head of steers for Mr. Black, who had brought his crew of green Kansas boys, overland from Wichita, Kansas.

In gathering this herd of old ''Mossy horn" steers, from four to tw^enty years old, I had a new experience. They were mostly wild timber cattle, which only graze out in the edges of the prairies at night, going back to the timber after daylight. We had to make raids on them before sun-up, by which time they would be back in the brushy timber, where it was impossible to round them up, or rope and tie down the unruly ones.

It is hard to believe, but nevertheless true, that some of these old steers had a fine coating of moss on their long horns. The trees were all covered with moss ; some more than a foot long.

By the time we got this herd "put up," and turned over to Mr. Black and his crew, we were a worn out bunch of cowboys. Every steer had to be roped and thrown to be road-branded, and we had to stand guard every night, half the crew the first part of the night and the balance until daylight. During rain and thunder storms every cowboy had to be in the saddle all night, singing and whistling to the restless cattle to avoid a stampede. At such times there was no sleep for any one but the cook.

Stampedes were frequent on stormy nights, and we had to staj'- with the running herd until the steers became exhausted.

It was said that Mr. Black and his crew lost the whole herd, through stampedes and mixing up with the wild range cattle, before reaching Red River, on the line of the Indian ''Nation," now Oklahoma. Later "Shanghai" Pierce reported meeting Mr. Black in Wichita, Kansas, working at his trade of blacksmithing. He said that his first experience with long-horns had left him a financial wreck.

The balance of the season, up to Christmas, we put in our time branding mavericks and calves. The mavericks were not as plentiful, or as old, as when I took my first lessons as a cowboy in 1867. Among the timber cattle we found some unbranded bulls and cows, four and five years old, but on the prairies they ranged from one to two years of age, being calves which escaped the branding iron the previous seasons.

During this year of 1871 the Rancho Grande company branded 25,000 calves and mavericks.

I finally wrote to Mr. and Mrs. Myers in New Orleans telling them that I had attained the desire of my life by becoming a full-fledged cowboy, in the Lone Star State. In a few weeks an answer was received to my letter. In it was a twenty dollar bill, and a pass on the Morgan steamshij^ Line from Indianola to New Orleans, the money being for my expenses en route.

In the letter they begged me to return and finish my education. I wrote them that the life of a cowboy was good enough for me, and offered to return the money and the pass. In a later letter Mr. Myers wrote me to tear up the pass, and to buy a suit of clothes with the twenty dollar "william. ' ' Many years later this old couple died, and were buried in the town of Pocatello, Idaho. Mr. Myers had lost his wealth in a bad speculation with a thieving partner in Florida. Before old age put them under the sod, I had the pleasure of repaying them for all the money spent on me when a wild, reckless lad.

Mrs. Myers had a sister, Mrs. Henry Beecraft, living in Pocatello, Idaho, and she saw that they had a decent burial.

Such is life. I often think of what a narrow escape I had of becoming an educated business man, had I remained in New Orleans.

After the branding season was over I joined ''Bob" Partain's crew, and we established winter quarters at the camp house three miles from Palacios Point. Our work was shipping steers to New Orleans and Cuba. Twice a week a Morgan steamship would tie up at the wharf at Palacios Point, and it was our dut}^ to put about five hundred cattle aboard.

Gathering crews would deliver the steers to our outfit, and we had to night-herd them until ready to ship.

During cold northers and sleet storms we had a tough job night-herding. Often ''Shanghai" Pierce would be present to help us sing to the cattle during bad storms. "Shanghai" felt at home on the back of a pony. Quite different from his brother Jonathan, who was never so happy as when plowing with a yoke of oxen. In all the years that I knew Jonathan I never saw him in a saddle.

It often happened that we wouldn't get the steers aboard the ship until late at night. Then we would fill up on George Burkhart's cowboy's delight, such as peaches and brandy, cherries and brandy, and Hostetter's bitters.

No other kind of liquors were kept in the store. On leaving the little village we would shoot off our pistols, and make a mad race of three miles for the camp house. Often several saddled ponies would be waiting for the morning feed of corn at the corral, their drunken riders having fallen by the wayside in the race for camp.

When spring came I was assigned with a new crew in charge of Mr, Wiley Kuykendall, who had married a sister of the Pierce brothers.

It is said that strong coffee and tobacco will kill a man. If this were true Mr. Kuykendall would have been in his grave long ago instead of leading a happy, retired life in Victoria, Texas, at the present time.

"Mr. Wiley," as we cowboys affectionately called him, spent a very little of his time in bed. He was fond of black coffee, steaming hot from the camp coffee pot, and only when asleep did the smoke from his black pipe cease. He was up with the cook every morning, so as to get his cup of hot coffee.

When time to wake the sleeping cowboys for breakfast, "Mr. Wiley" would go out to where their beds were spread on the ground, and shout : "Come boys, come, get up and hear the little birds singing their sweet praises to God Almighty ; D — n your souls, get up!" The first part of the sentence was in a sweet, low, tender voice, while the last part was in a loud, angry tone. This was an every morning occurence while I worked with him.

A few years previous to the writing of this, I visited with Mr. and Mrs. Kuykendall at a swell hotel in Hot Springs, Arkansas, and found "Mr. Wiley" a healthy old man, still wearing his cowboy hat, boots and red, silk sash to keep his pants up, in lieu of suspenders. Of course he attracted much attention among the hotel guests, but he didn't seem to realize it. He had become wealthy through the rise in the value of long-horn cattle and Texas soil.

While in Hot Springs, Mr. Kuykendall ' ' harked back" to his barefoot days, when, as an orphan boy, in 1866, the year after the rebellion, he helped drive one of the first herds of long-horn steers "up the trail" to Kansas and Missouri.

The cattle were owned by a Mr. Herindon, on the Colorado River, in Matagorda County. They started early in the spring, driving the herd in a haphazard w^ay toward the north, as there was no trail to follow.

They crossed the south-east corner of Kansas, at Baxter Springs, and entered Missouri, where the steers were sold. Then Mr. Kuykendall says he and other cowboys started for home, overland, with the ramutha, (saddle ponies ) and pack outfit, on which the grub and bedding were carried. In Missouri one of the pack mules was loaded down with apples, on which the men partially subsisted until reaching home just before Christmas.

I shall always hold the name of "Mr. Wiley" in kind remembrance, as in the summer of 1872 he gave me my first start in the cattle business, by allowing me to put my own brand, which had not yet been recorded, as the law required, on a few mavericks. This made me bold, so that thereafter I always carried a rod of iron tied to my saddle, as a branding iron, to be made red hot in a brush, or ''cow-chip" fire, when riding over the prairie alone, and a fine looking maverick showed up. The short piece of iron being bent at one end and used to "run" my brand on the animal's hip.

In the late summer our crew was sent to Lavaca and Calhoun Counties to gather steers and ship them on board Morgan steamships, in Indianola, for the New Orleans market.

Later we were sent to Wharton and Colorado Counties to gather steers to be shipped by rail from Richmond and Houston.

It was while driving a herd of these fat steers to Richmond that I was bitten on the foot by a rattlesnake, which proves that even the bite of a snake can't kill a tough cowboy.

We had just swam the herd across a swollen stream, which caused me to get wet to the skin. While I was guarding the herd, part of the crew having gone to dinner, I disrobed to let my clothes dry in the hot sun. While standing barefooted in the tall grass the snake put two gashes across one foot.

This caused the death of his snakeship, as I was angry and beat him to a pulp. My foot and leg became badly swollen, so that I couldn't wear my left boot for a week ; still I never missed doing my full share of the work, which included standingguard over the herd half of each night.

During the fall "Mr. Wiley" severed his connection with the outfit, and soon after I did likewise.

I had been working for the Rancho Grande Company nearly two years, without a settlement, or knowing how my account in the company store stood. My wages were twenty dollars a month, and whenever I needed cash, all I had to do was ask old "Hunkey Dorey" Brown, who was in charge of the store, for the amount, and he w^ould charge it on my account. I was a surprised and disappointed boy when I found that I only had seventy-five cents to m^^ credit. This I "blowed in ' ' for a bottle of peaches and brandy, and some stick candy, before leaving the store to ride away on my own pony.

Chapter II Shot And Wounded In The Knee

A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE IN A GREAT

STORM ON THE GULF COAST OF TEXAS

At the time Mr. Wiley Kuykendall quit the firm, the Pierce Brothers had sold their cattle interests to Allen and Pool for the snug sum of $110,000, which was a fortune in those days.

This shows what men with Yankee blood in their veins could do with long-horn cattle.