As I remember, Tom Green County, Texas, and Jack County were enemies and had a lasting grudge at each other. Win said the reason for that was Jack County had the better men and always beat the Tom Green County men in a fight.
Win didn’t have any education and couldn’t read or write—and when he paid a man his wages he had to send him to the superintendent and tell him how long the man worked.
This year I am writing about was election year in Valley County, Montana, and the Circle Diamond ranch was supporting a man by the name of Kyle for sheriff. They had put up a black flag with white letters which read: “VOTE FOR KYLE FOR SHERIFF.” Now Win had been up in Canada with his outfit for about six weeks looking for those cattle that had drifted north and hadn’t had any news as to the happenings around home. So when he had got the cattle back on their range and turned them loose, he started for the home ranch with his outfit, but he started several hours ahead of the men, horses and chuckwagon—they were to follow. But when Win got close to the ranch and saw that black flag (and he couldn’t read) he got scared and turned back and stopped the outfit and said it wasn’t safe to take the outfit home, as he thought that some sort of an epidemic had broke out and the ranch was under quarantine. So he sent a man to town to find out what was the matter.
I worked with several of those old-time gunfighters from Texas and some that had left Wyoming during the Johnson County war between cattlemen and rustlers, and found most of them pretty decent fellows. Some of them were under assumed names and it seemed to bother them to have to carry that load—and usually when they did talk and tell me about their trouble most of them were victims of circumstances.
CHAPTER IX
JIM SPURGEON
The old man that run the DHS that I worked several years for was the finest old-tune cow boss I ever knew. Jim Spurgeon was his name. He always looked tough and hard and was about as good-looking as a bank robber, but he sure had a kind heart and would never let you know he sympathized with you.
I never knew him to fire but one cowboy. That fellow was supposed to stand second guard on night herd, but when the first guard went to call him, he was not in camp—had went to town and had not come back. The boy that came to call him woke Jim up and told him what had happened. Jim got up and stood the guard himself.
About the time Jim came off guard, the boy got back to camp. He had a bottle of whiskey and asked Jim to have a drink. Jim refused, which the boy knew was unusual for Jim. So he was suspicious things wasn’t just right and didn’t want to get fired. So he came into the bed tent about twelve o’clock at night, woke Jim up and said, “I believe I will quit.” Jim said, “Go to bed. You have been fired for three hours.”
Old Jim looked at him very pitifully next morning and I believe if the truth was known it hurt him worse to fire him that it did the cowboy. But he seldom ever talked much and few knew how tenderhearted he was.
One time we had lost about forty head of saddle horses on the roundup and Jim sent a man to look for them. He was gone a few days and came back without any horses.