The Western Echo / A Description of the Western State and Territories of the United States. As Gathered in a Tour by Wagon

by George W. Romspert

The captain commands the men like an army officer. The loose ponies are all turned together, and the herd often has several hundred heads. The captain is a man who understands the country and knows every stream and pool in the range. He lays his plans and arranges his route, and, beginning at one side of the county, he takes a range; and dividing up his men, he sends them here and there, up and down the forks of the creeks and across to the little lakes over the range, and directs them to bring in all the cattle of the range and round them up at a certain place. In a week or ten days they generally come in with the cattle; and they often round up a mighty herd. Each brand now has one or more representatives, and they watch closely after the interests of their employers. They then prepare to take out of the round-up all the brands that belong to that particular range, brand the calves, and let them go. The herd is surrounded and held by cow-boys; and fires are built around, and all the different brands of that range are heated for action.

One man from each firm that pastures upon this range then goes into the herd to get the calves that they find following their cows. When one is found the noose is thrown, and whether it gets the calf round the body, neck, leg, or tail it is all the same; the pony is whirled and loped off to the fire, the little fellow rolling, tumbling, kicking, and bawling, but all to no purpose. He is then held by the boys, and the red-hot branding-iron is held against its tender skin until the hair is all singed off and the hide burned sore. The little fellow rolls his eyes in their sockets and bellows piteously as the smoke curls upward from his own body; but the operation is soon over, and he is sent loping into the free air upon the range. When all the calves are out, the cows and steers are then cut out as follows: Each firm has particular horses trained for this business, and they are called “cutting horses.” The boy goes among the herd, and when he sees his brand he needs follow it but a little way until the pony knows what animal is wanted; and all the rider has then to do is to stay on. The pony walks after the animal, dodging from one side to the other, and when he has him driven to the edge he lunges upon the cow with great fury. The cow, with fright, leaps from the herd; and in spite of her efforts to get back, that pony keeps her out. A rider has to be experienced before he can stick a cutting horse; for they sometimes go after a cow upon a dead run, and stop in two jumps, whirl upon the hind feet, and go off the other way.

When the cattle of this range are all cut out and the calves branded, the rest of the herd are then driven to another range. They are held here by some boys and left graze, while the captain divides up the rest of his men and sends them out over that range to gather in all the cattle. They are then all rounded up together, and, as before, the calves are branded, and all the stock belonging to the owners of that range is turned loose upon it. In this way they go from range to range until the whole county is gone over and each firm has its cattle upon its own range or ranges, and the calves of that year are branded. It is usually about three months before the boys all get in from the different counties, bringing the cattle upon their own ranges and making their reports to head-quarters.

A strict account is kept, by the boys of each firm, of all the cows and steers and calves that are gathered from each county; and when the round-up is over each company knows just how it stands. Sometimes the boys are a little careless and do not brand deep enough, and forget to mark the ear. In a year the brand becomes so indistinct that many a quarrel has arisen among the boys as to their identity; and I have seen some bitter consequences.

A calf that is following no cow, and is unbranded, is called a mavorick; and though by law these now belong to the state in some places, they used to belong to the man who first put his brand there. There are many calves missed every year; and before the next round-up they are weaned, and no one knows to whom they belong. There are men who have made themselves good herds by gathering up mavoricks, and often stealing calves from the mother, putting their brands upon them, and taking them off to another range. Sometimes, however, the mother and offspring get together again before they have entirely forgotten their relations; and then a calf of one brand is following a cow of another. This is very undesirable to the calf-brander; and if he can not destroy that mother’s affection, or in some way arrange that mixed-up family before other cow-men get to see it, from what I have seen I would advise him to let the darned calf go to thunder and get out of that unhealthy prairie atmosphere.

When the round-up is all over and the cattle are fat,—usually about the latter part of the month of September,—the beef season begins. They then go upon their respective ranges, round up the cattle, and cut out such as are fit for beeves. Four years is the sale age; and seldom is one sold under this. Each firm has a foreman, who does the picking of the beeves; and he who is able to tell when a cow or steer is fat is considered a good cow-man. The beeves are then driven to the railroad, where there are stock-pens; and after the cars are bedded with about six inches of sand, the cattle are loaded up, making every other one face one side of the car, and the others the other side. Twenty is the average car-load, though this number varies with the size of the cattle. I have seen cars crowded with sixteen large steers, and know of one firm bringing in a thousand beeves at a time. The shipping-rates to St. Louis and Chicago are usually twenty dollars per car, making one dollar per head. The cattle are generally well fattened; and though they do not command quite as high prices as eastern grain-fed stock, the profits are nevertheless very large. One man is allowed to each car of stock, to keep them up and arrange them should they get fast or become mixed up in the car. In this way, during the shipping season, many persons are furnished free transportation to the East.

Beef-gathering does not generally end until the snow flies and the weather becomes severe. It is then very rough for the boys; for, good or bad, they must take it, with no shelter but a gum-coat, called a slicker. When they have a herd to hold they have to stand guard all night, the same as day. Now, when the clouds suddenly roll from the horizon and dash their contents upon the plain, when the thunder begins to bellow and the lightning to dart its fiery tongues through the air, then the cattle become perfectly frenzied and rush madly here and there; and then comes what they call a stampede. Then there is a time. Often but five or six boys are holding a herd of several hundred large beef-steers when the storm comes on, and as they rush madly to and fro the boys dash their ponies here and there in front of them, and usually hold them; but when the storm is furious and the cattle become frantic and rush in all directions, they often break the circle, and then the work begins for certain. The ponies understand their business, and with all power they get to the front; and if the herd is not too badly scattered, and (if it be at night) if it be not too dark, the herd may again be rallied. Otherwise, they are gone, and the prairie fairly trembles beneath them as they, bellowing, rush over the plain. When once thoroughly stampeded they usually run a long way before checking, and it takes several days to gather them in again; and if it be a strange herd going through the country, the prospect is that many will never be recaptured. It is a sight to see a large herd of big Texas steers in a storm, with heads erect, racing here and there, clashing their great horns together, and loudly snorting. There is danger, also; for when once they are under full headway they are as irresistible as the hurricane, and everything crumbles before them.

Sometimes when the tired, relieved guards are sleeping with their ponies at their sides, the herd stampedes, and before they can get into the saddle the pony escapes and the cattle rush madly over them, trampling them into the sand. I recollect of camping close to a large herd of Texas steers one cold November night, when the rain fell fast, and the lightning played upon the cattle’s horns like morning sunbeams upon the mountain-top, and lighted up the plain almost like day. The boys held them for some time; but at length the ponies became worried, and away went the steers, their trampling sounding like distant thunder. The boys all rushed for the front, and after about a mile chase, in which I joined, one of the boys dashed in front of the herd. In the darkness of the night and the excitement of the occasion he had forgotten a dangerous slough that lay in that direction, and his excited pony sprung into the mire. Of course the first jump the horse sunk deeply into the mud and could not extricate himself, nor could the rider get away before the maddened herd plunged in upon him. The pony with its rider was crushed into the mud and buried alive before our eyes, and the cattle struggling in the mud above them. The next morning we took ropes and pulled some of the steers from the bog with the saddle-horn; but some were smothered in the mire with the good pony and gallant rider, whom we left in their novel graves, knowing that they were dead anyhow, and thinking that perhaps their self-made tombs were as respectable as any we could hew.

As was said before, each firm sends a wagon with each squad of men that goes out upon the prairie. The wagons all have nice large cupboards (called mess-boxes) fixed in the back end, and when going out they take provisions, feed, clothes, beds, ropes, etc., and a good set of camp implements. This, then, is what is called a cow-outfit. The horses are not fed any grain unless worked hard and having no time to graze. In this case it is also necessary that they should be shod. Each company has on hand a large number of pressed shoes of all sizes, and before the boys go out they always fit their ponies with a couple pairs of shoes apiece; and taking also a shoeing outfit, they shoe their own ponies. When the boys are on a cow or horse hunt, they tell the cook where they will be for the next meal, and he goes immediately there and has grub prepared for them as they come in. From the cook being alone so much of the time, he is exposed to great dangers; and many an outfit has gathered to their wagon to find their cook lying murdered by the dinner-fire. It is necessary that the cook should be thoroughly acquainted with the country, for he is sent across the prairie in every direction from one range to the other. He is sometimes called upon to get up a meal for ten, fifteen, or twenty men at very short notice—often in twenty or twenty-five minutes; and you may imagine the skill that these fellows have acquired when this can be done, especially when the buffalo-chips are damp. The boys will run a dirty cook out of camp; but they think nothing of seeing the cook gather up buffalo-chips with his hands and then make up bread without washing. There is a great difference in camp-cooks; and some make nice doughnuts and puddings for the boys, while others get nothing but bread and meat, and sometimes beans and potatoes. Imagine an eastern girl scolding the boys for not procuring sound, dry hickory wood, or grumbling because the stove is not a good baker, and spreading paper over the bread, or flavoring here and seasoning there, touching up her delicate tidbits for an hour before the table is prepared. Ha, ha, ha! The cow-boys’ dinner is twice as good; and it is gotten without wood (and often wet at that), without a stove, and without any of the delicious flavorings, and is forgotten in half an hour. Why, if a cow-boy had to wait an hour for dinner he would go into camp and kick over the pots and skillets, and then step off and see how close he could shoot to the cook’s ear, just to hurry him up a little. Whenever they are out of meat, they shoot down a nice fat calf, and always have the best. It is seldom that they kill their own brands; but when there is no mavorick, they slide a ball into another man’s calf. Of course they always cut out the brand and destroy it. It is quite pleasing to see a cow-outfit taking dinner upon the wide, level prairie, with their ponies grazing by the camp-side. They all get around the hash, which sits in pans and skillets, and then crossing their legs they sit down upon their feet. This is the cow-boys’ seat; and when they come into a house where there are plenty of chairs they squat to the floor upon their own seats. Hot or cold, sunshine or storm, the greater part of the year they sleep and dine upon the wild, unsheltered plain. They are so used to it, though, that they think nothing of it, and stand out in the storm eating their biscuit and broiled beef with unqualified relish. They move their loose ponies from place to place in a herd—each boy having his own particular riding-horses. When camped they hobble the leaders, and the rest will not leave. The hobble is made by taking a piece of cow-hide about three feet long and two inches wide, tying a knot in one end, and cutting a loop in the other. This is put around one leg, above the pasture-joint, and then twisted and looped around the other. The twist keeps the hobble from working down, and the horse does not get around fast nor leave camp far unless stampeded by Indians or wild horses; and even in this case they are easily captured. Some of the ponies are very shy, and when the boys want fresh horses they tie a rope to a wagon-wheel, and a boy holds the other end. The others then drive the herd up to this and throw the noose over the heads of the wanted ones. They are so used to this rope that they will not attempt to cross one if it is but knee high. All idle mules are always hobbled; for the cow-boys say “a mule is hell in a stampede.” The boys of course do their own washing; and they usually keep pretty clean, with the exception of a few gray-backs, which are their warmest bosom and inseparable friends. Some companies have as high as seventy-five or a hundred men employed during the work-season; and about the first of December they discharge about half of them until spring, keeping the best men over winter, and they are scattered over the ranges among the little lonely shanties to watch over the cows during winter. They are compelled to keep some men who understand the business and the country, and then they can make use of some greenhorns. But oh! how those cow-boys curse the tender-feet. They usually try to get them upon a pony that understands bucking, to get their necks broken or disable them in some way or other to get them out of the way. There is no better fun than to get a big, clumsy tender-foot upon a well-trained cow-pony. He goes dodging along like a monkey, holding to the saddle-horn, with his stirrups shortened up and his knees under his chin, gaping in every direction. Pretty soon a steer dashes from the herd; the pony, quick as a flash, springs after him to round him in. The steer dodges; the pony braces, whirls upon his hind feet, and starts off in another direction, with the tender-foot hanging upon his side with one foot fast in the stirrup, the other leg wrapped around the saddle-horn, and holding to the mane with both hands. With a loud bellow the steer makes another whirl; the pony follows in a twinkle; and this time the grip gives way, the leg slips over, the horn ripping the cloth and bruising the skin, and with a heavy thud tender-foot comes to the ground, and after rolling over fifteen or twenty times he lies upon his belly and raises his head to see if the steer had run over the pony too. The boys are usually slow about going to help a walloped tender-foot, for fear he will not die if he is helped.

Cow-boys are ranked in the business something like officers in the army. There are foremen, bosses, and sub-bosses, down to privates; and they are paid according to their experience and ability. Some of them have been cow-punching—as it is called—for many years, and know every water for hundreds of miles around; and, of course, they command high wages. The common boy gets twenty-five and thirty dollars per month; and the wages range from this up to one hundred and twenty-five dollars. Of course, one has to be highly experienced to command the latter.