CHAPTER VI
RANCH HAPPENINGS
Ranch life is often full of thrilling incidents and adventures.
The cowboy in his travels about the country looking after cattle,
hunting wild game or, in turn, being hunted by yet wilder
Indians, finds plenty of novelty and excitement to break any
fancied monotony which might be considered as belonging to ranch
life. In a number of visits to the range country during the past
twenty years, the writer has had an opportunity to observe life
on a ranch, and experience some of its exciting adventures.
One day in the summer of 1891, Dave Drew, our foreman, Tedrow,
one of the cowboys, and myself, made a trip into East Canon in
the Dos Cabezas mountains, in search of some large unbranded
calves which had been seen running there. We rode leisurely
along for some time and passed several small bunches of cattle
without finding what we were looking for. As we neared a bend in
the canon, Dave, who rode in advance, saw some cattle lying in
the shade of a grove of live oak trees. Instantly he spurred his
horse into a run and chased after the cattle at full speed, at
the same time looking back and shouting that he saw two mavericks
and for us to hurry up and help catch them. It was a bad piece
of ground to cover and we found it difficult to make progress or
to even keep each other in sight. Tedrow hurried up as fast as
he could while I brought up the rear.
In trying to get through in the direction that Dave had gone, we
tried to make a short cut in order to gain time, but soon found
our way completely blocked by immense boulders and dense thickets
of cat-claw bushes, which is a variety of mesquite covered with
strong, sharp, curved thorns. We turned back to find a better
road and after some time spent in hunting an opening we
discovered a dim trail which soon led us into a natural park of
level ground hidden among the foothills. Here we found Dave who
alone had caught and tied down both the calves and was preparing
to start a fire to heat the branding irons. What he had done
seemed like magic and was entirely incomprehensible to an
inexperienced tenderfoot.
Dave explained afterwards that to be successful in such a race
much depended on taking the cattle by surprise, and then by a
quick, bold dash start them running up the mountain, when it was
possible to overtake and rope them; but if once started to
running down hill it was not only unsafe to follow on horseback
but in any event the cattle were certain to escape. Taking them
by surprise seemed to bewilder them and before they could collect
their scattered senses, so to speak, and scamper off, the work of
capture was done.
Another adventure, which did not end so fortunately for met
happened in the fall of I 887 when the country was yet
comparatively new to the cattle business. I rode out one day in
company with a cowboy to look after strays and, incidentally, to
watch for any game that might chance to cross our path. We rode
through seemingly endless meadows of fine gramma grass and saw
the sleek cattle feeding on plenty and enjoying perfect
contentment. Game, also, seemed to be abundant but very shy and
as we were not particularly hunting that kind of stock, we
forebore giving chase or firing at long range.
After riding about among the hills back of the Pinaleno ranch and
not finding anything we concluded to return home. On starting
back we separated and took different routes, going by two
parallel ravines in order to cover more ground in our search. I
had not gone far until I found the cattle we were looking for
going to water on the home trail. Jogging on slowly after them
and enjoying the beauty of the landscape, I unexpectedly caught a
glimpse of a deer lying down under a mesquite tree on the brow of
a distant hill. I was in plain sight of the deer, which was
either asleep or heedless of danger as it paid no attention
whatever to my presence.
Deer and antelope soon become accustomed to horses and cattle and
often mix and feed familiarly with the stock grazing on the open
range. The deer did not change its position as I quietly rode by
and out of sight behind the hill. There I dismounted and stalked
the quarry on foot, cautiously making my way up the side of the
hill to a point where I would be within easy shooting distance.
As I stood up to locate the deer it jumped to its feet and was
ready to make off, but before it could start a shot from my
Winchester put a bullet through its head, and it scarcely moved
after it fell. The deer was in good condition and replenished
our depleted ranch larder with some choice venison steaks. The
head, also, was a fine one the horns being just out of velvet and
each antler five pointed, was saved and mounted.
The shot and my lusty halloo soon brought my cowboy friend to the
spot. Together we eviscerated the animal and prepared to pack it
to camp on my horse. As we were lifting it upon his back the
bronco gave a vicious kick which hit me in the left knee and
knocked me down. The blow, though severe, glanced off so that no
bone was broken.
