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By T. T. Hawkins of Charlotte, Texas I
was born in Guadalupe County, near Seguin, April 7th, 1859, and spent
practically all of my life on ranches. I first went up the trail with a
herd of horses, in 1879, from Corpus Christi to Cherryvale, Kansas. This
was one of the hardest trips I ever made. Our chuck wagon consisted of a
Mexican mule about fourteen hands high. The next trip I made was in 1879,
this time with a herd of two-year-old steers owned by G.W. Littlefield,
driven from the O'Conner ranch near Victoria to Yellow House Canyon. This
was a very pleasant drive, and we had good grass and plenty of water on
the way. The
next year I went with a herd of 1,800 cattle bossed by Nat Jackson, going
from Kyle, Texas, to Ogallala, Nebraska, where we delivered them to Col.
Seth Maberry, after which we drove from there to the Red Cloud Agency to
supply a government contract. The
fourth trip was made in 1881, when I went from Taylor, Texas, to Caldwell,
Kansas, with a horse herd owned by Kuykendall, Sauls & Burns, with
John Burns as boss. During
1882 and 1883 I worked in the Panhandle of Texas, but in 1884 1 went on
the trail again with a horse herd owned by H. O. Williams and bossed by
Bill Williams. On this trip, somewhere in the vicinity of Abilene, Texas,
we came up with George W. Saunders' outfit as they were going up to
Kansas. Here we had a stampede, our horses mixed together, so we just let
them stay together and drove them from there to Dodge City. On
this trip several things took place that should be mentioned for the
benefit of the readers of this book, for they give a clear idea of some of
the dangers that beset the men who traveled the trail in those old days.
When we reached the Comanche reservation, the Indians demanded horses and
provisions from us. As George Saunders could talk Spanish fluently, and
was good at making a bluff stick, our outfit and Carroll Mayfield's
outfit, which had overtaken us, decided to appoint George to settle with
the Indians as best he could. Accordingly he accompanied the chiefs and
some of the bucks to a tepee and held a council with them. The old chief
could speak Spanish, and when he learned that George was familiar with his
old raiding range, he became quite friendly and told him that he knew
every trail on the Rio Grande from Laredo to E1 Paso, knew all of the
streams by name, the Nueces, Llano River, Devil's River, Guad-alupe River,
Peeos River, the Coneho and Colorado Rivers, besides many creeks. He
became very talkative and, going to a rude willow basket he had in his
wigwam, he brought forth several burrs which he said he had taken from
cypress trees of the head of the Guadalupe River. He told Mr. Saunders
that he had killed "heap white man" on his raids, but that he
was now "heap good Indian, no kill no man." Photo: George W. Saunders in 1874. Saunders
offered to make settlement by giving them one horse and some provisions,
and the Indians seemed well pleased with this offer. When we started our
herd about twenty young bucks riding on beautiful horses, came and helped
us swim the cattle across the Canadian River. A number of our horses
bogged in the quicksand and had to be dug out, which sport the Indians
enjoyed immensely. They fell right in with our boys and helped in every
way they could to pull the horses out, and when this work was finished
they gave us an exhibition of their riding. Some of the bucks would run by
our crowd and invite us to lasso them. Saunders
finally decided to rope one of them, a tall young fellow who was mounted
on a well-trained horse, so getting his lariat ready, he waited the coming
of the Indian, and as he passed, laying fiat on his horse, George threw
the rope and it encircled both horse and rider. The Indian's horse shied
around a tree and the Indian and his horse and George and his horse were
all thrown heavily to the ground when the rope tightened. The Indian was
painfully injured, but when we ran to their assistance we found no serious
damage had resulted, although it was a narrow escape for both of the
performers. The rope had been drawn so tight around the Indian that it
required some time for him to get his lungs in proper action. We thought
the Indians would be offended by the accident, but they laughed and
guffawed over it in great fashion, and we left them in fine spirits. As
we proceeded on our way we heard the Kiowas were in an ugly mood, and
Bacon Rind, and about 200 came to us and they, too, demanded horses and
provisions. We sent them to Saunders, of course, for he had so
successfully managed the we trusted him to handle these Indians the same
way. We told them Saunders was "heap big boss," and to talk to
him. Saunders parleyed with them for some time, finally telling them to
come back the next day. They left grudgingly and came back that evening,
renewing their demands, so Saunders had all of the wagons drawn up
together, and offered the Indians a small amount of flour, some sugar,
coffee, bacon, prunes, beans and some canned goods out of each wagon. All
of this stuff was placed where they could see just what he was offering to
give them to depart in peace, and he also told them two horses would be
given in addition to the provisions. Some of the Indians seemed satisfied
and were willing to accept the offer, but others wanted more. In the band
of Indians was a pockmarked half-breed who had been the most
insistent that more be given them, and he finally got all of the stuff
back in the bunch demanding more. Saunders finally lost patience with them
and told the cooks to put all of the stuff back in the wagons, and the men
to straddle their horses and start the herds. As George mounted his horse
and started off the pockmarked half-breed and a dozen bucks made a dash at
him, and before he realized what was happening they had grabbed him by the
arms and caught his horse by the bridle. He had drawn his pistol, but was
unable to use it because of the vise-like grip that held him. At the same
time forty or fifty buffalo guns in the hands of the Indians were leveled
at his head, and for an instant things looked bad. The half-breed, who
spoke English fluently, was cursing and abusing Saunders, and telling him
they were going to kill him right there. The squaws had all vanished,
nobody knew where. Harry Hotchkiss and several of the other boys,
including three of Saunders' Mexican hands, ran to his assistance, and
their bravery no doubt saved his life. They leveled their pistols on the
Indians, the Mexicans in a rage screaming, "Dammy you, you killee
Meester George, me killee you." This was a critical moment for George
Saunders, but he kept his nerve, for he realized that if there was one
shot fired he would be a "goner." He talked to the Indians in
every language except Chinese, telling them they were making a serious
mistake, and that he would send to Fort Sill and get the soldiers to come
and protect him. This talk had the desired effect, and they lowered their
guns and departed without provisions, although Saunders gave them a stray
horse in our herd which I think belonged to the Comanches. The Indians
were in an ugly mood when they left, the pockmarked Indian swearing
vengeance and saying, as he rode away, "We will come back and take
all we want from you when the sun comes up." While
parleying with the Indians, Saunders offered to give them orders for
provisions on men behind, who, he told them, were rich men and would
gladly give them cattle, horses and money, naming Bell, Butler, Jim
Blocker, Jim Dobie, Forest, Clark, King, Kennedy, Coleman, O'Connor and
many other prominent trail men of that time. But the Indians said,
"All no good. Pryor man give order last year; no good." Saunders
was worried and told us we had given him a h--l of a job, but he was going
to play it strong. That
night Saunders put on only two reliefs, some of them to hold the herd and
the others to reconnoiter and give the alarm at the first sign of Indians.
He told all of the boys to get their shooting irons in good shape, for
there was likely to be trouble. The
Indians did not molest us during the night, and early next morning Mr.
Saunders told us they would probably show up in a little while, and he
gave us instructions as to what to do. He told us to congregate behind
this herd when the Indians appeared, keep in line and not mix with the
Indians, for in case of a fight we should not run the risk of shooting
some of our own men. We were to keep cool while he was parleying with the
Indians, and if he saw that a fight could not be avoided he would give a
keen cowboy yell as a signal, and every man was to act. Just
after sunrise we saw the Indians coming across the plain in single file
and in full war garb, headed by two chiefs, Bacon Rind and Sundown, and
the pockmarked half-breed. The Indians came right up to us, and as they
were approaching Saunders said, "Remember, boys, we must win the
fight. If I give the signal each of you must kill an Indian, so don't make
a miss." They looked hideous in the war garb, and as they rushed up
one of the chiefs said, "How, big chief bad man, no give poor Indian
horse or grub. Indian take um." Saunders told them they would get
nothing. They began to point out horses in the herd which they said they
were going to take, and George informed them that he would shoot the first
Indian that rode into the herd. The pockmarked Indian held a short
whispered conversation with the two chiefs and started towards Saunders,
seeing which the boys, who were already on their mettle and tired of
waiting for the signal, began pulling their guns, and the Indians
weakened. They instantly saw that we were determined to give them a fight,
and withdrew. Saunders had to do some lively talking then to hold our
crowd back. There were about thirty-five men in our bunch, including the
cooks and wranglers, and the Indians numbered about two hundred warriors.
As they left the pockmarked half-breed showed the white feather, and
Saunders called him all the coward names in the Indian, Spanish and
English language that he knew, but the rascal knew he had lost and his
bluff was called. In resentment the Indians went to Neal Manewell's herd,
which was nearby, and shot down ten beeves. Saunders and several of our
boys went over to the herd and offered assistance to the boss, Mr. Cato,
but he said they were too late to save the beeves, and it was best to let
the Indians alone, as we could all drive out of their reservation that
day. We pointed our herd up the trail and had no further trouble with
them. The
poclmmrked Indian was known to most of the old trail drivers. He was an
outlaw and thief, and was regarded as a desperate character all around. I
learned that he was killed by a cowboy in 1886. George Saunders had lots
of experience in dealing with Indians during those days, and he often told
me that when he made a bold bluff, if it did not stick he was always ready
to back it up with firearms or fast talking. In
1885 and 1886 I carried herds for H. O. Williams from Kyle, Texas, to
Arkansas City, and made my last drive in 1886, when I delivered a herd to
Miles Williams at Abilene, Texas. I have been in the cow business ever
since, the greater part of the time associated with H. O. Williams. How dear to my heart are the scenes of my trailhood, Source
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1999-2000
©
Sam Sanders. All Rights Reserved |
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