The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail DaysAdams, Andy
General
The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail Days
Adams, Andy
Cattle drives -- Fiction; Cowboys -- Fiction; Western stories
The rustlers rode in a body to the lead, and when they had thrown the
herd off the trail, about half of them rode back and drifted forward
the rear cattle. Flood called our outfit to one side and gave us our
instructions, the herd being entirely turned over to the rustlers.
After they began cutting, we rode around and pretended to assist in
holding the cut as the strays in our herd were being cut out. When the
red “Q” cow came out, Fox cut her back, which nearly precipitated a
row, for she was promptly recut to the strays by the man who claimed
her the day before. Not a man of us even cast a glance up the trail,
or in the direction of the Rangers; but when the work was over, Flood
protested with the leader of the rustlers over some five or six head
of dim-branded cattle which actually belonged to our herd. But he was
exultant and would listen to no protests, and attempted to drive away
the cut, now numbering nearly fifty head. Then we rode across their
front and stopped them.
In the parley which ensued, harsh words were passing, when one of our
outfit blurted out in well feigned surprise,--
“Hello, who’s that, coming over there?”
A squad of men were riding leisurely through our abandoned herd,
coming over to where the two outfits were disputing.
“What’s the trouble here, gents?” inquired Hames as he rode up.
“Who are you and what might be your business, may I ask?” inquired the
leader of the rustlers.
“Personally I’m nobody, but officially I’m Corporal in Company B,
Texas Rangers--well, if there isn’t smiling Ed Winters, the biggest
cattle thief ever born in Medina County. Why, I’ve got papers for you;
for altering the brands on over fifty head of ‘C’ cattle into a ‘G’
brand. Come here, dear, and give me that gun of yours. Come on, and no
false moves or funny work or I’ll shoot the white out of your eye.
Surround this layout, lads, and let’s examine them more closely.”
At this command, every man in our outfit whipped out his six-shooter,
the Rangers leveled their carbines on the rustlers, and in less than a
minute’s time they were disarmed and as crestfallen a group of men as
ever walked into a trap of their own setting. Hames got out a “black
book,” and after looking the crowd over concluded to hold the entire
covey, as the descriptions of the “wanted” seemed to include most of
them. Some of the rustlers attempted to explain their presence, but
Hames decided to hold the entire party, “just to learn them to be more
careful of their company the next time,” as he put it.
The cut had drifted away into the herd again during the arrest, and
about half our outfit took the cattle on to where the wagon camped for
noon. McCann had anticipated an extra crowd for dinner and was
prepared for the emergency. When dinner was over and the Rangers had
packed and were ready to leave, Hames said to Flood,--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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