Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far WestDrannan, William F.
History
Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far West
Drannan, William F.
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- Wars
I had now lain around so long that I had become restless, as it
never did suit me to loaf about a town, so I concluded that I
would try ranching. I had enough money to buy a good ranch and
stock it, not thinking that it required any great amount of skill.
So I started up the Sacramento river to look for one. After I was
out most a month, this now being the last of February, 1867, I
found stock looking well and found a man that wanted to sell out
his stock and ranch. He had three hundred and twenty acres of land
and one hundred and fifty head of cattle, some chickens, a few
hogs, and a very few farming implements. After I had ridden around
over the ranch several days and looked at his stock, and finding
the range good, I asked his price. He wanted nine thousand
dollars. I believed that this would be a nice quiet life, and
although I did not know anything about raising stock, yet I
thought I would soon catch on as the saying goes, so I made him an
offer of eight thousand dollars, which offer he accepted. He was
to leave everything on the ranch but his bed and clothing and a
few little keep-sakes that he had about the house.
Now I started in to be an honest rancher, believing that all I
would have to do was to ride around over the range occasionally and
look after my stock, take things easy, and let my stock grow into
money, as I had heard it said that stock would while one was
asleep.
I stayed on this place until the spring of 1872, ranching with
very poor success, by which time I had learned to a certainty that
this was not my line.
When a man came along and wanted a cow I always sold him one. I
would take his note for the price and, as a rule, that was all I
ever got.
In the spring of 1875 a man named Glen came into that country from
Jefferson county, Missouri, and to him I sold my entire
possessions. I got out of that scrape by losing my time and one
thousand dollars in money, but I had five years of almost
invaluable experience in ranching and stock-raising.
In those days this was what we called a Mexican stand-off. I lost
my time and money, but had my life left. Nothing occurred during
this five years of my life more than the routine of business that
naturally belongs with this kind of life, so I will pass over it.
I had such poor success ranching that I don't like to think of it
myself, much less having it told in history.
Leaving here I went to Virginia City, Nevada. This was in the
palmy days of the Comstock, and everything was high. After looking
around for a few days and seeing that horses were valuable, I
started for Jacksonville, Oregon, to buy horses for the Virginia
City market. On my arrival at Jacksonville I met a man by the name
of John T. Miller, who was a thorough horseman, and was said to be
a great salesman, which I knew I was not myself. I could buy, but
I could not sell to advantage like some other men.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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