760
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
HARDSHIPS OF A COWBOY'S LIFE IN THE EARLY
DAYS IN TEXAS
James T. Johnson, Charco, Texas
I was born in Jackson county, Mississippi, April 15th, 1852,
and came to Texas with my parents at the age of six months,
landing at Corpus Christi in October. My father was county clerk
there for one term. Mother took sick on the ship coming to
Texas, and lived only six weeks after landing at Corpus Christi.
My grandfather came to Texas with the Irish colony, and served a
few years in the Confederate army, was wounded and came home
on a short furlough, but took blood poisoning and lived but a few
hours.
At the tender age of nine years, I was left an orphan and was
sent to live with the Bookman family, where I was treated as one
of their own children. For two years I enjoyed myself in the
home of these good people, but an uncle in Falls county sent for
me to come and live with him, but I was abused so much that I
left and went to live with another uncle who was just as bad, so I
drifted out into the wide world for myself at the age of thirteen.
[photo omitted — JAMES T. JOHNSON]
I worked for Kade Lewis, in the town of Bremond, hauling
water, and freighted to the town of Kosse. I stayed two years
with this job earning $400 in wages, but when I tried to collect, I
had to be satisfied by exchanging my saddle, worth about $9.00
for his, which was not worth over $15.00. Soon afterwards, I
began to work for widow Thomas, gathering and herding range
horses, where I learned my first work on a ranch.
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
761
I hired to Wash Grey to bring a herd of cattle to Goliad
county, delivering them to his brother, Bob Grey. I remained in
Goliad county and worked as a freighter again, hauling supplies
from Old Indianola to Goliad and Sutherland Springs. The ox
teams we had to drive were too slow for a boy of my age, and I
longed to get back on a ranch chasing mavericks. For the next
four years, I worked for H. A. Lane, near my present home,
twelve miles west of Goliad. Here I received $20.00 per month,
breaking broncos, gathering and branding cattle, etc.
At the age of twenty-one years I left Goliad with a herd of
mixed cattle for H. A. Lane and J. Gus Patton, and drove these
cattle over the Old Chisholm Trail to Dodge City, Kansas, with
only two stampedes on the entire trip.
One year later I again went up the trail with a herd of mixed
cattle of over 3,000 head for J. Gus Patton, who is now our
county attorney, and one of the truest friends I have ever known.
On this trip we had Patton for boss, and Sidney Chivers, Uncle
Billie Menafee and Will Peck as cowboys. Returning from this
trip, I gathered wild horses in Goliad, Victoria, Refugio, Bee,
Live Oak and Karnes counties, gathering several thousand head
for the various ranches.
In 1876 I again went up the trail with 4,500 head of aged
steers for Dillard Fant, with Charley Boyce as herd boss. On this
trip we had the worst weather I ever experienced, losing cattle in
blizzards with the most vivid electrical displays imaginable. We
had seven stampedes on this trip.
In the winter of 1871 and 1872, I helped skin dead cattle on
the prairies in Goliad, Victoria and Refugio counties, as the cattle
were starving to death by the thousands, and very few grown
cattle lived through this terrible winter. I have seen as many as a
thousand head of dead cattle in one day's ride on the prairie near
Lamar. Horses, cattle, deer and sheep suffered awfully during
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THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
these times. Wild game in those days was almost a nuisance. I
have seen deer a few miles southeast of Goliad in droves of fifty
or more at a time, and all the settlers had hogs running wild on
the range, fat in the fall of the year on post oak and live oak
acorns, pecans, etc.
In 1876 I returned to Limestone county, near Pottersville,
where I was married to Miss Martha Thomas, who has been the
most faithful helpmate and partner a man could be blessed with,
and still doing her part in every way to assist me in the ups and
downs of this life's uncertainties. Returning to Goliad, we settled
near the Minneauhuila Creek six miles north of Goliad, where we
tried farming, while I worked at odd jobs for the late John Taylor
for fifteen years. In the early seventies I experienced quite a lot
of difficulty trying to play neutral in the Taylor, Sutton and
Tumlinson feuds, as my sole desire was to work for wages and
not get mixed up with either side.
All the schooling I ever got was about two weeks a year for
three years. I did not have a chance to attend school as other
boys did in those days. I realize now more than ever what I have
missed by not having an education, and it has been one of my
greatest desires in life to give my children a good education. I
live on my farm near the town of Charco, on some of the same
land I roamed over as a cowboy, when land could be bought at
thirty cents per acre, and which is now worth $75 per acre, and
considered as good as the state has. I am now seventy years of
age, can do a hard day's work yet, and as old as I am, I feel like I
could go through all these hardships again if necessary. If any of
my old friends happen to see this article I would be glad to hear
from them.
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
763
ASSOCIATED WITH FRANK JAMES
Sam H. Nunneley, San Antonio, Texas
I was born in Hickman county, Middle Tennessee, April 3,
1851, and in 1869 I started to Texas. I arrived at Memphis on a
train, then the terminus of all roads going west. There I took the
steamer, Bismarck, down the Mississippi to the mouth of Red
River, and up Red River, to Soda and Caddo Lakes to Jefferson,
Texas. I had lots of sport shooting alligators on the trip. From
Jefferson I traveled in a freight wagon drawn by eight yoke of
oxen to Bowie county. The next year I saddled my horse and
pulled out for West Texas, landing at McKinney, Collin county,
where I met Townsend Megeath, and we traveled together, slept
together and that winter we stayed with Sam Hilderbran, which
was an assumed name I learned in after years. Mr. Megeath
turned out to be Frank James. Both were good, unassuming
gentlemen in every way. It was from this county I made my first
trip over the trail with Sneed, Clonch and Gatling. I made one
trip with horses to Mississippi and after selling them I went down
into Florida, where I remained all winter, then went to New
Orleans and Shreveport, and on to San Antonio, and then out to
Uvalde, where I went to work helping drive over the trail for
Hughes, Nunn, Hood and Birchfield. We had fourteen thousand
cattle cut into four herds, and we drove them to Wichita, Kansas.
This was in 1875. After all were sold I came back to Texas on
the train to Seguin, and there took the stage to San Antonio, and
stayed all night at the well-known Monger
[photo omitted — SAM H. NUNNELEY]
764
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
Hotel. Next morning I purchased a saddle for $40 and a horse for
$16 and rode to Uvalde. There I fell in with a bunch of fellows,
eleven in all, and we started horseback to Silver City, New
Mexico, a distance of 900 miles. We went there to live but
nobody lived there outside of government forts except wild
Indians, so we started back to Texas, coming to Fort Stanton,
down the Pecos River to Horsehead Crossing, then across the
plains ninety-five miles without water to the head waters of the
Concho River. There I killed my last buffalo. I spent two weeks
with a buffalo hunter there who had killed that season upwards of
5,000 buffaloes for their hides and tongues. He sold the hides to
Fort Worth people at six bits to a dollar each.
From Johnson county I drove 125 horses to Arkansas for a Mr.
Sparks. I bought beef cattle in the Indian Territory from the
Indians for four years, and drove them to the Hot Springs market,
then bought cattle in Arkansas to drive to Kansas, but sold them
to the chief of the Choctaw Nation, after which I went back to
Arkansas and engaged in the mercantile business for awhile. I
was in the "run" in Oklahoma, and helped to make a state out of
the Territory of Oklahoma. I now live in San Antonio.
THE TANKERSLEY FAMILY
By Mary Tankersley Lewis, San Angelo, Texas
Richard Franklin Tankersley was born February 19, 1828, in
Mississippi. Moved to Texas in 1853, stopping for awhile at
Round Rock, Williamson county, afterward living in Cherokee
county, then in San Saba, then in Brown county, and from there
moved to the head of the South Concho River, in Tom Green
county, which was not organized until many years later. He
served in the Texas Rangers from 1863 to 1865.
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
765
[photo omitted — R. F. TANKERSLEY]
About January 1st, we were visited by a band of Kickapoo
Indians who were going to Mexico and had stopped at Dove
Creek spring to spend a few days. We had at first thought they
were hostile Indians and my father had drawn his gun on the
leader, who waved a white cloth and called out, "me no fight."
There were about fifty men and two women in the party. They
were very friendly and in scouting some days later, found some
of our horses which had strayed off and brought them home. On
January 8, they were overtaken by a company of Texas Rangers
under Captain Gillentine, and a fight was forced on the Indians.
A number of white men were killed and my father helped bury
them. While living at the head of the Concho, he gathered a herd
of cattle with the intention of trailing them to New Mexico, but
he sold them to John Chisum, and the Indians took them from
him on the plains. In June, 1869, my father trailed a herd of
twenty-five hundred cattle to Los Angeles, California, being on
the trail about eight months. On the way home, two men who
camped with him for the night, cut open a saddle bag and stole
five hundred dollars. In the pair of saddle bags there was twentyfive thousand dollars in gold, and why they did not take it all is a
mystery. At that time and for many years afterwards there were
no banks in this part of the state, so all the money we had was
buried under the house.
Increasing depredations by the Indians caused us to move to
Fort Concho in 1869. Many times every horse and mule on the
ranch was taken. All the salt we used was hauled by wagon from
Pecos. On one of these trips
766
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
my father and a hired man were run into by Indians near the head
of the main Concho. They got into the river under bushes and
fought the Indians off. My father was shot in the ankle and the
bullet was never extracted. In February, 1870, we were living in
San Angelo, about where the American Legion opera house now
stands, and Indians came trying to get horses out of the corral
back of the house. About 10 o'clock that night the late Judge
Preusser came to our door and said he had dreamed of seeing
Indians and looking out saw them in fact. About that time they
began yelling and shooting. They did not get the horses and it
was thought that an Indian was wounded as a bloody war bonnet
was found the next day. In this fight a Mexican was shot through
one ear.
[photo omitted — G. W. TANKEBSLEY]
[photo omitted — FAYETTE TANKEESLEY]
A kind and all-wise Providence guarded us through all the
dangers and hardships of pioneer life and will be with us to the
end. Father passed away December 11th, 1912, leaving three
sons, G. W., Fayette, and H. M. Tankersley, and four daughters,
Mrs. Elizabeth Emerick, Mrs. Clarissa Frary, Mrs. Sallie Phelan
and Mrs. Mary Lewis. Since his death, the oldest son and
youngest daughter have "crossed over the river," and are resting
with him " 'neath the shade of the trees."
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
767
TRAIL DRIVING WAS FASCINATING
W. A. Roberts, Frio Town, Texas
My parents were J. E. Roberts and Elizabeth Stahl Roberts. I
was born in Montgomery county, Texas, January 16, 1863, and
came to Frio county with my father and mother in 1869, where I
lived ever since. We made the trip to this county in an ox wagon,
and about the only thing I remember about the trip was crossing
the Brazos River on a ferry boat. When I was about thirteen
years old I went to work for Capt. B. L. Crouch on his Frio
county ranch, and worked there for several years. I made three
trips up the trail. In 1883 I went to Benkelman, Nebraska, and
remained over for the fall round-up on George Benkelman's
ranch on the South Prong of the Republican River, then returning
to my old job on the Crouch ranch.
[photo omitted — W. A. ROBERTS]
In 1884 I went to Seven Rivers, New Mexico, and remained
there to help gather and deliver the D. J. Crouch cattle to the Holt
Cattle Company in November of that year, then drove a bunch of
horses from Seven Rivers to Marfa, shipping them from Marfa to
Uvalde and drove them from Uvalde to the Crouch ranch in Frio
county.
In 1885 I went with a herd of steers for Crouch & Crawford to
the Chickasaw Nation in the Indian Territory. Bert Brown was
our boss on this trip.
Barring stampedes, and storms when balls of lightning played
on the tips of our horses' ears and great balls of electricity came
rolling along the ground, trail
768
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
driving was a fascinating life. We have forgotten the hardships
and remember only the pleasant things.
FOLLOWED CATTLE FROM THE RANCH TO THE
SHIPPING PEN
Mrs. A. P. Belcher, Del Rio, Texas
Alvis Powell Belcher was born September 7th, 1854, in
Jackson county, Missouri. His parents came to Sherman,
Grayson county, Texas, when he was six weeks old. He
commenced going up the trail with herds of cattle at the age of
fourteen. From 1870 to 1878 he made many trips trailing cattle
to Kansas and Missouri, in 1878, together with C. W. Easley he
established an R2 ranch on Wander's Creek in Hardeman county
where the town of Chillicothe now stands. A short while
afterwards the Indians made a raid down through that portion of
the country and killed two cowboys working on the ranch.
Because of the danger from Indians he sold the R2 stock of cattle,
consisting at that time of 10,000 head, and located on the Wichita
near Henrietta, Texas, where he lived and ranched until he moved
to Southwest Texas in 1897.
[photo omitted — A. P. BELCHER]
He went through all the hardships of the ranchman,
wirecutters, droughts and many panics, but he always came back
believing he could win out. He started up the long, long trail the
3rd of March, 1919, and it is certain that he and T. B. Jones and a
host of other trail drivers will greet the drags as they cross the
river with
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
769
the same cheery smiles and handclasps that they gave them while
here.
Surely I am eligible to a membership in the Old Trail Drivers'
Association, for my Grandfather Emberson trailed his little herd
of steers from Lamar county to Arkansas and sold them to the
United States Government. A few years prior to 1830 my father,
Calvin Copenhaver, trailed cattle to Shreveport and other places
in the fifties and sixties, and my husband, Alvin Belcher, in the
seventies to eighties. My sons have driven herds throughout
Western Texas. I have trailed behind the old chuck wagon, have
eaten son-of-a-gun from a tin plate off the chuck box and
followed cattle from the ranch to the shipping pen.
TELLS OF AN INDIAN FIGHT
W. A. Franks, Pearsall, Texas
I first saw the light in Montgomery county, January 24th,
1853. The family came to Frio county in 1869, in the month of
June. I worked for B. L. Crouch and his brother, Joe Crouch, for
twelve years and want to state right here that the Crouches were
two as fine men as I ever knew. Captain B. L. Crouch came from
Michigan just after the Civil war, and was a captain in the Union
army. He first engaged in the sheep business in Williamson
county, from there he came to Frio county, where he became one
of the big cow-men of Texas, becoming the owner of a ranch
between Old Frio Town and Pearsall, containing some sixty
thousand acres. My mother had charge of the boarding or dining
hall, at the head ranch, where the cowboys and anyone visiting
the ranch got their meals. I recall one incident, to show the true
gentleman the captain was. Some three or four of his rich friends
from the north were at the ranch on a visit, and a cowboy of the
one-horse kind came to the ranch looking for a cow that had been
lost out of a small herd when passing through
770
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
the ranch. When the bell rang at the dining hall for supper,
twenty-five or thirty men marched into the hall, took their
respective places, and there they stood while Captain Crouch
took the one-horse cowboy by the arm and escorted him to a seat
at the table. After he had been seated, he said, "Gentlemen, be
seated." I don't think he had a superior for being a refined,
cultured, polished, intelligent gentleman, and those who transacted
business with him held him in the highest esteem. The cowboys
who worked for him loved him like a father. He, like his
"Pisano," Henry Ford, believed in a fair wage for the working
man. Though he had lost his fortune, in his later years he never
quit working for the flock master,
[photo omitted — WM. A. FRANKS]
THE TRAIL DRIVERS OF TEXAS
771
by advocating the scalp law against the predatory animals.
My first trip on the trail was made in the spring of 1874, with
J. W. Allen as boss. The herd was owned by Lytle McDaniel,
and was delivered at Dodge City, Kansas.
In 1874 we went from the Crouch ranch and shipped to
Wichita Falls, Texas, then drove to Bingham, Nebraska, on the
Republican River. A bad storm struck us on Smoky River, five
herds being in sight, and we were the only boys that held our
herd. George Wilcox, the boss, said it was the worst storm that
he had ever seen and he had been on the trail thirteen years. Will
King from Lockhart, Texas, came near being drowned that night,
as the face of the earth was covered with water, and one could not
distinguish ravines from level ground.
In June, 1873, during the light of the moon, while working on
the Crouch ranch one of the sheep herders failed to show up.
Some two weeks after he disappeared I found his remains about
one mile and a half from the ranch, his body stripped and
mutilated, hands tied behind and seven arrows sticking in his
back.
In 1875 Indians made a raid on the Crouch ranch during the
night and the next morning when we discovered their trail and
missed the horses, seven of us followed them. Nelse Brice, Jap
Brice, Jim Crawson, T. W. Everete, L. L. Everete, Ben Steadman,
M.W. Franke and myself. We overtook them at Loma Vista in
Zavala county. The country being open, they discovered us when
we were a half a mile behind them, so we had a running fight for
a mile, until they took the brush. We captured sixty head of
horses, twenty of them belonging to Rothe on the Hondo. There
were nine Indians in this bunch. The horses they were mounted
on were all they got off with. Quite a number of shots were
exchanged, but I don't think any damage was done on either side.