Reed Anthony, Cowman: An Autobiography

THE CHEYENNE AND ARAPAHOE CATTLE COMPANY

The assassination of President Garfield temporarily checked our plans in forming the new cattle company.  Kirkwood of the Interior Department was disposed to be friendly to all Western enterprises, but our advices from Washington anticipated a reorganization of the cabinet under Arthur.  Senator Teller was slated to succeed Kirkwood, and as there was no question about the former being fully in sympathy with everything pertaining to the West, every one interested in the pending project lent his influence in supporting the Colorado man for the Interior portfolio.  Several senators and any number of representatives were subscribers to our company, and by early fall the outlook was so encouraging that we concluded at least to open negotiations for a lease on the Cheyenne and Arapahoe reservation.  A friendly acquaintance was accordingly to be cultivated with the Indian agent of these tribes.  George Edwards knew him personally, and, well in advance of Major Hunter and myself, dropped down to the agency and made known his errand.  There were already a number of cattle being held on the reservation by squaw-men, sutlers, contractors, and other army followers stationed at Fort Reno.  The latter ignored all rights of the tribes, and even collected a rental from outside cattle for grazing on the reservation, and were naturally antagonistic to any interference with their personal plans.  There had been more or less friction between the Indian agent and these usurpers of the grazing privileges, and a proposition to lease a million acres at an annual rental of fifty thousand dollars at once met with the sanction of the agent.  Major Hunter and I were notified of the outlook, and at the close of the beef-shipping season we took stage for the Cheyenne and Arapahoe Agency.  Our segundo had thoroughly ridden over the country, the range was a desirable one, and we soon came to terms with the agent.  He was looked upon as a necessary adjunct to the success of our company, a small block of stock was set aside for his account, while his usefulness in various ways would entitle his name to grace the salary list.  For the present the opposition of the army followers was to be ignored, as no one gave them credit for being able to thwart our plans.

The Indian agent called the head men of the two tribes together.  The powwow was held at the summer encampment of the Cheyennes, and the principal chiefs of the Arapahoes were present.  A beef was barbecued at our expense, and a great deal of good tobacco was smoked.  Aside from the agent, we employed a number of interpreters; the council lasted two days, and on its conclusion we held a five years’ lease, with the privilege of renewal, on a million acres of as fine grazing land as the West could boast.  The agreement was signed by every chief present, and it gave us the privilege to fence our range, build shelter and stabling for our men and horses, and otherwise equip ourselves for ranching.  The rental was payable semiannually in advance, to begin with the occupation of the country the following spring, and both parties to the lease were satisfied with the terms and conditions.  In the territory allotted to us grazed two small stocks of cattle, one of which had comfortable winter shelters on Quartermaster Creek.  Our next move was to buy both these brands and thus gain the good will of the only occupants of the range.  Possession was given at once, and leaving Edwards and a few men to hold the range, the major and I returned to Kansas and reported our success to Washington.

The organization was perfected, and The Cheyenne and Arapahoe Cattle Company began operations with all the rights and privileges of an individual.  One fourth of the capital stock was at once paid into the hands of the treasurer, the lease and cattle on hand were transferred to the new company, and the executive committee began operations for the future.  Barbed wire by the carload was purchased sufficient to build one hundred miles of four-strand fence, and arrangements were made to have the same freighted one hundred and fifty miles inland by wagon from the railway terminal to the new ranch on Quartermaster Creek.  Contracts were let to different men for cutting the posts and building the fence, and one of the old trail bosses came on from Texas and was installed as foreman of the new range.  The first meeting of stockholders—­for permanent organization—­was awaiting the convenience of the Western contingent; and once Edwards was relieved, he and Major Hunter took my proxy and went on to the national capital.  Every interest had been advanced to the farthest possible degree:  surveyors would run the lines, the posts would be cut and hauled during the winter, and by the first of June the fences would be up and the range ready to receive the cattle.

I returned to Texas to find everything in a prosperous condition.  The Texas and Pacific railway had built their line westward during the past summer, crossing the Colorado River sixty miles south of headquarters on the Double Mountain ranch and paralleling my Clear Fork range about half that distance below.  Previous to my return, the foreman on my Western ranch shipped out four trains of sixteen hundred bulls on consignment to our regular customer in Illinois, it being the largest single shipment made from Colorado City since the railway reached that point.  Thrifty little towns were springing up along the railroad, land was in demand as a result of the boom in cattle, and an air of prosperity pervaded both city and hamlet and was reflected in a general activity throughout the State.  The improved herd was the pride of the Double Mountain ranch, now increased by over seven hundred half-blood heifers, while the young males were annually claimed for the improvement of the main ranch stock.  For fear of in-and-in breeding, three years was the limit of use of any bulls among the improved cattle, the first importation going to the main stock, and a second consignment supplanting them at the head of the herd.

In the permanent organization of The Cheyenne and Arapahoe Cattle Company, the position of general manager fell to me.  It was my wish that this place should have gone to Edwards, as he was well qualified to fill it, while I was busy looking after the firm and individual interests.  Major Hunter likewise favored our segundo, but the Eastern stockholders were insistent that the management of the new company should rest in the hands of a successful cowman.  The salary contingent with the position was no inducement to me, but, with the pressure brought to bear and in the interests of harmony, I was finally prevailed on to accept the management.  The proposition was a simple one,—­the maturing and marketing of beeves; we had made a success of the firm’s beef ranch in the Cherokee Outlet, and as far as human foresight went, all things augured for a profitable future.

There was no intention on the part of the old firm to retire from the enviable position that we occupied as trail drovers.  Thus enlarging the scope of our operations as cowmen simply meant that greater responsibility would rest on the shoulders of the active partners and our trusted men.  Accepting the management of the new company meant, to a certain extent, a severance of my personal connection with the firm, yet my every interest was maintained in the trail and beef ranch.  One of my first acts as manager of the new company was to serve a notice through our secretary-treasurer calling for the capital stock to be paid in on or before February 1, 1882.  It was my intention to lay the foundation of the new company on a solid basis, and with ample capital at my command I gave the practical experiences of my life to the venture.  During the winter I bought five hundred head of choice saddle horses, all bred in north Texas and the Pan-Handle, every one of which I passed on personally before accepting.

Thus outfitted, I awaited the annual cattle convention.  Major Hunter and our segundo were present, and while we worked in harmony, I was as wide awake for a bargain in the interests of the new company as they were in that of the old firm.  I let contracts for five herds of fifteen thousand Pan-Handle three-year-old steers for delivery on the new range in the Indian Territory, and bought nine thousand twos to be driven on company account.  There was the usual whoop and hurrah at the convention, and when it closed I lacked only six thousand head of my complement for the new ranch.  I was confining myself strictly to north Texas and Pan-Handle cattle, for through Montana cowmen I learned that there was an advantage, at maturity, in the northern-bred animal.  Major Hunter and our segundo bought and contracted in a dozen counties from the Rio Grande to Red River during the convention, and at the close we scattered to the four winds in the interests of our respective work.  In order to give my time and attention to the new organization, I assigned my individual cattle to the care of the firm, of which I was sending out ten thousand three-year-old steers and two herds of aging and dry cows.  They would take their chances in the open market, though I would have dearly loved to take over the young steers for the new company rather than have bought their equivalent in numbers.  I had a dislike to parting with an animal of my own breeding, and to have brought these to a ripe maturity under my own eye would have been a pleasure and a satisfaction.  But such an action might have caused distrust of my management, and an honest name is a valuable asset in a cowman’s capital.

My ranch foremen made up the herds and started my individual cattle on the trail.  I had previously bought the two remaining herds in Archer and Clay counties, and in the five that were contracted for and would be driven at company risk and account, every animal passed and was received under my personal inspection.  Three of the latter were routed by way of the Chisholm trail, and two by the Western, while the cattle under contract for delivery at the company ranch went by any route that their will and pleasure saw fit.  I saw very little of my old associates during the spring months, for no sooner had I started the herds than I hastened to overtake the lead one so as to arrive with the cattle at their new range.  I had kept in touch with the building of fences, and on our arrival, near the middle of May, the western and southern strings were completed.  It was not my intention to inclose the entire range, only so far as to catch any possible drift of cattle to the south or west.  A twenty-mile spur of fence on the east, with half that line and all the north one open, would be sufficient until further encroachments were made on our range.  We would have to ride the fences daily, anyhow, and where there was no danger of drifting, an open line was as good as a fence.

As fast as the cattle arrived they were placed under loose herd for the first two weeks.  Early in June the last of the contracted herds arrived and were scattered over the range, the outfits returning to Texas.  I reduced my help gradually, as the cattle quieted down and became located, until by the middle of summer we were running the ranch with thirty men, which were later reduced to twenty for the winter.  Line camps were established on the north and east, comfortable quarters were built for fence-riders and their horses, and aside from headquarters camp, half a dozen outposts were maintained.  Hay contracts were let for sufficient forage to winter forty horses, the cattle located nicely within a month, and time rolled by without a cloud on the horizon of the new cattle company.  I paid a flying visit to Dodge and Ogalalla, but, finding the season drawing to a close and the firm’s cattle all sold, I contentedly returned to my accepted task.  I had been buried for several months in the heart of the Indian Territory, and to get out where one could read the daily papers was a treat.  During my banishment, Senator Teller had been confirmed as Secretary of the Interior, an appointment that augured well for the future of the Cheyenne and Arapahoe Cattle Company.  Advices from Washington were encouraging, and while the new secretary lacked authority to sanction our lease, his tacit approval was assured.

The firm of Hunter, Anthony & Co. made a barrel of money in trailing cattle and from their beef ranch during the summer of 1882.  I actually felt grieved over my portion of the season’s work for while I had established a promising ranch, I had little to show, the improvement account being heavy, owing to our isolation.  It was doubtful if we could have sold the ranch and cattle at a profit, yet I was complimented on my management, and given to understand that the stockholders were anxious to double the capitalization should I consent.  Range was becoming valuable, and at a meeting of the directors that fall a resolution was passed, authorizing me to secure a lease adjoining our present one.  Accordingly, when paying the second installment of rent money, I took the Indian agent of the two tribes with me.  The leading chiefs were pleased with my punctuality in meeting the rental, and a proposition to double their income of “grass” money met with hearty grunts of approval.  I made the council a little speech,—­my maiden endeavor,—­and when it was interpreted to the squatting circle I had won the confidence of these simple aborigines.  A duplicate of our former lease in acreage and terms was drawn up and signed; and during the existence of our company the best teepee in the winter or summer encampments, of either the Cheyennes or Arapahoes, was none too good for Reed Anthony when he came with the rent money or on other business.

Our capital stock was increased to two million dollars, in the latter half of which, one hundred thousand was asked for and allotted to me.  I stayed on the range until the first of December, freighting in a thousand bushels of corn for the horses and otherwise seeing that the camps were fully provisioned before returning to my home in Texas.  The winter proved dry and cold, the cattle coming through in fine condition, not one per cent of loss being sustained, which is a good record for through stock.  Spring came and found me on the trail, with five herds on company account and eight herds under contract,—­a total of forty thousand cattle intended for the enlarged range.  All these had been bought north of the quarantine line in Texas, and were turned loose with the wintered ones, fever having been unknown among our holdings of the year before.  In the mean time the eastern spur of fence had been taken down and the southern line extended forty miles eastward and north the same distance.  The northern line of our range was left open, the fences being merely intended to catch any possible drift from summer storms or wintry blizzards.  Yet in spite of this precaution, two round-up outfits were kept in the field through the early summer, one crossing into the Chickasaw Nation and the other going as far south as Red River, gathering any possible strays from the new range.

I was giving my best services to the new company.  Save for the fact that I had capable foremen on my individual ranches in Texas, my absence was felt in directing the interests of the firm and personally.  Major Hunter had promoted an old foreman to a trusted man, and the firm kept up the volume of business on the trail and ranch, though I was summoned once to Dodge and twice to Ogalalla during the summer of 1883.  Issues had arisen making my presence necessary, but after the last trail herd was sold I returned to my post.  The boom was still on in cattle at the trail markets, and Texas was straining every energy to supply the demand, yet the cry swept down from the North for more cattle.  I was branding twenty thousand calves a year on my two ranches, holding the increase down to that number by sending she stuff up the country on sale, and from half a dozen sources of income I was coining money beyond human need or necessity.  I was then in the physical prime of my life and was master of a profitable business, while vistas of a brilliant future opened before me on every hand.

When the round-up outfits came in for the summer, the beef shipping began.  In the first two contingents of cattle purchased in securing the good will of the original range, we now had five thousand double wintered beeves.  It was my intention to ship out the best of the single wintered ones, and five separate outfits were ordered into the saddle for that purpose.  With the exception of line and fence riders,—­for two hundred and forty miles were ridden daily, rain or shine, summer or winter,—­every man on the ranch took up his abode with the wagons.  Caldwell and Hunnewell, on the Kansas state line were the nearest shipping points, requiring fifteen days’ travel with beeves, and if there was no delay in cars, an outfit could easily gather the cattle and make a round trip in less than a month.  Three or four trainloads, numbering from one thousand and fifty to fourteen hundred head, were cut out at a time and handled by a single outfit.  I covered the country between the ranch and shipping points, riding night and day ahead in ordering cars, and dropping back to the ranch to superintend the cutting out of the next consignment of cattle.  Each outfit made three trips, shipping out fifteen thousand beeves that fall, leaving sixty thousand cattle to winter on the range.

Several times that fall, when shipping beeves from Caldwell, we met up with the firm’s outfits from the Eagle Chief in the Cherokee Outlet.  Naturally the different shipping crews looked over each other’s cattle, and an intense rivalry sprang up between the different foremen and men.  The cattle of the new company outshone those of the old firm, and were outselling them in the markets, while the former’s remudas were in a class by themselves, all of which was salt to open wounds and magnified the jealousy between our own outfits.  The rivalry amused me, and until petty personalities were freely indulged in, I encouraged and widened the breach between the rival crews.  The outfits under my direction had accumulated a large supply of saddle and sleeping blankets procured from the Indians, gaudy in color, manufactured in sizes for papoose, squaw, and buck.  These goods were of the finest quality, but during the annual festivals of the tribe Lo’s hunger for gambling induced him to part, for a mere song, with the blanket that the paternal government intended should shelter him during the storms of winter.  Every man in my outfits owned from six to ten blankets, and the Eagle Chief lads rechristened the others, including myself, with the most odious of Indian names.  In return, we refused to visit or eat at their wagons, claiming that they lived slovenly and were lousy.  The latter had an educated Scotchman with them, McDougle by name, the ranch bookkeeper, who always went into town in advance to order cars.  McDougle had a weakness for the cup, and on one occasion he fell into the hands of my men, who humored his failing, marching him through the streets, saloons, and hotels shouting at the top of his voice, “Hunter, Anthony & Company are going to ship!” The expression became a byword among the citizens of the town, and every reappearance of McDougle was accepted as a herald that our outfits from the Eagle Chief were coming in with cattle.

A special meeting of the stockholders was called at Washington that fall, which all the Western members attended.  Reports were submitted by the secretary-treasurer and myself, the executive committee made several suggestions, the proposition, to pay a dividend was overwhelmingly voted down, and a further increase of the capital stock was urged by the Eastern contingent.  I sounded a note of warning, called attention to the single cloud on the horizon, which was the enmity that we had engendered in a clique of army followers in and around Fort Reno.  These men had in the past, were even then, collecting toll from every other holder of cattle on the Cheyenne and Arapahoe reservation.  That this coterie of usurpers hated the new company and me personally was a well-known fact, while its influence was proving much stronger than at first anticipated, and I cheerfully admitted the same to the stockholders assembled.  The Eastern mind, living under established conditions, could hardly realize the chaotic state of affairs in the West, with its vicious morals, and any attempt to levy tribute in the form of blackmail was repudiated by the stockholders in assembly.  Major Hunter understood my position and delicately suggested coming to terms with the company’s avowed enemies as the only feasible solution of the impending trouble.  To further enlarge our holdings of cattle and leased range, he urged, would be throwing down the gauntlet in defiance of the clique of army attaches.  Evidently no one took us seriously, and instead, ringing resolutions passed, enlarging the capital stock by another million, with instructions to increase our leases accordingly.

The Western contingent returned home with some misgivings as to the future.  Nothing was to be feared from the tribes from whom we were leasing, nor the Comanche and his allies on the southwest, though there were renegades in both; but the danger lay in the flotsam of the superior race which infested the frontier.  I felt no concern for my personal welfare, riding in and out from Fort Reno at my will and pleasure, though I well knew that my presence on the reservation was a thorn in the flesh of my enemies.  There was little to fear, however, as the latter class of men never met an adversary in the open, but by secret methods sought to accomplish their objects.  The breach between the Indian agent and these parasites of the army was constantly widening, and an effort had been made to have the former removed, but our friends at the national capital took a hand, and the movement was thwarted.  Fuel was being constantly added to the fire, and on our taking a third lease on a million acres, the smoke gave way to flames.  Our usual pacific measures were pursued, buying out any cattle in conflict, but fencing our entire range.  The last addition to our pasture embraced a strip of country twenty miles wide, lying north of and parallel to the two former leases, and gave us a range on which no animal need ever feel the restriction of a fence.  Ten to fifteen acres were sufficient to graze a steer the year round, but owing to the fact that we depended entirely on running water, much of the range would be valueless during the dry summer months.  I readily understood the advantages of a half-stocked range, and expected in the future to allow twenty-five acres in the summer and thirty in the winter to the pasture’s holdings.  Everything being snug for the winter, orders were left to ride certain fences twice a day,—­lines where we feared fence-cutting,—­and I took my departure for home.