USA > Texas > Early pioneer days in Texas > Part 3
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When I hear of hunting parties going out to- day I can't help but remember what a difference there is between then and now. The prairie chick- ens used to fly in such numbers that they would obscure the sun. It was such sport shooting them and trying to see how many we could kill at one shot as they used to light in our fields when we were planting wheat. They were more numerous than blackbirds in oat-sowing time, and it kept us busy to keep them out of our fields. They would gather in the post oaks and live off the acorns in the fall of the year and weigh down the branches by their weight, they were so numerous. How well do I remember having stood on my father's gallery and shot at prairie chickens in the tops of the old post oak trees that stood in the yard. They didn't quite fall into the frying pan, but they dropped so close to the kitchen door that the cook had only to dress and clean them to put them there. They feasted also on berries, and in the shumake patches, when I was a mere lad herding sheep, too young to shoot a gun offhand, I carried a forked stick on which I placed the gun to shoot, and many of the feathery tribe have fallen when I pressed the trigger. I nearly always got a mess, but sometimes the recoil sent me sprawling on the ground, and not always did I have the time to choose the softest and coziest bed of flowers to lie upon. But what cared I for bruised or in- jured limbs, or bones, so long as I could get a goodly number of game!
The quail and partridges were fat and fine, and numerous. We used to catch them in pens and
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shoot them, too. I have caught a dozen in one pen, and in harvest time we used to gather eggs and bake them in the hot sand and feast off them.
Nor shall I forget the nectar of the gods-the honey furnished us by the industrious honey bee -the most wonderful insect in God's creation, flit- ting from flower to flower, extracting here a little and there a little, and gathering the sweetest of all the sweets. If there is anything I like better than honey it is more honey. The wonderful tales told of honey and the honey bee may seem exag- gerated, but no tale can exaggerate the abundance of honey that was to be found right here in Texas in the early days. What sweet, happy days we had cutting bee-trees and eating the rich, wild honey spread over our buttered biscuits, biscuits ready for the occasion. We had a bountiful sup- ply the whole year round-combed honey, strained honey and candied honey. I cannot refrain from paying tribute to the industrious bees. How dili- gently they gather and economically store during the season of labor that they may have plenty in the store-house in the winter hours. What a les- son to us the bees give, teaching us the need for industry, thrift and economy, using our God-given talents while it is day, and laying in store for the day when our work is done. Honey Grove-let the name perpetuate the meaning that its name implies, a grove where industry, economy, enter- prise and perseverance shall be perpetuated. It is said that Davy Crockett and his men, those illus- trious Texas heroes, camped here a week on their way to that world-famed Alamo, and fed on the
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honey that gave them the joy of service and zeal for their country's cause. These men, whose names are written in history's pages as heroes unequalled, and who will live in the memory of ages of unborn men and women for centuries to come.
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CHAPTER IV.
TEN YEARS A COWBOY IN THE WILD WEST.
Ever since I first learned to ride a horse I was trained to work with herds and care for horses and cattle. Even before I could ride horseback I herded a large flock of sheep. In those days wolves and other carniverous animals were prowl- ing around so plentifully that it required the ut- most vigilance, both by night and by day, to keep them from being killed and eaten. We had to pen them in stockades built of heavy rails and logs near the house and guarded by good bear dogs to keep the wolves and panthers away. The sheep were very necessary to us then, and profitable. From their wool we carded, spun and wove our clothing, our bed clothes and our cloth. From their flesh we got our meat food. We made our own clothes then, and they were all wool and a full, wide yard. Every young woman and matron knew how to manufacture clothing for herself and for her children, and many a woman has made a suit for her husband and sons from the wool of the sheep that were raised in their own corral.
As I grew older I had to herd cattle and horses. On the prairies the luxuriant grasses grew in such an abundance that it was very profitable to raise horses, cattle and hogs. Often the grass grew as high as the horses' sides. In the summer there
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was an abundance of grass on the high ground, and in the winter the cattle would fatten on the grass in the bottoms. Hogs fattened on persim- mons, pecans and hickory and walnuts. Farmers could borrow money at a very low rate of interest and mortgages were very rare. A man borrowed on his honor then and confidence prevailed, and there were no losses which required the honest man to bear because of the rascality of the man who absconded. Every one practiced the golden rule, doing unto others as they would be done by -not as it seems to be the rule today, to do others or else they will do you.
There were no railroads then, and to market our stock we would round up our stock and drive them to Kansas or Nebraska, feeding them on the grasses on the way. Often for several months we would not be under a roof, sleeping out in the open, camping, exposed to the rigors of the weath- er, swimming rivers, in storms and rains, in bright and dark days, the thundering and lightning often stampeding the cattle, necessitating labor and work to round them up sometimes in the most trying conditions.
The first trip I took I shall never forget. I had been used to having the comforts of home, with plenty of good milk, butter and eggs, chicken, fruits, vegetables and good wholesome made bread, and a nice soft feather bed to sleep on. But my! What a change when I started on the jour- ney to the market with the cattle-my first in- troduction to driving the cattle on that long jour- ney over the Chisholm trail to Kansas. How my
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bones ached and my appetite groaned, and how I longed for my happy, comfortable home. It re- quired all my courage, ambition and determina- tion to keep me on my way, and you may be sure the brackish, unfiltered water, and the coarse cornbread and fat bacon, and badly made coffee was not gratifying to the desires of my digestive organs. Nor did it have the effect of easing my mind-in fact, for a few days I almost starved. The cowboys and the cook called me the parson. They taunted me because I would not eat their crude food, and said: "Parson, you'll come to your appetite by and by"-and I did, for I soon got so I could eat any old thing they fixed and in any old way. Often after a long, hard day, I would arrive in camp almost exhausted after run- ning after stampeded cattle, sometimes being gone all night, with lightning flashes and thunder roar- ing and rain beating, or sleet beating in my face to sit down to a meal of corn-pone and fat bacon, washing it down with badly concocted coffee.
The discomforts of the trail were not alone the hard bed of the prairie, nor the badly cooked meals, but we also had the dangers of the ever- present, murderous Indians. They lurked in every possible place that would give them a hiding place, and infested the country all along the route. Al- ways on the warpath, painted in their hideous colors, armed with bows, arrows and their scalp- ing knives, ready to slaughter the cowboys that they might rob them of their cattle. It was the will of the great Spirit that I should be delivered, though thousands of my brave fellows were
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slaughtered by these bloodthirsty devils, and their cattle stolen. Many a night, after a tedious and dangerous chasing of stampeded cattle, have we gone without supper and breakfast, and found ourselves ten or fifteen miles from camp, all alone with seventy-five or one hundred head of cattle, at the mercy of the ever-present onslaught of the treacherous Red Man, who was only too eager to take our lives that he might get our cattle. How it lingers in my memory, and I shall remember it to my dying day, how, when I would come in from the strain of the weariness and care of the trail, to find that the other cowboys who had gone in at intervals from rounding up their stampeded cattle, had left me nothing to eat, and how well I remem- ber the cook as he would say to me: "Just wait, Parson, and I'll soon start a fire and have you some bread and coffee," and he would then gather up some of the weeds and grass and start to make me something to eat, telling me that he would have something for the Parson, even if he only had grass and weeds to cook it with. I would be so hungry that I couldn't wait, and would pitch in and eat ravenously of the raw meat, and as I think of it now, it tasted better than anything I ever ate in my life, although I was wet and weary and exhausted. Emergency and necessity makes us do things sometimes that we abhor under other conditions, and I learned in those days that a man will do things sometimes he says he would never do. One must experience the need of a situation before he is capable of knowing what he would do if he had to do it. It is the experienced who have
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the most sympathy, and it teaches patience to have to bear up against adversities.
Another scene comes vividly to my mind on a night of extreme disorder. The night was so dark and the storm so menacing that we could not see the distance of the length of our arm, except when a flash of lightning illuminated the way for us. Feeling our way, not knowing what we might run into, nor what we were running over, the fright- ened cattle rushing ahead of us invisible except as we could see them ahead of us when the light- ning flashed, we were obliged to press on, for fear they would all be lost. For three days and nights we had been in the saddle nearly all the time. How we longed for the rest of the bed, rough as it was, where we could rest our bodies and give ourselves over to a good, sound sleep. While we were riding on this way, suddenly my brother's horse lit in a mudhole and his feet stuck, throw- ing the horse to the ground and my brother somer- saulted over his head, the horse sinking up to his breast, turned over on my brother as he fell and seriously hurt his left leg, arm and breast. I stopped and got off my horse to help him, but he said, "No, go full speed and catch my horse," for the horse, after falling, had got up and ran after the fleeing, stampeding cattle. By the frequent use of the quirt and spurs I succeeded, by giving my horse his head, in reaching the herd, and finally located the horse and brought him back to my brother. But what a time I had in locating him, for with the howling of the wind and the howl of the wolves, and the cries of the panthers,
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and the hooting owls, I would hear him first in one place and then another, and many a wild goose chase I had, as I thought I heard his voice calling me in many different places. When I finally reached him I found him badly crippled, and with much difficulty and some help from him, succeed- ed in getting him in the saddle, when I had to take him back to camp, where our wagon and mess tent was. How he suffered, and for several days we were obliged to take him in the wagon, which was drawn by ox teams, before he was able to mount his horse again. This accident, no doubt, shortened his life, as he never fully recovered from the injury he sustained on this terrible night's experience-he always complained ever after of the pain in his breast. As I look back on those momentous days, with the dangers and ex- posures, and compare them with the comforts of today, made possible by the self-sacrificing pio- neering of the men and women of those days, I wonder and exclaim: Surely the goodness and mercy of the guiding hand and protecting care of our gracious heavenly Father has ever protected and followed me, and words fail to express my gratitude and thankfulness to Him for His good- ness to me. Millions have died since I came into existence, and yet He has thought well to leave me here. For some useful purpose He has kept me here, some helpful mission He intends I should do. I trust God will give me grace to do what He would have me do, and that I may use the talent He has given me, vigorously, courageously, for truth, honor, justice and mercy all along the path of life, till I reach the great beyond.
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There were so many events in my life in the early days that it is, of course, impossible to nar- rate them all. One of the momentous times that I remember while we were driving our cattle was at a place where we had corraled them in a valley between two mountains, whose steep, rocky sides reared up almost perpendicularly, and on the other side was a deep, steep bank, while at the entrance of the valley we had stationed two cowboys, whom we felt certain would have no difficulty in con- trolling the cattle from making their escape. My brother and I had laid down with our clothes on, as was our custom when we were in expectancy of an immediate awakening from the stampeding cattle. About midnight there was a rush, like an avalanche of the long-legged Southern Texas- Spanish cattle which were grazing nearby-there must have been nearly ten thousand of them. They came rushing pell-mell over the rocks and hillsides, and the motion and noise is indescribable. I shall never forget the terrific commotion as they came towards our bunch and mingled with them. Our cattle were so frightened, and so hard to man- age that we were almost desperate to separate them the following day. It took us all day to get them apart, and one of our fellows lost his hat and the cattle ground it to shreds under their hoofs ; so he was compelled to wear a red bandana until we reached Kansas. He had such a spec- tacular appearance that we nicknamed him our "Heap Big Indian Chief." Many of our cattle were dehorned from the rush of the wild steers, and several were so badly bruised that we were compelled to kill them to relieve them of their dis-
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tress. We lost many by the swollen streams in crossing the rivers, and often both riders and horses were lost in endeavoring to ford the streams. It was hard sometimes to get the herd across a stream, but after we would get one start- ed it would usually result in the rest following without any further trouble. It was on one of these occasions that I nearly lost my life. We had to swim the rivers on horseback, and we usually constructed a raft to float over our wagon. It was on the Big Walnut Creek, in the Osage Nation, near the Kansas line. A swollen stream was rapid- ly flowing in the creek, and we were anxious to cross before night came on. On the opposite bank was a log raft tied to a tree, and I told my brother Loss that I was going to swim across for that raft so we could ford our wagon and grub across. So I took hold of the rope with my teeth after tieing two thirty-foot lariats together, started to swim across. I got along first rate until I reached about the middle, when the weight of the rope in the water caused me to have fear that I should be unable to bear up. But I was so determined to carry out my plan that I held on with grim desperation, and was drawn under the water. I was not frightened, and preserved my presence of mind. My brother yelled for me to let go of the rope, but being of a persistent disposition, I held on desperately, and as I was drawn under I would hold my breath so that I would not strangle. I only had a short distance to go to reach the other shore, when I found my strength was about to give way. I made one strong effort, and was just about to give up when, in standing in the
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water, I found I could just touch bottom, and this gave me courage to make one more effort, and after two or three more strokes I succeeded in grasping hold of a strong limb in a bush hang- ing on the edge of the bank, which saved me from going under. I was so fatigued and worn out that I lay there holding to the branch for several minutes before I could gather enough strength to crawl out on the shore and walk up to where the raft was tied. It did not take long to get the raft over and ferry our traps and grub, but it seemed an age when I was swimming across that dangerous overflowing river. It took me several days to get over that little experience, and I have often thought if that river had been another yard wider I would have been on the other shore, where mankind never has come back.
As my memory takes me back to those long drives to market with our cattle, and I compare them with the conveniences of today, I cannot help but feel that the present generation owes a great debt of gratitude to the pioneers who blazed the trail for the vast possibilities that are all about us. Gone are the days when we would loiter around the markets for days at a time wait- ing for the price for our cattle, letting them fat- ton on the nutritious grass so plentiful every- where until they would fatten so we should be able to get our price. Meanwhile we would live on fish and game, and we would keep our cattle calmly feeding, with occasionally a few barrels of salt to keep them in good condition. The land is now nearly all taken up, and it is not so free
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to find as then, and we shall never see them again -those days when a man was in fact monarch of all he surveyed. We did not appreciate our privileges then. Had we had the foresight, what opportunities we might have accomplished. It teaches me the lesson that we should make good use of our opportunities, and we will then have plenty for the rainy days. But each dark cloud has its silver lining, so after all is the fact that the opportunities lost were lost only to be made brighter for others, who have reaped the benefits of the sacrifices of those who were willing to give their lives in settling this, then, barren waste, and build homes and rear children for the development of what is now our great and glorious common- wealth.
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CHAPTER V.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH AND HISTORY OF MY FATHER, W. B. ALLEN, AS TOLD BY HIMSELF.
(Written by J. Taylor Allen, Jan. 6th, 1908.)
Born August 1st, 1816, in Edgefield District, South Carolina; emigrated with his parents, when eight years old, to Brownsville, Haywood County, . Tennessee. He had four brothers and two sis- ters. His father died in Haywood County, Ten- nessee.
When about eighteen years old (hearing of the war between Mexico and the Republic of Texas, under President-General Sam Houston, battling for freedom, liberty and independence against Spanish and Mexican tyrannical rule) and being possessed of a patriotic, daring, adventuresome, . pioneer spirit, longed to come to Texas to engage in the conflict, and faithfully, heroically and en- ergetically battle against Spaniards, Mexicans, wild, blood-thirsty Indians, innumerable wild ani- mals, and endure the many dangers, inconven- iences and hardships incident to early pioneer settlers life.
His dear old widowed mother, brothers, sisters and other relatives and friends, fully realizing the hazard, sought to dissuade him from his greatly desired, dangerous journey, telling him that he would be killed and scalped by blood-thirsty sav- age Indians, his body devoured by ferocious ani-
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mals, and his people in the far-away Tennessee homeland never would know what became of him.
But all scary tales and persuasion only made him bolder and more determined to make the hazardous journey ; so that his mother and other relatives and friends, seeing their efforts to dis- suade him were of no avail, began to plan and arrange for his departure. At just about this time, two of the old-time friends of his mother and father, Dr. Boyce and Everett Harris, were planning and arranging to make the journey on horseback to Texas to secure some of the good, rich land ; so his mother told them her son, Wilson B. Allen, was determined to go and besought them that he might go with them. Of course, since it was her wish, they consented and accepted his earnest request and were really glad to have him accompany them on their long, lonesome, danger- ous journey through a country almost uninhabit- ed by white people ; surrounded as they journeyed by wild, blood-thirsty Indians and wild animals. It seems miraculous that they were not killed, but a kind Providence protected and provided se- curity for these brave and determined pioneer settlers. They proceeded on their journey with- out any serious inconvenience until in Arkansas. Father's horse took sick, and, notwithstanding all their efforts and remedies, died, leaving father afoot to travel in that dangerous wilderness.
To try him and test his metal, patience and courage, his friends saucily and tauntingly said : "Young man, we tried to discourage you from com- ing on this long, hard, dangerous journey and
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warned you that you would wish you had re- mained with your relatives and friends in Ten- nessee, when they gathered in vast numbers to bid you God-speed and bid you farewell, not ex-
CAPT. W. B. ALLEN
pecting to see you again. Don't you wish you was at home with your mother?" But father boldly and courageously told them that that was not the only horse in the world and he expected to own a ranch of horses and cattle, hogs and land in Texas before he died, telling his friends to map out the
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way, and each following night they would find him on their arrival waiting for them, for he would out travel their horses.
His friends, admiring his courage and earnest- ness, said to him: "Young man, you are of the right metal; we will never leave nor forsake you; you haven't got the money to buy a horse, but we have and will buy you one the first opportunity." They told father to take his saddle, bridle and blanket on his back and go back to the nearest stage stand and they would go on to the next stage stand, and when he came, they would buy him a horse.
On his way, trudging along with the load on his back, he saw a man in the distance driving to- ward him in a two-horse wagon, with a lead horse tied to hind end of wagon. Supposing father was a horse thief, as the surrounding country was in- fested with horse thieves-(white men who were in league with the prowling, thieving Indians, and really a great deal of the worst killing and stealing was done by mean white men, renegades, murderers and thieves who had fled from Eastern and Northern States, doing meanness and charg- ing same to Indians)-the man with the two- horse wagon kept stopping ; did not know what to do; but, when father came up he told him that he was no horse thief, but only a poor boy, eighteen years old, just from Tennessee on his way to Texas, and that his horse had died and he would greatly appreciate a ride to next stage stand. He said to father: "You have an honest-looking face ; I believe I can trust you." Father said, "I am poor
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but propose to be honest, truthful and industrious, and that he felt sure he could make a living in this big world."
Father was told to put his saddle, bridle and blanket on the lead horse and that his company would ve very acceptable on their dangerous jour- ney. On arriving at the stage stand they found father's friends patiently waiting father's arrival, and bought the horse for father and then con- tinued their journey without any further misfor- tune or molestation, crossing Red River north of where Paris is now located. There were no houses then in that section of the country.
Coming out on the big prairie between there and where Honey Grove now stands they camped, and out in the surrounding distance they viewed the broad expanse of land, and, being from a tim- bered country, this was the first prairie they ever saw.
The innumerable buffalo, deer, wild Spanish horses, wolves, bear, turkeys, prairie chicken, add- ed increased attraction, excitement and interest to the scene, and they were delighted in seeing the beautiful, waving, luxuriant, nutritious grass, up to a horse's side, interspersed with beautiful, fragrant flowers of every hue and color, around which the ever-industrious honey bees swarmed, gathering the sweetest and best of nature's dain- ties, a great deal of which was found in sheets hanging on to the tall grass that had previously fallen down and tangled.
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