A COWBOY'S STORY.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 2528, 22 September 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

A COWBOY'S STORY.

It was in the early Seventies, and I and my partners were running a cattle ranch located on the Big Medicine Paver in South-Western Kansas. The then recently finished Pacific railroads to the north of us had driven the bull'alo pretty well out of the southern country, and the millions of acres of rich grasses, which had pastured countless thousands of these animals for untold ages past, now lay open to the herds of the cattlemen. We were among the first ranchers who entered the new field, but at the time of which I write, nearly one hundred cow-camps had been established within a radius of fifty miles of ours. One of the most recent arrivals in the neighbourhood was a New Englander named Bailey, a quiet, rather delicate-looking fellow of about thirty-five, who, a year before my story opens, had come on the range, bought a couple of hundred head of cattle, and located a ranch on the North Fork, about twenty miles west of our camp,

Bailey was a shy, reserved sort of a man, and, although hospitable enough when visited, evinced but little of that whole-souled, fraternal sociability which generally characterises the lordly riders of the rangeThis made him very unpopular, and with the exception of an old Mexican herdsman, who served him in the capacity of cowboy, he had few friends and no intimates.

We are all entirely too ready to believe the worst of any one whom we dislike, and cowboys are no exception to the rule. So when, one autumn afternoon, big Jim Smith, the boss herder of the circle bar ranch, came thuuderinir up to the dug-out, with his pony all afoam, and calling me outside, told me that Bailey was running in a bunch of steers in which there were a lot of strays belonging to other ranches, and that the boys had gotten wind of it, and were organising a pursuing party to catch and hang him for cattle thieving, 1 did not doubt the accused man's guilt. Ten minutes later I had belted op my revolver, saddled my pony, and was galloping like the wind for the appointed rendezvous, all too ready to take my part in the anticipated • hanging bee. . We were a wild, rough looking set who mot that night at the 2-X ranch, and started out on poor Bailey's trail. To tell the truth, we were most of us as wild and rough as we looked.

Thoro wore fifteen in the company altogether, for . the most part owners, or part owners, of ranches, and the rest cowboys. We were all well mounted, and each was armed with a knife arid revolver, while from every saddle-horn hung the ever-present lariat, the all-important item, next to his pony, of a cowboy's equipment,

Tom Anderson, a strapping Alissouris.ui, who ran the 2-X brand, and who was the acknowledged masterspirit of the range, fell naturally into the lead upon this occasion, as he did upon all others where intrepid daring and unyielding firmness wore required.

Tom was what tho cowboys call a ' holy terror.' He did not know what fear was, though relentlessly fierce and cruel, when enraged, ho had a heart that was as tender as a child's in some of its moods. He was a lion iu both looks and nature, and wo all admired him, and generally submitted without question to his leadership. Our party rode over sixty miles that night, and just as it began to grow light next morning, we came up with Bailey. He and his old herder were engaged in cooking breakfast over their camp firo, when we appeared upon tho scene, and we did not wait for thorn to finish their meal before explaining our business.

Fierce and haggard from our hard night-ride, we were an ugly-looking crew, and it was little wonder poor Bailey looked scared as he rose and timorously greeted us with a ' Good morning, gentlemen,' as we advanced and drew up around the fire. No ow. answered his salutation, it was received with grim ominous silence. ' Just take care of him, boys, while I ride out to the cattle and see that there is no mistake about the strays. We want to be certain he's guilty before going any further,' said our leader ; and as he spoke, ho rode towards a bunch of cattle that were grazing upon the prairie not far off, while the rest of us kept guard over Bailey, who had now grown pale as death, and was trembling in every limb.

In a few minutes Tom and the others returned, and, as they approached, Tom said, 'It's true, boys. There's a dozen strays in tho lot, and no mistake,' and turning without more ado to the cowering culprit he added, with a harsh abruptness that was simply terrible, ' You, Bail'y, are a cattle thief, and we have come after you to hang you. You knew the lsiw of the range when you broke it, so you must abide by it. You shall have an hour, and an hour only, to prepare for death.'

As his doom was thus spoken Bailey, poor wretch, was completely overcome with terror and dismay.

' 0 boy.s, boys, don't hang me ! You mustn't hang me!' ho cried piteously, falling suppliantly upon his knees. ' I swear lam innocent. I call on my Maker to witness that I intended to pay you for your cattle. Oh, have mercy and don't hang me!' and he broke completely down and wept like a child.

But it was no use. There was no relenting in the harsh, stern faces of his captors, no softening of their grim determination ; and not a syllable of dissent was uttered when our leader spoke again, and said sternly :

' Mercy from us you will not receive. You had best pray for it from your Maker. Iu an hour's time you will be in his presence.'

As Tom spoke, the poor wretch gave one despairing look at the unrelenting faces of the men grouped on their ponies about him, and, meeting with not a sign of pity, fell, with a hopeless groan, face downward, upon the grass.

' I reckon we had better leave him by himself for a while, boys. If he has any prayin' to do, I allow he can do it better without a aujince ; so let's draw off apiece till liis time's up.'

This most opportune and delicate suggestion came from old Jake Lape, and it was acted upon with alacrity. We immediately moved off for a distance of a hundred yards or so, and left the doomed man alone to make his final preparations for death. Although we fully intended to hang him, we all felt that it was no more than right to show him all the politeness and courtesy under the circumstances.

Shortly after wo rode off Bailey rose dejectedly to his feet, thrust his hand into his bosom, and, drawing forth what looked from a distance like a letter dropped upon his knees, and pressed it again and again to his lips with impassioned fervour. Afterwards he replaced it in his bosom, and, bowing his head, spent the remainder of his last hour seemingly in silent prayer.

When the time had finally expired and we drew near the kneeling culprit to finish our dread work, he rose to meet us with an air so calm and gentle, so utterly changed, that it astounded us, for we had expected to meet with tears and supplications and struggles.

He offered not the slightest resistance when we bound his hands securely behind him, and, liftinghim upon his horse, drove with him down to the creek bottom, where a scraggy cotton-wood had already been selected to serve as a gallows.

Bailey was driven under the tree ; the noose of a lariat was quickly placed about his neck, and the other end thrown across an overhanging limb and made fast to the trunk. Old Lape had his ' quaint' raised in readiness to bring it down across the flank of the doomed man's pony at the word of command ; all was ready for the final net, when Bailey raised his head and spoke.

Galling Tom Anderson to his side, he said, ' Tom will you do a favour for a dying man 1" 1 What is it V 'vas the gruff reply. ( I want you to promise to see

that my family gets what little property I leave. They are poor, and will need it badly, Tom ; so please promise. I know you'll do it if you siy you will.'

' Well, Bailey, I'll do it, if that's all you want. You may rest easy on that score ; I promise,' answered Tom, in a softened tone.

'Thank you, To in ; and now, just one thing more, please,' continued the prisoner, eagerly ; ' reach unto my bosom and get the picture that's there, and let me have another look at my wife and children before I die.'

We all of us sat grouped about on our ponies under the cottonwood during this scene, and, as Tom Anderson complied with Bailey's request, and, taking a picture from the prisoner's bosom held it before him so that he could look at it, the surrounding group of rough cowboys became utterly absorbed in the scone.

Not a whisper was uttered, and the noise of the restive ponies, as they champed their bits,,or stamped impatiently upon the greensward, alone broke the solemn stillness.

With a look of unspeakable tenderness, Bailey glued his eyps upon the photograph and held them there for fully a minute.

Then his head dropped suddenly, upon his breast, and, with a groan, he cried out, in despairing accents — ■■

' 0 boys, boys! it's hard to die and lpave them all alone ; and to die in such away, too ! It will kill poor Mary, if she's not dead already, I know it will.'

Ho no longer looked at the picture, but Tom Anderson was gazing at it instead. Long and earnestly he looked at it, but did not speak a word. Then he handed it to old man Lape, and it passed from hand to hand till ovory man in tho party had taken a long look at it. A sweet, gentle woman's face looked smilingly forth from the midst of the card, while over each of her shoulders peeped a chubby face filled with childish glee and innocence. On the border of the card was written, in a clear, delicate hand, ' Come home soon, papa; we're so lonely without you.' When the picture had gone the rounds, and Torn Anderson had returned it reverently to Bailey's bosom, the culprit raised his head and said—

llt was for their sake, boys, 1 drove the cattle off in such a hurry. I got word yesterday that my wife was dying, and I took the first steps I could find in order to get the money to go home to see her. It was wrong, I suppose, but I would have paid you for every head I took when I came back.'

Like a flash Tom Anderson's knife was out of its sheath. A quick stroke, and the rope about the prisoner's neck was severed. Instantly Bailey's pony bore him aside, and in his plaee, facing the crowd, on his mustang sat Tom, with uplifted hands and his eyes fairly blazing with fierce excitement, while we were too much amazed to either speak or move. 1 That man speaks the truth!' he shouted. 'He never intended to steal the cattle. But whether he did or not, it's all the same to me ; the man that lays a finger on him must do it over my dead body. If I had a wife like that lady in the pictur' an' she was sick, I'd steal every critter on the range to get to her, an' the man's a dog that wouldn't. If any man here thinks different I'm ready to fight it out with him right here and now." For a moment there was no response, then old man Lape spoke up. 'Well, Tom,' said ho, 'ye needn't talk so mighty fierce, as no one going to fight ye, I guess. Not that we're skoered of ye, Tom. Ye mustn't flatter yourself by thinkin' that at all ; but we all feel about the same as you do in this matter. Leastwise I do, and, to show Bailey that I believe he's innocent, I hereby make him a present of them three steers o' mine that's in his bunch.' 'Bully for you, old man ! them's my sentiments ; and I'll chip in the steers that belonged to me, too !' shouted Bill Smith. ' Same here !' yelled Dutch Frank, rubbing two big tears off his cheeks with his grimy fist. 1 I'm with you, boys !' shouted another. . ' Me, too !' said another, aud a minute later every one of the ' strays ' ■ that had caused all the trouble belonged as much to Bailey as if the flank of each of them bore his brand and no other. The revulsion of feeling was simply tremendous. The very men who ten minutes before had been ruthlessly intent upon hanging Bailey now crowded around him, begging forgiveness, and vieing with one another as to which could do the most for him. Such of us as owned none of the ' strays' actually felt mean, and jealous of those who did ; until Tom Anderson suggessed a way in which, we, too, might give vent to our generous impulses. , 'Boys,'said he, 'there's none o' my critters in Bailey's bunch; but next spring I'm a-goin' to brand twenty calves for that little girl in the pictur', and it's my intention to take care of them and their increase for her until she's growed up.' ' Now you're shoutin', Tom! I'll do the same,' chimed in another. I'll go twenty for the little boy !' shouted another ; and so it went until each man of us had made a liberal contribution. ..-..•

Poor Bailey was entirely over

come, and no wonder. To escape hanging so narrowly, and five minutes later to have those who had been bent upon executing him eagerly competing with one another as to which could show him the greatest kindness, was enough to upset any man. He tried to express his feelings coherently, but could not; and we left him in the midst of his tears and protestations of gratitude, and rode off to the nearest ranch to procure food and rest for ourselves and ponies before starting on our homeward journey. #' ■ * ' * * * Bailey is at present one of the wealthiest and. most popular cattlemen in the South-west. His wife did not die, but recovered, and now resides with him at his ranch on the North Fork. We cowboys kept our word ; and the spring after the lynching affair saw several hundred calves branded with the initials ■of Bailey's son and daughter, and turned loose on the range. ? With his share of them and their progeny, the boy has stocked a big ranch of his own ; while the share of the little girl, who is, by the way, one of the loveliest prairie flowers that ever graced the plains, makes her one of the richest heiresses in the State.