eatin’ the day before. His mother was listenin’ and she broke out laughin’ and said that she had wondered what Peddy had been doin’ with all the table salt.
Peddy came in while we were talkin’ and we discussedour plans about the heifers. Ace and Amy went on at length about how much good Queenie had done for Peddy and now he was strong enough to start to school this fall, which would be his first year. They talked on about Peddy feeding Queenie before he would eat breakfast, dinner, or supper.
Ace said that he’d go up to the back of the field and let the fence down. Peddy broke in to warn us that the “hepers were no fra’d of Peddy, but mit be afra’d of big mans.” So we agreed to let him try it his own way.
The next day Peddy was up at sunup and went to the watermelon patch on Queenie and sure ’nuff, the heifers worked their way up to the fence. I was settin’ up on top of the bluff, horseback, when I watched eight two-year-old heifers follow a small boy and a little ole grey mare out from under the bluff and down into an open field. I came off the bluff and put up the fence behind him. Peddy walked on the ground and the heifers one at a time would follow along and lick salt out of his hand. Ace came out away around and away from the heifers and Peddy. I came up from behind and neither of us did anything to help or made a sound, while Peddy and Queenie tolled eight fat, brownish-red crossbred heifers into a corral.
Ace shut the gate, with Peddy tellin’ him not to “kare” ’em. I rode up and got down off of my horse. Peddy wasn’t anxious to get out of the lot and he poured a little more salt out of the sack into a trough as he led Queenie toward the corral gate. Ace opened the gate and let him out.
Of course, I was all smiles and I’as a-braggin’ onPeddy and a-braggin’ on Queenie, and for the first time since I had known Peddy, he literally beamed over what he had done!
This was the best heifer-gatherin’ that I had ever had. I had bought ’em awful cheap; they were bigger’n either Mr. Davidson or I had guessed ’em and sure ’nuff would bring eight cents a pound.
I said, “Peddy, I’m gonna put you in the cow business. Pick out the heifer you want, and I’ll give ’er to you.”
Peddy looked at me and looked at Ace and got very serious, and in a broken, stammerin’ voice, said he’d ruther have Queenie. I told Peddy that the heifer would make him the most money.
He buried his face in Queenie’s mane and rubbed her neck with his hands and said, “Queenie make me well.”
I looked at Ace and he was tryin’ to get something out of his eye.
I couldn’t think of any reason to want Queenie, so I cleared my throat, and in a clear, firm voice said, “Peddy, get on
your
mare and help me up the road with these heifers.”
SCOTCH
HIGHLAND
CATTLE IN THE
ROCKIES
A KANSAS CITY BANK SPECIALIZES in cattle loans over much of the western part of the United States. I had worked for them in the Southwest in several different cow deals, and this is how I got into this wild cow deal in the Rocky Mountains.
A Scotsman by the name of Scotty Perth had long been a customer of the bank. His ranch was on the western slope of the Rockies and between bad winters and dry summers and other personal financial disasters, Scotty’s business had gotten in bad shape. He was asking the bank for another advance when they got into some misunderstanding and in an outburst of his Scotch-Irish temper, he bluffed the bank into taking his cattle, range delivery, and mark all his notes “Paid.” He still owned the ranch that the cattle were on, and the bank had until the first of January to have the cattle rounded up and moved off of Scotty Perth’s land.
I had taken the contract to gather three hundred head of cattle (the mortgage called for three hundred head and their increase) that were crossbred between Longhorn Scotch Highland cattle and good Hereford cattle. This is the reason that I was
Peddy came in while we were talkin’ and we discussedour plans about the heifers. Ace and Amy went on at length about how much good Queenie had done for Peddy and now he was strong enough to start to school this fall, which would be his first year. They talked on about Peddy feeding Queenie before he would eat breakfast, dinner, or supper.
Ace said that he’d go up to the back of the field and let the fence down. Peddy broke in to warn us that the “hepers were no fra’d of Peddy, but mit be afra’d of big mans.” So we agreed to let him try it his own way.
The next day Peddy was up at sunup and went to the watermelon patch on Queenie and sure ’nuff, the heifers worked their way up to the fence. I was settin’ up on top of the bluff, horseback, when I watched eight two-year-old heifers follow a small boy and a little ole grey mare out from under the bluff and down into an open field. I came off the bluff and put up the fence behind him. Peddy walked on the ground and the heifers one at a time would follow along and lick salt out of his hand. Ace came out away around and away from the heifers and Peddy. I came up from behind and neither of us did anything to help or made a sound, while Peddy and Queenie tolled eight fat, brownish-red crossbred heifers into a corral.
Ace shut the gate, with Peddy tellin’ him not to “kare” ’em. I rode up and got down off of my horse. Peddy wasn’t anxious to get out of the lot and he poured a little more salt out of the sack into a trough as he led Queenie toward the corral gate. Ace opened the gate and let him out.
Of course, I was all smiles and I’as a-braggin’ onPeddy and a-braggin’ on Queenie, and for the first time since I had known Peddy, he literally beamed over what he had done!
This was the best heifer-gatherin’ that I had ever had. I had bought ’em awful cheap; they were bigger’n either Mr. Davidson or I had guessed ’em and sure ’nuff would bring eight cents a pound.
I said, “Peddy, I’m gonna put you in the cow business. Pick out the heifer you want, and I’ll give ’er to you.”
Peddy looked at me and looked at Ace and got very serious, and in a broken, stammerin’ voice, said he’d ruther have Queenie. I told Peddy that the heifer would make him the most money.
He buried his face in Queenie’s mane and rubbed her neck with his hands and said, “Queenie make me well.”
I looked at Ace and he was tryin’ to get something out of his eye.
I couldn’t think of any reason to want Queenie, so I cleared my throat, and in a clear, firm voice said, “Peddy, get on
your
mare and help me up the road with these heifers.”
SCOTCH
HIGHLAND
CATTLE IN THE
ROCKIES
A KANSAS CITY BANK SPECIALIZES in cattle loans over much of the western part of the United States. I had worked for them in the Southwest in several different cow deals, and this is how I got into this wild cow deal in the Rocky Mountains.
A Scotsman by the name of Scotty Perth had long been a customer of the bank. His ranch was on the western slope of the Rockies and between bad winters and dry summers and other personal financial disasters, Scotty’s business had gotten in bad shape. He was asking the bank for another advance when they got into some misunderstanding and in an outburst of his Scotch-Irish temper, he bluffed the bank into taking his cattle, range delivery, and mark all his notes “Paid.” He still owned the ranch that the cattle were on, and the bank had until the first of January to have the cattle rounded up and moved off of Scotty Perth’s land.
I had taken the contract to gather three hundred head of cattle (the mortgage called for three hundred head and their increase) that were crossbred between Longhorn Scotch Highland cattle and good Hereford cattle. This is the reason that I was
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