Where they put a trail boss in jail

WHERE THEY PUT A TRAIL BOSS IN JAIL

I was born in Howard county, Missouri, on the 19th day of April, 1851, and remained there until the year 1859, when my father removed to Bates county, near the Kansas State line. We were here until the Civil War began, when the depredations, murders and all kinds of lawlessness became so numerous by organized bands of outlaws that we were compelled to go north of the Missouri River where better protection could be had. The atrocious deeds of these marauders became so rife that this section of the country became almost depopulated, the men all having gone to the army and the families fleeing for protection. Afterward, these outlaws came into our section, burning residences and property of all kinds, taking with them stock or other valuables found. After enduring all kinds of hardships for about two years, my mother and the family of children were banished by the Federal authorities and sent to the Confederate lines in the state of Louisiana.

[photo omitted — BILL JACKMAN—1883]

Our trip was first to St. Louis, Missouri, thence down the Mississippi River to Natchez, Mississippi, then across the country to Alexandria, Louisiana, under guard of Twenty-five soldiers. From this place we went across the country by stage line to Shreveport, La. We remained one year, our father then being in the army of Missouri and Arkansas with General Sterling Price. At

this time, by some means unknown to me, my mother received instruction from my father to remove to Red River county, Texas, near Clarksville. We arrived there late in the fall of 1864 and immediately afterwards rented a small piece of farm land.

After Lee's surrender father came and we started south with the intention of going into old Mexico. About 200 officers and soldiers of the army, father being among this number, anticipated going into Mexico or other foreign countries to avoid the oath of allegiance to the Federal government.

On our arrival at San Marcos my father talked with some of the old settlers and was advised not to go into Mexico with his family. This advice was accepted and father proceeded on the trip alone, leaving the family in a tent on the Blanco River.

We were in destitute circumstances, having but a few dollars on which to subsist. I rented land again and started a crop the following spring. Being among strangers and almost penniless I and my little brothers began the struggle for a living. The citizens were kind in assisting us in many ways, besides advising us how to cultivate the land. Such advice was very helpful, I being perfectly ignorant of the mode of cultivating cotton, never having seen any raised in my native state. The friends found here have all passed away without an exception, and the younger generation have taken their places. I will mention a few of the old friends as I think their names should be perpetuated. Among them were: Maj. E. Nance, Capt. G. Story, Shady Dixon, Dr. P. C. Woods, Felix Kyle, Jas. L. Malone, John and Joe Brown, Nestor Boon, C. R. Johns, Ed Burleson, Ferg and Curran Kyle and many others.

Father returned from Mexico, not being satisfied with the country. He surrendered to Federal authorities in San Antonio and was taken to New Orleans and delivered into the hands of Phil Sheridan, who was in charge.

After a few months he was discharged; he came home to the family and found us trudging along with our little farm project. We continued to live on the Blanco until we made the fourth crop, when father bought the property on Blanco River and there spent the balance of his life, passing away at the age of 60 years. I remained with the family until I was 20 years of age. I then tried to farm one year in my own interest. I did not succeed financially, being overcome by drouth and other misfortunes. Dissatisfied with farming I decided to change occupation, so I saddled my horse and drifted to the West. After three or four days' travel I found myself in Uvalde, Texas, ninety miles from San Antonio. Here I met Cood Adams, a member of the firm of Adams Bros. in the ranch business on the Leona and Frio Rivers, some fifteen miles from Uvalde. Cood and Mart Adams composed the firm of Adams Brothers, though John Adams who lived 15 miles west of San Antonio on the Castroville road, James Adams who lived at San Marcos and Bill Adams of San Antonio, worked some on this ranch while I was there. Cood Adams agreed to give me employment; I asked the amount of wages to expect and he replied, "I am getting Mexicans for $12.00 and board," and with this understanding I commenced to work. I had worked about four months when I decided to go home and spend the Christmas holidays. When ready to start Mr. Adams gave me a check for $80.00 and asked if I intending returning. I replied that I would if the price would justify. He made me an offer of $100.00 per month and in one minute he had my reply, "I will be here." On my return he stated that he intended making a drive to the Northern markets in the spring of that year and must commence gathering cattle on the range and placing them in pastures until ready for the drive. I started preparations with seven Mexicans, about 30 horses, and a pack horse. The Mexicans could not speak English and I could not speak

Spanish. I did not know any of the range and thought I was up against a hard proposition but, believe me, we brought home the goods. When I asked the particular brands to gather, he said, "Bring everything you find, regardless of brand." There was a custom among the ranchmen to use each others' cattle and the other fellow got the credit on the book. A thoroughly educated gentleman by the name of Captain Cooper was the bookkeeper and lived on the Frio ranch at that time. I never saw him again and do not know what became of him afterward.

When the cattle were gathered from the range we commenced branding and putting them in shape for the trail. Afterwards I was assigned the task of driving one of the herds. This was in 1870 and my first experience in handling cattle. I walked into the harness without flinching, though my experience on this trip was in many respects very trying, there being so many new lessons for me to learn. The country through which we traveled was rough and brushy, making the work heavy on the men and very trying on the horses and cattle. We passed from Uvalde county through Bandera, Mason, Llano and Coleman counties, keeping our general course to the north. About four miles before reaching the town of Bandera, one day about noon, while dinner was being prepared I had the herd rounded up to brand a few head which had been overlooked at the ranch. After finishing the work and eating dinner we were drifting slowly along when a young cowman rode up beside me. He was very talkative and seemed to be a nice fellow. After conversing some time in a general manner he asked: "Where did you get that yearling?" referring to the one I had just branded. "At the ranch," I replied. He said, "I would be sorry to see you get in trouble, but that yearling belongs to an old Dutchman who lives down the creek and he is as mean as h—ll. There is one trail boss in jail at Bandera now for driving one of his year-

lings." The young fellow rode away and I felt that he was telling facts so I commenced thinking fast. I could almost feel the cold bars of the jail in company with the other boss, but the yearling disappeared right now and so did Bill. I caught a good horse and just kept on high places near the herd for several days. At our next reunion I would be pleased if the trail boss who was in jail would speak out and give his experience; I would be glad to meet him.

We moved on slowly to a point near where we crossed the Llano River. Here a young fellow applied to me for work. He was probably 30 years of age, rather small in stature, roughly dressed, wearing long yellow hair which hung gracefully down over his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a very tough character. Needing help I looked the gentleman over while I talked; he finally said, "Hire me, I know all about cattle and will make you a d—d good hand." I decided to hire him and asked his name to record the date. He said, "Just put me down as Rusty," which I thought very appropriate and used it all the time when addressing him. He gave fine satisfaction in his duties. When we had reached a point 20 miles west of Ft. Griffin on what is known as Elm Creek, we made camp for the night. Next morning on looking over the herd, I found a cow was gone and I knew she would return to our last bed ground some 15 miles back on the trail, and I went back and found the 'cow and returned to camp with her. On my arrival at camp I found that "Rusty" had shot John Rice, one of my hands. The weapon used was an old model brass mounted 44 calibre Winchester rifle which he carried on his saddle at all times. The bullet had passed entirely through the body on the opposite side of the spine from the heart and blood was flowing from both front and back. I sent at once to Ft. Griffin for a doctor, also giving instructions that a hack be brought for the purpose of conveying the wounded man to the hospital. The

doctor came and pronounced the case almost hopeless, though we rushed for the hospital as speedily as possible. I arranged with those in charge to keep me posted as to his condition and on my arrival at Dodge City, Kansas, received a letter stating that he had recovered sufficiently to return home, and that he would entirely recover in a short time. I never heard of him again and I hope to find some one who can give me information regarding his whereabouts. Rusty took one of my best horses and I have not seen him since. Should he be a member of this Association under another name, I would like to hear from him, as all offenses are now barred by statute of limitations.

I never saw Cood or Mart Adams after the drive. One of the brothers, Bill, received the herd at the point of destination and I returned home, thinking my aspirations in this line of work were satisfied in the extreme, though in 1877 Col. Jas. F. Ellison, who then lived at Martindale, Caldwell county, prevailed on me to drive a herd for him, which I delivered at Ogallala, Nebraska. During 1878 I drove for Ellison & Sherill. This firm was composed of Jas. F. Ellison and Jas. H. Sherill, who had formed a co-partnership for the purpose of conveying one herd to the northern markets over the trail.

During one of these drives Givens Lane and I were driving a herd each, and were traveling near each other. The country was dry, grass scarce and watering places for two herds at one time was hard to find. We were then near Buffalo, Kansas, and were having hard times. Givens and I had gone to the front hunting grass and water. A creek, some distance north of Buffalo, had nice running water, but the nesters of that section had plowed a furrow on each side of the trail and posted signs reading about as follows: "Keep your cattle inside these furrows or be prosecuted." The creek north of the trail had the finest water sufficient to swim a good sized steamboat and the grass was excellent. We had

become enraged on reading these warning signs and Givens said, "Bill, suppose we put our herds into that fine grass and water and take the chances," to which I agreed. The cattle were now in sight and looked as though the two herds were strung out for a distance of three miles. My herd came first and Givens and I rode in front of the cattle until the water was scented and the cattle began running. The nearer the water, the faster they got, but now came the nesters, who were living in dugouts and could not be seen until they all mounted their old mares, bare-backed. They were bare-footed, bare-headed and all carrying double barrel shotguns, yelling and demanding that we turn the cattle back to the trail. We said, "We cannot stop them—you boys stop them if you can." You never saw such maneuvers in your life, but the cattle went to the water just the same. The nesters went for the officers and we had to keep on the dodge for several days by riding on the high grounds and keeping a close lockout over the country for officers.

On another occasion I did not get out so well. I made camp about 4 P. M. There was not a house or farm to be seen near us and we supposed we were not trespassing. A Dutchman suddenly rode into camp and said, "You must move these cattle. This is my land and you can not camp here tonight." I reasoned with him, saying that it was late and danger of stampeding the cattle and I thought I made him a first class argument, but it didn't work. He still said, "You must move this tam cattle right now and do it quick, you shall not stay here." Then I said, "You move right now and do it quick," and he did so. But the next morning the constable came with a warrant of arrest and said I must go to justice court with him. When we arrived the High Court was on his rostrum and the Dutchman was on hand also. As the constable and I walked into the court, the judge looked as knowing as any man I ever met and the

constable acted as if he had arrested one of the worst criminals on earth. I shall never forget this deal. As I walked into the room the Dutchman said, "Judge, there is the fellow vot told me to go to hell mit a pistol." After parleying a little, his majesty said, "This seems to be a very aggravated case, I fine you $100.00 and costs." The fine and costs totaled $130.00, which I paid.

You will notice that the pleasures on the trail were mingled with troubles and hardships. During the spring of 1878 Mr. Ellison engaged me to take a herd to Ogallala, Nebraska. I did not know either the men, the horses or the cattle. All the stock were poor but this was an exceptionally good year, there being plenty of grass and water, I made the trip in good time with all horses and cattle looking fine. When I delivered this herd and was ready to start home Mr. Ellison made me a proposition to take charge of his ranch, to buy cattle through the fall and winter and make preparations for another drive the following spring. This class of work continued with me in the same manner for several years, buying each fall and winter and making the drive afterward. My early spring work was to get all the cattle properly branded and start the first herd with the earliest grass and continue to send them each ten or twelve days until the last herd, which I would take myself. The first herds were generally over one-half of their journey before I got started from the ranch.

Many of my readers will remember Mr. Ellison perfectly well, his acquaintance extending entirely over Texas and many other states. I would like to say that he was one of the best men I ever knew, honorable and upright in all his dealings and greatly loved by those who knew him best. Well do I remember his admonition to me when I commenced work; "Bill, do all you can to save my cattle under any and all circumstances and I will protect you with my money to the last, but do not handle cattle belonging to others, I want nothing but

my own." I remained with him until he discontinued the cow business. I made nine of these trips over the trail, beginning in 1870 and ending in 1890. I learned to love the work, though many hardships attended each trip. Finally barbed wire came into use, agricultural pursuits became of great interest to the people, and the trail country was closed by farms and pastures.

The successful trail boss or cowboy was happy when he found plenty of grass and water, and prouder still when he would reach the market with his horses and cattle in nice condition. The number of men necessary in handling a herd of 3,000 head of cattle was the boss, eight men with the cattle, a cook, and one man with the horses called the "remuda man," making eleven in the outfit. About 60 horses were furnished to each herd, or six to each man, excepting the cook. The best horse of each mount was selected for his night horse and was used for no other purpose. This horse was supposed to be perfectly gentle, easily handled, clear footed, of good sight and to have all qualities of a first-class cow horse. His other five horses were used each one-half day until all had been used, then he commenced over again with the same process. A first-class new wagon was furnished each outfit and the same was generally drawn by four mules or two yoke of oxen, mules being preferable. Thirty days' provisions or more could be handled in addition to the bedding, slickers, clothing, etc. belonging to the men. A barrel was placed inside the wagon bed, generally between the wheels, fastened securely and with a faucet running through the bed outside, where water could easily be drawn. One barrel of water could be made to last for two days or more. A box was made into the front part of the bed on the outside and fastened securely for the purpose of carrying different trinkets, which could be used in case of trouble. The chuck box was made into compartments for holding the cooking utensils, a lid was fastened by hinges to the

back to the box which could be lowered to make a table for the cook. The most important addition to the wagon was the ''cooney" which consisted of a cowhide placed under the wagon loosely and fastened to each side of the wagon securely, making a place to hold the wood for cooking purposes. The cook was furnished all necessary utensils to make his part of the work easy, and better still, was supplied with provisions which would enable him at all times to furnish a good and wholesome meal. Plenty of good chuck brought plenty of good work, and satisfaction among the men. The best cook was paid the best price for his services.

The trail men all dressed in about the same manner, their costume consisting of a substantial suit of clothing, fine Stetson hat, the best shop-made boots with high heels, spurs of the best make, red bandana handkerchief for the neck, a good pair of leather leggings, and quirt and a good fishbrand slicker. All used splendid saddles and bridles, the bridle bit generally shop or home-made. When diked out in this garb a man was supposed to be ready for all kinds of weather and all kinds of emergencies. The outfit was then worth about $100.00 but would now easily cost $250.00.

In Kansas and Nebraska were many nesters and farmers who had taken up claims of land under the laws of those states were scattered over the whole country, and these people often came to the herd and asked if they might have the calves which were born on the bed grounds, as the drovers generally killed them. On one occasion, one of these fellows came in a two-horse wagon just about dusk. One of the boys met him and claiming to be the boss made a trade with him to the effect that he should stand guard, for which he was to receive any calves that might be found next morning. This fellow was put on first relief and the boys let him remain on guard all night. To the shorthorn's astonishment when daylight came the herd contained nothing but steers.

The boys gave him the "horse laugh" and he pulled out for home.

At Ogallala in 1879, I met a man by the name of George Knight. I do not know from what part of Texas he came, but I think he was owner of a herd and drove them in person over the trail. He was a great talker and had much to say about the hardships endured on his trip. Said he was almost killed by hail on one occasion and was only saved by turning his horse loose and putting the saddle over his head. Another time the rain fell in such torrents that he had to swim two miles in making his escape from high waters; again during a severe rain and hail storm accompanied by the most terrific thunder and lightning he decided to turn his herd loose, go to camp and get under the wagon. The storm still raged and he took from his pocket a memorandum book and by the light of his lantern wrote, "George Knight, struck and killed by lightning 20 miles south of Ogallala on July 20, 1879." I would like to hear from Mr. Knight or any of his people at our next reunion should any of them be members of our association.

After my trail work was over I embarked into the ranch business and was quite successful for several years, but drouths came, low prices of cattle and other misfortunes and so this adventure was a financial failure.

During 1892 I became a candidate for sheriff of Hays county; was elected by a fine majority and held this position for twenty years. Afterwards was marshal of San Marcos and now I find myself postmaster of this place, a position I have held for eight years.

My father was Col. S. D. Jackman of fame in the Confederate army with General Sterling Price and Joe Shelby. He did much recruiting in the state of Missouri, was severely wounded on one of these trips and never entirely recovered. He was born in Kentucky and removed with his father and family at the age of four years to the state of Missouri. He served two terms in

the Texas Legislature and was United States Marshal of the Western district of Texas at the time of his death in 1886, at the age of 60 years. He was married in 1848 to Martha R. Slaven of Boon county, Missouri. To this union was given five sons and three daughters. Of this number three sons have passed into the Great Beyond, leaving Thomas J. and myself, who were the eldest and youngest of that number. Tom is now with our State Ranger force. My mother passed into the Great Beyond in 1869, and afterwards my father was married to Mrs. Cass Gaines of Hays county. To this union four children were born, two of whom are now living and two have passed away. I was married in 1883 to Miss Lou Green of San Marcos, Texas. To us two sons were given, S. D. and Edwin G., now 32 and 34 years respectively. S. D. Jackman was married to Miss Cecil Muller of Laredo, Texas, and Edwin G. Jackman to Miss Etta Olds of San Marcos. The former couple have a son 12 years of age called S. D., Junior, and the latter a daughter of three years named Margaret. These children and grandchildren are the pride of our lives and give us much pleasure in our declining years.