Some More Horse Tradin' (21 page)

Ed nearly swallowed his teeth and started to turn red in the face and cuss and I said, “The agreement was if they jumped the fence, I'd give you your money back. It's gettin' late, so take me back to town. You know you don't want me to spend the night with you in the humor that you're in.”

 

I
t was late spring and the horse and mule business was about to taper off for the summer. The farmers had already bought whatever fresh teams they needed to start their year's work of making a crop and it was a natural thing for the major portion of the horse and mule business to slack off until fall. However, a trader would have some business all summer on riding horses of various kinds. It was too early in the year for the cattle in the country to be fat enough to be slicked off, and, being a trader, I was goin' to have trouble stayin' in business the next thirty or forty days until the summer cow business started.

I had brought my last little bunch of work mules in to the Fort Worth Horse and Mule Market on Sunday and went over to the Texas Hotel in the main part of Fort Worth and spent the night.

The next morning when I got on the elevator to come down to the lobby, there were two handsome young men dressed in foreign military uniforms and I could tell at a glance by their hard-top boots, their little legged britches, and knob spurs that they belonged to some country's cavalry. As I gave 'em the once-over, the blond, light-complexioned one smiled and said in a foreign brogue, “You look the part of a cowboy.”

I said, “Well, I hope so. If I didn't, I'd be counterfeit because I'm sure not anything else.”

It was early in the morning and I felt good and thought I would be nice to foreigners and said, “You look the part of a general.”

They both laughed about the “general” part, and, of course, I knew so little about military uniforms that so far as I was concerned, they may have been generals.

When we left the elevator and started across the lobby toward the dining room, I said, “You generals just as well have breakfast with me. It's not often that I get to associate with such military personalities.”

We went in and picked out a table, and as we were about to sit down, they introduced themselves. One was a captain and the other a colonel in the Italian cavalry. As the morning breakfast progressed, they told me they were in America to buy pack mules for the Italian army. Well, my conversation brightened up considerably because of that little bunch of mules that I had in that morning's sale.

We had a big visit and they asked me quite a bit about the Texas mule market. Of course, I didn't run it down none and asked if they would care to see my mules before the auction started. They thought that that would be fine, and since they didn't know their way around much and neither of us had cars, I turned guide for them and took 'em on the right streetcar to get us to North Fort Worth.

We went to Ross Bros. Horse and Mule Barn where the sale was to be held that particular Monday and Tuesday.
Wad Ross and C. B. Teems and other horse and mule dealers rushed out to greet the “Generals” and tell them they were expectin' them and all that stuff, and these military gentlemen gently brushed them off and followed me on down to look at my mules.

Denny, the barn foreman, came up and offered to help show my mules and we turned them out one at a time on the plank alley for the Italians to inspect. By now we had gotten real friendly and I was callin' them Capitan and Colonel and they were callin' me by my first name or sometimes Cowboy. They told me that twelve of my twenty mules would sure pass their inspection and they would bid on them.

I asked how long they were goin' to be in the mule market in Texas and the Colonel spoke up and said it might take several weeks to fill their needs. They just didn't know how many of the right kind of mules would be coming to the Fort Worth market. I explained to them that since I knew now the type of mules they wanted I probably could bring in as many as a carload or more of the right kind the next week. They encouraged me to go buy whatever mules I thought would pass their inspection—but the mules had to be halter-broke to lead and handle, but they didn't have to be broke to work or ride.

They were rather busy during the auction, and, of course, all the mule dealers around were tryin' to get to them one way or another. Wad Ross and Parker Jamison had taken them in hand so that nobody else could talk to them. They were good bidders on my mules and the ones they didn't bid on sold way too cheap.

Late that afternoon I got a chance to tell them that I would be back next week with some mules for them to send to Italy. I saddled old Charlie and rode out about dark. Charlie was a good road horse with a long, head-noddin', swingin' fox trot, and after I crossed the Clear Fork of the Trinity on the Old White Settlement Road where there was
very little traffic, I dozed off to sleep. Charlie pawed on the barn gate at home about midnight to wake me up.

I knew where there were some mules up about Graham and Graford northwest of home so I saddled old Beauty the next morning and led Charlie. You nearly always needed two horses on these long rides if you bought any stock to handle.

It took me several days to ride up to the country around Graham where I knew there had been some good young mules—and I was hopin' they were still there. Graham Stewart, who was a good rancher and especially a steer operator, had thirty-four head of mules on his ranch that in his terms were gettin' in his way, and he wanted to sell 'em. I think he had gathered these mules up as payment on some paper and maybe had bought a few of 'em. but I don't believe he had raised any of 'em. In spite of this, they were a pretty uniform set of mules.

He asked me $135 a head for these four- and five-year-old mules—and that was a little high for unbroke mules if the market had been active, but this late in the year, it was a whole lot too high. I told him that the mule business was nearly over and that the mules would need to be halter-broke, their manes roached and their tails sheared before they could be led into the auction ring, but I didn't fill him in that there were some Italian buyers in the country.

After a whole lot of conversation and a big ranch dinner, I bought the thirty-four head for $90 a head and turned them in the road and started home by way of Graham to Graford. At Graford I bought a few more and another one or two along the way and got into Weatherford with forty-seven head of mules that were just what the Italians needed to pack around in the mountains of their native land.

I had been gone for over a week and had missed one sale day at Fort Worth. In the late afternoon, I penned these fat, unbroke mules in the wagonyard and some of the local mule dealers asked me what I was goin' to do with 'em—that there wasn't any market for mules from now on through
the summer and I would have plenty of time to get them broke for the fall trade. I told them that I had planned on dressin' 'em up and takin' 'em in to Forth Worth for the Italians. Silas Kemp spoke up and said, “The Italians got their boat loaded with more mules than you can shake a stick at and I think they've already shipped out.”

Well, since it was that season of the year when there weren't any buyers comin' to the market from Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama, the Italians hadn't been havin' any trouble buyin' mules that passed their inspection, and I realized that Silas could be tellin' me the truth.

I remembered that the Captain's name was Spiro, so I eased up to the Texas Café, got in the pay phone booth, and closed the door real tight so the loafers couldn't hear, then put in a call to him. When I got him on the phone, I explained why I had missed the sale the week before. I painted him a picture of how good my mules were and said I'd try to get into Fort Worth the comin' sale day. He explained that they had nearly all the mules they wanted but if mine were as good as I said that they were, they would wait to see them before they finished their order. Well, I thanked him and promised him I would have the mules in there for sure Sunday afternoon for the Monday sale. It was Wednesday and the job of halter-breakin' forty-seven head of mules to lead by Saturday night was something I hadn't figured on.

When you rope a wild mule around the neck, you cause the lariat rope to be pulling down on the heavy muscular part of his neck. If he gets his head away from you and his hind quarters to you, he will pull a good horse half to death and a man afoot just can't begin to hold him. Now, if you can manage to get him to turn his head to you and make him back up from you, the rope will slip up behind his ears and around his throat to where you can choke him down. When he hits the ground, you give him slack and put a halter on his head before he can get up.

Experience will teach you to dread ropin' mules by the
head and neck. I thought the smart way to do this would be to have a man help me cut off one mule at a time, then run him up past me in the hallway of the barn where I would rope him by the forefeet instead of the head. When the mule would hit the end of the rope with a lot of power, he'd throw himself and this would be very educational to him and easier on me.

The hallway of this barn was floored with 4 × 12 oak lumber that was well worn and had sort of a fuzzy-like finish to it from the wear of horses' and mules' feet. After I had put a halter on a mule and let him up, Cat Medford, an old-time trader, leaned on the fence and said, “Benny, let me tell you somethin'.”

Well, it wasn't hard to get me to listen—if he knew anything—to get these mules gentle enough to show the Italians by Sunday, and he said, “If you'll wet that plank floor real good, a runnin' mule can't stand up too good and you can bust him on that floor with a lot less effort. Don't try to halter 'em the first time. Run 'em up and down this alley and forefeet 'em several times, and before you know it, when that rope hits their legs, instead of runnin' they'll stop and freeze in their tracks and you can walk up to 'em and halter 'em standin' up.”

He had told me this in a low tone of voice because there were a few people up and down the hall of the barn watchin' the show. I rigged up a hose to the hydrant over a water trough and soaked that oakwood floor good. I decided it might be a little hard for me with my high-heel boots to stand up on that slick floor when I was jerkin' the forefeet out from under a mule, so I took a big four-strand silk manilla lariat rope and tied it around a big post about the middle of the hall of the barn. This way when that runnin' mule passed me and I roped it, I'd just jiggle the slack until the mule hit the end of the rope and busted himself on that wet floor.

I worked about half of these mules through that morning
and decided I would see if it was goin' to work on 'em before I broke the other half the first time. So that afternoon I forefooted them a couple of more times, and about the fourth or fifth time around, when that rope hit their forefeet, those wild mules came to a slidin' stop. They had rollers in their noses and things on their minds and they might stomp the floor a little like they wanted to paw you, but the idea of fallin' kept them standin' still while I walked up and slipped a halter on them.

During the time I had been ropin' these mules, every time I caught one I hollered “Whoa” in a loud, firm voice, and it had gotten to where when a rope touched their forelegs and I hollered “Whoa” they would get the message and stand still. By Friday night I had a hall full of wild mules that I could walk up to and holler “Whoa” and put a halter on.

On Saturday I got a couple of stout-wristed farm boys to help me and we roached their manes and sheared their tails, and, believe it or not, they were a dressed-up bunch of good-lookin' mules from four to five years old and weighed from 950 to 1050 pounds, which was ideal size for Italian pack mules.

Sunday morning I got some town cowboys to help me get the mules to the White Settlement Road and turned them out about daylight. I drove them the rest of the way to Fort Worth by myself with little or no trouble. They were all wearin' halters and draggin' halter ropes and steppin' on them, which was pullin' on their heads and makin' their noses a little sensitive. I drove the thirty miles into the Fort Worth Horse and Mule Market a little before dark. I got Pete Shelton to help me get the halters off of them and we turned them into one of those nice big square pens with lots of good hay and shell corn and oats. I put my saddle horses in a pen out from under the roofed part of the Horse and Mule Market and left them well cared for. Then I got on the streetcar and went to the main part of Fort Worth.

Sure enough, I found my Italian Captain and Colonel at
the hotel havin' what they called dinner but it was supper to me. We visited and I told them about my good mules and they said they only needed sixty more mules.

When the sale started the next morning and the barn hands went to halterin' my mules so they could lead them into the auction ring, I decided it would be best for me to go up to the auction stand and watch them come in the ring. The Italians bought forty-three head, and four sold too cheap to other buyers. Since these mules were broke only enough to be haltered and had never been tied hard and fast, I never knew whether or not they wrecked the ship at sea.