Finally I heard of
a freight outfit in the adjoining county east, the owner of which had
died the winter before, the administrator offering his effects
for sale. I lost no time in seeing the oxen and hunting up their
custodian, who proved to be a frontier surveyor at the county seat.
There were two teams of six yoke each, fine cattle, and I had hopes
of being able to buy six or eight oxen. But the surveyor insisted on
selling both teams, offering to credit me on any balance if I could
give him security. I had never mentioned my land scrip to any one,
and wishing to see if it had any value, I produced and tendered the
certificates to the surveyor. He looked them over, made a computation,
and informed me that they were worth in his county about five cents an
acre, or nearly one thousand dollars. He also offered to accept them
as security, assuring me that he could use some of them in locating
lands for settlers. But it was not my idea to sell the land scrip,
and a trade was easily effected on the twenty-four oxen, yokes, and
chains, I paying what money I could spare and leaving the certificates
for security on the balance. As I look back over an eventful life, I
remember no special time in which I felt quite as rich as the evening
that I drove into the Edwards ranch with twelve yoke of oxen chained
together in one team. The darkies and Mexicans gathered about, even
the family, to admire the big fellows, and I remember a thrill which
shivered through me as Miss Gertrude passed down the column, kindly
patting each near ox as though she felt a personal interest in my
possessions.
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