A dozen herds had arrived ahead of us, the market had fairly opened,
and, once I got the drift of current prices, I was as busy as a farmer
getting ready to cut his buckwheat. Every yoke of oxen was sold within
a week, one ranchman took all the cows, an army contractor took one
thousand of the largest beeves, feeders from Iowa took the younger
steers, and within six weeks after arriving I did not have a hoof
left. In the mean time I kept an account of each sale, brands and
numbers, in order to render a statement to the owners of the cattle.
As fast as the money was received I sent it home by drafts, except the
proceeds from the oxen, which was a private matter. I bought and sold
two whole remudas of horses on speculation, clearing fifteen of the
best ones and three hundred dollars on the transactions.
The facilities for handling cattle at Abilene were not completed until
late in the season of '67, yet twenty-five thousand cattle found a
market there that summer and fall. The drive of the present year
would triple that number, and every one seemed pleased with future
prospects. The town took on an air of frontier prosperity; saloons
and gambling and dance halls multiplied, and every legitimate line of
business flourished like a green bay tree. I made the acquaintance of
every drover and was generally looked upon as an extra good salesman,
the secret being in our cattle, which were choice.
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