Counting mine, we had one hundred and
fifty saddle horses. All surplus men in the employ of Major Mabry had
been previously sent home until there remained at the close of the
season only the drover, seven men, and myself. We averaged forty miles
a day returning, sweeping down the plains like a north wind until Red
River Station was reached. There our ways parted, and cutting separate
my horses, we bade each other farewell, the main outfit heading for
Fort Worth, while I bore to the westward for Palo Pinto. Major Seth
was anxious to secure my services for another year, but I made
no definite promises. We parted the best of friends. There were
scattering ranches on my route, but driving fifty loose horses made
traveling slow, and it was nearly a week before I reached the Edwards
ranch.
The branding season was nearly over. After a few days' rest, an outfit
of men was secured, and we started for my little ranch on the Clear
Fork. Word was sent to the county seat, appointing a date with the
surveyor, and on arriving at the new ranch I found that the corrals
had been in active use by branding parties. We were soon in the thick
of the fray, easily holding our own, branding every maverick on the
range as well as catching wild cattle. My weakness for a good horse
was the secret of much of my success in ranching during the early
days, for with a remuda of seventy picked horses it was impossible for
any unowned animal to escape us.
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