Before the
shipping season opened, he sold, range count, our holdings on the
Medicine River, including saddle stock, improvements, and good will.
The cattle might possibly have netted us more by marketing them, but
it was only a question of time until the flow of immigration would
demand our range, and Major Hunter had sold our squatter's rights
while they had a value. A new foreman had been installed on our giving
up possession, and our old one had been skirmishing the surrounding
country the past month for a new range, making a favorable report on
the Eagle Chief in the Outlet. By paying a trifling rental to the
Cherokee Nation, permission could be secured to hold cattle on these
lands, set aside as a hunting ground. George Edwards had been rotting
all summer in issuing cows at Indian agencies, but on the first of
October the residue of his herds would be put in pastures or turned
free for the winter. Major Hunter had wound up his affairs at The
Bend, and nothing remained but a general settlement of the summer's
work. This took place at Council Grove, our silent partner and Edwards
both being present. The profits of the year staggered us all. I was
anxious to go home, the different outfits having all gone by rail or
overland with the remudas, with the exception of the two from Uvalde,
which were property of the firm. I had bought three hundred extra
horses at The Bend, sending them home with the others, and now nothing
remained but to stock the new range in the Cherokee Outlet.
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