A single award
for Fort Buford in Dakota called for five million pounds on foot and
could be filled with Southern cattle. Others in the same department
ran from one and a half to three million pounds, varying, as wanted
for future or present use, to through or wintered beeves. The latter
fattened even on the trail and were ready for the shambles on their
arrival, while Southern stock required a winter and time to acclimate
to reach the pink of condition. The government maintained several
distributing points in the new Northwest, one of which was Fort
Buford, where for many succeeding years ten thousand cattle were
annually received and assigned to lesser posts. This was the market
that I knew. I had felt every throb of its pulse ever since I had
worked as a common hand in driving beef to Fort Sumner in 1866. The
intervening years had been active ones, and I had learned the lessons
of the trail, knew to a fraction the cost of delivering a herd, and
could figure on a contract with any other cowman.
Leaving the arrangement of the bonds to our silent partner, the
next day after the awards were announced we turned our faces to the
Southwest. February 1 was agreed on for the meeting at Fort Worth, so
picking up the wife and babies in Virginia, we embarked for our
Texas home. My better half was disappointed in my not joining in the
proposed cattle company, with its officers, its directorate, annual
meeting, and other high-sounding functions.
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