TX BIOS:  Edw. F. Jones
   Selected and converted.American Memory, Library of Congress.
   
   Washington, 1994.
   
   Preceding element provides place and date of transcription only.
   
   This transcription intended to be 99.95% accurate.
   
   For more information about this text and this American Memory
   collection, refer to accompanying matter.
   
   U.S. Work Projects Administration, Federal Writers' Project (Folklore
   Project, Life Histories, 1936-39); Manuscript Division, Library of
   Congress.Copyright status not determined.
   
   00011
   
   Folkstuff - Rangelore 10/25/37
   
   Gauthier, Sheldon F.
   
   Rangelore
   
   Tarrant Co., Dist. #7 [62?]
   
   Page 1
   
   FEC
   
   Edw. F. Jones, 78, was born in the Indian Territory, now known an
   Oklahoma, on March, 5, 1860. His parents moved to Trenton, Ca., in
   1681. The family moved to Ft. Worth in 1870. Edward's mother was a
   half-blood Cherokee Indian, and a cousin of [uanah?] Parker. Edward
   began his cowhand carrer in 1875. He quit the range in 1886 to make
   the carpenter trade his life's vocation. He married Bertha Raylie in
   1892. They reared 15 children and now reside at 300 N. Henderson St.,
   Ft. North, Tex. His story:
   
   "I was born in the Indian Territory which is now the state of
   Oklahoma. I can't tell the location of my birth because the country
   has changed so much since then, but it was in the section around
   Oklahoma City. My mother was a half-breed Cherokee Indian, and
   belonged to the [uanah?] Parker family. As well as I can reckon the
   breeding from what my folks told me, I am a second cousin to [uanah?]
   Parker.
   
   When I was a stripling hardly a year old, my father and mother went to
   Brenton, Georgia. That State was by father's old home. Mother didnot
   take to the Georgia Country, and Dad had the west in his blood, so
   they dragged back to the West, and came to Fort Worth in 1870. I was
   ten years old then, and I thought Fort Worth was a big town but there
   was not much to it.
   
   "I went to school regular but spent my spare time where I could find a
   hoss and some cows, and had no trouble finding what I was looking for.
   I became a good rider, and at the age of 15, I had a powerful
   hankering for excitement and work with a hoss. That meant the range,
   and I dragged out to the skillet Section of Texas. I was shaped up
   with my own rigging, saddle, hoss, six-gun and a sombrero.
   
     NOTE: C.12 - 2/11/41 - Texas
     
   00022I had accumalated the money to buy the rigging by doing work
   during school vocations and after school hours.
   
   "I reckon that I could have caught on with some outfit close to home
   but the reports of the Indian raids and the rustler's doings coming
   from the Skillet section had me feeling like it was the spot for me to
   [light?].
   
   I rode my Mustang out of town headed Westward and lit right where I
   wanted to. I was taken on there by the BO outfit. It was among the big
   outfits of the day. I worked for that outfit for five years, then
   joined up with the JA, and stayed with it for four years. From the JA,
   I dragged to Parker County and joined up with the Farmer outfit. After
   two years there, I got the idea I wanted to travel double, and the
   woman insisted that I anchor at some spot close to her so she could
   get a peep at me when she was so inclined. Because of the lay of the
   land, I quit the range and came to Fort Worth, and I've squatted here
   ever since. I took to carpentering and that has been my line of work
   since I quit the cows.
   
   "When I hit the BO outfit, I thought I was a regular. Of course, I
   could throw a loop some and ride fairly well but I was nothing more
   then a scissor bill. John Petrie was the top screw at the time, and it
   was him I hit up for a nesting place. It was late of day and he said,
   'Well, Kid, cool your saddle and put your nose in the chuck trough.
   After you have attended to those duties, we'll gab a spell about the
   matter'. It was not long 'til the belly-cheater yelled, 'Come
   a-running you snakes, and get it'.
   
   "That call had a pleasant sound because I had nothing but a Spanish
   meal since morning and was gaunt. The cooky gave us broiled steak,
   baked beans, soda sinkers, stewed prunes, and all 00033the Texas
   butter, sop, and black coffee we desired. After I had packed the chuck
   'til my tape worm quit yelling, the top screw says to me, 'Let's
   adjourn to the dog house where we can chaw the rag a spell'.
   
   "We mosied over to the bunk house and sat down while he began to get
   my history. After he found out I had never been shot or hung for
   rustling cattle, he says to me, 'Kid, you are a tender foot, I take
   it'.
   
   "'No', says I, 'I worked around cattle. That is all I ever done'.
   
   "'I reckon a man of your age, putting in all your time on a hoss,
   handling cattle, has a lot of cow-knowledge. We can use a hand but the
   pay right now is a wee bit below standard. The price of cattle is shot
   full of holes and the ram rod will only pay you $10.00 a month as the
   matter stands right now. If that bell rings to your satisfaction, I'll
   put you to work in the morning, 'he says.
   
   "'It sounds alright to me'? I shot back at him, and I was shooting
   straight. That $10.00 had a pure ring to me.
   
   "I reckon you can stay with the oily broncos but we have a remuda with
   only sally-hooten critters in it, which I'll start you out with and
   after you get your seat warmed, I'll start you out with the snakes',
   he prattles to me.
   
   "'Suit yourself', I says.
   
   "'I am glad to hear that, kid. There is your louse nest', he says
   while pointing to a bunk. The gang went to chinning about great
   ropers, riders, and telling of the jams that they had been in and
   range work in general. What I heard that night, filled [DEL: [?] :DEL]
   my 00044conk with a hankering to see some of the stuff.
   
   "After having the chuck the following morning, the top screw dragged
   me to the corral and pointed out a Mustang that had the tree on it and
   ready to go. The screw says, 'There is the critter you'll use this
   morning. I had one of the boys shape it up for you. He is easy and be
   a little careful with him because I don't want the animal sollowed. I
   was rearing to go so pronto, I straddled the bronc.
   
   "I had no more than hit the tree until that Mustang started for the
   moon. He was a fence rower and caught me off base. I went up so high
   that the Blue birds had time to build in my pocket before I had time
   to hit this ball of mud and when I hit, I lost the two previous chews
   of 'baccy I had taken. That hoss was a near full blood Spanish and
   owned by one of the waddies. The owner could ride him but with a
   stranger, that hoss sure put on the wiggles.
   
   "The boys were all sitting on the op'ra house, getting their eyes full
   and busting their innards laughing at me. They were all as happy as a
   preacher in a saloon away from home, and when my riding ability was
   shown, they shaped me up with a gentled hoss that worked for me. It
   pitched a little to get the kinks out of it's fins.
   
   "I nested there for five years and did everything a waddy is called on
   to do. I was not long getting out of the scissor bill class and before
   I quit the range, I was one of the top loopers and riders.
   
   "The Skillet Section of Texas was no Sunday meeting dump 00055in the
   70's. There was the rustlers and the Indian raids that we had to meet
   up with, and we waddies had the fighting to do as well as nurse the
   cows. There was always the night riding to do watching the herd. The
   riders would circle the herd, going in opposite directions and in that
   way, they could post their pals on the shape of things.
   
   "On top of the night riding in those days, it was often necessary to
   have men out watching for raids by aband of Indians, brand blotters
   and rustlers in general. I have put in many nights with my hoss tied
   to my leg so it would wake me if I went to sleep, laying out with my
   guns ready, expecting [any?] moment that the need for action would
   come, and several times, it come. There was the ornery thief, and
   there was the Indian after meat that we had to watch. [On?] a cold wet
   night, that job was not putting silver linings in your cloud.
   
   "One time I had to fire my six gun so fast, it got so hot I could
   hardly handle it. It was a full moon night with drifting clouds so it
   changed from bright to dark and our lamps could not keep glued to
   objects. That night, I spied what I reckoned was a stranger at a point
   where strangers had no [puddling?]. I fired two shots in the
   directions That was a high sign for the others, both the night riders
   and the watchers to show up. All the watchers come a-running to where
   I was, and as many of the night riders as could be spared, and
   scattered out around me. By the time we all got set for action, we
   heard a shot over on our right. We then got into our cokns what had
   happened and what was up. The vermin had mosied over after they saw
   the waddies bunching. He had out a 00066gut by our move and played
   into the skunk's hands, so we dragged over towards the direction of
   the shot.
   
   We did not have long to wait for action. A shower of lead greeted us
   and for about 30 minutes, there was lots of action. The vermin would
   not come close enough for us to get a sure hit but would drive in,
   shoot, then drive back out of range. We could not follow far because
   of the herd. What them skunks were after was to get a chance to break
   through and stampede the critters.
   
   "At first, the boys thought that it was Billy the Kid, who was then
   still circulating, because the gang was showing so much guts. I
   calculated it was Indians on the jump because they were trying to pull
   us away from the herd. They would drive in, first from one direction
   and then from the other, and wham away at us. We would then wham away
   at them. There must have been about 30 of them and they worried us
   'til Murphy, the boss of the night crew, got plum riled and said,
   'Hell, boys, let's go get them skunks. We'll take a chance on the
   critters', so we lit in after them, shooting as fast as we could in
   the general direction of the gang as Murphy had directed, and
   traveling lined up a-breast. I calculated we never would get them and
   we didn't. Hell, we saw Indians in every direction, circling, and lead
   was coming from [?] every which-away for a few minutes. The way we
   were shooting, the vermin thought that help had arrived because they
   got out of range pronto. When westoped shooting, my gun was so hot I
   had to lay it on the ground to cool.
   
   We never fond out if we made any hits but they never came close to us
   waddies. They nicked the stub of my saddle [nd?] cut a little flesh on
   Murphy's hoss. The boss blamed the raid on 00077[uanah?] Parker's
   tribe but I learned that it was not his people. I made a call on them
   afterwards and Quanah told me none of his people were mixed in the
   deal.
   
   "Fighting and trailing rustlers was part of the waddy's work. When
   they were caught alive, they were generally naturalized pronto.
   Sometimes, they were turned over to the law. I am not going to chew
   about being at any naturalizing ceremony but I will says that I was
   present and helped to cut down three men that were hanging from a
   cottonwood tree. No one ever knew who attended the naturalizing
   ceremony. You see, it was twisting the law code a little and men never
   talked about such matters, or asked any questions. We waddies that cut
   the vermin down that time, had a suspicion they were there, and it was
   not because buzzards were circling the spot.
   
   "The cowmen used the naturalizing system because the court trials
   [were?] uncertain. It was hard to get a jury that did not have a
   rustler friend. There were men in with the rustlers on the QT. After I
   quit the BO outfit, John Petrie was banished from the country in 1884,
   on the charge of working with the rustlers while he was the top screw
   of the BO outfit.
   
   "I guess you have heard about what happened West of the Pecos. The
   rangers corraled all the bad men, and there were not enough pure [me?]
   men left to fill a jury.
   
   "I left the BO outfit and joined up with the JA outfit in 1880. It was
   owned by Goodnight and Adair. I nested there for four years. Goodnight
   had some of the best waddies that ever straddles a hoss and threw a
   loop, working for him. Goodnight 00088would not have a man that drank
   or gambled. That was one reason I hankered to join up with the outfit.
   I have never taken a drink in my life, and give my mother credit for
   the fact. She often told me that firewater and Indian blood would not
   mix.
   
   "When I joined up with the JA outfit, there were Johny Come Lately,
   the camp cook, John Mann, the wagon boss, Jud Campbell was top screw
   on the trail, and there were Jim Owen, Jim Mitchell, Club Foot Jack,
   Jess Steen, and others that were the best in the business.
   
   "The year after I joined up with the JA outfit, I was ordered out with
   several others to work a roundup East of us. We worked about four
   months and had a bunch of JA critters rounded up, and was ready to
   drift them back to the home range. Around [?], there were a tough
   bunch of buckaroos that lived on gambling and rustling, and had the
   rep that they would not stop for anything but would get what they
   started for.
   
   "While cutting out there, the boys engaged in a little hoss racing.
   Bud Roberts and Mitchell cleaned a number of the tough bucks in the
   racing. Bud had a buckskin pony that to look at, you would think he
   was dead and had forgot to turn over but he was a streak of sky fire
   in the run.
   
   "The boys would rib up a race and the gamblers reckoned the buckskin
   by his looks and bet against it. The loss of their money did not set
   well on their guts. The night before we were ready to drift back home
   with the herd, Mitchell got wind that we were in for a fight before we
   could leave.
   
   "Well, sir, that next morning, we were all shaped up to 00099to start
   and a couple of men showed up and claimed some of the cattle in our
   herd. Mitchell and all of us were sure the herd was pure. Fact is, the
   old man would put us on the drag if we brought in an unclean herd.
   Them buckaroos just wanted to start a fight. We could see that lay of
   the land. They were getting ready to start cutting into our herd.
   Mitchell, in face of their move, gave us riding orders.
   
   "Club Foot Jack was sitting on his hoss with a muley in his hand and
   yelled out, 'The first skunk that starts to cut a critter will get the
   eternal Brand sure to hell!' You could tell at the first glance that
   Club Foot was a booger in a scrap. I was on my own hoss. The best hoss
   that ever followed a cow, and I did not give it any mind. He was doing
   his part in keeping that herd a-moving. All I had to do was to keep my
   eye on the skunks with my six gun ready. That herd drifted out with
   every critter in it. Then [?] decided that Club Foot was speaking for
   a bunch of waddies that had sand in their gizzards.
   
   "It was a question of keeping your guard up those days. Every minute
   while on a drive, [nd?] be ready for trouble. I was with a drive of
   1,000 head into New Mex' one time, and we got messed up with the worst
   stampede that ever took place, I reckon. There was a wet spell on, and
   we were fairly frazzled. The cattle were bedded down on a flat near a
   draw. Every thing was sociable and we were not expecting any trouble.
   About an hour before day, a party of Indians sneaked up that draw and
   suddenly opened fire on us. They pulled a fifth ace on us. Not being
   ready for them, we all had togo for our guns. We got our hands
   001010on our shooting irons and began to make for our hosses while
   shooting. One of the boys were nicked in the neck but outside of that,
   noone was hurt. There were several cattle down and the rest of the
   herd was stampeding, the hosses included.
   
   "The Indian custom was never to leave their dead so we did not know if
   we winged any of them but we saw blood. That showed we had nicked some
   of them. They vamoosed as quick as they came, The stampede was what
   they wanted and they sure got one that time. The clouds were hanging
   low and it was not long 'til a storm broke that produced more skyfire.
   than I have ever seen. It was so dark that we could not see where the
   cattle were. We could tell something about their direction from the
   clashing of horns and the stomping of hoofs, and see when the fire
   flashed from the sky. That night, I saw the fire jigging off my hosses
   ears. I could reach down and feel of them but could not feel anything
   but there it was, every once in awhile.
   
   "We lost over 200 head by the time that stampede was over with, and
   there must have been nearly a 100 head that fell from exhaustion. I
   never seen animals travel so fast. We worked the herd for 15 hours
   before we got it under control. They would go from one run to another.
   With a stampede, the waddies must ride until the critters are stopped
   or drop when they run themselves out. We could not stop for chuck.
   [hen] the worm yelled, we just took a Spanish supper. That is, pull
   your belt up a notch.
   
   "With all the tough going, I did not lose my leaf lard but stayed in
   good shape and could fight a bear with a switch. Of course, we had
   spells when we could ease up and play. On the 001111JA, where the rule
   was against gambling and drinking, the boys would get up matches in
   shooting, roping, and riding. The best shot I ever saw was on the JA.
   Club Foot Jack could draw and hit the mark quicker than any of the
   boys. I don't think there was any one that could beat him. Mitchell
   was fast, and I was no snail climbing a slick log at it, either.
   
   "My trick was roping. I could swell up like a carbuncle over my roping
   and not be whiffy. The fastest man I ever met handling a rope was
   Booger Red. He was on the BO with us for a time, and while he was
   there, we fought it out many times. Then after I came to the Farmer
   outfit, down in Parker County, Booger and I contested in a rodeo that
   the waddies held, here in Fort Worth. It was on the grounds where the
   North Side High school now stands, that we gathered. There was no
   charge. The people just bunched around and got their eyes full. That
   was before the days of organized rodeos. Perhaps our contest gave the
   idea for the start of the organized rodeos. Well, Booger Red bested
   me. I looped and tied a steer, hog fashion, in 1 and 2/3 seconds, and
   he did the trick in 1 and 1/3 seconds.
   
   "The boys on the BO and the JA would sometimes go to dances. I have
   seen them start on a 60 mile jiggle to the hoe-down. I never went to a
   hoe-down but I did go to the Indian doings once in awhile, and I would
   go to visit Quanah Parker's family. Both of the ranches had a couple
   of boys that owned fiddles and could agitate the cat gut. That would
   silver line our cloud considerable.
   
   "After I quit the JA outfit, I worked for the Farmer outfit 001212for
   a spell and there I found it different. The boys would go to town each
   pay day and shoot the works. I often came in with them but laid off
   the drinks. While they would be drinking, I would be sally-hootin.
   
   "I recall one time when about 10 of us were passing where the court
   house now stands. There were seven street lights in sight, and we shot
   out the seven. We were dragging for the ranch and did it for fun. The
   idea of hurting somebody was not in our mind. It just tickled our
   innards to see somebody hightail it. There was a policeman on the
   street at the time but with the first shot, he vamoosed. I did not
   care for that kind of fun but I was with the boys and I would play the
   game while with them. Because I did not care for that kind of fun was
   why I did not go to dances with them but visited with the Indians
   instead.
   
   "I quit the ranch life in 1885 and took to carpentering. I have
   followed that work since. I got married in 1892, to Bertha Raylie, and
   we reared 15 children. 12 of them are still living and are here in
   Fort Worth.
   
   "I was no different from the rest of the waddies about my conk cover,
   boots, hoss and gun. We wanted the best in that rigging. I wore a
   $20.00 pair of spurs, $15.00 hat, and a $10.00 pair of boots.
   
   "The best hoss I ever rode was my hoss that I rode out of Fort Worth
   to the Skillet. After a couple of month's work among the cattle, that
   hoss could work alone except to know what animal to cut out of the
   herd. It would work a critter out of the herd and there was no
   fooling. That hoss would work on the critter's tail hump and would
   soon have the critter in the notion of going where the hoss wanted him
   to go. When roping, I never had to talk to 001313to it. That hoss
   would watch where the rope went, and the moment the loop went over the
   critter, she would sit to take up the slack and hold. If I missed, it
   would lay back it's ears and put me in position for another loop
   pronto. It seemed that the hoss would get riled when I missed. "When
   we were watching for rustlers and I was using my own hoss, I could lie
   down and cover up with my slicker and depend on that hoss poking me
   with her nose if anything strange showed up and she could tell when
   some strange vermin was in the section long before I could see
   anything. While I would be lying down, she would graze around and
   every once in awhile, come over and smell of me. I am sure it did that
   to see if I was alright.
   
   "When it comes to reckoning about critters, we don't want to forget
   about old Blue, the long horn steer on the JA. He was raised by
   Goodnight down in the Southern section of the State. Blue got away
   through sale, or strayed, at one time but come back to the home
   outfit, and there he stayed. Goodnight would not part with him at any
   price because he calculated Blue to be the most valuable animal, beast
   or human, that he had.
   
   "Blue was one of the largest critters of his kind, and had a pair of
   hooks that measured over seven feet from tip to tip, and he carried
   his head high, as proud as a pea cock. That beast was as handy as any
   waddy around a herd. He was used on every drive and was proud of his
   job. He was the real pointer when we were drifting with the cattle,
   and he could lead the herd better than any waddy. That was true when
   the herd went on a stomp. When a stam pede took place, he was as busy
   as a cat in shavings. He 001414would work on the outside of the cattle
   and you could hear his voice talking to those critters. He maybe
   cussed, or was pleading. Whatever it was, he would talk to the bunch.
   [hile?] the boys were singing or hooting, which ever they [we e?] best
   at, Old Blue was throwing in with them with his voice.
   
   "For pay, Blue received the respects of all the waddies and extra
   feed. He was a regular caller at the chuck wagon and the belly cheater
   always had some sinkers or gun wadding for him, and he sure liked the
   stuff but pie was his long suit. The cheater claimed that he would
   laugh when pie was given to him.

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