Real County, TX - Bios:  Mrs. Mary Leakey Miles

TX BIOS:  Mrs. Mary Leakey Miles
   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
   
   Page 1 FOLKSTUFF AND FOLKWAYS [??] Words RANGE LORE.
   
   Range Lore and
   
   Early Experiences
   
   Before and After 1875
   
   EDITORIAL FIELD COPY
   
   by
   
   Mrs. Florence Angermiller, P. W.
   
   REAL COUNTY? DISTRICT #10
   
   232
   
   OCT 25 1937
   
   [md;]
   
   MRS. MARY LEAKEY MILES
   
   Mary Leakey Miles, daughter of John Leakey (Lak-y) pioneer settler of
   the Frio Canyon and founder of the town of Leakey, is 70 years old and
   lived the life of the pioneer women of that day. She was born in 1867
   at Leakey, Texas, and grew up in the saddle, helping her father with
   the stock and riding the side saddle on horses scarcely broke.
   
   Her father, a tall, blue eyed, red-complexioned man, feared nothing
   and lived [DEL: dailey :DEL] daily by his brawn. Old timers remember
   his use of profane language and tell how he pointed an empty revolver
   at Indians and cursed them till they fled. He ruled his household with
   a firm and imperious hand. Ten children of his own learned to ride,
   rope and shoot under his expert guidance, nor were they spared the
   hard-fisted rule of their father. In site of thieving Indians, the old
   man prospered and his children had their individual brands for their
   stock.
   
   Mary Leakey was the second daughter of the family. She was a tall,
   blonde girl whose horseback riding was unexcelled and who remembers
   her horses with fondness that is a mark of those who depended on a
   horse, much of the time, for safety as well as toil.
   
     NOTE: C12 - Texas
     
   She married Virgle Miles in [1888?] and is the mother of 11 children.
   Her husband used her brand, ML for a number of years, as she already
   had stock running under her own brand.
   
   Mrs. Miles resides in Uvalde on North Getty Street. Her husband died
   about twelve years ago and since then, she has sold her ranch holdings
   and is spending her old age in town. The following episodes of her
   life are told in her won words:
   
   00022
   
   "The town of Leakey was named for my father. He rode the first wagon
   trail ever up in that country and he was one of the first settlers
   ever to go up there. Two Ball boys and a single fellow by the name of
   Stamford went there with him.
   
   "Our first house in Leakey was built by my father and his help. It was
   a two-room house made of cypress boards cut from native cypress trees.
   There was a large fireplace in one end of the house and we cooked over
   the fire in this fireplace. We had a hook hanging from the chimney
   that we hung iron pots on and we used a Dutch oven and other skillets.
   Many a good meal of fine venison steaks and hot biscuits as well as
   beef was cooked in that old fireplace.
   
   "My [DEL: fathe :DEL] father run stock and his oldest boy was riding
   with him when he was so little my father had to tie him on the horse.
   He did this, a whole lot, on account of Indians.
   
   "We've seen Indians on the mountains around our home. Once my brother
   and my sister just older than me started up on the mountain one
   evening. My brother was ahead of us and pretty soon he whistled and we
   knowed to stop so we did. My brother broke to run and then we knew
   there were Indians. We got back home safe but the Indians took a lot
   of stock that night.
   
   "My father was shot to pieces by the Indians once when he was visiting
   Mr. [Anglinis?] folks over in [Sabinal?]. He and my mother had gone to
   spend the day over there. The Indians had come to the corral to steal
   horses and were run off, so my father and six or seven men went upon
   the mountain to trail them and he got to the top and [gave?] back for
   the others to come on up when the Indians shot him. He jumped off of a
   high bluff when he saw they had him and he fell from bush to bush,
   catching his way as he went down. They thought he was dead, of course,
   and the Indians were slipping up on him to scalp him when he grabbed
   his sixshooter and begun cursing them.
   
   00033
   
   He was an awful person to curse and that's how the white men knew
   where he was and got to him, they heard him cursing. The Indians run
   but they didn't know the gun was empty. At least, my father thought it
   was. He had another shell and didn't know it.
   
   "We've entertained many an outlaw in our home. We didn't know who they
   were, for they came under different names of course. A man named
   Longely stayed for awhile. He was a great desperado and at one time he
   was to be hung but the doctor fixed it so his neck wouldn't break, and
   he got out of his coffin alive. There were saloons there and some
   lively times in those days. Many a thing happened that weren't ever
   told.
   
   "I used to ride on the range but I couldn't rope like my sister could.
   That was one thing I never learned to do so well. We had brothers to
   do that but my sister was nearly as good. I never helped with the
   round-ups as much as I worked with the stock about the place. My
   father used to send cattle out north of there. I don't know where they
   went to but guess some buyer come in and taken them north.
   
   "I've had horses run away with me and throw me too. I went on crutches
   a whole year from a horse throwing me and another one stepping on me.
   It broke some ligaments loose in my ankle someway. One horse run about
   a mile once and I couldn't stop him but my brother headed him off and
   caught him.
   
   "Pat was my favorite horse. He was a red roan. I thought he was awful
   smart but of course he belonged to me. He saved me from the Indians
   one time. It happened between the Frio River and what we call the
   Spring Branch. I wasn't far from my sister when the Indians run [?]
   us. My sister heard the cracking of the horses' hoofs and hollered to
   me, 'Better go home!' and we broke and run. She went one 00044way, and
   I went the other because I was afraid they'd cut me off from the
   crossing. They were not [?] an alarm given; they would have caught and
   carried us off rather than have us give an alarm. They were after
   horses. They run us about two miles but we were riding good horses and
   we outrun 'em.
   
   "My brother had one horse that was awful mean and every chance we had,
   we would swipe him and ride 'im to see what we could with 'im.
   
   "My sister, Mattie , just older than me, could ride, rope and shoot as
   good as anybody I ever saw. I've seen her on some pretty mean horses,
   riding her side saddle but she could sure handle 'em. She did most of
   her roping when she was helping in the pens. She'd take after a
   yearling anywhere and run it down and catch it too. She could talk
   Mexican as good as any Mexican. She could break horses and was
   successful in a way. She never got her but I got hurt twice.
   
   "I was trying to lead a horse behind the horse I was riding and and
   got jerked off my horse and it crippled me in the ankle again, though
   not so bad as when the horse stepped on me.
   
   "The boys used to help the girls up on their horses when they rode the
   side saddles. You put your foot in his hand and gave a spring. It was
   easy to spring up. We rode to church horseback. We went in wagons too
   but we traveled more by horseback in the early days. I have carried my
   children with me horseback when I rode the side saddle. I never would
   ride a mans saddle till my boy was sent to France. And then I never
   could face to go through town that way.
   
   "My second brother, Tom Leakey, was the best rifle and pistol shot I
   ever saw. I have seen him whirl his pistol with his finger in the
   guard and shoot ever' time the gun came over. He never missed his
   mark.
   
   00055
   
   He could throw things up and hit them before they could come down. He
   was a fine rifle shot too. He was always out on the range and once he
   caught a buffalo calf and brought it in alive. He caught it at the
   head of the canyon about 16 miles above our place. It didn't live very
   long; he thought he must have injured it someway when he caught it.
   
   "I can't say which of my three brothers was the best roper, but we had
   a man working for us by the name of Bill [Wall?] that was the best
   roper on the range or in the pens I believe I ever saw. I have seen
   him rope many a wild cow. (We are writing experience from Uncle Bill
   Wall at present).
   
   "I have had a few run-ins with bad cattle myself. There was a range
   bull one time that was pretty bad. We sure had to keep on the watch
   for him. I've seen some real bull fights in my day. They'd gore each
   other till their entrails fell out. About the worst bull fight I ever
   saw was between a black and white spotted one, and the other was a red
   one. We heard 'em coming. They were bellerin' a long ways off and when
   they run together, they ment business. They fought till one of 'em
   killed the other one. He ripped him open and his entrails fell out.
   They had awful keen horns and when they were mad, they'd gore nearly
   anything that crossed their path.
   
   "We had mostly rail fences around our place. (Most of the rail fences
   in this section are cedar poles.) We had one piece of rock fence. We
   had to work then. We carried water, washed clothes, made soap, milked
   lots of cows and cooked for big outfits all the time. Anytime a person
   stopped and hadn't had anything to eat, it had to be got for him.
   
   "That was a wild and unsettled country in those days. The thick cedar
   brakes and dense timber was a fine hide-out for men and wild animals
   too. Oh I've heard panthers scream across those canyons, my goodness!
   
   00066
   
   You'd think it was a woman screaming unless you knowed. My oldest boy
   killed one on the [head] of the Dry Frio that was the biggest one I
   ever saw. He had it thrown across his horse and its nose was touching
   the ground on one side and his tail on the other side. [Albert?]
   laughed and said it was the biggest panther he ever killed. I told
   him, ' [DEL: f :DEL] Of course it is: it's your first!'"
   
   [?]

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