Tom Green County, TX - Bios:  J. H. Yardley
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Thanks to the Library of Congress
http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/wpaintro/txcat.html
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TX BIOS:  J. H. Yardley
   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
   
   Folk Stuff - Range Lore
   
   Range-lore
   
   Elizabeth Doyle
   
   San Angelo, Texas.
   
   Page one
   
   RANGE-LORE
   
   When about 17 years of age J. H. Yardley of Mertzon, Texas, came from
   Grayson County, Texas, and settled near Colorado City, Texas. He was
   about 18 years old when he joined up with the late Fayette
   Tankereley's outfit near Tankersley, Texas. (Mr. Tankersley died two
   days after this interview).
   
   "We never had a cross word or the slightest misunderstanding, believe
   it or not, the whole 45 years I worked for him," related Mr. Yardley.
   
     NOTE: C12- Texas
     
   00022"Most of that time I was foreman and handled millions of dollars
   for Mr. Tankersley. I placed his money in the bank, paid off the
   hands, and kept out my own. We just happened to be two square shooters
   who got together, which proves further that doing the right thing pays
   best in the long run.
   
   "I'm just knockin' around my bachelor's quarters here now, tryin' to
   kill a little time. Guess I lived in the saddle too long. Anyway, I
   havn't been able to even get on a horse in a year now, since that
   serious operation I had last year.
   
   "Mr Tankersley and I stayed with it too close and too long I guess,
   for they took him to the Temple hospital, too, a few days ago and I'm
   afraid he ain't a-comin' back like I did. I was over to see him
   yesterday and the nurse told me he just needed rest. Rest! Maybe
   that's what all us old boys are needin'; anyway, I'm a feelin' those
   cold rainy nights in my bones now, when we use to spread our bed roll
   out over a bunch of cat-claws, tryin' to keep off the wet ground.
   Sometimes we had a tarp over us and sometimes we didn't and we would
   be in one place one night and another the next.
   
   "The bed roll offered a favorite means of carrying out our Kangaroo
   Court sentences. When a tenderfoot committed the usual and unusual
   errors he was bent down across a bed roll and given the leggin's. We
   poured it 00033on one smart aleck once and he started raisin' a rough
   house with us all, so we just up's with him and takes him down to the
   river and pitched him in, clothes and all, and told him to swim or
   drown. Most of the time we tried to be civil even to new comers but
   when a fellow kicked back too much he just got a double dose.
   
   "A cowboy's outfit consisted of his bed roll, his saddle which usually
   cost around $50.00, chaps, spurs, and a good stetson hat. The hat was
   never supposed to cost under $10.00.
   
   "We were going up the trail to Kansas once with about 1,000 head and
   thought we were going to make the entire trip without a stampede but
   on our fourth night out a severe thunderstorm with lots of lightning
   came up. We watched the cattle as they began to stir and mill. That
   was where I saw a sight that lots of people give the lie, and that was
   lightning playing up and down the cows' horns, then running up and
   dropping off the end of the horns in big balls of fire. This didn't
   happen a great many times before the cattle broke away in mad fright.
   We ran them two days and nights and that is one of the few times that
   I rubbed tobacco spit in my eyes to keep awake.
   
   "I don't think I could ever have made it on that trip if I hadn't been
   riding ny big brown horse I called I. X. He was more like a human than
   a horse, and wasn't 00044afraid to go right in after anything until I
   roped it. Some of the biggest and wildest old cows and steers of the
   range were easily handled by me with his help.
   
   "I roped one immense steer on this run I was speaking of, and old I.
   X. set his forefeet in the ground and held him while I got down and
   got my hat I had lost. He was the best friend I ever had in the way of
   horse flesh. I loved him nearly as much as I hated an old black
   Spanish horse we used to have. I could have hated him less if he
   hadn't been such a crook. He would go on just as pretty as you please
   for several days, then all at once off you would go, in a wild bucking
   spree that he would go on. I never knew him to fail to throw every man
   who ever rode him, sooner or later. If he'd just a-stayed a buckin'
   horse and not tried to be anything else I would have liked [him?]
   better.
   
   "Old Moccasin John was an old slouch who came to our outfit and got
   hired on account of his excellent ridin'. He could sure stick'em,
   mattered not how bad they were if he was a lookin' for them to pitch,
   but the old Spanish horse throw him too. He had away of hangin' his
   spur in a horse's shoulder and sort of falling off on one side and
   hangin' there but he was taken by surprise by the old hypocrite just
   as we all were. We called him Moccasin because he was so rusty and in
   that way 00055resembled a Moccasin snake. His boots were always run
   down, his hat flopped and his clothes and flesh dirty, but when it
   come to ridin' he got the job done.
   
   "He was just as good at shootin' too. I've seen him throw up a couple
   of eggs and burst them both with a six-shooter as they came down.
   
   "I've been run over, knocked down, and tramped on by the herd more
   than once and often wonder yet why and how I am here. I was just
   thinkin' this mornin' here by myself about an old wild bull I was
   a-wormin' once, he was fightin' me right along and I was holdin' my
   hand with him fine 'til he knocked me down. I crawled into a bunch of
   brush as best I could and thought I was out of his reach. I lay there
   half stunned as he would rage and paw and sniff and snort at me. All
   at once he just seemed to go into a fit of rage and backed off about
   ten feet, roared out a big bellow and seemed to just make a leap right
   over into the middle of that brush and almost on top of me. All I
   could think of was to try to put his eyes out. As he would horn down
   at me I would dig him in the eyes with my thumbs and I really think
   that slowed him down a little, but not enough to keep him from ramming
   his horn in my side, lifting me clear of the brush and tossing me
   about ten feet over the brush pile. I just flattened out on the ground
   and lay as limp as I could, as I was getting weak anyway 00066from
   loss of blood. He rushed after me but seemed to think I was dead or
   something as he only nosed and sniffed over my body and walked away,
   slobbering like a mad dog. That was one of my narrowest escapes and I
   was pretty week by the time I pulled myself up and made it back to the
   camps. When I got back and the boys dressed my side they told me that
   Will Carver had been shot down, in a feed store in Sonora, as he was
   buying feed for the Six Ranch where he had worked since he quit the
   Ketchum boys. He had made one of the best hands I ever saw and we all
   liked him and was sorry to hear of his death. We learned that the
   sheriff had a warrant for him and didn't take any chances, just walked
   in and shot him down. This must have worn on his conscience though, as
   he soon resigned and we heard no more of him. Will was like a lot of
   the others, his name got worse than his ways and everything they did
   then was exaggerated and many misdeeds of which they were not guilty
   were blamed on them. Like Mr. Tankersley told me yesterday though,
   we're all just waitin' now for the final big round-up, where it will
   all be straightened out better then we can ever figure it out here, I
   hope. If he comes back and I ever get able to ride again, I wouldn't
   mind going all over the same road again, as in my experiences the good
   has always out-weighed the bad." 0007Range-lore
   
   Elizabeth Doyle
   
   San Angelo, Texas.
   
   BIBLIOGRAPHY
   
   J. R. Yardley, Mertzon, Texas, interviewed, Novembered 17, 1937.