The blue-roan's baby kept close to his mother's side the dust that settled over the herd like a pall, choking him, while the constant bawling of the cattle, fairly deafened him. The two animals fell in with more of their kind as the trails converged until, by the time the roundup ground was reached, there were more than fifteen hundred cattle of all ages and sexes gathered in one great bunch. He picked up the blue-roan, who, with her young son beside her, trotted off, following the rest of the cattle already working down the trails toward the round-up grounds. So, as they rode along, Bill swung across a little draw toward the water hole they had seen the day before. The old man wants all them cows to throw into that Arizony drive, an' her an' the calf will make it in all right, I reckon." As they divided up into couples to work down the country, the leader said: "Bill, you look out an' catch that ole blue-roan we seen yistiday. It was here, away out on the "staked plains," those mysterious regions of the great Southwest, and far back from the thin line of settlements that fringed the Pecos River, in southeastern New Mexico, that the "blue-roan outlaw" first saw the light.Įarly next morning the leaders of the roundup party, engaged in gathering up the cattle on the range, swung across the prairie in a great semicircle, sweeping before them in one huge drive, everything of the cow kind. So the boys rode on across the prairie, and the droop-horned blue with her baby rested in peace that day and night. "It sure will," replied his companion "better leave 'em here till tomorrow an' we can swing around this a-way an' git 'em."
"Say, won't that old Hashknife iron loom up big on them ribs some day?" he asked, for a brand on a roan animal shows much more plainly than on a hide of any other color. "He's a sure blue-roan all right," said Bill. The mother, with the fear of man too strong in her heart to stand by her guns, ran off a few yards from the spot and the calf followed, bawling loudly, the already awakened man-fear strong within him. The calf, with the instinct of the brute already working in his little four-day-old brain, did not move, but lay there as quietly as if he were dead, and, not until the horsemen rode almost onto him in the deep grass, did they discover his hiding place. With a mad bellow of defiance she raced toward the spot where the little fellow was hidden, exactly as the boys knew she would. When, however, one of the boys played the time-worn trick on her by barking like a dog, it was too much for her peace of mind. The two cowboys rode slowly down the gentle slope toward the cow, which watched them eagerly, but with the cunning of the brute made no sign or motion to show where her baby was hidden. There's a little hole of water clos't to where she's a-grazin' an' it's a sure shot the calf's hid away in that tall grass down there clos't to it." "Like as not," replied Bill, "an' I'll bet it's a blue-roan, too, for she's raised a blue calf reg'lar fer these last four or five years. Reckon she ain't got a calf somers' hereabout?" "Say, Bill, there's that old blue-roan, droop-horned cow that allus runs over on the Coyote wash. THE BLUE-ROAN "OUTLAW" A Tale of the "Hashknife" Range By permission The Breeder's Gazette, Chicago, III The air is heavy with the desert's sweet perfume Strange-fashioned things come slipping into sight.Ī lizard, swift as light, and clad in colors gay,Ī horned toad, with crown of thorns, comes slithering by,Ī lone coyote, skulker of the desert wastes,ĭrunk with nectar from a Palo Verde's yellow bloom, Of dawn creeps slowly backward, till the magic change Like some great red-eyed dragon, tops the rugged range.
Who shared with me many of the dangers and hardships of the old days on the ranges of the Southwest, these stories are affectionately dedicated.
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