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Ra e lore
Ann e ay
Maverick, Texas.
RANGE -LORE
Page one
Zap Adams was born in Gonzales
County in 1867. He moved with his
parents to Hamilton County and luter
to Comanche County. Hearing of better
things further west, he curcie to Runnels
County in 189b, bought a little ranch
on Tunny Creek where he kept small
herd of cattle and a few horses. After
a few years the ranch was disposed of
and Mr. Adams went into the mercantile
business, retiring in 1920. He now
makes his hone in Ballincer, Texas.
"I began riding the range for my father when I was
ten years old," says Mr. Adams, "and I continued to ride
for about thirty years. I didn't have any outstanding
experiences as a rider, although I've seen cattle stampedes;
and good broils busters were common. about the most dangerous
work we had was handling a herd in a stampede. I Saw one
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rider, they called him Buck, get killed by a steer that
was leading a herd in a stampede. I was helping deliver
this herd to a fellow who had purchased them from my
uncle, Some little noise disturbed the herd that night
und they began running. Buck was on guard and tried to
turn the leader and get them to circling. The steer
ran into the horse he was riding, causing him to stumble
and fall on the rider, killing him instantly. it3 a rule,
stampedes happened when we were driving the cattle from
one pasture to another.
"I never went on any long drives, but on these
drives the cattle were herded together and bedded down
for the night. If they became restless those on guard
would ride ar(,und and sing. This seemed to quiet them.
"I don't remaber any DUrtiCUlur MOW1 horse, but
they was all pretty mean 'til we cot r,tem broke in. I
had one horse I thought a heap of. He would come to me
any time he heard me whistle. Jaid he understood cattle.
He sure could stand a lot of hard riding.
"e5 always had a lot of fun out of new riders, when
one would chance to tnrot in with out outfit. One of our
favorite ways of initiating them was to turn 'em across a
saddle bench and paddle them 'til they hollered, 'Enough.'
v.e pushed all the dirty work off on the "tenderfoot" and
then lauvhed at their plight. The toughest horses were
turned over to them, too. But I remember one time a new
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rider got the joke on a bunch of us old hands, as well as
the boss. He came to my uncle's ranch and uLked for a
job. .hen questioned, he said he could ride a little but
didn't know much about cattle. He had a pretty good horse
but just a piece of a saddle, in fact, it looked like a
kid's saddle to me. And the clothes he was wearing looked
as bud an unlike a cowhand's as could have been possible.
Our foreman said he'd give him a trial. the first
thing he did was to give him the touehest horse on the
ranch to ride. At first it looked like he wasn't going to
be able to stick with him, but then he decided to have
sone fua, so he began to spur him and make him pitch. Boy,
eould that feller ride: He rode that horse 'til he rode
him down, and then asked the boss if he could have the job.
We surd felt sheepish, after he c)t the best of us like
that. That wazi tlie best bronc rider I ever sat and he made
a good hand, too. He had a fine saddle and saris u,00d
clothes hid out in the brush, and after hsvi_ng his fun he
hauled then out of the bushes and dressed up 'til he looked
like a real coubby, which he was. a.fter that, we were a
little more particular about who we razzed.
"I was never in an Indian fight. 1 saw lots of Indiane
but they were friendly ones. y uncles, Captain Jim Cun-
ningham, Bill CunninOvam, Dick Cunnincham, and Captain Bill
Wrieht were all in the Dove Creek fight. They served on
the ran,,:_er force and were in several Indian fichts."