Love and Country: A Saga of the Old West Medina

By Richard Pickens Cobb

The book titled Love and Country, a saga of the Last Era of the Old West is a story of Quanah Parker, Buffalo Bill, Anne Oakley and many of the other noted heroes.

The book titled Medina is the story of the young son of a captured soldier of the Texas Revolution and his life in Mexico to become a noted shooter for justice. Another book titled Eagles of El Capitan published also by Author House is the story of Medinas later adventures and life in Texas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 8, 2009
• ISBN: 9781467875325

Richard Pickens Cobb

Richard Pickens Cobb was born in Dallas, Texas in 1936 and has lived in Texas all his life.  He spent his early years in West Texas at Midland and San Angelo, he attended the University of Texas and Texas A&M University before going into the construction and ranch real estate business.   He now resides at his ranch in central Texas at Lampasas, where he raises cattle and quarter horses with a side line of lost treasure hunting and historical research.  He has written fourteen books, most of which are about early folklore of the southwest.

Book preview

Contents

A Saga of

the Old WEST

PREFACE

Dedication

Chapter I

Starting Out

Chapter II

Red River

Chapter III

Journey West

Chapter IV

Adobe Walls

Chapter VA

New Era

Chapter VI

St. Louis

Chapter VII

Hippity Hopping

Chapter VIII

The Wild West Show

Medina

PREFACE

CHAPTER I

The Young Beggar

CHAPTER II

Wranglers

CHAPTER III

Ramon

CHAPTER IV

Guard of the Mine

CHAPTER V

Journey North

CHAPTER VI

Sierra Madre

CHAPTER VII

Rio Conchos

GLOSSARY OF TEX-MEX and SOUTHWEST FOLKLORE TERMS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Books by

Richard Pickens Cobb

A Saga of

the Old WEST

PREFACE

These stories are folklore, but most of the places, characters and events are true. The first story of Love and Country is a saga of the last era of the Old West during the times of Chief Quanah Parker, Buffalo Bill Cody, Annie Oakley and other great heroes of the West. The second story of Medina begins in Mexico City. It is the story of a poor Mexican half breed boy as he lifts himself up to a better life, first as a horse wrangler and later to the top guard at the silver mine at the Senor Cos Rancho. To avoid being pulled down in the corruption of Senor Cos, Medina and his two friends cross the rugged mountains of Mexico and escape back to the homeland of his father along the border of west Texas to the area in what would become known as the Big Bend National Park and the Davis Mountains around Fort Davis, Texas.

Dedication

I hereby dedicate this story to the pioneer men and women, who were the eagles for us to follow, and to my children and family so that they may carry on the spirit of the past, lest that we forget.

In a desert land he found him,

In a barren and howling waste.

He shielded him and cared for him;

He guarded him as the apple of his eye,

Like an eagle that stirs up its nest,

And hovers over its young,

That spreads its wings to catch

And carries them on its pinions.

(Deuteronomy 32:10&11)

Even youths grows tired and weary.

And young men stumble and fall,

But those who hope in the Lord

Will renew their strength,

They will soar on wings like eagles.

(Isaiah 40: 30&31)

Chapter I

Starting Out

The young man was really still a boy. In fact, he was called Boy Brown as his name and now recently he was being called Country Boy Brown by his stepfather. He was eighteen and soon to be nineteen, but he had never been any further than twenty miles from the homestead. His step father, Preacher Thomas, had pulled him out of school two years ago, when the preacher had married his mother. The preacher had also moved him out of the main cabin at that time, saying that privacy in the main cabin was needed now for the preacher and his new wife, to start their new family.

So the boy was moved into the small grain crib inside the barn, which he had made into his small room. And small indeed it was, only six by six foot with no windows, just a bunk at one end and an old wooden chest of his fathers for his few well worn clothes. He could lie at night and hear the barn rats running on the walls and floors beneath him and at times, smell their foul odor. It was cold in the winter, his only heat being the coal oil lantern, which he had been told by the preacher not to burn at night for fear of setting the barn on fire. Oh, how he missed the coziness of the large fireplace in the cabin that he had helped his father and mother build when they first came to central Texas in l860. He was just twelve years old at the time, but he had helped carry the stones for the fireplace from the creek bed and he had helped caulk between the logs with smaller stones and mud. They had made a warm cabin full of love and laughter for their family. But now on a still night when the boy stepped outside he could hear the crude laughter of the preacher coming from the cabin and see the warmth of the fireplace through the small glass windows, that his father had so proudly installed just before his death. The boy felt sad, alone and abandoned. If it was not for his black and tan hunting hound dog, Ole Blue, that stayed with him and slept on the floor of his room, he was sure that he would had gone crazy from the loneliness.

Even his mother now seemed to avoid him since her belly was swollen large with the seed of the preacher. Even when the preacher was gone, which seemed quite often now to console some of the new widows from the recent Comanche Indian raids, his mother still could not look at or talk to him as she once had done. Her once ever smile had vanished and even her cooking seemed dull and tasteless now. She was sad herself, maybe thinking about how lazy and sorry that her new husband truly was. Thinking about how he probably was in some young widow’s home consoling and bedding her as he had done her in her time of grief after the boy’s father had been killed and scalped in the nearby corn field by the heathen Comanche Indians. The preacher really added nothing to their lives in the boy’s mind except his talk at the supper table of fire and damnation. The boy tended the few head of stock and cultivated the field with no help from the preacher and little help from his mother in her condition.

He did not truly know which he hated the most anymore, the Comanche Indians for killing his father and then riding away waving his father’s scalp, as he and his mother watched in horror from their hiding place or the lazy forever talking preacher that called himself his step father claiming that he had only the boy’s and his mother’s best interest in mind. The only thing truly being in the preacher’s mind was now to live good and comfortable without having to do any manual labor except to say Praise the Lord every fifteen minutes or so, as he pushed someone else’s food down his big mouth.

If he thought that his mother could make it without his help, Country Boy would leave. He was old enough, but he had never been anywhere. He sure did not have any money nor a horse to get him anywhere, just the desire to be somewhere else away from the loneliness and sadness. He sat on the floor of his room, tired and dirty from a long day grubbing stumps. He had eaten early and gone back to the field to finish what he could before dark. Now as he sat cross legged on the floor resting his back against the bunk, he patted Ole Blue and rubbed the dog’s long ears between cupping his hands ever so often near the mantle of the lantern for warmth. The smoke and fumes from the burning coal oil caused his eyes to water or maybe it was a tear, as the boy thought of the good times he and his father had hunting the woods for squirrel and deer after his father taught him how to use the Kentucky long rifle. As tired as he was, the

sadness seem to be over powering him tonight for some reason. It was getting late outside and he should be in bed asleep. The preacher was due home tomorrow and Country Boy was sure that it would be hell to pay for not having everything done that he had been assigned two days ago when the preacher rode off.

The dog suddenly raised his head slowly and his ears slightly lifted. The dog looked toward the door of the room, but not in alarm as the door slowly began to open.

Country Boy knew that is was not the preacher or an Indian because the dog did not growl but wagged his tail.

His mother appeared, her eyes red and swollen, her belly seemed even larger and heavier from his floor level position than Country Boy remembered just from supper. She carried a sack and the heavy .50 caliber Sharps rifle of his father. She looked at Country Boy and Ole Blue sitting on the floor and smiled weakly before saying, I know that you are very unhappy and I am sorry. I have a little money in this sack with some food, and here is your father’s rifle. I want you to take your father’s horse and saddle, and ride away from this place.

I can’t leave you in your condition, exclaimed the boy raising.

Take this sack and heavy rifle, said the mother pushing the items toward Country Boy. Now listen to me. I will be fine. Preacher Thomas is coming home in the morning and I want you to be long gone before he gets here. I finally received a reply from my letter to your father’s sister, Bess, in Nacogdoches. She and Uncle Ben are on the way to pick me up and take me back to Nacogdoches to have my baby. They should be here in a few days, maybe even tomorrow. I am leaving this homestead and not coming back. I do not have to tell you that it is not the same around this place since your father was killed. I have been thinking about this for a long time. After I received Bess’s letter today, I know now is the time to act.

I do not understand, said Country Boy. What about Preacher? Is he going with you too?

No, I do not care anymore where he is going, said the mother firmly. He is not going with me. I am tired of hearing about his God’s damnation. The God that I know is loving and caring, and hard working for his family.

But the homestead, we have worked so hard for all this, the cabin, the barn, the cleared fields, said the boy.

I know, said the mother putting her arm on the boy’s shoulder. But it is going down hill fast with a man like the preacher that does not believe in hard work. The homestead is yours and mine. Maybe I can sell it and if not, it will always be here for you. But I can not take living here anymore with a man that deceived me and is hurting both of us more each day. Look at you, cold and dirty, living in a corn crib with a dog as your only friend.

Tears began to form in the boy’s eyes. He hugged his mother and said, I love you and do not want to leave you.

I will be living in Nacogdoches with your aunt and uncle. You can visit me there, but you are like your pa. You need to be free and see the land while you can. You need to go west to see the mountains. You are old enough now and with the spring almost here, now is the time for you.

I have been thinking about it some, said the boy. I can shoot real good like Pa taught me. I can knock a squirrel out of the tallest pecan tree and break the neck of a buck deer at 300 yards. I can go north-west to hunt the buffalo. Mister James told me last month that big money could be made shooting buffalo up on the plains if a man was a good shot and had a true sighted Sharp Rifle.

His mother smiled, I know that you are a good shot. Your father used to brag about you to me, saying that you could out shoot him. But now, I want you to go. Go as far as you can tonight and then early in the morning keep going. When you hit the big Red River, turn west and follow it. After a while the river will turn north up into the rolling plains where the buffalo and the buffalo hunters are. West of that are the mighty Rocky Mountains. Just keep your camp fires small and watch for Indians, especially the heathen Comanche. And write to your mother when you get there and when you get the chance.

Their eyes met and the love was apparent in the boy and his mother. I will make you proud of me, said Country Boy slowly as he lowered his eyes toward the floor as the tears began to flow.

I have always been proud of you my son, said the mother as she kissed the boy on his forehead and turned to walk back to the cabin holding her hands to the bottom of her swollen stomach for support.

Country Boy arose and watched his mother depart the barn. He wanted to run after her and tell her that he wanted to go with her to his aunt’s and uncle’s farm in Nacogdoches. But his mother was right in that he should go west. He had always dreamed of seeing the buffalo on the rolling plains and the mighty mountains out west. He touched the head of Ole Blue, as the dog looked into his eyes. We are going west, Blue, to see the world. No more hoeing corn and potatoes or listening to a big mouth lying preacher. We are going west. And I am going to be somebody. Somebody that Mama will be proud of.

County Boy quickly gathered the small amount of extra clothes that he had and stuffed them into the sack that his mother had brought. He rolled his bedding in a tight roll and tied it with two leather strings to be attached to the rear of the saddle. He removed his Kentucky squirrel rifle in its deer skin sheath from under his bunk and picked up the heavy Sharps Rifle. These items he carried into the main part of the barn, where he saddled his dad’s big bay horse. The horse seemed hesitant and nervous at being saddled in the dark with a flickering lantern so near, and kept moving to the side with his eyes walled toward the lantern. But once the saddle blanket and saddle was on his back and cinched, he soon settled down under the commanding voice from Country Boy. Soon the two rifles, bedroll, and grub sack were tied onto the saddle.

Country Boy looked for the last time into his tiny room before closing the door. He smiled at the thought of the preacher banging on the door in the early morning for him to chop some more wood or go hoe the field, and finding him gone. He led the horse outside and tied him to a nearby fence post. He cupped his hand over the mantle of the lantern and blew the flame out. The three quarter moon cast enough light to see fairly well. He placed the lantern on a nail inside the barn on a support post and closed the barn doors. Well let’s ride, he said softly to the horse and dog as he mounted.

As he slowly moved the horse from the barn area toward the front of the cabin, he could see below the hill in the moon glow the dim shape of the field and tall trees along the creek on the far side. The thought of catching the large sun perch fish in the creek and shooting squirrels in the tall pecan trees this coming spring made him hesitate for a few minutes. He looked back at the barn and corrals for the last time. He noted that two of the split wooden rails near the bottom of the corral had fallen loose and he wished now that he would have fixed them yesterday. He turned his attention toward the tranquil setting of the log cabin, his home. A thin line of smoke was coming from the chimney and crossing the moon. He could smell the burning oak and cedar firewood. An owl was hooting in the distance.

His mother

Reviews for Love and Country

[hockeycrew_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

An insight into small town Montana, where rodeo is very important as are appearances.