Todos Santos

By Edward Wright and Shirley Wright

Scotland, 1850 Beset by the potato famine and land clearances, the Park and Ridgeway families emigrate to the new stateof Texas. Their lives are altered again by tragedy during the sea voyage, and they are thrust into the cattle business in South Texas. Survivors of Indian raids and Civil War battles then struggle against cattle thieves and bushwhackers to find opportunity and romance in the emerging trail driving industry.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463412289

Edward Wright

Ed and his wife Shirley have lived in Texas most of their lives. Ed, born and raised in Laredo, used research in Scotland and his own family’s heritage to form the basis for The Scottish Texan——the first of three historical stories, all based on real lives.

Book preview

Contents

Introduction

Chapter One

Courtship

Chapter Two

Expulsion

Chapter Three

Western Lands

Chapter Four

Cadzow

Chapter Five

At Sea

Chapter Six

Indianola

Chapter Seven

Tres Rios

Chapter Eight

Frio

Chapter Nine

Comfort

Chapter Ten

Wartime

Chapter Eleven

Raid

Chapter Twelve

Frontier

Chapter Thirteen

Laredo

Chapter Fourteen

Livesay

Chapter Fifteen

Postwar

Chapter Sixteen

Cowboys

Chapter Seventeen

Tejón

Chapter Eighteen

Drive West

Chapter Nineteen

Billy

Epilogue

Endnotes

Biography

Introduction

In the decade before 1850, Scotland, troubled by the Highland potato famine and land clearances, favored the English-speaking world with citizens desperate enough to take chances and skilled enough to make them succeed.

There are any number of books telling of the unrest in Scotland in the years after the battle of Culloden. English royalty replaced Scottish lairds as principal landlords, clearing traditional renters off the land. The Kirk of Scotland severed into two parts, and the potato blight struck several times. British ships subsequently anchored in the Clyde River to bring food and other relief services to the uprooted people. By the thousands, displaced Scots fled to other countries to seek a new life.

In trying to understand this exodus we visualized the anxiety and life-changing decisions the people faced. This story describes the lives of two families and how they dealt with calamity and opportunity, their decision to emigrate to America, the sea voyage, and their adventures after arrival in early day Indianola, Texas.

Indianola presents a special problem for someone doing research. Destroyed by two hurricanes when many records were lost, its story is effectively told by Brownson Malsh in his book, Indianola, the Mother of Western Texas. Since we knew family stories of immigration and life in Indianola (both Scottish and German) we used them to flesh out the immigrants’ first years in Texas.

In the quarter century between 1850 and 1875 Texas became a legendary place. Although the early Texans were simply meeting the challenges and opportunities, their solutions to the problems were unique.

We placed our families in the circumstances of life in South Texas at the time. They naturally migrated to the cattle industry, found a niche and prospered, especially after the disruptions of the Civil War. Their experiences, prejudices and attitudes about life reflect those of family and friends we have known in and around Frio, Gillespie, Webb and Zavala Counties.

No tale of south Texas should exclude the experiences of those of Latino heritage, their issues, their involvement, and their input to the society. They were influenced by the old country and the new, and by the unique time and place in which they lived.

Most of the events described happened to someone during those times, not necessarily in the place or to the person portrayed. Incidents related are either those of relatives or documented experiences of cattle people. Where an event furthered our characters’ experiences, we have endeavored to credit those tales to the original sources.

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Chapter One

Courtship

Doune, Scotland–1847

As he rounded the last turn in the mountain road, he could see the village of Doune in the predawn light. The walk since midnight down the valley called Strath¹ Teith had been cold and wet, but arriving at daybreak for a prime spot at market was critical. Rob had been coming to Doune market every fall since he was ten; this year, he had no heart for the trip. Noting the droop in Rob’s normally well-squared shoulders, his cousin, Billy, admonished him.

Ye get no place fretting about yer father, Rob Ridgeway. He’s lost his spirit since yer ma’s gone. He’s not goin’ to leave the township in the mood he’s in. Ye know we couldn’t put off this trip. It’s sell these calves now or keep the animals over winter. I know tisn’t yer nature to take charge of matters, Rob, but yer an able beeve trader. It’s the Perthshire art yer father taught ye, and ye can match with buyers twice yer age!

A widower and 20 years his senior, Billy had become Rob’s unofficial partner and counselor in the past year. And Billy was right, he knew. He usually did prefer to let another lead. If he was quiet, he found folks paid more heed when he did speak; and the eternal clay pipe he kept clenched in his teeth lent an air of maturity, even at age 20. Truth be known, Rob was unsure of himself. In the years under his father’s tutelage he had honed his trading skills, but his courage was always bolstered by the older man’s presence. As he was still tentative in his role, life often swept him along before he had set his mind on a clear course of action.

Even his dog, Snygh, tended to make things happen. Of medium size and dubious heritage, the dog looked like he was originally gray, but had rolled in soot. In fact, his name came from the sooty water which dripped through the thatched roofs during rainstorms. One wouldn’t say Snygh was ugly, only different. His face had all the parts of an ordinary dog, but his jaw was too wide and his eyes set too far apart. His legs protruded from his sides, rather than from beneath him. Rob argued that this gave him stability; his father said it made him walk like a lizard. Snygh’s tail was a lethal weapon. As they approached the town, it wagged so hard against Rob’s shin that it caused him to stumble.

With Snygh’s help, Rob and Billy maneuvered the brown Highland cattle through the gathering crowd and into one of the stock pens. Billy followed them, pushing a wheelbarrow with which to take back supplies needed for the croft.² Hay, horses, cattle, sheep and traders soon filled the area with noises and smells Rob had come to relish. As dawn’s light preceded the sun over the mountain, stalls quickly filled with women laying out grain, meat, dried fish, ironware and household necessities. Anticipation of a day’s trading filled the market with an air of excitement.

Doune Valley was narrow. The market street sloped toward a twelfth century castle, the town’s only real landmark. On one side of the path commodities booths flowed down the hill. Opposite the booths, with the narrow road between, was the area where animals were traded. At the end of the road were pens where buyers from Falkirk³ corralled their purchases.

Rob recognized Allen Mackenzie of Dunblane, a cattle broker who regularly worked the Doune market.

He’s generally the first buyer on the scene and the best, Rob remarked to Billy. His secret is to be here before the animals come in, hear the stories told about each crofter, and then offer prices based on yer need to sell. But if he sees good beeves coming in, he’ll pay top prices.

Ye seen better beeves than these? Rob yelled above the din of incoming cattle.

No, Rob Ridgeway, but I know ye, and will look at the rest before I look at yers.

Mackenzie dared not show interest. Nor was Rob about to let him walk away.

The last time we traded, didn’t ye arrive in Falkirk with the same weight animals as left Doune? Ye know I don’t sell watered animals. Look at mine in case others are tempted to take them first. Ridgeway animals don’t stay long at market.

Mackenzie looked closely at the animals. He knew good husbandry when he saw it, but said nothing and walked on. It wasn’t long, however, before he returned to take Rob’s offering. The obligatory haggling done, he paid a fair price.

The extra I’m paying means ye paint the horns with this yellow paint and drive the cattle to the gathering pens at the bottom of the hill.

Done! Rob grinned.

Dobbing on the marking paint was easy enough. Getting the animals down the hill to the pens proved more exciting. Two yearlings, both bullocks, got out the cattle gate easily and Billy waved them downhill, waiting for the rest to come out. The others shied from the gate. Rob whistled for Snygh to turn them. Between the dog and Rob, they managed to miss the gate twice. All the while the other drovers hooted and whistled, stirring up the excited animals even more.

By now, the first two calves, finding themselves unsupervised and walking by open sacks of grain in the booths, began to sample. Seeing this, Rob whistled, and the mottled dog charged at the fetlock of the first calf. In the tight stall, Snygh was unable to avoid the kick of his intended victim. The dog howled and went flying through the side of the tenting that formed the booth walls. The calf stampeded through the back of the booth, upsetting more sacks and tearing another hole in its tenting. The surprised booth attendant sprawled on top of the scattered sacks.

Billy whistled for Snygh and, with the limping dog at their heels, all the yellow-horned calves headed down the hill to the pens. Rob arrived at the scene of the chaos in time to help the booth keeper to his feet.

The red-haired man in his forties, more surprised than hurt, got up laughing.

Are those creatures yers? he asked as Snygh trotted back looking triumphant.

Sorry, sir, Rob apologized. Our beeves split apart and the dog was trying to bring them back. I’ll be obliged to repay yer loss and help to put yer booth in order.

No need to concern yerself, friend, the older man grinned, the grain sacks were tumped over; only one got torn. I’ve a daughter to mend the tenting, so I believe we can survive. If ye can help me pick up the sacks, we’ll be about our business.

Ridgeway’s the name, sir; Robert, called Rob.

Ramsey’s mine, Rob. I came from Thornhill to have my corn scattered.

He grinned again.

Rob volunteered, I need oats, wheat, flour, and corn. If ye have it, I’ll be glad to pay a fair price.

In this booth, I’ve only the corn, but my daughter, Laura, has the rest for barter or sale two booths down. I warn ye, she sells it all dearly.

The girl in the booth had a green paisley shawl wrapped over her shoulders against the morning chill. At age sixteen she was as comely a lass as he had ever seen–tall and slender with shining auburn hair and freckles. Her stall was one of the smaller in the market, but had more customers, especially young men. At the moment she was talking to a blond young man slightly older than herself. Rob approached the booth and got a smile that unsettled him.

Laura had noticed Rob at market before, and had made it her business to inquire about him, but they had never been face to face. She was attracted by his dark curly hair and brown eyes.

He’s taller than I remembered, she thought, as she looked directly into his eyes. He must be 20. He looks jaunty in his tartans. All Perthshire men should wear their tartans to market–though his bonnet makes his thin face look more so. Most of the eligible girls of Doune have ye as a mark, Mr. Ridgeway. Well, this one’s among the older ones, and vera eligible. Use the smile, lass, she reminded herself.

She’d practiced her smile for hours in front of the mirror for just such an occasion as this, and was very conscious of its effect on young men.

It worked again this time. Rob made his selections and gladly paid her asking price without question.

Thank ye, sir.

She smiled again and curtsied. He’d not seen such a look before.

Her father was right. She sells dearly, said Rob when Billy returned.

If she were a man, or even an older woman, ye’d still be bargaining, Billy smiled.

Rob could think of no ready quip. He was preoccupied.

I wonder who the lad with her is. He’s no brother, nor cousin, from the way he looks at her. Rob thought. Is he courting her? I don’t think so, after that smile she gave me.

Billy grinned and said, I’ll be heading back to the glen with Snygh. After ye’ve collected for the beeves and seen the lassies, dinna forget the way home.

Rob’s shyness prevailed. He suddenly felt awkward standing there at the booth. He managed another grin, placed his pipe in his mouth, and walked away. He knew convention required a formal introduction among country folk.

She noticed him by her booth more than once, and smiled each time. Not used to being around girls other than his cousins, Rob just couldn’t come up with an excuse to talk to her again. He took one last look and turned to take the Callander road toward home.

As he did, he looked up to see the Reverend Mr. Ross and his new wife approaching.

Good day, Minister, ma’am, he greeted, tilting his head and doffing his cap to the wife.

Mrs. Ross smiled and nodded. Looking past Rob, she hurried forward, took the red-headed girl’s hands and backed off admiringly.

Laura? Look at ye! Yer bonny. How ye’ve grown since grammar school. It has been nearly five years since I’ve been to the glen. We had good times together when I gave ye help with reading and numbers. After Father was assigned to Glasgow, I lost all contact. How’ve ye been?

Sure that fate was intervening, Rob walked up to the minister, and turning so he could see the two women, he asked, Will ye be needing help with the fall readings, Minister?

He hardly listened for the reply.

Do ye know the lass, Minister?

A smile came to Mr. Ross’ face. Himself only twenty-six, he knew an opportunity to serve when he saw it.

Rob, allow me to present ye to her.

With a hand on the younger man’s elbow, he escorted Rob to the booth.

Miss Laura Ramsey of Thornhill, allow me to present Mr. Rob Ridgeway from the hills near Drumvaich.⁴

I’m pleased, ma’am, Rob responded in what he supposed to be his best manner.

He really wasn’t sure what someone was supposed to say in such circumstances.

Just then the red-haired man whom Snygh and the calf had visited turned the corner of the booth.

Emily! I suppose I should now say, Mrs. Ross.

Turning toward the men and winking at Rob, he said, Good day t’ye, Minister. How is the new kirk?⁵ It’s pleased we are to see ye’ll serve in Callander.

To Rob he explained, Emily lived and taught grammar school in our glen. She’s one reason Laura finished school.

She keeps me at my work as well, Mr. Ramsey, said the minister. Yer glen must have had a fine domini.⁶ My sermons are the better for Emily’s advice.

At a nudge from his wife, This is Mr. Robert Ridgeway from the hills north of Drumvaich, or at least the glens nearby.

Ramsey smiled.

We met earlier. Ridgeway’s bullocks rearranged my booth.

The blond young man Rob had seen with Laura earlier joined them. Doffing his cap to the Rosses and Mr. Ramsey, he spoke to Rob.

Wallace Livesay is me name. Laura, Mrs. Ross and I know each other from school days, eh?

As he spoke, he scanned his audience with a confidential look. Rob noticed Laura’s expression. He couldn’t decide if she’d been caught flirting by a suitor, or was surprised by Wallace’s boldness.

He decided to ignore Livesay.

Anxious to say something coherent, he volunteered, I know Doune from my market trips, Mr. Ramsey. Even enjoy the castle when I can.

Aye, Ramsey smiled, we don’t pay mind to our famous house. In fact, Laura’s never been inside. Has no roof and many loose stones.

Laura smiled at Rob. He felt an invitation.

Mrs. Ross, would ye and the Minister accept a guided tour of the castle? I know its story well. Perhaps Mr. Ramsey, ye’d allow Laura to come along?

Looking at Ramsey, Emily Ross smiled, Surely ye’d not begrudge such a chance for Laura. Would ye watch both booths for a while? Wallace and Rob would make good escorts for us all.

Rob certainly didn’t have Wallace in mind, but could hardly say so.

Ramsey looked at Laura and nodded.

As they turned down the path to the river which lay below the castle, the minister and Mrs. Ross walked behind Laura, Wallace and Rob, letting them carry the conversation. The path was only wide enough for two in spots, and Wallace managed to place himself alongside Laura, leaving Rob to follow a pace behind much to his disgust.

Did ye know that Mary, Queen of Scots, once stayed here? Rob asked. There never was a siege of the castle, but it could have stood one, I imagine. See those slots for archers to shoot down on attackers. They could also pour boiling water on them from those overhead rooms.

As they entered through the main gate and moved from room to room, Rob kept up a barrage of information, hoping to impress Laura with his knowledge.

Wallace did what he could to interject information where he had it.

The Stuarts, lairds of the castle, lost it forever after the battle of Culloden.

Turning to the Rosses, he asked, Do ye know my uncle, George Gillespie, factor for Mr. Ward?

A simple ‘aye’ was Mr. Ross’ comment.

We know him well.

Rob grimaced inwardly. And yer noxious as he, he thought.

Wallace countered every comment Rob made. The Rosses smiled at each other over the building rivalry.

For her part, Laura had been pleased when Wallace had shown up. In her experience, a rivalry usually made two men more eager to please. She had known Wallace for years and never considered him a suitor, but his arrival at this moment added a flavor to meeting Rob. She hoped that his presence wouldn’t discourage the shy lad.

For once it didn’t. Rob managed to find his way to Laura’s side as they stopped to look at the huge main hall.

Can ye imagine what it must have been like to live here? she asked him.

It must have been cold in the winter. Look at that fireplace. Would ye stand in the fireplace so they can see its size? Rob asked Wallace.

When he obliged, Rob turned the group to the kitchen area. Face reddened, Wallace rushed up and awkwardly tried to regain Laura’s side.

Laura smiled at Rob’s aggressiveness. He hasn’t exaggerated. He knows the castle’s story, the rooms and their purpose. Ye do impress me, Rob boy. Now I wish Wallace would disappear, or at least stop blathering. Whenever someone interesting comes along, Wallace is always there. Mr. Ridgeway has quality for a crofter and Mr. Ross’ endorsement. I wonder, will he be interested enough to come calling?

The afternoon wore on and, as the light began to fade, Emily Ross interrupted the tour when she pointed up the hill and said, Dear, we must get to our carriage and be to Callander. It will be dark when we arrive.

On the way up the hill, Rob managed to hold Laura back.

Ma’am, I’ve enjoyed this day and yer company very much. Would ye permit me to call on ye Sunday next?

Ye must, of course, get permission from my father, sir. If he’s no objections, I’d be honored to have ye call, she whispered, and gave him that smile again.

This girl created feelings Rob had never had before. For his part, Wallace was not happy. He’d known Laura for years, even thought of her as his future wife.

She’s taken a shine to the crofter lad, he thought. Could it be he’s settled on Mr. Ward’s land? Uncle may be able to help correct this matter of Laura. She won’t be as pleased if he has no home or future.

The grain in his booth sold, Mr. Ramsey was packing his pony with sacks when they returned. Rob lingered till Wallace and the Rosses departed, and then asked if he could pay a call on Laura the next Sunday.

Mr. Ramsey looked at Laura and then said, Our Sabbaths are normally spent with the Word. However, I can see she would welcome yer call. Come after services. Our croft is three miles from yer glen down the strath, then four miles south.

After kirk services on Sunday, Rob went down the strath once again, this time at a hastier pace. In the misty rain, the trees lining the valley were green and shiny for a fall day. For once he was not tempted to try for a salmon in the Teith.

She was waiting at the rock wall which surrounded their house.

Good day t’ye, Miss Ramsey, Rob said, doffing his cap.

If ye don’t mind the rain, a fine day ’tis, Mr. Ridgeway. Won’t ye come in? Father and I have finnan haddies and would be honored should ye share the meal with us.

Haddock rarely came Rob’s way.

’Tis I who’d be honored, ma’am.

He stooped as he entered the house. The fine haddies and kale, followed by strawberries and cream, set a pleasant stage for conversations that afternoon, to say nothing of the traditional whiskey her father brought out.

Gossip about kirk activities was high on the list of topics.

Are ye a dissenter? Ramsey asked.

No. Is it important to ye? Rob responded, knowing there was much unrest in the Kirk of Scotland.

No, but it’s good to know where one stands, said Ramsey.

The kirk was important to both men.

I worry about clearances, Mr. Ramsey volunteered at one point.

What’s that? asked Laura.

Landlords clearing clansmen off the land to make way for sheep pasturing.

I don’t think that could happen here, she said. We pay our rents.

Rob nodded in agreement.

The day progressed too quickly for everyone.

Laura and Rob walked out to gather the sheep, and he helped her milk the cows at the end of the day.

When Rob left that evening, Mr. Ramsey looked at his daughter and said, He seems a nice lad, with good sense. He knows cattle. The lad is penniless, but, close to the land, kirk and clan.

Aye, Father. I hope he comes back.

Her look told him she was smitten.

Rob couldn’t remember the uphill climb to his home. He arrived after dusk and told his father, She’s a delight to look upon, she spins, and cooks, is good with the cattle and other creatures. She deals with the linen factors herself. Her mother is dead, so she’s been the woman of the house.

His father’s dull eyes brightened. Despite his despair, he smiled as Rob continued to enumerate Laura’s many fine qualities.

I do believe the lad is captivated by this lass. May she be half as glorious a woman as me Mary was.

Rob’s Sunday visits became a weekly occurrence. He began to attend church with Laura, and Ramsey looked forward to their Sunday afternoon discussions. For her part, Laura enjoyed coming up with new dishes to serve every week. She was grateful that Rob and her father were becoming fast friends, but sometimes they talked so much she had to invent ways to get Rob to herself. They began to take long walks, talking about the past and sharing and comparing hopes for the future. They attended kirk socials, visited aunts, uncles, cousins and neighbors. Soon it was obvious to everyone that they were very much in love. When Rob insisted on teaching her how to fly fish in the nearby streams, she knew he was hooked.

When the time came, Rob and Cousin Billy called