Pete

By Ken Hauldren

Pete was born on a ranch near what is now Fort Worth, Texas. His father was a red-headed Irishman, who had lived and traded with the Comanche for years. His mother was the daughter of a Comanche medicine man and a cousin to Quanah Parker. The white man knew him as Pete ONeal; the Comanche knew him as Little Fire.

Pete was accepted to West Point, but his education was cut short when the Civil War broke out. He spent the entire war as one of Jeb Stuarts aides.

After the war, he did a lot of things; he lived with Indians, fought Indians, worked on the railroad, and punched cattle.

It took six hundred heads of cattle, one very large dog, and a Wyoming winter to set his mind at rest. A letter from his uncle in Texas got him started on his way home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Dec 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466971998

Ken Hauldren

Ken Hauldren, born in June 1930 in Sweetland, West Virginia, is a veteran of the Korean and Vietnam Wars. After a twenty-six year naval career, he retired in 1977. He moved to Wisconsin and worked for Land O’ Lakes Cheese Co., retired in 1993, and moved to Winchester, Tennessee. He is married to Jackay Cruikshank Hauldren. They have seven children, eleven grandchildren, and seven great-grandchildren at last count. Hobbies: fishing, writing, woodworking, and visiting with friends over coffee in the morning.

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Pete

Ken Hauldren

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© Copyright 2012 Ken Hauldren.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN:

978-1-4669-7198-1 (sc)

ISBN:

978-1-4669-7200-1 (hc)

ISBN:

978-1-4669-7199-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012923140

Trafford rev. 12/06/2012

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It was the fall of 1871 when Sam, Joe and Pete drove 600 of Mr. Wright’s cattle to winter pasture. This was no ordinary herd; these were 600 prize Herefords. Now a Hereford is not as smart as a Longhorn. If it comes a bad snowstorm, they will stand there and freeze to death. You really have to look out for them. There were about half a dozen Longhorns mixed in with the Herefords, just to help keep the wolves away.

There was one old bull whose horns must have been seven feet across. Without a doubt, he was the leader. This was his sixth year here so it was familiar territory. He led the herd out into the huge valley, where the grass was belly-high and there was plenty of water. There would be plenty of feed for the winter.

The men unloaded the packhorses and begin setting up housekeeping in the two-room cabin. The cabin was old but it was well built and Mr. W. had seen to it that it was kept in good shape. Someone had put a lot of thought into this place. There was a fireplace with everything you needed for cooking and there was a spring in the northwest corner that had a reservoir that would hold about five gallons of water.

After they’d gotten all the supplies stowed away, Sam fixed supper and as they sat around drinking coffee, Sam and Joe told Pete what he needed to be on the lookout for, besides the snowstorms and the streams freezing solid. He’d have to break the ice to make sure the cattle had access to water and come March at calving time, he’d have to be on the lookout for wolves. Sam and Joe had done this before and since Pete was the new hand, it would be his turn this year.

He really didn’t mind, as he needed some time to be alone and get caught up on his thoughts. Pete wrote his Uncle Ross a letter while the boys were sleeping, telling where he would be for the next six months. The next morning Sam and Joe rode out, taking the packhorses with them. Sam hollered over his shoulder, I’ll see you in a couple of months, the Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise!

Pete yelled back, Make sure you mail my letter.

Pete had ridden many trails. He had been alone quite a bit in the last six years, but for some reason, this reminded him of a time long ago when he was saying good-bye to some of his friends at West Point.

Pete was just starting his third year at West Point when the war came and then there came the day when he had to make a decision. All he had ever wanted was to be was an Army officer. However, he was also a Texan and he knew that Texas was going with the South. He boarded a train and headed south with some of the other cadets.

When they arrived at Richmond, men were out recruiting for Colonel JEB Stuart, which was what Pete was looking for. He didn’t waste any time, enlisting as a second lieutenant, CSA, and he was immediately assigned to Headquarters Company.

Well, I’ve had plenty of time to think about all of that this winter!

Here he was with six hundred head of cattle to look after all winter. He saddled up and rode out to look things over. Old Bull walked up within about fifteen yards and looked at him, like he was saying, What are you doing here? I can take care of things by myself.

Pete looked at him with his dark blue eyes and said, OK, you’re the boss! He rode out and found the stream. It was a mile or more from the cabin. It was good size but the beavers had dammed up part of it. There was plenty of flowing water and it should not be much trouble to keep open.

Satisfied with the water situation, he rode back to the cabin, wondering what kind of person had built it. He was probably someone who lived here year around. Well, so much for that, he had work to do.

He turned the two extra horses out to keep them fresh. He would need to change horses every day or so. They had brought some oats for the horse he was riding and there was plenty of grass for the rest of the cattle and the other two horses.

Pete turned his attention to inside the cabin. He found a place to hang his rifles, close at hand. He had brought his Henry .44 rifle, his old .50 caliber Hawking and a Colt .44 revolver.

He was well equipped for the winter, clothes-wise. He had three pair of heavy pants, three wool shirts, a heavy coat, gloves, woolly chaps, two pairs of boots and his buffalo robe. He was very proud of his buffalo robe. He had killed the buffalo four years ago while on a hunt with some Sioux. The women of the village made the robe and they had given it to him in friendship. It was something he’d never forget.

After double-checking, he thought there should be enough food for all winter if he was careful, even if Joe or Sam did not come back in a couple months. He set about getting the foodstuff in order; there were barrels for his sugar, flour and beans. The cabin was so well laid out that there was a place for everything. He used the second room to hang his bacon and hams. Knowing this was going to be a long winter, he took special care of the food items, as he knew it meant survival.

There was plenty of wood piled up close to the cabin, too. Mr. W. sent hands here every summer to cut wood and do any repairs that needed to be done. He wanted the person that was here for the winter to look after his cattle, not to be cutting wood. Looking after that many cattle was a full time job.

On the second morning, he was frying some bacon and baking some biscuits when he