The Lyons of Texas: One of the Greatest Adventures of All Times

By L.E. Ford

10th ANNUAL HOLLYWOOD BOOK FESTIVAL AWARDS HONORABLE MENTIONS TO "THE LYONS OF TEXAS" By: L.E. FORD

The Lyon family was truly a red blooded all American family, and well known as a strong honest, very wealthy family, in Texas and other parts of the world. John was the patriarch of the Lyon family. John started his empire in the late 1880's. Born to a well off family in New Mexico, his father was a cattleman who owned a large cattle ranch, south of Santa-Fe some twenty odd miles. Due to a tragic accident when John was about sixteen, he lost both parents in a flash flood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503573857

Book preview

THE LYONS OF TEXAS

One of the greatest adventures of all times

Written by a first time Author

L. E. FORD

Copyright © 2015 by L. E. FORD.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2015908783

ISBN:        Hardcover           978-1-5035-7383-3

                  Softcover             978-1-5035-7384-0

                  eBook                  978-1-5035-7385-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 06/11/2015

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Table of Contents

1. Acknowledgements

2. The Patriarch

3. Tom’s Adolescence

4. Life and Death

5. Aletha

6. Rustlers

7. Surprises

8. Windfall

9. Blue’s Revenge

10. Preparations

11. The Wedding

12. Thirty Five

13. On the Lam

14. Manhunt

15. The Mystery of the Bull

16. Johnny

17. Storm Clouds

18. A New Chapter

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

T his novel had been on my mind for several years, when one enters the realm of the past especially the latter part of the eighteen hundreds and early nineteen hundreds, I believe the writer depends on mostly his own thoughts. This novel took longer to write than I thought it would. I have always loved the state of Texas especially west Texas. My geography of Texas isn’t or wasn’t as good at the beginning of the manuscript as it was toward the middle and last of the novel. I have to admit that I leaned on a big map of Texas that I completely wore out by checking and rechecking towns and where they were located etc. I along with other Authors use our minds to write down the words as if some one was telling you what to write. Some time you have to rewrite several pages. One example of rewriting was when my computer crashed and I lost thirty some pages and couldn’t retrieve those pages and never did. I really do think that fate had a hand in that incident because what I wrote in those lost pages place, turned out to be better. Some of these little Texas towns came from my mind and not from any book. In Texas there are many Historical places. In the book the last two hangings of men in public I got from the Texas history while surfing the Inter-net. The towns of Big Spring Texas is or was a very small Town history is wrapped all around this town. Also there are other names of towns that I used an old history book to learn more about Texas, I also talked to a few friends and members of my family that live in Texas, mainly about Big Spring and areas such as the Llana Estacado, or the Staked Plains (the early settlers called it.) If I left anyone or anything out I apologize. All the names of the characters in my book are purely of my own design and any similarity to anyone living or deceased is purely coincidental. I want to thank my editor, proof reader and the one whom did the proper punctuation on my novel, Genevieve Moore. I couldn’t have finished without her. And last but not the least I want to thank my dear wife for her help in my work. I guess I actually almost took over her kitchen where I did most of my writing. Also I would like to thank Genevieve’s brother who is a graphic artist, for his help. Leighton Cordell. I would also like to thank another friend that lives in Texas, Pete Palone, who kept encouraging me to finish my book. Pete is going to receive one of the first copies of of my novel after it is published. Like I said I know there are more people to thank but at this time I am blank. Maybe on the next book I will have more people to t hank.

I am dedicating my first novel to the following people for their generous time in helping me in certain areas of this n ovel.

First I must include my wife of 48years, Joan M. Ford, for listening when I would read parts of the book back to her. Second I must thank my son Dr. Tucker E. Ford, he helped me throughout the writing of this novel. His expertize with the computer is fantastic. He is hooked into my computer and can show me various rights and wrongs from where he lives in Michigan. And last but definitely not least, my thanks to my daughter, Leslie E. Pruitt, my daughter is proof reading the novel for spelling and possible other mistakes.

There are possibly more people that may deserve some thanks, I also need to include my editor, Mrs. Genevieve Moore as well as my friend Pete Palone for all his encouragement to keep on writing.

The Patriarch

I t all began in New Mexico, on a fairly large ranch near Santa Fe. There a young boy was born and there his dreams began. He was born on January sixteenth, 1880; his father named him John E. Lyon, after himself. He would soon grow into a strong young man before his time.

John Sr. had amassed a good fortune by raising cattle on his ranch, and he also bought New Mexico ranch land, when it came up for auction at tax sales. In total, he had accumulated around thirty thousand acres of decent ranch land. There was plenty of grassland, as well as water, so the cattle multiplied and grew fat. In total, there was a thousand head of prime beef; not the scrub brush cattle that every one around him raised. John Sr. had a lot of trouble keeping his herd pure; he often had to resort to killing other ranchers’ cattle when they roamed onto his land. This would often cause confrontations with the surrounding ranchers, which would often bring about range wars. John Sr. always seemed to come out on top; either in the courts or by his own force. One thing that John Jr. would learn from his father, was to keep good cattle and keep them pure; no matter what action you had to take, or what the cost.

One evening in 1896, when John Jr. was barely sixteen years old, tragedy struck near the ranch. There was a torrential downpour which resulted in several flash floods around the area. John Sr. and his wife, who were returning from a trip to Santa Fe, were attempting to cross what was known as Badger Creek. Unfortunately, a swell of water swept away their wagon and the two of them were drowned. John, being an only child, inherited all of his father’s cattle and land, which amounted to a rather large fortune. Of course, there were many crooked people who tried to swindle him out of his holdings; but his father taught him well, and he stood his ground, fast and firm.

On his seventeenth birthday, John decided that he had enough of New Mexico, and sold everything, including the ranch. The sale garnered the young man a great deal of money, a large amount of which he put into a bank in Santa Fe. John stayed on at the ranch and helped the new owners for several months, then finally decided to leave; he told the new owners that he was going to Texas to start a new life. John had heard, by means of the newspaper and word of mouth, that oil had been discovered in an area of West Texas. He did some research about drilling for oil and what areas were better than others.

After he was packed, he attempted to draw all of his money out of the Santa Fe bank. The president of the bank warned him of several suspicious characters seen hanging around town, and cautioned him against carrying a large amount of cash; many thousands of dollars. He offered two armed guards to escort him out of town, but John refused.

Don’t you think that would draw more attention than a young man just carrying a suitcase? Hell, I might as well tell the whole town, ‘Come and get it!’

I guess that you are right, replied the banker. "Here’s your money, son, and good luck to you wherever you end up." Young John didn’t have any trouble leaving town with his fortune in hand. That afternoon he headed his wagon team east and toward the great state of Texas. He didn’t know what lay before him, but he knew what he wanted and only he could get it. Oil was his dream and with the cash he had, he knew that he would reach it.

He traveled without incident and came upon a small town, called Big Spring, Texas. There happened to be a big tax sale going on, as he pulled his wagon up to the small town courthouse. John climbed down, and stretched long and hard. There were several men standing around waiting for the tax assessor to start the bidding on some large tracts of land.

How do you bid on land around here? he asked the men.

A man wearing a deputy sheriff’s badge spoke up. Go inside and register with the assessor, just as simple as that. Say, young man, you are new around here, aren’t you? John told him he was from New Mexico, around Santa Fe.

I’m Wally Young, he said. You better hurry and register; he’s going to close the doors and then it will be too late. John barely made it through the door in time. The bidding started; after several tracts of land were sold, the ranches started coming up for bids. There was one that was of particular interest to John. Although there were several men bidding for the ranch, he was determined to own it, and he waited until the tax man was just about to drop the gavel on the last offer to yell out his bid. Everyone looked at him and all the bidding stopped.

Going once, going twice, three times now, the assessor said. Sold to the young stranger in the back of the crowd. Come on up here, young man, and introduce yourself to the townspeople.

John stepped upon the top step and said, My name is John E. Lyon, and I’m glad to be a Texan! That statement brought yells and clapping from the crowd.

Son, said the tax assessor, you just bought yourself seventy thousand acres of pasture and scrub land. May I ask exactly what you intend on doing with your land?

He answered, I intend to drill for oil and raise some pure blood beef cattle. Soon after he acquired the land, he bought several hundred head of purebred cattle, which he had shipped in by rail from Nebraska and that’s how he got his start raising a special breed of cattle. Before too many years went by, John had one of the biggest herds in southwest Texas.

He also had one of the best ranch foremen to run his cattle operation. John found him in Big Spring one day, while he was buying supplies. The man approached John, and told him that he and his wife were coming from down San Antonio way and he was looking for work. He introduced himself as Slim Cooper and presented his wife, Irene. John asked Slim if he could handle men as well as cattle.

I can, and would, he told John.

Then consider you and your wife as hired. I have built a large ranch house, and my head housekeeper and cook will need all the help she can get. Now that I have got that settled, I can turn my attention and money to finding oil on my property.

John knew that it was there; when exploring the South part of his ranch he came upon a small spring that was bubbling a black substance which didn’t mix with the spring water. He took his canteen and filled it with the water from the spring, he then built a small fire and tried to put it out with the water from his canteen. The fire didn’t go out, but burned better and smoked a lot. He knew from what he had been reading that he had found the beginning of his dream; from then on it was all downhill for John Lyon.

He was one of the first men to dig for oil in West Texas, and was only eighteen years old when he brought in his first oil well. After a year John had close to twenty oil producing wells. By twenty, he had already amassed a fortune and built a huge log ranch house on his Texas ranch. Later, in Argentina, he got married and purchased a ranch. He had a son, Tom, but lost his wife at childbirth.

Several years later, while in Africa, John bought one section of farm land, just outside Nairobi, Kenya. All this he accomplished by 1915, before he was thirty-five years old. At this time, John fathered another son, though no one but the mother and John knew about it for a long time. Over a year after his father’s death, Tom found the little boy, very close to death, by accident. Strangely, the boy’s mother had the same name as John’s first wife and Tom’s mother; Maria. The little boy was six years old when Tom found him, and shared John’s birthday; January 7, 1915.

Sadly, by the time John reached forty years of age, he died from a massive heart attack. It happened in 1920, during the prime of his life, when Tom was just turning twenty. It seemed that John had contracted Rheumatic fever when he was a child; consequently, it affected his heart. He had become one of the wealthiest and most respected men in that part of Texas. The money came flowing in like a runaway river, and men used to tell him that he must have the Midas touch. Everything ventured, turned to more wealth, for Big John.

John also found two people; whom he learned to love, and trust to raise his young son while he was gone, and also, to take care of his ranch when he was away, which was quite often. Prior to hiring Slim, John happened upon a married couple, looking for a home. The woman’s name was Flower Cloud, and her husband was called Blue. This couple would become like a mother and father to Tom throughout his life.

Hunting was John’s passion, and he hunted prey around the world, especially dangerous game. When he traveled to Argentina, looking for a ranch to buy, he met a rancher by the name of Jose Juan Hernandez. Jose owned a huge ranch and raised registered horses, as well as Brahman cattle. The rancher had a beautiful daughter about the same age as John, and there was soon a blooming romance, of which her father quite approved. After a whirlwind courtship, the two became husband and wife. Her name was Maria and she was a small, beautiful young woman.

Maria had hair that hung to her waist, and her eyes were as black as the night. It was only nine months later that the couple had a child. Sadly, John lost his wife during the birth of his son, whom he named Tom O. Lyon. After Maria died, he cabled his ranch in Texas, to give Flower and Blue the bad news; and to let them know he would stay on in Argentina for a year or two, maybe as long as three, at least until little Tommy could make the long trip home. He told them to keep in touch with him through cables, that he would wire them when he was leaving Argentina, and when the ship was due to dock in New Orleans.

While in Argentina, Jose, John’s father-in-law told him of a ranch that was for sale, next to his own. He encouraged John to invest in the ranch, which had twenty five thousand acres, and was a great investment as a hunting ranch. Purchasing land was John’s reason for going to Argentina in the first place, so he bought the acreage. The property included a lovely house, with five bedrooms and a red tile roof, as well as several outbuildings. There was also a big dog kennel, which held fifteen retrievers, with room for several pointing breeds, like English setters and pointers.

John told Blue to take charge of everything in Texas, until he heard from him. I know that you are capable, and you have all my instructions about the oil rigs, as well as the cattle. He told Blue to keep in touch with the railroad about when, and how many cars he would need, to transport the bulk oil to the refinery. He also told Blue to keep a ledger to record all transactions of how many oil tankers were filled; and always to get a receipt from the rail road, signed and dated.

As far as the cattle goes, Slim is the ranch foreman and knows how to handle any situation that comes along. If he has to fire or hire somebody, that’s his job. He has been told not to sell any cattle until I return, just to build the herd. He also told Slim, By all means, keep the herd purebred, at all costs.

John had bought the right-of-way for the railroad. He had a spur track built, which came from the Big Spring terminal, to the ranch. This spur cost him around twenty thousand dollars; quite a bit of money for that time of the century, but well worth it. Since the railroad could spot his four oil tanker cars on the spur, they could send an engine down to the ranch, to pull the tankers to refineries. He could also put cattle cars on the spur in the fall, when it came time to sell off his steers and older cattle, as well as some bulls. He was constantly adding new blood to his herd. His instructions were for Slim keep a very close watch on the bulls.

I don’t want any inbreeding going on in my herd. If we need more high-powered bulls, we’ll send you to Omaha to bring them back, understood?

I got you, boss, answered Slim.

When John paid the railroad for the tracks and ties to build the spur, he also finagled a small trolly from them. It was about half the size of a regular passenger car, had it’s own power and could seat about twenty people. It would take the trolly, which could travel about twenty miles an hour, from the ranch, to the terminal at Big Spring in about an hour, or perhaps a little longer in bad weather. John kept it at the ranch, at the end of the tracks and had a shelter built for it to protect it from the elements.

As this story progresses, it really focuses on the young boy, Tom, born in Argentina. Someday he would become a man, much like his father, John Lyon. When he was around three years old, his father decided to bring him back to America; they would sail into New Orleans to disembark. John’s father-in-law, Jose, was pretty upset with John for leaving so soon after the boy’s mother had died.

John told him, Dad, it’s been almost three years since her death, and I have massive responsibilities waiting for me back in Texas. You know, old man, you could come to Texas to live with Tom and me.

Out of the question, replied Jose.

Well, what can I tell you? asked John. Maybe someday you will quit being so damn hard-headed, and want to see your grandson. You will find him, in Texas with his father. I’ll return some day and maybe I will bring Tom with me.

Before he left Argentina, John hired a nanny to accompany them to America. The woman was very good with the infant boy, and John told her he could use her at the ranch, if she wanted to stay. She told him that she very much appreciated his offer, but she had some family back in Argentina, and that is where she belonged. John thanked her, and gave her a ticket back home, as well as five hundred dollars.

Mr. Lyon, this is too much money, she said.

John replied, You are worth every bit of it. Have a safe trip home; maybe we’ll cross paths again sometime. John tipped his hat to the lady, and took little Tom in his arms. So long.

They caught a ride to the train station in a New Orleans taxicab, and started the journey home. John wired Flower, to send Blue and Slim to Big Spring, to pick them up at a certain time. He knew, of course, Flower would be on the trolly, as well as her husband and Slim.

While on the way home, John had to hire another lady to care of little Tom. She was a very nice woman, and fed and changed the boy as needed. Of course, John wasn’t up on too much child care, that’s why he hired it done.

When they reached Big Spring, the trolly was waiting for them. Flower was first to reach the baby, and took him from John.

My, what a beautiful baby boy! Oh, John, she cried, I can’t wait to get him home. Let’s go!

John told her to hold her horses. He had to send a wire to the boy’s grandfather, telling them they made it home alright, and that the nanny he hired was on her way back to Argentina.

After thirty minutes, he boarded the trolly and took a seat.

Man, am I bushed! he exclaimed. "Now, tell me Blue, Slim, how are things? Any problems these last three years?

Well, boss, Slim said, actually everything came off pretty darn smooth. I’ll show you some things when we get back to the ranch, alright? John told him that everything could wait until morning.

Blue, he said, "we’ll all three get together in my office at around nine. Is that okay with you?

Sure is, replied Blue. Now, lean back and rest, until we get home.

Everyone in that part of the country, knew or had at least heard of, John Lyon. He was one of the biggest oil- and cattlemen in the country. There were people who had done business with John, as far south as Argentina. No one really knew how much he was worth, and all they could do was guess. When asked about his assets, he would reply, What business is it of yours?. He was a big man, standing six feet, four inches tall and weighing around two hundred and forty pounds. Needless to say he was a well respected man in Texas, in more ways than one.

He wouldn’t talk about it, but there was an incident when he was about seventeen years old. He was New Mexico, just about to leave for Texas; he had to kill two men, who were trying to rob him. He never even told his son, because he wasn’t proud of it. The two men had been following him, from the time he went into the bank to gather his cash, until he came out. That’s when the trouble began. As John was walking toward his wagon, he was counting the money that a rancher had paid him for the last sixty head of cattle. John also carried all the money that he had drawn from the bank, but it was in a safe suitcase, that didn’t look suspicious. One of the men came up behind him, right in the middle of the street and pulled a gun on him. He told John to give them that money, or they were going to kill him, right then and there.

Now, it just so happened, the sheriff himself was walking toward the bank, and saw what was happening. John, quick as a bolt of lightning, grabbed the gun from the man; the other man drew his pistol. John shot him first, then turned the gun on his partner, and shot him through the heart. The first man lived about five minutes, then joined his partner in death.

The sheriff was a witness to the whole incident, so filed no charges against John. John wouldn’t tell you about this event, even if you asked him, all he would say was It’s none of your damn business.

He named his empire Lyon Oil, Land and Cattle, or LOLC. John had his brand, which was a big L, on all of his nearly thirty five hundred head of top-notch purebred cattle. There were no longhorns, or Mexican scrub cattle among his herds. John had ordered his men, to shoot on sight, any of these that got near his cattle. He told his wranglers to butcher them, and give the meat to some of the poor Mexicans, who lived in the southern part of his range. John did this, because he couldn’t afford to let the longhorns and scrub cattle mix with his, and infect his herds with some disease that they might have. After all, in that part of the country, it took a lot of acres to feed just one cow, let alone thousands.

John’s ranch logo was on a big sign when you entered his domain. It was a big lion’s head with the words, LYON OIL, LAND AND CATTLE CO around it. Some say he struck oil in the very first well he dug, became infatuated with it and started a vast oil empire for that era in West Texas. It wasn’t too many years, before his land was dotted with oil derricks. Between the cattle and the oil, the money kept flowing in; but there was another, bigger source of income, which Tom would find out about some time later, after his father had passed away.

Tom’s Adolescence

D on’t get things wrong: John loved his only child, and made sure that Tom was with him on a lot of his trips, but most of the time, during Tom’s school age, he was learning the three Rs. John had hired a retired school teacher to live at the ranch, and teach Tom privately in his early school years. She was strict on the boy, but she damned well taught him and taught him well. She gave regular reports to John about his progress, praising Tom for his schoolwork. By the time he had finished the eighth grade, the teacher told John, that Tom was one of the most brilliant students that she had ever had the privilege of teac hing.

Her final words to John were, Sir, I think your son has the ability and brains to go far in this world. I only wish he could advance his schooling with high school and college.

John only told her, Maybe, someday, we’ll see.

After her teaching work was finished, she returned to her home in Dallas. John ordered two of his men to accompany her, to the train at Big Spring, with the trolly. There was a railroad terminal there, at which she could catch the Fort Worth/Dallas train. The Texas & Pacific Railroad went right through Abilene, Colorado City and Big Spring; then on to Midland, Odessa and finally El Paso, which led to the founding and growth of these cities.

John’s ranch was the biggest in the whole area; seventy thousand acres, which takes quite a while to cross by horseback. That is about one hundred and nine square miles.

Tom had often asked his father how many oil wells they had.

Son, John replied, "I believe there are seventy or seventy five, but I’d have to count them again. A few have been taken off line, because they were not producing enough crude to warrant a working crew. So for an exact number, we will inventory all the wells, before too long. Besides that, we are still drilling new ones down there.

After John heard the good news about Tom’s excelling schoolwork, he decided to take him on a hunting trip to Mexico. This thrilled the young boy; Tom was really looking forward to the hunting trip with his father. Tom was only in his fourteenth year, in 1914. His father had given him a small bore rifle several years ago. He could hunt jack rabbits and other small game, which could be found almost everywhere on the ranch.

Tom’s favorite gun was the twenty-gauge, double barrel shotgun, which his father also gave him. The little twenty-gauge was a beautiful gun, with engravings on both sides of the receiver. The shotgun was a model 21 Winchester, which would cost somewhere around eighty to a hundred fifty grand today, depending on which model 21 you had. Tom learned to shoot the 20 quite well; he shot many quail, which were found in big numbers on the ranch. Of course, he learned to shoot with both eyes open, like his father taught him.

John told Tom, No matter what gun you are shooting; rifle, pistol or shotgun, always shoot with both eyes open. Someday you will learn why.

Tom knew that his father wanted him to work in the oil fields, with the other men who worked for him, so he could learn as much about oil business as possible. All of John’s oil men, cattle drovers and horse wranglers worked for a monthly wage, which included a bed in a bunkhouse, as well as good food prepared by a good cook. He always gave his hands two good horses each, as part of the wage package. When Tom reached his twentieth birthday, John planned make him boss over all of the oil well crews, which were spread out over the south central part of the ranch. This young man was an only child, and would some day inherit everything his father owned, which was quite an empire.

Tom never knew who his mother was; only her name. His father never told him anything about her, and didn’t like to talk about the subject. Tom was brought up by a couple who were husband and wife. They lived in his father’s ranch house, so as to be close to the little boy as he was growing up. In all actuality, they really raised the lad. During the time his son was growing from a kid to a young man, John was gone a lot, away on business or on hunting trips.

When Tom turned fourteen and finished the eighth grade, John presented him with his first high powered rifles. One was a Sharps Buffalo gun, the other was an engraved 45/70 Henry rifle; both were in beautiful cases. This was just before his father was going to take him to Mexico on a hunting trip. Unfortunately for Tom, John was called away on a business deal, so the hunt was called off, but he told Tom he could shoot some of the goats that were all over the range. Really, they were prong horned antelope, but everyone called them goats. They were very spooky, and hard to get close enough to kill with the big Henry lever action repeater. The Henry would make a hole in an animal that you could stick your fists through. With the Sharps, it was a different story. John told Tom to practice shooting both rifles, to learn to trust them.

I encourage you to practice often. Someday, you may not have enough time to aim your shot, and it could be very important for you to shoot fast. That’s why I taught you to keep both eyes open. Son, I can’t stress it enough, keep both eyes open when shooting. John told him some men could hit a target over half a mile way, with a Sharps rifle, and there were tales of men killing at a mile away with one.

He told Tom, that someday he would inherit all of his father’s arsenal; which included many high powered big game rifles, of large and small caliber, as well as many hand guns and shotguns. Until that day came, Tom would only get to look at them in his father’s game room, along with the many trophies that hung from the great log walls, which were covered with animal heads and skins. Tom asked his father often about the large cats mounted there. One was a tiger from India, a known Man-Eater. Another was a black-maned man eating lion from Africa. These magnificent cats stood guard over the trophy room, and were a menacing sight when one entered.

John told Tom the story of the big African lion. He had killed and eaten many African natives, so two English big game hunters hunted him, but in the end, these men also lost their lives to the Man-Eater. John was on safari in Kenya, hunting in the vicinity of the tragic death of the last Englishmen. The Governor of Kenya sent a runner to find him, to ask if he would take on the killer lion.

"Of course, I couldn’t refuse the governor, so my tracker, Ngomo, led us to the last kill. We started searching the area for clues about just how the man had met his death. It wasn’t long before we had the picture of what happened. By all accounts, the man was tracking the Man-Eater, when he was charged from the side. It looked much like the lion was waiting for the man. He didn’t have a chance; the lion was on him before he could raise his rifle. One bite through his skull, with three inch canines, ended his life quickly. The killer lion then dragged his victim to a dense thicket, not far from where the attack occurred. The blood and gore from the body was spread over a large area, as the lion fed and tore at his victim.

"My tracker was a young man in his early twenties. Tom, don’t forget his name; Ngomo was, and still is, the best tracker in all of Africa. He was from the Kikuyu tribe, the dominant tribe in Kenya. Ngomo was a man I could trust with my life, to stay by my side when danger arose. He started pointing in the direction the lion had dragged the body, deep in a very thick stand of thorny brush. There were long black hairs on the thorns, pulled from the lion’s mane as he entered.

"When we approached the thicket, there was a low throaty growl. We stopped to listen, and could hear the crunching of bone, and tearing of flesh. I checked my gun, which was one of my double rifles chambered in .500/ 450 nitro express, to make sure it was in the ready condition. Ngomo had his rifle, one I had given him and was also ready to fire if needed. It is a well known fact that a lion can cover one hundred yards in about three seconds.

We both backed away slowly, about ten yards or so, and Ngomo tossed a large stick into the brushy thicket. Well, that’s all it took, a lion on his kill is a very dangerous animal. All of a sudden came the charge we were expecting, the lion came like a freight train roaring from the brush. His mouth was bloody and his big canines were bared, his roar was deafening and the whole front of the lion was dripping with carnage. Ngomo and I both stood our ground, and I quickly snapped off a shot aimed at his head. The Man-Eater fell at my feet, dead from a shot to the brain. Son, someday the same gun that I killed the lion with, will be yours. Unfortunately for Tom, that day came sooner, rather than later.

"That night, there was much dancing at the local villages. Many said they would once again sleep through the night, without worry of being pulled from their hut by a lion, and dragged away. The villagers carried the huge lion around half the night, drinking strong beer the women of the villages make. That stuff would kill a white man, if he drank as much as the natives did.

"Someday, I believe you will make it to Africa. When you do, don’t forget the native called ‘Ngomo’. He is one of my closest friends. I have all the information about where you will find him, if he still alive by then. He is one of the bravest men I have ever known. I say that from my heart. I know he is still living on the small farm I bought, the last time I was over there. I had a small house built for him on my land, and he moved his family in just before I left. He also has three wives. That was almost three years ago. I plan to take you with me to Africa on your twenty-first birthday Tom, but there is a lot you have to learn about the African culture, between now and then.

When you have the time, I suggest you visit the library in my office and study the books on African cultures and animals found there. There is a book written by one of the greatest of all African elephant hunters; his name was Fredrick Courteney Selous, and you need to read his books above all others. Why, he even went on safari with President Theodore Roosevelt. You will find a world of information about the Dark Continent in all his books, of which I have several. I even got to meet Frederick Courteney Selous, while on safari in the early 1900s. I remember he was a rather small man, but carried a lot of influence in that era.

Tom told his father that someday he wanted to travel to those exotic places, and hunt all those animals.

First, you have a lot of growing up to do. One of the main things you need to do now, is learn to become an expert with what you have to shoot, understand?

Yes father.

For many months, Tom practiced shooting both guns his father had given him, as well as some of his fathers big bore rifles. His father told him that he was proud of him, and that he could see Tom was becoming an expert marksman. He could hit a running antelope at two hundred yards, with one shot. Though he had shot just about every animal that lived on the ranch, his favorites were the wild hogs which grew to up to three hundred pounds and weren’t afraid of man. They were very destructive, and John had given orders to every man on his ranch to shoot on sight any wild hog whether sow, boar or piglet.

One day, Tom was hunting with the 45/70 Henry that his father had given him, drawing a bead on a big white tail buck. Out of the scrub brush came this huge hog, bearing down on him from behind. The hog was only about fifteen yards away and coming like a freight train. Tom could see him plowing up the earth with his huge tusks and making a terrible noise, charging straight at him. He swung around and snapped off a shot with his rifle, which caught the hog square between the eyes. The giant pig scooted about four yards toward the boy, before coming to a stop, dead in his tracks. Tom was a little shaken when he saw his tusks; they were as sharp as razors. It took four men and a mule to pull the beast back to the bunkhouse. There, they could butcher the huge hog, and prepare him for the pit. John was summoned to see what Tom had bagged. He was greatly surprised when he saw the trophy, and shocked when Tom told him how it happened.

Son, he said, You could have been hurt or killed by a hog of that size. Some of the hands have seen this hog before, and believe he is responsible for killing several calves last spring. Tell you what, son; I’ll have the head mounted and put in my trophy room alongside my African forest hog. What do you say to that?

Great, father, Tom replied.

That was the beginning of Tom’s trophy hunting. Unbeknownst to him, hunting fever would last his whole lifetime. He would someday become a world-renowned big game hunter, known throughout the world as the Man from West Texas and the Man-Eater Hunter.

Within a few years, Tom had grown into quite a big man. Flower would measure him, every now and then. The last time she did this, he was six feet, three and a half inches tall. Flower said, Tom, I do believe you are going to be taller than your father is! she exclaimed.

Tom was quick on his feet, as well as fast on the draw. He had been practicing with a .44 revolver and a hand made holster; these were also given to him by his father, as he grew older. John told Tom that he carried the revolver and holster on his hip while in Africa. Once, he used it to shoot an eight foot Black Mamba, which fell from a tree right in their camp.

When Tom had turned eighteen, his father had put him charge of checking all the oil wells and seeing if the men had what they needed to sustain them for two week intervals. When he rode over the West Texas holdings, he was in his own world. He camped out using the skills that he learned from his part Comanche tutor, Blue. He was a very wise man, and thought of Tom as a son that he and Flower never had. He was like a second father to him. His full name was Blue Cloud, which made Flower’s last name Cloud, as well. She didn’t like to be called Flower Cloud and she never used the Cloud part of her name at all, she just went by Flower. There wasn’t anything that Blue didn’t know about the fauna of Texas; snakes, lizards, mountain lions, bobcats, deer, peccaries and birds, as well as the occasional jaguar or el tigre, as the natives called him. Some people just called it a tiger.

Blue had heard many tales about this secretive, spotted cat; some he believed and some he passed off as tales. It was true, that every once in a while a jaguar would come across an indigenous person who had died, and the big cat (the third largest in the world, behind the tiger and African lion) would feast on the remains. This eventually led to the jaguar becoming a killer of man. The prey was easy for him to catch and eat, though this, of course, was very rare. Thank God, most of the big cats ran at the sight of man. At this time, there was a rumor going around, that there had been sightings of several jaguar coming up from Mexico. They were following the herds of peccary that moved in and out of Mexico, as well as tracking the wild cattle that still roamed the scrub brush. The peccary is a favorite food of the jaguar. The big cat would turn Tom’s next trip into a nightmare he would not soon forget.

Tom took his 45/70 Henry rifle and his side arm on this circuit. He figured on being gone for at least a week, so he made sure he had provisions to last that long. He also took along a big black mule to haul his supplies. Tom was rather fond of mules and this particular mule wasn’t stubborn or hard headed, but he sure as hell was ornery. On more than one occasion in the past, he had made special trips to the corral which held the mules, of which there were about thirty. Every time the big black mule saw Tom approaching, he would muscle his way through the other mules and come directly up to him. He always had kind and gentle words for the mule, who would lay his big head in Tom’s hands. This was a real treat for Tom and he was thrilled at how the mule had taken to him.

He noticed one day, that some of his dad’s wranglers tried to ride the big mule, with no success. Every time a cowboy tried to get on his back, the big mule would reach around and bite him on the leg, just hard enough as if to say, not this time you don’t. Tom also noticed no one had given the mule a kind word, only cussed at him or whipped him. He stepped in and stopped the them. He, in no uncertain terms, told all the hands that anyone caught whipping any of the animals on this ranch, would be fired immediately.

He said, I don’t want anyone trying to ride this animal but me, is that understood?

Yes Boss, they answered. He’s all yours!

Tom started working with the big mule a month before he was to make the rounds. He knew the animal liked to bite; he saw that while the hands were trying to ride him. So he had to watch out for those laid back ears and that certain look in his eyes, but the mule never tried to bite Tom all the while he was working with him. Tom made quite a bit of progress with the mule, and had him trained to lead with a bridle and rope, without him raising ten kinds of hell. One day Tom decided to try him as a pack mule. Wrong move. That damn creature would let Tom load the pack saddle and some of the supplies on his back, but he would never let him get the ropes under him. Instead, he would reach around, grab hold of the pack with his big teeth and jerk it off. He did this several times, so Tom started talking to the him in low tones, telling him everything would be okay. That’s all it took, a few kind words and some attention; finally, when the mule saw Tom coming, he would come right to the gate and stand tall as if to say, I’m ready to go.

Blue watched the whole thing and told Tom, Looks like you have a friend in that mule. You know, I have always been partial to mules. Did you happen to notice that big bay hinny down in the corral?

A what?

Hinnies are what you get when you breed a jennet, or female donkey with a stallion.

Oh, that one. I did notice her and boy, she is sure a beaut’, said Tom. Have you been messing with her?

"You know Tom, I believe she really likes me. She even comes to me, when I go down to see her. And I’ll tell you something else: I put a saddle and bridle on her and rode her the other day, for at least an hour. I do believe she likes to be ridden.

Well, said Tom, you’re farther along with her than I am with this big boy. It does seem like I have won over his trust, at least. By the way, Blue, how do you know so much about mules?

I have read a lot about them, from a book in your father’s library. It explains a lot about their origins. Guess who the first breeder of mules in the United States was?

Blue, how in the hell would I know? As far as a mule goes, I barely know which end the saddle goes on!" They both chuckled.

I’ll tell you who first bred mules in this country, said Blue. It was George Washington himself; he bred an Andalusian donkey named Royal Gift, with a stallion.

Damn, Blue, Tom said. You are up on your mules. I’ll tell you what, you keep on reading about mules, and we’ll get together when I get back from my trip to the the wells, okay?

The mule was ready to go, as a pack animal. Neither Tom, nor anyone else had put a saddle on his back, but Tom made a promise to himself; he was going to ride that big son of a gun, or die trying. He hoped it wouldn’t be the latter. He saddled the trusty black stallion he had ridden so many times. With everything packed and ready, Tom took off to make his rounds to all of the oil wells. He got a late start, so he traveled hard the first day and covered at least six miles, before it started to get dark. He followed the service road, which would lead to the camps where the men stayed, while they were working on the oil rigs. This old road was also used by his dad’s recovery trucks, when picking up oil from the rigs storage tanks. When Tom visited each camp, he would check every tank, to