The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 58, July 1954 - April, 1955 Page: 211
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
Observations on Horses Across Seventy-five Years
and cowboy horse races of all kinds. A wild cow or big steer
would be roped, the rider astride with the tail of the animal drawn
tightly over his shoulder and then the lariat removed from over
the horns. It was the same with a bucking horse, and if the rider
were thrown, the horse had to be caught again so as to remove
the saddle. At times as much as a dollar would be raised to pay
a rider to top off an extra bad horse or steer. It was really the
modern rodeo in the rough. No chutes, no fences, nothing except
nerve and love of adventure and confidence in one's ability to
keep the animal between his legs. A good "snubbing" horse in
those days was always in demand. Although I was only seven or
eight years of age, I had got to where I was pretty good at riding
the milch pen calves. Late one Sunday afternoon a fat bull yearling
came bawling up to the cow lot and old Mack Coates, our hired
hand, said he would "string" him if I would ride him. I told him
to "put it on him" and he did, but I didn't ride him, as about
the second jump he threw me over his head and both forefeet
took most of the hide off my sides.
My next memorable ride was when I was having a well dug in
about 1898. I had gone to town in the wagon to get more dynamite
to finish the well, and on my return home I put up the team,
saddled a half "bronc," and crawled on him with two sticks of
dynamite and the caps in my coat pocket. A "blue norther" was
coming up and it was pretty cold. The bronc started to bucking
as I went into the saddle, and he threw me about the third jump.
My wife was standing there looking on so I gave her the dynamite
and caps and crawled back on him. This time I rode him. She
then handed me the dynamite, and I delivered it to the well digger.
My next, and I hope my last, memorable ride was at the age of
seventy when I was United States District Clerk. I had a fine young
three-year-old horse at the farm, and the tenant had got him
spoiled and could not ride him or get him to leave the barn.
About four o'clock one afternoon I put my saddle, bridle, and
spurs in my car and went out to straighten him out. I saddled him,
crawled on him, and he began to act up and I rammed the spurs
into him. About the third jump he threw me. I crawled back on
him and he really bucked all over the place and I rode him fair
and square and did not pull leather, but when he stopped and
was standing still I made a careless move and he threw me. I then
Here’s what’s next.
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Periodical.
Texas State Historical Association. The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 58, July 1954 - April, 1955, periodical, 1955; Austin, Texas. (texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth101158/m1/252/: accessed June 26, 2017), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Texas State Historical Association.