My brother arrived and reported splendid success in feeding Colorado cattle.  He was anxious to have me join forces with him and corn-feed an increased number of beeves the coming winter on his Missouri farm.  My judgment hardly approved of the venture, but when he urged a promised visit of our parents to his home, I consented and agreed to furnish the cattle.  He also encouraged me to bring as many as my capital would admit of, assuring me that I would find a ready sale for any surplus among his neighbors.  My brother returned to Missouri, and I took the train for Ellsworth, where I bought a carload of picked cow-horses, shipping them to Kit Carson, Colorado.  From there I drifted into the Fountain valley at the base of the mountains, where I made a trade for seven hundred native steers, three and four years old.  They were fine cattle, nearly all reds and roans.  While I was gathering them a number of amusing incidents occurred.  The round-ups carried us down on to the main Arkansas River, and in passing Pueblo we discovered a number of range cattle impounded in the town.  I cannot give it as a fact, but the supposition among the cowmen was that the object of the officials was to raise some revenue by distressing the cattle.  The result was that an outfit of men rode into the village during the night, tore down the pound, and turned the cattle back on the prairie.  The prime movers in the raid were suspected, and the next evening when a number of us rode into town an attempt was made to arrest us, resulting in a fight, in which an officer was killed and two cowboys wounded.  The citizens rallied to the support of the officers, and about thirty range men, including myself, were arrested and thrown into jail.  We sent for a lawyer, and the following morning the majority of us were acquitted.  Some three or four of the boys were held for trial, bonds being furnished by the best men in the town, and that night a party of cowboys reentered the village, carried away the two wounded men and spirited them out of the country.

Pueblo at that time was a unique town.  Live-stock interests were its main support, and I distinctly remember Gann’s outfitting store.  At night one could find anywhere from ten to thirty cowboys sleeping on the counters, the proprietor turning the keys over to them at closing time, not knowing one in ten, and sleeping at his own residence.  The same custom prevailed at Gallup the saddler’s, never an article being missed from either establishment, and both men amassing fortunes out of the cattle trade in subsequent years.  The range man’s patronage had its peculiarities; the firm of Wright, Beverly & Co. of Dodge City, Kansas, accumulated seven thousand odd vests during the trail days.  When a cow-puncher bought a new suit he had no use for an unnecessary garment like a vest and left it behind.  It was restored to the stock, where it can yet be found.