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what could one expect from such a wild life? We would civilize up a bit when we went to a dance ; that is, we would take off our spurs and tie a clean red handkerchief around our neck.
I drove beeves from the W. B. G. Grimes pens on the Leona to Matagorda Bay in the winter of 1869, then hired to John Redus on the Hondo, where I finished the winter. In the early spring of 1870 I helped him get together 2,000 of the wildest longhorns that was ever started up the trail. They were travelers when strung out, but were inclined to stampede in front, the middle or rear. It did not take us long to mill them if in an open country, but in timber that was different. I took sick this side of Waco and left the herd horseback for the Redus ranch on the Hondo. I punched cattle, fiddled and danced some years after, getting wilder all the time, until I met a curly-headed girl from Atascosa County, fell in love and married. It took her a long time to tame me. But she did, and for the last fifteen or twenty years I do not have to be tied. Just drop the reins on the ground, I'll stay there.
I was born in Hays County, four miles below San Marcos, October 17, 1857, and have never lived out of this county. I was raised on a farm, and on December 17, 1876, I was married to Miss Fannie Johnson. We raised six children to be grown, three girls and three boys, and we think they are all pretty good cattle, but do not know if they are much improvement over the old stock.
I first went up the trail in 1868, when I was just eleven years old, with my brother, George T. McGehee. We drove from Belton to Abilene, Kansas. The trail