Rebranding Cattle Rustler Style

 by Patti Sherry-Crews

Running Iron

This metal object might look as innocent as a candy cane, but getting caught on the range with this sticking out of your bedroll might put you on the receiving end of some frontier justice, strung up from the nearest tree. No judge, jury, or trial necessary. For there is only one thing this curved rod is used for and that's altering a brand on stolen cattle. It's called a running iron. (the one pictured above pulls apart into two pieces for easier concealment)

But before we get into why the running iron became the cattle rustler's favorite tool, let's put it in the context of cattle ranching practices in the old west.

Back in the day of the open range, cattle would roam freely, often mixing with herds belonging to other ranchers. When it was time for a cattle drive, the cowboys would "cut" the cows belonging to them from the rest of herd. But how did they know which animals belonged to them? Like it or not, that's where a red hot branding iron came in handy.

Branding Iron

The branding iron, opposed to the running iron, was made to stamp a ranch's unique brand into the hide. The symbols used have a language of their own. Variations to any one symbol could generate almost limitless names.  For instance an upside down letter was "crazy." A letter on it's side was "lazy". A half circle under a symbol made it "rocking". And then you had your bars, stars, numbers, and wings. I'm guessing the brand pictured above is a "flying W" given the wings.

In the early days cattle rustling wasn't quite as serious a crime as it was to become. In fact, that's how many ranchers started or increased their herds.

But then came the harsh winters of 1886-7. Ranchers caught unprepared for the deep snows that buried the cattle's food source, grass, for months had their herds almost wiped out due to starvation. After that, the disadvantage of open range ranching became painfully obvious. Instead cows were kept in fields behind barbed wire fencing, and hay was grown and stored for feed.

The emergence of the cattle barons in the late 19th century changed the landscape yet again. These large operations had no patience with the smaller ranch holders and their cattle rustling ways. They hired "regulators" to impose order. These regulators also known as "Stock Marshals" or "Stock Detectives" were man like hired gun, Tom Horn (later himself hung for murdering a defenseless boy in cold blood). These regulators used violence and intimidation to rid the land of small ranchers--cattle rustlers or not.

Now that we see why you didn't want to get caught with a running iron, you may be wondering how it worked. As "running" implies the hot iron was used to write on rather than stamp the hide. With a running iron an "F" could easily be turned into an "E" by the addition of a bar, for instance. Sometimes a wet blanket placed over the brand aided in blending the old with the alterations.  In a pinch a running iron could be improvised using any metal handy: wire, horseshoe, saddle cinches, or railroad ties. But these crude attempts were less likely to fool the stock detectives who kept a book of registered brands on them for reference.

The ingenuity of the rustler to alter brands is illustrated in the theft of cattle from the XIT ranch in Texas. The XIT operation was run by a British syndicate owned by Charles B. and John V. Farwell. One would think the XIT brand would a hard brand to disguise. Think again.

Incorporating a star and a bar cleverly hid the cattle barons brand, reminding us that whether it's the old west or modern day, there's always going to be somebody who finds a way around rules and regulations. Folks are clever that way.

Excerpt from His Unexpected Companion by Patti Sherry-Crews:

She stilled suddenly and swore under her breath, her

sights focused on something in the distance. Smoke curled

up in the air from an area a fire had no place being. She

strode over to Aces who was drinking from the trough where

she’d tied him and patted her shotgun shoved behind the saddle.

“Sorry about this. I know we just got back, but there’s

something I have to tend to.” She untied the horse, stepped

into the stirrup, and swung into the saddle.

She rode hard, closing the gap, all her senses on alert. But

as she got nearer and saw who was poking at the fire, she

saw this wasn’t a situation calling for a shotgun—just a

tongue-lashing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted.

Mack and another ranch hand, Zeke, had already stilled

when they heard the horse approach. They stood there now

like two errant schoolboys caught out. Zeke shoved his

hands in his pants pockets and lowered his head, a plug of

tobacco bulging in one cheek.

Mack waved around at the head of cattle corralled into a

box canyon behind him. “We’re fixing to burn brands into

these cows. What does it look like?”

Olivia looked at the implements used to change the

brands on cattle: the wet blanket, the lariat coiled on the

ground, and the running iron heating in the fire. “I’m sorry.

I asked the wrong question. The question I meant to ask is,

have you lost the sense that God gave you?” She pointed at

the running iron, a long rod with a curled end used for alter-

ing brands. “If you even get caught with that it’s hanging

offense.”

“No, look, Vee, this is real clever.” Wearing heavy raw-

hide gloves, Mack pulled the rod out of the fire. “You see

how it comes apart into two pieces so you can hide it easily.”

“You spent money on that? I always use a piece of bent

wire. That way, nobody can catch you out with something

made to alter a brand.”

“Yeah, but the results look crude, in my opinion. When I

use the running iron, you’d be hard pressed to tell it wasn’t

the original brand.”

“You should see what Mack does. It’s real artwork the

way he can turn any brand into your rocking star so nobody

can see it used to be something else,” said Zeke.

“I’m aware of Mack’s talent. That’s not my point.”

Mack frowned, disappointed to not be able to show off

his new tool. “What is your point?”

“The point is, Mack, that this is the kind of thing that got

my father killed. Those cows have a brand from the Lazy R

ranch. These fellas aren’t playing around. And you, with a

baby on the way. Who’d you steal the cattle from?”

Available at Amazon

The Calling coming April 2014

Hi everyone! Thanks for having me back to the blog :-)

I wanted to talk a little bit about my forthcoming Christian western titled THE CALLING.

Esau Fitzpatrick is bad at being good and even worse at being bad. While he waits for his sweetheart, Ella Allen, inside the little white church in Paisley Settlement, Texas, Esau has no idea that the events about to transpire will forever shape his life on this earth . . . and beyond. Upon hearing tale that Ella and her parents are late to services due to a stuck wagon, Esau fingers the golden wedding band in his pocket and decides to brave the brewing storm in order to help the woman he loves – and whom he plans to propose that very day. Before he can exit the church, the storm erupts and lightning strikes, setting the church aflame. Ella and her parents pull Esau from the fire, but not before his parents succumb to the blazing inferno.

Thank you Livia for the beautiful cover

Angry at God and distrustful of His plan, Esau flees Paisley Settlement and all he holds dear only to fall in with the first group of people he meets -- notorious Covington-Jones Gang. To them, stickup’s, bank robberies, and parlor houses aren't sins, they’re a way of life. As he journeys down the path that leads only to destruction,  Esau is forced to relive the hellish fire in his nightmares for nights on end, driving him deeper into darkness.

Meanwhile, Ella is left clinging to the golden ring that should have been her engagement band and the prayer that Esau will find his way back to a godly path – and to her. However Ella learns that it is always hard to wait, even when it’s God’s own will, especially with her parents and society pressuring  her to move on to a more appropriate partner. With Esau gone and her world falling to pieces, Ella must lean on God in a way she’s never had to before as she follows her heart against everyone’s wishes.

When Esau’s tumultuous  way of life comes to a head during an epic cattle rustle, he is forced to choose between eternal hell fire and the rocky path of the Lord, without knowing if Ella will still be there waiting for him or not. God reaches out to Esau again in the form of lightening, but will it be too late – or just in time?

***

Not only have I been a fan of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood since I was a youngster, but Marty Robbins has played a significant role in my upbringing as well. My good ole dad bought me the cd Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs when I was 13 . . . then there was no going back. 

After all, I was already a die-hard Lonesome Dove fan who had done her 6th grade book report on Larry McMurtry's epic novel and who preferred to play shoot-out at pretend wanted posters sketched with a likeness of Blue Duck in the backyard more than just about anything else. But as much as I liked the song The Master's Call, I found myself skipping over it more than listening to it. It gave me chills and that was unnerving. 

It wasn't until my four beautiful babies were born that I opened the window of our home in Oklahoma one morning and something was different on the breeze. It was early summer, the wind was whistling along some of the most historic land of the United States . . . the coffee was hot and it was time to get ready for the day. But there was one thing I had to do first, and I put on my Marty Robbins' cd. I changed the track to The Master's Call and listened to it with my four precious children -- and my entire heart. Here, if you didn't catch it up above, here it is again. 

As we went on about our day, I had my spiral and pen in hand and began work on my novel inspired by the song . . .The Calling. That was almost three years ago. Finally, this April, The Calling is destined to come to life, from my heart to yours.


I hope you enjoy The Calling when it releases April 1st. I have certainly enjoyed writing it for you. It's been a lifetime in the making.

Thanks for stopping by! Comment telling us of a song that has been inspiring for YOU for your chance to win a digital copy of your choice of my books. A selection is available on my website at www.sarabarnardbooks.com 

RUSTLERS AND OUTLAWS...JURY OR HANGIN'! by PHYLISS MIRANDA

Welcome lovers of the ol' West. For my first blog, I wanted to write about something western ... really western. Although I was born and raised in the Texas Panhandle trust me, horses run when they see me comin'. I haven't had good experiences with horses but admire them as a symbol of the true west. That's why in my historical western's, you won't have me doing a whole bunch of fancy stuff with a horse. My characters typically "get on and get off", although with some research and friends with a lot of patience, I have written a couple of scenes that ended up being pretty dern good.

I thought today it'd be fun to talk about another part of the Old West ... cattle rustling.

In the Old West, the terms rustling and rustler had several meanings. Livestock who forged well were called rustlers by cowmen; meaning the animals could graze or “rustle up” nourishment on marginal land. A horse wrangler or camp cook was also a rustler, but the most widespread and notorious use of the word referred to a cattle thief.

On the vast open ranges of yesteryear, rustling was a serious problem and punishable by hanging. At its peak, one of the largest ranches in the Texas Panhandle had over 150,000 head of cattle and a thousand horses. Obviously, thieves could drive stolen livestock miles away before a rancher learned he had animals missing.

The vast distances to town, hence law enforcement, often prompted ranchers to take actions of their own. Court convictions for rustling were difficult because of the animosity of small ranchers and settlers toward big cattle outfits. Many times, “vigilante justice,” hang ‘um first...ask questions later, was handed down by organized stockmen. Like horse thieves, cattle rustlers could be hanged without benefit of trial, judge or jury.

Today, even with detailed brands logged in books, registering with state officials, inspectors, and the meticulous paperwork involving transportation, not to mention a new era of branding technology to keep track of animals, ranches still face cattle rustlers...those dishonest people who want to profit from selling cattle without the bother of raising them.

No longer is a single head of beef stolen for food or an occasional American Indian slipping off the reservation to provide for his family... it is big business. Modern day rustlers often sneak onto rural ranches at night, or on weekends when the owners are away, steal and sell cattle. An average calf can bring thousands of dollars on the open market; so multiply that by a trailer, or even a truck load, of cattle and you can see why it’s a profitable business to thieves.

Amid warnings that cattle rustling is on the rise in Texas, recently the state Senate passed a measure that would stiffen penalties for stealing farm animals, making theft of even one head of livestock a third-degree felony drawing up to a ten year prison sentence and a fine. Until the proposal is signed into law, a rustler can steal ten or more head of livestock and the punishment is a drop in the bucket in comparison to the law of the Old West ... hang ‘um high and fast. But was hanging always fast and efficient?

I became interested in cattle rustling and the methods of rustlers researching for “Give Me a Cowboy” (Kensington 2009) where my Pinkerton Agent comes to the Panhandle to break up an outfit of rustlers. But I became interested in “vigilante justice” from my mother-in-law, who passed on in 2009 at the age of 93. A story teller, she was raised in Clayton, New Mexico. One of her favorite tales was about the outlaw Black Jack Ketchum, the first man hanged in the town. His execution turned into a big town event, with the lawmen actually selling tickets to the hangin’. As history has it, the sheriff had to use two blows of the hatchet before the rope broke. Probably because of their lack of experience in “structured” hangings, coupled with the lawmen misjudging Ketchum’s weight and stretching the rope during testing, he was beheaded. Ketchum was buried at Clayton’s Boot Hill on April 26, 1901.

But my mother-in-law’s story only began there. Three decades later, when she was in grade school, Ketchum’s grave was moved to the new cemetery. Because her father was Clayton’s mayor, she witnessed the reburial. According to her, they opened the grave and she and her cousin touched the bones of Ketchum’s little finger. I’m sure in those days a casket did not weather well.

To me it’s so fascinating when history bridges time and touches our lives. Do you have a family story where history inserted itself into reality?


To one lucky person who leaves a comment today, I will send you either a paperback or a hardback of “Give Me a Texas Outlaw” anthology which I shared with fellow Texas authors Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, and DeWanna Pace.