Books with title A Texas cowboy

Great Texas Books offers low-cost downloads of Texas histories, memoirs, biographies, journals, and reports in e-book formats. Our editions are superior to similar texts available elsewhere because we meticulously convert, proof, edit, and design each book. Our books are not exact reproductions of the original text; they are entirely new editions designed for the 21st century reader of e-books.There is no better exploration of Texas cowboy life than Charles Siringo’s. What sets his memoir apart is his candid account of the personality, habits, and values that brought him to the range. His difficult, dirt-poor childhood, his free-spending ways, his driving wanderlust, his love of whisky, guns, horses, and star-topped boots, his distinctly situational ethics, his aversion to manual labor—and equal aversion to education—compose a package that belongs on the back of the horse. Siringo tells a great story, and he does it without any of the obvious embellishment that characterize the memoirs of some of his contemporaries. He is too open about his own flaws and failings for the words to be anything other than the truth. And his candor is perfectly complemented by a wry wit that spices his stories perfectly. Tales of the Chisholm Trail and of Billy the Kid are highlights of the book, but it is Siringo’s earliest years—before he became a cowboy (or Cow-boy, as he originally put it) that may be the most compelling. In all, his story is so full of excitement that something as remarkable as the Indianola Hurricane of 1875 receives little attention—even though Siringo spent the night in water up to his neck. It’s a Texas must-read.

Growing up along the gulf coast of Texas, a young boy learns to ride horses and rope steers, and at an early age, he finds employment with a local rancher. Soon he is driving cattle all over the untamed West and landing in precarious,yet amusing, situations. Based upon the author�s life, A Texas Cow Boy is truly a classic of the Old West. From his days as a young troublemaker to the capture of Billy the Kid, Chas. A. Siringo, with humor and honesty, brings to life the rough and exciting stories of the men and women who tamed the wild country.

My excuse for writing this book is money—and lots of it. I suppose the above would suffice, but as time is not very precious I will continue and tell how the idea of writing a book first got into my head: While ranching on the Indian Territory line, close to Caldwell, Kansas, in the winter of '82 and '83, we boys—there being nine of us—made an iron-clad rule that whoever was heard swearing or caught picking grey backs off and throwing them on the floor without first killing them, should pay a fine of ten cents for each and every offense. The proceeds to be used for buying choice literature—something that would have a tendency to raise us above the average cow-puncher. Just twenty-four hours after making this rule we had three dollars in the pot—or at least in my pocket, I having been appointed treasurer.

Excerpt: ...an all night ride as he thought, called, "come on, fellers!" And mounting their tired horses they dashed off at almost full speed. There I stood leaning against the rack not feeling able to move. Whisky-peet was rearing and prancing in his great anxiety to follow the crowd. I finally climbed into the saddle, the pony still tied to the rack. I had sense enough left to know that I couldn't get on him if loose, in the fix I was in. Then pulling out my bowie knife I cut the rope and hugged the saddle-horn with both hands. I overtook and stayed with the crowd all night, but if 163 ever a mortal suffered it was me. My stomach felt as though it was filled with scorpions, wild cats and lizards. I swore if God would forgive me for geting on that drunk I would never do so again. But the promise was broken, as I stated before, when I received the glorious news of Cleveland's election. After New Year's, Moore took Jack Ryan, Vandozen and myself and went on an exploring expedition south, across the Staked plains, with a view of learning the country. The first place we struck was Canyon Paladuro, head of Red river. The whole country over there was full of indians and mexicans. We laid over two days in one of their camps, watching them lance buffaloes. From there we went to Mulberry where we put in three or four days hunting. When we pulled out again our pack-pony was loaded down with fat bear meat. 164 Chapter XVIII. SEVEN WEEKS AMONG INDIANS. On our arrival back to the ranch, Moore rigged up a scouting outfit to do nothing but drift over the Plains in search of strayed cattle. The outfit consisted of a well-filled chuck-wagon, a number one good cook, Mr. O. M. Johnson, and three warriors, Jack Ryan, Vanduzen and myself. We had two good horses apiece, that is, all but myself, I had three counting Whisky-peet. About the sixth day out we struck three thousand Comanche Indians and became pretty badly scared up. We had camped for the night on the plains, at the...

My excuse for writing this book is money—and lots of it. I suppose the above would suffice, but as time is not very precious I will continue and tell how the idea of writing a book first got into my head: While ranching on the Indian Territory line, close to Caldwell, Kansas, in the winter of '82 and '83, we boys—there being nine of us—made an iron-clad rule that whoever was heard swearing or caught picking grey backs off and throwing them on the floor without first killing them, should pay a fine of ten cents for each and every offense.