The Rustlers of Pecos County | Page 3

barrens of Texas it was indeed a fair sight.
But I was more concerned with its remoteness from civilization than its
beauty. At that time in the early 'seventies, when the vast western third
of Texas was a wilderness, the pioneer had done wonders to settle there
and establish places like Linrock.
As we rolled swiftly along, the whole sweeping range was dotted with
cattle, and farther on, within a few miles of town, there were droves of
horses that brought enthusiastic praise from Miss Sampson and her
cousin.
"Plenty of room here for the long rides," I said, waving a hand at the
gray-green expanse. "Your horses won't suffer on this range."
She was delighted, and her cousin for once seemed speechless.
"That's the ranch," said the driver, pointing with his whip.

It needed only a glance for me to see that Colonel Sampson's ranch was
on a scale fitting the country.
The house was situated on the only elevation around Linrock, and it
was not high, nor more than a few minutes' walk from the edge of
town.
It was a low, flat-roofed structure, made of red adobe bricks and
covered what appeared to be fully an acre of ground. All was green
about it except where the fenced corrals and numerous barns or sheds
showed gray and red.
Wright and the cowboys disappeared ahead of us in the cottonwood
trees. Colonel Sampson got out of the buckboard and waited for us. His
face wore the best expression I had seen upon it yet. There was warmth
and love, and something that approached sorrow or regret.
His daughter was agitated, too. I got out and offered my seat, which
Colonel Sampson took.
It was scarcely a time for me to be required, or even noticed at all, and I
took advantage of it and turned toward the town.
Ten minutes of leisurely walking brought me to the shady outskirts of
Linrock and I entered the town with mingled feelings of curiosity,
eagerness, and expectation.
The street I walked down was not a main one. There were small, red
houses among oaks and cottonwoods.
I went clear through to the other side, probably more than half a mile. I
crossed a number of intersecting streets, met children, nice-looking
women, and more than one dusty-booted man.
Half-way back this street I turned at right angles and walked up several
blocks till I came to a tree-bordered plaza. On the far side opened a
broad street which for all its horses and people had a sleepy look.

I walked on, alert, trying to take in everything, wondering if I would
meet Steele, wondering how I would know him if we did meet. But I
believed I could have picked that Ranger out of a thousand strangers,
though I had never seen him.
Presently the residences gave place to buildings fronting right upon the
stone sidewalk. I passed a grain store, a hardware store, a grocery store,
then several unoccupied buildings and a vacant corner.
The next block, aside from the rough fronts of the crude structures,
would have done credit to a small town even in eastern Texas. Here
was evidence of business consistent with any prosperous community of
two thousand inhabitants.
The next block, on both sides of the street, was a solid row of saloons,
resorts, hotels. Saddled horses stood hitched all along the sidewalk in
two long lines, with a buckboard and team here and there breaking the
continuity. This block was busy and noisy.
From all outside appearances, Linrock was no different from other
frontier towns, and my expectations were scarcely realized.
As the afternoon was waning I retraced my steps and returned to the
ranch. The driver boy, whom I had heard called Dick, was looking for
me, evidently at Miss Sampson's order, and he led me up to the house.
It was even bigger than I had conceived from a distance, and so old that
the adobe bricks were worn smooth by rain and wind. I had a glimpse
in at several doors as we passed by.
There was comfort here that spoke eloquently of many a freighter's trip
from Del Rio. For the sake of the young ladies, I was glad to see things
little short of luxurious for that part of the country.
At the far end of the house Dick conducted me to a little room, very
satisfactory indeed to me. I asked about bunk-houses for the cowboys,
and he said they were full to overflowing.

"Colonel Sampson has a big outfit, eh?"
"Reckon he has," replied Dick. "Don' know how many cowboys.
They're always comin' an' goin'. I ain't acquainted with half of them."
"Much movement of stock these days?"
"Stock's always movin'," he replied with a queer look.
"Rustlers?"
But he did not