Ro
Rob’s family settled in Fannin Texas Northeast of Dallas. Coming home after the civil war, Rob settled in ranching at the family homestead mainly cow poking. Taking occasional trips of discovery , Rob arrived at Judge Roy Bean courthouse down in the big bend part of the western Texas desert.
These trips rammed home the absolute requirement of an exceptional horse if you actually wanted to get somewhere without dying on some piece of barren dirt. Dear kind reader, in today’s world there is not a single thing in your life that is near the importance to your survival more than Rob’s horse is to him, not job, or family education bank balance, 401 stocks , nothing.
None of these things can get you killed. Having an onerous relationship with your horse however. Out here , alone. In the middle of nowhere can surely put you down for eternity or stove you up so bad you wish you were planted. In the late 1860s around 1868 I recollect, Rob halts short and spies Bean’s place with the telescope.
LAW WEST OF THE PECOS
Read the sign on the plank built store front that serves as the court house. Several fellas were porch sitting, resting on horse back or just standing talking. Dusty and dry. God forsaken would pretty much describe the place.
Over in the back ,rob spies a small herd of the scrawniest weather beaten cattle his eyes ever saw , with horns 6 feet across. What in the hell are those? Later, I discover that they are in fine fit and fiddle.
Completely at home In these harsh conditions they call them “TEXAS LONG HORN CATTLE.” Decided it all looked rough as a corn cob but more ir less amiable rob mosey over. A fella is laying in the water trough, just his head above water with hat down over eyes. Old man tells me ^he’s taking a soak^. And that dear reader is how Rob met Steve.
Do the math, so far it’s been quiet awhile since that day and here we sit on this here porch like it was yesterday. Other than your choice if horse, the next most important thing is your companion
In that regard only one trait is important, “TRUST”. You either do or don’t. no grey area. If you find that, and it’s very rare. And you have a great horse out here, back then That is the recipe for a happy life. Ask yourself dear reader, who do you trust in your life? In today’s world , I would estimate most of you don’t even know what the word means. We end up staying in Langtry, tx for some years. Cow punch on those Longhorns and running errands for the judge. Usually errands meant going out in the territory to gather up some fellas that did not want to come along.
Over time Judge Bean only asks us to help on the most dangerous fellas. We never joined up to any law group. or took bounties , we figured it beat wrestling these Longhorns and was a good thing to get these bad men planted one way or the other. Most of the bad men out West that we came across looked at thieving as a business and generally did not like violence. Shootists never last long. those that get emotional and kill someone usually get lynched pretty quick. Most of the famous ones got done in by someone close to them , you could just not trust anyone even your own kin in some cases. Rob and Steve usually ended up chasing the desperate ones that just went day to day trying to not get lynched or jailed. these kind had no real plan and just reacted to whatever was in front of them. That’s why these were the dangerous ones. Ended up , we brought everyone we were sent after to justice one way or the other. That did give us a certain reputation that we did what we set out to do.
After some years and many adventures the wanderlust set in and we said adious to the judge and went on out to New Mexico and the Buckhorn. The one thing that we will always remember and admire about the Judge was the way he checked out. It can be a lesson to most readers here as well, even though most won’t come to grips with the subject of their own checking out until it’s far too late. Or not at all.
In the first part of March 1903 we received a letter from the Judge that he would like to see us one more time and he would be holding court at the saloon-bordello named “Donovan’s Reef” and would arrive there just before the middle of the month. He was 77 years old still could get around mostly. but was plum wore out. From the lily Langtry visit to the heavyweight fight. The Judge relished nothing more than getting wound up tighter than the spring on an 8-day clock, and then rearing back, hooting, and hollering.
We figured this was what he had in mind for one last time. It was more than 200 miles for him to travel to get to San Antonio so not an easy trip. Sure enough ,we got there on the 14th and commenced to get with the whole program. Must have been a few hundred visitors no sense of finality, guess only Rob and Steve figured that part out. The others it was just another of the judges grand adult festival. We bid our farewells around 2 am on March 16th, 1903, with the Judge passed out in the Madame’s red silk bed. He passed that morning still passed out