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  BUD & ME

  THE TRUE ADVENTURES

  OF THE ABERNATHY BOYS

  ALTA ABERNATHY

  As related to her by Temple Abernathy

  Copyright © 1998 by Alta Abernathy

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to Permissions Department, Dove Creek Press, PO Box 3209 Waxahachie Texas, 75168.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 97-78048

  Alta Abernathy

  Bud & Me: The true adventures of the Abernathy

  Boys

  ISBN: 0-9662166-0-1

  1. Non-fiction 2. History

  Printed in the United State of America on recycled and acid-free paper

  Book design by Rick Reeves

  Revised edition

  In memory of my loving husband,

  Temple, and his brother, Louis, who had

  more excitement and adventure in

  the short span of four years than most

  little boys have during a lifetime.

  ______________

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PROLOGUE: IN CAMP WITH TEDDY

  1

  SANTA FE

  2

  NEW YORK

  3

  THE BRUSH

  4

  THE ELEPHANT & THE DONKEY

  5

  THE CHALLENGE

  6

  OUR LAST RIDE

  7

  EPILOGUE

  Far better it is to dare mighty things,

  to win glorious triumphs, even though

  checkered by failure, than to rank

  with those poor spirits who neither

  suffer much nor enjoy much because

  they live in the grey twilight that

  knows neither victory nor defeat.

  —Theodore Roosevelt

  ______________

  PREFACE

  The same stars that guided and comforted us on our journeys are still in the heavens offering inspiration to those who dream and to those who dare to make their dreams a reality. At least that’s the way it seemed to Bud and Me. Bud is my older brother, Louis Abernathy, and the two of us were “saddle partners.” When very young, we set out on horseback, sleeping under those stars and living our dreams. Sometimes in the quiet evening stillness, broken only by the occasional snorts of our horses, we would search the heavens for the North Star, the Big Dipper, or the Milky Way. On a clear night, the stars seemed so close we could almost touch them, and the security we felt at those moments removed all of our fears, leaving us with a trust and a faith that all was well.

  Bud was navigator, being all of nine years old at the time of our first cross-country ride. He was loved and respected by his five-year-old charge—me. That was many years ago, beginning in the summer of 1909. Although we were just little boys, we eagerly ventured forth with eyes wide open and minds ready to examine and absorb anything and everything around us. Automobiles, aero-planes (as they were called at that time) and motorcycles were all recent inventions. As we traveled through the different cities and states, geography came alive for us. We came upon lead mines in operation, and oil wells being drilled, among other things, and Bud and I were probably the first children to be fingerprinted. The trips we took were expeditions of discovery. Experiencing unfamiliar sights and sounds across the entire American continent, we tried many of the new inventions, and met all kinds of people.

  What follows is the story of the treks Bud and I made, and I share it with the hope that the excitement of our early adventures may contribute to the joy of another generation. To this day, I have a deep appreciation and love for my brother, Bud. I thank him here for his bravery and for his responsibility in caring for me.

  I must thank our horses as well. There was Little Geronimo, who was half Shetland pony and went as far as he could, and Wylie Haynes, who went the whole distance. Then there was faithful Sam Bass, Dad’s old wolf-hunting horse, who with his speed, strength, and horse sense got us out of many a tight spot. This is their story too!

  Temple Abernathy

  ________________________________

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First of all, this book would have not been written without my husband, who so patiently spent countless hours telling the stories of the many adventures he shared with his brother. Through the years he never tired of answering all of my questions as I recorded every detail.

  I am most grateful to my daughter, Barbara Harris, for her diligent research verifying facts, and her invaluable assistance in the editing and organization of the manuscript.

  My deep appreciation goes to my granddaughters for the many hours spent typing and critiquing the original manuscript.

  Many thanks go to the William F. Harrah Automotive Foundation, and Charles Manthos, owner of the Indian Motorcycle Museum for their contributions of photographs and information.

  Alta Abernathy

  Jack Abernathy with President Theodore

  Roosevelt during the wolf hunt near

  Frederick, Oklahoma in April 1905.

  ______________

  PROLOGUE

  In January of 1904, the snow fell quietly over Washington, D.C., covering nature and city with a soft, white blanket. Inside the warmth of the White House, President Theodore Roosevelt and several of his Texas friends were discussing the upcoming presidential campaign. During one of their sessions, the conversation had turned to Roosevelt’s favorite subject, hunting, when Colonel Cecil Lyon remarked: “Mr. President, I know a man down in Oklahoma Territory who hunts and catches wolves with his hands.” Although the President expressed doubt that any man could perform such a feat, Colonel Lyon continued: “I have seen him do it! He actually caught twenty-six wolves without mishap at my park in Sherman, Texas. I’m speaking of none other than “Catch-’em-Alive” Jack Abernathy.” Now, being an avid hunter, the President was enthusiastic over the prospect of seeing such bravery, and so he instructed Colonel Lyon to arrange for a wolf hunt with this unusual man sometime during the following spring.

  Thus, Abernathy was contacted by Colonel Lyon and soon after received a letter from the President himself expressing his interest in coming to Oklahoma Territory to hunt wolves. Plans quickly began to take shape. Hosting the event would be S. Burk Burnett and his son Tom, of the Four Sixes Ranch; and W.T Waggoner and his son, Guy, from the D-Ranch. All were well known Texas cattlemen. Other guests to be invited were Lee Bivens, a Panhandle rancher, and Quanah Parker, Chief of the Comanche, along with his three wives. Also, President Roosevelt invited several of his associates from back east and a few of his staunch supporters from Texas. The hunt was scheduled to coincide with the President’s visit to a Rough Rider’s convention in San Antonio, in early April 1905.

  The President’s party arrived by train in Frederick, Oklahoma Territory on a Saturday afternoon, April 8. Jack Abernathy and his family were there to meet the train. As he climbed aboard and approached Roosevelt, Colonel Lyon made the introductions: “Mr. President, here is the man who is going to lead your hunt.”

  Smiling broadly, the President asked, “so you are the man who catches a wolf with his hand?”

  Abernathy smiled back at the President: “Sir, I intend to catch everything that gets up—not only one wolf, but as many as you like.” President Roosevelt beamed.

  After a brief speech to the crowd that had gathered, the President’s entourage headed to the Big Pasture—the land that had been given to the Comanche by treaty and had grazed Burnett and Waggoner cattle for more than 20 ye
ars. Abernathy knew this country like the back of his hand for he had earned a living here catching wolves and selling them to zoos around the country. Indeed, it was at Jack’s insistence that the Big Pasture be the site of the hunt.

  On the first morning of the hunt, Jack was up and dressed by 4:30 a.m. and was about to feed his horse and tend to his hunting dogs, when he discovered the President having his morning coffee. Abernathy soon learned that Teddy was always the first one up in the morning and the last to go to bed at night. Since Jack was also an early riser, he and the President would have morning coffee together and talk. It was during these early morning chats that Jack and Teddy became close friends.

  By the time the first streaks of dawn appeared, everyone was mounted and eager for the hunt. The air was crisp and cool and seemed charged with anticipation. The President rode astride a handsome Kiowa pony from Tom Burnett’s stable. A dozen riders formed a line and started forward, side by side. Several of the older men, along with Quanah Parker and his three wives, followed in buckboards and covered surreys. Less than a mile from camp, two startled coyotes leaped out of the tall grass and began to lope across the prairie. Hounds and riders reacted, and a short but speedy chase ensued as the hounds quickly caught up with their quarry on the banks of Deep Red Creek. One of Jack’s hounds went head over heels into the creek itself, along with one of the coyotes, but rather than go into the chilling water after them, Abernathy decided to let the dogs finish the job. And so ended the first chase of the morning.

  After a hearty chuck wagon lunch, the riders were ready to resume the hunt. President Roosevelt rode alongside Jack.

  Abernathy promised: “I’ll catch the next one by hand, Mr. President.”

  Teddy smiled and replied: “That’s bully, Abernathy! But I’m going to do my best to keep you in sight.”

  Jack and the President rode together in silence for awhile, keeping a keen eye on the tall, buffalo grass. After the men had ridden about three miles, a large, grey wolf was spotted, and the chase was on! In a matter of seconds, yelping hounds were hard on the wolf’s heels with the riders in hot pursuit. Sam Bass, Jack’s white Arabian, instinctively raced to the fracas, and Jack sprang from the saddle directly onto the wolf’s back! The President was the next to arrive at the scene, and although he, too, jumped from his horse, he stayed a safe distance away. The other riders arrived just in time to see the capture. The wolf bared his teeth and snarled a warning, but Abernathy quickly thrust his gloved hand into the back of the wolf’s mouth to keep it from closing. The stunned wolf was helpless to loosen Jack’s grip. All that was left to do, was to tie the wolf’s jaws shut. Roosevelt had witnessed Jack Abernathy in action.

  Six days were spent “coursing” wolves, but according to the President, the most exciting chase occurred on the third day. Colonel Lyon approached Abernathy that morning. “We have decided to have a test race, and the President and I will not be included.” The following is Jack Abernathy’s actual account of the competition.

  “We started southwest from Camp Roosevelt toward the Red River. I sighted a wolf about a mile and a half away, and the other riders soon saw it also. President Roosevelt taking off his hat, shouted: “Go get him,”and the riders were off for a wild chase. I was mounted on my favorite horse, Sam Bass. The President rode a dove-colored horse from the Waggoner’s D-ranch, the mightiest racing steed from their entire string of blooded racers. When the wolf saw the riders start, it began running. The race continued for about two and a half miles, and we were running about even, all of us, when Sam Bass shot ahead, and the wolf, feeling crowded, took to rough ground. Sam Bass drew out in the lead; the President was second; and Dr. Lambert, third. The others began to fall behind, their horses winded. Only my blue hound was left in the fast chase. I looked back at the President as I jumped Sam Bass over the rough ground. The President would spur and hit his horse, urging it to go faster. The wolf turned out over a prairie dog town. In following, Sam made both long and short jumps. It was remarkable how my horse performed, missing the many dangerous holes that might have thrown him. When I was within 40 steps of the wolf, I heard somebody yell. Looking back over my right shoulder, I saw the President 100 yards behind me. At the next turn, I leaped off Sam Bass and caught the wolf in the usual way. The President ran to congratulate me. “This beats anything I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a great deal,” exclaimed the President. “When you get your hand free, I want to shake it.”

  Jack, Jessie Pearl and Temple at Camp

  Roosevelt during the wolf hunt.

  Late that afternoon, after all the riders had returned to camp, a photographer asked all of the participants to gather for a portrait. Several photographs were taken, but Jack’s favorite was always the one of him standing next to Teddy with, of course, the large prairie wolf hanging from his hand. That evening, the men swapped tall tales around the campfire, and later, after most of the men had retired to their tents for the night, Jack introduced his family to President Roosevelt.

  My name is Temple. I was only fifteen months old at the time, and Bud was only five, but we remember the stories told over and over again, about our Dad, Jack Abernathy. He was an extraordinary man—courageous, spirited, adventurous, and a man who lived life to its fullest. And Bud and me—well, we were his boys.

  The Abernathy family in 1910, on their front porch

  in Oklahoma City. (Standing left to right) Johnnie,

  Kitty Joe, Bud, Goldie and Temp. Pearlie is seated in

  the chair with her father, Jack Abernathy.

  1

  SANTA FE

  Dad was from one of those pioneer families that had settled in Oklahoma Territory in the late nineteenth century. He had worked cattle since the age of seven and had ridden with the Goodnight Ranch cowboys when he was eleven. At the age of fifteen, a wolf attacked Dad’s dog, and he fought that wild animal with his bare hands. That attack taught him how to catch wolves! He later became famous for his wolf-catching ability and earned the name—“Catch-‘em-Alive” Jack Abemathy.

  In the land rush of 1901, Dad and Mother raced against other settlers for the best land in the Territory. They learned how to plow their land with a gun in hand, to protect their rights against claim jumpers. Our mother died of Bright’s disease in 1907, leaving Dad to raise us six children, with the help of our Aunt Annie and our grandfather, Big Pa.

  Except for Dad and Big Pa, Bud and I were from a family of women. Sometimes Kitty Joe, the oldest of the girls, acted like our mother, disciplining us sternly—but then we’d see a twinkle in her eyes and know not to worry. Johnnie was two years older than me, and blushed when Dad called her his “dark-eyed beauty.” Goldie was as fair as Johnnie was dark, with red hair and twinkling blue eyes. Many folks told us she looked like our mother. Then there was our youngest sister, little Pearlie, who followed me wherever I went. Aunt Annie, Dad’s sister, looked after us when Dad was away on business.

  President Roosevelt had appointed Dad United States Marshal for the Western District of Oklahoma Territory in 1906, and the family moved to Guthrie, which was to become the state capital.

  Dad traveled a lot as a U.S. Marshal, but now, instead of catching wolves for a living, he was catching outlaws. Sometimes his job took him to Washington, D.C., and on a couple of those trips, I got to go along. Twice we were invited to spend the day and even the night at the White House.

  Dad had read to us from Mark Twain’s Roughing It, as well as Owen Wister’s The Virginian, and Bud and I dreamed about being part of those adventures. We thrived on Dad’s stories. He told us about visiting Governor Curry’s new home in Santa Fe, New Mexico—a mansion costing ten thousand dollars. He talked about riding through irrigated farms, fruit orchards, and untamed country, where he’d ridden pitching horses and caught wolves.

  One day Bud and I decided we had to go see these things for ourselves. With our Dad as a role model, we thought it only natural that we look for adventure—in fact, being his only sons, we decided it was our duty! So,
in June of 1909, when Bud was nine and I was only five, as soon as school was out, we began planning a trip—a ride that is. Since Bud could read maps and I couldn’t, he took charge of planning. Night after night we studied Dad’s maps by the light of a kerosene lamp. Finally, one night when we felt our plans were ready, we waited for Dad to come home from work. The minute he walked in the door, I grabbed the map from Bud and waved it in Dad’s face.

  “Did you draw this, Louis?” he asked. “It’s a fine map, and I’m proud of your art work.” But Dad missed the entire point!

  “That’s where Bud and I are gonna’ head,” I said, “right over to Roswell, and then up to Santa Fe.”

  Dad was a little confused by now, so Bud chimed in.

  “You told us about all those things! The fruit orchards and the farms, and Governor Curry’s new house in Santa Fe, so we thought we’d ride west and see it all for ourselves. How about it, Dad?”

  Dad was stunned. He read softly, the names of towns on our map. “Estelline, Turkey, Quitaque, Silverton,” these were towns in the Texas Panhandle, just west of Oklahoma. “Then down to Roswell and up to Santa Fe.” Dad continued slowly. “Boys, this is not an easy ride. I’ll tell you what. Let me think about this, and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  I thought I would explode with suspense before Dad finally said yes, we could ride to New Mexico. A few days later, Dad opened a hundred dollar checking account for each of us, and gave us our own checkbooks. He told us to use the money for food and lodging, and any emergencies we might run into along the way.

  Dad was smart in handling us. He let us first ride from our home in Guthrie, to our ranch near Tipton, in southwestern Oklahoma. The ride took about four days, because we stopped to visit friends in central Oklahoma. Nevertheless, we rode along, filled with the excitement of our adventure. Once, my horse Geronimo stepped on a snake and almost unseated me. I hung on for dear life, and Bud laughed as we galloped away.