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Robert
H. “Sarge” Cummings was known as a master of the long loop, a cowboy
term for rustler. This old coot was loved by all, except for maybe
the Texas Rangers. Children were ecstatic whenever he came to visit
a spell. Some would crawl under his chair just to spin the rowels
on his spurs as he spun tales of the wild west.
Sarge was born in Texas on March 12, 1861. His parents, Mary Elizabeth
Torrence and Lawrence Cummings, struggled to keep the family going
in the small Irish community of San
Patricio, Texas. They had no money and very little food. Lawrence
died of mysterious circumstances shortly after he returned home from
fighting for the Confederacy. This left the family that much more
destitute. The responsibility of helping feed everyone fell on Sarge’s
shoulders and was perhaps the beginning of his downfall. Stories began
to be told about Sarge and some of these stories are still shrouded
in mystery.
The family migrated and eventually settled in the hill
country of Texas. The family always stayed close together. Some
lived in the area of the Dry Frio Canyon while the others lived in
the neighboring Frio Canyon. The Cummings men did everything that
they could to help the early settlers of the Dry Frio Canyon. Because
of their kindness and generosity many families made it through some
pretty hard times. But Sarge on the other hand was a different story.
Sarge was a cowboy and rancher. This experience made horse and cattle
rustling an easy part-time job for him. Once upon a time, Sarge and
a few of his outlaw friends headed out west. Their plan was to just
round up a few of the maverick cattle and if a few branded ones got
mixed in, well that was ok. They just forgot that it was against the
law to take these branded bovine and cutting them out was just not
in the plan.
Now ole Sarge probably carried one of the tools of the trade for rustlers
of that era, the running iron. His plan for the pre-branded cows would
require a little artistic ability, a D-ring from his saddle and a
green mesquite branch. This device could convert the brand on any
bovine to read as his own. Sarge would impale the mesquite branch
into the D-ring which would then allow him to control this makeshift
branding iron.
The gang would just take a few cows here and a few cows there, never
taking the entire herd thus narrowing the chances that the cows would
be missed. This tactic worked for awhile because it would take a bit
for the ranchers to realize that a few cows had vanished. Sarge’s
gang would then quickly drive the newly acquired herd back to the
ranch in the Dry Frio Canyon. They were quite sure that they would
be home long before the Law West of the Pecos had any idea that any
cattle had disappeared. The Texas Rangers were getting wise to the
rustler’s ways and they would be ready for this renegade outlaw gang
on their next venture west.
Soon the gang was westward bound with the rangers hot on their trail.
The rangers knew that soon the rustlers would make their move. It
was late one night when Sarge decided to just cut a few cows from
a herd.
On
this particular moon light night, as Sarge was building a hot fire
for the re-branding of a few of these newly acquired cows, that he
was alerted by the crack of a twig from the other side of the arroyo.
His uncanny ability to realize when he needed to vacate the premises
kicked in and plans quickly changed. He nonchalantly walked over to
his borrowed bay mare, mounted and left hell bent for leather. He
had to outrun whatever was out there and that whatever was probably
a herd of Texas Rangers. The rest of the gang scattered to the wind
but the Rangers wanted Sarge.
The sun was just peeking over the plains of west Texas when the hunted
and the hunters neared the Pecos
River. The Rangers knew that capture was imminent. They knew that
the Pecos was getting closer and the drop over the shear rock walls
would be deadly. The walls surrounding the Pecos River towered hundreds
of feet, but the Rangers underestimated the antics of Sarge Cummings.
There was just a little bit of panic on Sarge’s face as he neared
the edge of the deadly crevice. Then he had an idea. He remembered
that the bay mare, Conella, was a sure footed horse and with that
thought he made a hard turn towards the Pecos
River High Bridge. The Pecos River Viaduct was built in 1893 and
was the second railway crossing constructed over the Pecos River.
This particular bridge was later replaced by a bridge that could support
the weight of the newer trains. Sarge was riding as hard as Conella
could travel and his only hope was that those persistent Texas Rangers
were not as brave or as stupid as he was about to be. |
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The Old Pecos
River High Bridge
Postcard
courtesy Linda Kirkpatrick |
Sarge rode Conella to the edge of the bridge. After a deep breath,
he put the spurs to her already lathered sides. The mare lowered her
head, blew, and then took a nervous step. After another blow, Conella
stepped again. Sarge could hear the Rangers getting closer and knew
that he had to get out of rifle range. Conella was now feeling more
confident and the urging of the spurs kept her moving forward. About
half way across the 2,180 foot long bridge, Sarge looked below. It
was a scary 321 foot drop down the canyon to the Pecos River.
He reached the opposite side of the bridge before he heard the first
shot. Sarge never felt so sure of himself in his entire life. He slowly
turned, gave the rangers a wave then headed east, towards home.
This little escape from the Rangers kept Sarge lying low for some
time. But soon the need for a better bull for his newly acquired herd
put him swinging that long loop again. The folks of Leakey
were somewhat skeptical when Sarge came into town driving a nice looking
Hereford bull. “Sarge, where’d you find that bull?”
“Aw shucks, I picked him up about 300 miles north of here,” was Sarge’s
only reply. No one dared question him anymore.
But those Texas Rangers were persistent. They could not let this scoundrel
get away again and so they put into action another devious plan. One
that they were convinced was fool proof, but like your favorite television
series….this is the cliffhanger. Keep checking Mike
Cox’s Texas Tales column for the rest of the story. |
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