R-14, THE APACHE CATTLE KING

THE VENOMOUS DOODLE BUG

Much. The spring broke close to the king's hand, and the bug sailed off into space as its trainer sank to Earth exhausted and scared to a frazzle. It's 10 miles from where the doodle bug took off to where the Highway Department's magnetic road cleaner was gathering nails and flivver bolts from the Apache Trail, but believe it or not, that doodle bug smacked against the magnet so hard that the boys thought somebody was shootin' at them, and they hid in the brush until Tex arrived on the trail of the bug to inform them of our hard luck. The moral of this story is: If you want a good doodle bug, borrow the Highway Department's magnetic road cleaner.

FIRST PUBLISHED IN OCTOBER 1940 R-14: Apache Cattle King

Text by RAYMOND E. MAHER Illustrations by GREG HARGREAVES The life story of R-14, Wallace Altaha, cattle king of the Fort Apache Indian Reservation, deserves narration because of the singular manner in which Lady Luck led off for him, and also the unusual game the cattleman played following her suit. After the close of the Apache campaign in 1886, the War Department still had plenty of unfinished business on its hands. The authorities at Fort Apache realized the seriousness of the situation that then confronted them. Years spent running down Geronimo had, in some measure, acquainted them with the elusiveness of the Apaches, and they decided that feeding the Indians would be preferable to fighting them again. This proved to be no small task. Having adopted the policy of food-rationing, the government, to expedite the undertaking, corralled the natives on Ash Flat, where the heads of families were given names or brand numbers or other distinguishing designations. Some were named after certain officers of the Army post at Fort Apache, thus receiving such renowned names as Gatewood, Crook, and Crawford. Others retained their native appellations. Among the latter there was Altaha, the father of four stalwart sons, the eldest of whom eventually became the wealthiest Indian cattleman in the United States. This was R-14, the undisputed cattle king. The manner and rapidity with which he rose from an obscure prisoner of war to a prominent person in the cattlemen's category is truly amazing. Indeed, had Alger known of him, the life story of R-14 would probably have been one of his subjects. But let us see just how the two factors, luck and pluck, teamed to pull R14 from the mire in which his fellow tribesmen, following the Apache campaign, considered themselves bogged. Since it has always been customary for Apache sons to To carry on family upkeep after the demise of their fathers, it was the natural course of action for R-14 to accept the responsibility of looking after the family. The nucleus of his immense cattle herd began when the War Department is-sued his father an old black cow, intended for his weekly beef ration. Instead of killing the critter, however, the Altahas roped the animal and put their brand number on her. A few months later, they put the same distinguishing mark on her heifer calf.

Whenever the Government issued them a steer for their beef allowance, they traded it for the heifer or cow that had been issued to some other member of the tribe. When the herd numbered twelve head, R-14, then about 30 years of age, became the proud pos-sessor of his first store-bought saddle. Riding among his herd, which was browsing on the knee-high grass in the swales of Ash Flat, R-14 must have sensed his importance. Said R-14 in speaking of it later, "I had best saddle, best horse, and biggest cattle herd on Ash Flat." In fact, his was the only bunch of cattle there worthy of the name "herd."

Every spring found an increasingly large crop of calves playing and scampering in the lush grass of Ash Flat. Sleek, mud-fat four-year-old steers were eventually ready for mar-ket. Then one day while riding his range, R-14 found the orig-inal old black cow dead, appar-ently of senility. R-14 pondered a minute. After all, he reasoned, to be a successful cattleman he could not afford to keep his stock until they were too old and weak to walk. Apparently the Altahas had been so en-grossed with raising cattle that the equally important phase of the game, marketing, had been given little consideration.

Too aged and infirm now to ride, the elder Altaha turned over the entire management to R-14. Realizing that his former foe, the Army now stationed at Fort Apache, could use all the beef he could spare, R-14 butchered his choicest two-year-old steer, cut off a gener-ous portion of a hind quarter to use as bait for the official family at the post, and forthwith set off on horseback for Fort Apache, 50 mountain-miles distant.

As a result of that ride, R-14 carried back with him a contract to supply the beef that the post would need for issue to the Indians, and also as much as he could spare for consumption at the post.

The count now revealed that his herd had increased to 300 head. R-14 immediately rounded up 60 head, and assisted by his brothers, he was soon on the tiresome trail with three score sleek steers, their hoofs clicking metallically on the rocky terrain.

This initial steer drive taught R-14 a lesson in the marketing of cattle he never forgot: Steers could lose more weight in five days of hard driving than they could gain from lush grazing in five months. He, thereupon, decided to move his entire herd onto a new range; one that would be closer to market. Upon reaching Warm Springs, near where Carrizo Canyon joins the gorgeous Salt River chasm, about half of the herd, now sore-footed, could walk no farther.

R-14 took advantage of the time-out period to do some reconnoitering. After a laborious climb from the floor of the canyon to the north rim, he let his horse stop to blow. R-14 thrust back his head to survey the surrounding country. An unclaimed cattleman's paradise loomed before him! Stretching northward as far as his eye was able to discern, vast swales of lush grass, bobbing in the brisk breeze, seemed to be begging the cattleman to turn his herd loose. Eastward and northward rode R-14. The farther he went, the more he thought of the range. Finally, upon arriving atop a gently rising eminence, he feasted his eyes on a long thread of greenery twisting far to the northward. A long zigzag-ging line of cottonwood trees! To a native Arizonan that could mean but one thing: water.

That was the high valley of Cedar Creek, and in it R-14 pitched his permanent camp. Thus by the simple stroke of prior settlement, he established valid claim to approximately 150,000 acres of grazing country, a cattle range with practically unlimited potential. Roughly, its south boundary was the Salt River rim; its northern, the mighty Mogollon backbone. The box canyon of Carrizo Creek on the west side, for a long time was considered the limit of his range there, and Fort Apache itself was only 10 miles east from its east border. Thus, R-14 had moved his cattle at least three days closer to market.

R-14 APACHE CATTLE KING

Realizing that this new range was capable of supporting many times the number of cattle he had, R-14 journeyed into Sonora and purchased a hundred head of Mexican cows and heifers. These animals lacked the bone needed to support the beef that R-14 desired to produce, and it was at this stage that the Army again did some pinch-hitting for him. In the dairy herd at the post were some big-boned Herefords, and the officer in charge there supplied R-14 a number of the calves. In this way, our Apache cattleman's herd was put on a firm foundationAt roundup time, R-14 made it his business to be on hand to admonish his help. He had his own ideas as to how the activities on his range should be executed. While white cowboys who have worked for him say that he would listen to what anyone had to say, nevertheless, in almost all instances his own maturejudgment triumphed. To all his help he emphasized the importance of leaving the heifers. "I want lots calves," he would say. "Leave all heifers on range." One of his cowboys, a white (one of whom he engaged to help on almost every roundup), found an old blue-black cow on his rounds one day. R-14, When informed of the find, asked the cowboy to ride out with him to see her. The critter was an extremely heavy, beefy brute, and as the cowboy pointed her out to the big boss, he commented, "Cow's pretty old; better sell her before she dies on your hands." R-14 looked her over, all the while pulling at his goatee. After meditating a minute or two, he beckoned the cowboy to leave her alone. Pushing out his lips (the Apache way of pointing out something), the long-haired cattleman explained, "I no sell him; he all same my brother."

Undoubtedly, he was thinking of that old black cow they didn't kill - the critter that enabled him to start his marvelous career as a cattleman.

How much was R-14 worth at his peak? That would be impossible to answer definitely, but this much is certain: He never went broke and for years and years from 6,000 to 10,000 head of cattle roamed over his 150,000-acre range. At a conservative, estimated, average price of $32.50 - well, you figure it.

The Indian reservation superintendent, eager to see his wards progress in various lines, induced R-14 to build himself a cozy four-room cottage. But the cattleman had spent too many years moving about unhampered in a wickiup to be satisifed in a house. Moreover, the cottage wasn't so fittingly arranged for accommodating three housewives simultaneously! To maintain harmony in his household, he permitted each of his wives to cling to her wickiup, and the cottage made an excellent storage room for chaps, saddles, etc. All told, R14 fathered 27 children.

The superintendent and one or two others to see the Great White Father in Washington, D. C. With all his money, he did not purchase a car until the spring of 1926. At that time, John Moore, long a cherished friend and counselor, drove a new Dodge touring car from Globe to the wickiup of R-14. Some of the cattleman's sons, however, developed "newcaritis," and thereafter kept persuading their sire to buy better and better automobiles.

It is hard to say to what heights R-14 might have risen in his cattle business. Eventually, however, the government, desirous of getting other Indians started at the game, began cutting down his range. On one occasion, sheep were placed on a large tract of R-14's bovine Eden.

At the time of his death in 1937, R-14's range was estimated to contain approximately 7,000 head of cattle. To settle his estate so that it would be agreeable to all his heirs, it was decided that his cattle should be gathered and sold.

The old saying "You can't take it with you" doesn't hold true in the case of R-14. Interred with the body of the Apache cattle king are many silver certificates in denominations of ones, fives, tens. Many colored silk shirts were included to gladden R-14's final journey.

R-14, having amassed his fortune largely through self-denial, did not spend wastefully. In 1919 he accompanied With all his money, he did not purchase a car until the spring of 1926.