Monday, November 15, 2021

Cowboys of the AT Cross

 

Who was Mangus?

Cowboys of the AT Cross

Epilogue

By Stephen L. Wilmeth




            Hell, I coulda’ whupped old Utah if he hadn’t hit so hard!

            Quote suspected to be from Fred Ramsey, author of These Are My People

            Who was Mangus?

            Ten miles up the Mangus from its mouth at the Gila River and the scene of the fisticuff mentioned above, another bunk house drama was being played out.

            Elmo McMillen had entered the headquarters bunkhouse before dawn and served notice he wanted to know who in that crew of waddies was the character going by the name of Mangus Colorado (the famous Apache Chieftain who once roamed these parts). The crew was all pretty tight-lipped, but the suspense was too much, and somebody said something that made them all laugh. One thing then led to another, and the trail led to the cowboy in the corner diligently appearing to be searching for something in his war bag.

            The famous Dick Hays was trapped.

            I guess that’d have to be me, Elmo.

            After a pause, Dick, what is this all about?

            Well, you know I buy my boots from Mr. Lama (Tony Lama) in El Paso, and I keep my account pretty tidy.

            Yea, yea, I know that, but what is this Mangus Colorado nonsense?

            Well, sir, when I’m flush, I always use my own name, but, when I’m a bit short of funds, well

            Yea, you buy ‘em under the name of Mangus Colorado … Dick, clean this up before we get another one of these bills!

            Stories of the event suggest Mr. McMillen, the owner of the AT Cross, kept the scowl on his face  until he stepped off the porch of the bunk house and headed off into the darkness to the house. The cowboys couldn’t wait that long.

            Cowboys of the AT Cross

            Southwestern New Mexico was wild when the Canadian, Dan McMillen, came riding south into warmer country.

            The area of what is now Grant County was intriguing enough to stake his future and it became his home. It was there he raised his two boys, Elmo and John, and it became their home as well.

            The original McMillen country took in a good portion of the big drainage, the Mangus, that was named after the famous Apache noted hereinabove. Among the area’s many attributes was its predominant soil. Derived from decomposed granite, much of the soils are not dominated by hard rock as so much of that area of New Mexico is. Geologists from all over the world have trekked to the area to observe and study that formation which, in part, would never require a horse to be shod if the rest of the original ranch was not part of the layout.

            It’s wonderful cow country.

With savanna type grasslands intermixed with south facing hillsides with bear grass, oak, and Apache plume, it provides year-round forage. At mile high elevations and 12” rainfall averages, it made those settlers of the last decades of the 19th Century pull up and find a place to tie their horses.

The grand age of southwestern cowboys emerged.

The ranch neighbors and certainly the McMillen AT Cross collected their share of good cowboys and characters. When those early cowboys were asked where they hung their hats, one of the responses was the white horse outfit.

When Elmo has us up at 2:00 in the morning wrangling horses to go to work, we’ve gotta’ have white horses to see where they are!

The stories are as legion as much as they are worthy of archiving. The Wilmeth brothers (Albert, Benton, Alex, Ben, and Roy), Scott Hately, Clarke Pitts, Dick Hays, Utah Bill, the One Shoe cowboy, Joe Cannon, young Bill McMillen and others all became part of the history.

Much of Ramsey’s book, These Are My People, was interwoven with these names. The fight referenced in the opening quote took place at the bunk house at the mouth of the Mangus. The cowboys fought out onto the porch where Utah fell through the wooden floor, hung one spurred boot in the hole, and was trapped. Repeatedly his opponent climbed back onto the porch only to hit by Utah and knocked back off the porch.

Utah won the fight.

Nearly the whole crew was threatened with the hoosegow in another fight one night at a dance at Cliff. Their story started with crossing the flooding Mangus in the Bobtail. Parke was driving, Albert (the Boss) was riding shotgun, and everybody else was riding the Knapheide racks on the bed. The boys became impatient waiting for the flood to subside and started protesting the delay. Finally, the Boss gave Parke the word who wound the old girl up and ran at the flood. Nearing the far side and knowing there was a cut to scale to complete the crossing, the Boss bailed out yelling instructions for everybody to get over the rear axle and start jumping up and down to keep traction and forward motion. He was followed out the door by the third rider in the front, Dale McCauley, who was immediately and unceremoniously swept under the truck only to emerge on the downstream side holding on for his life. Momentum was bleeding off seriously at the cut as the Boss lifted on the front bumper. Parke kept the throttle to the floor. Clearly the bank and without missing a lick, the Boss swung up into the cab as Parke double clutched and kept the old Chevy headed north. Drenched to bare skin, Dale climbed up and joined the other cowboys trying to gain some composure from his near drowning.

Hell, a man could get kilt if he had to depend on this outfit to save him.

The dust up started at dance hall where, according to Cliff’s reputation, drinking and fighting were surpassed only by fighting and drinking as a main event sport. One by one, the deputy at the time, Al Barnett, led the various pugilists out into the dirt parking lot and handcuffed them around the single light standard. By the time there were nine offenders standing around talking and smoking awaiting their fate, Al decided he’d better get on to Silver City and the country jail.

He tried to crank the old ’28 Chevy and ran the battery down before she fired. Tossing the crank to a passing cowboy (he of near drowning, Dale McCauley), Al ordered him to crank the car while he prepared to give her gas as she started. Dale peered long and hard into the patrol car trying to see who was incarcerated. Recognizing some AT Cross cowboys he’d arrived with, he turned and threw the crank as far as he could into the dark and across the road into the Colonel Bright’s field.

Crank it your own dang self.

The cowboys crowded in the car roared with laughter. Seeing what was going on the Boss, now united and leaving with his wife and family was groaning and moaning.

What’s wrong, Albert?

I’m not even going to have a crew tomorrow!

Epilogue

In the years before his death, Bill McMillen would remember and tell his grandchildren of the day he and the Boss were riding stirrup to stirrup on the H Bar L when they were struck by lightning. Recovering enough to get his own senses, Grandpa Albert was credited with saving Bill’s life in the aftermath. Bill would also say that he was saved by the same man when he fell off the windmill tower only to caught as he stood on the ladder just beneath him.

The One Shoe cowboy appeared during the Depression in desperate need of any kind of job. With only a single brogan on one foot, he was asked what kind of job he thought he could do. His response was he could cowboy. The cowboys could be heard snickering in the background. They shouldn’t have been. Days later, in a wild cow chase off Wild Horse Canyon, only he and the Boss emerged at the bottom still with the cows.

In a gesture that can be imagined, Grandpa Albert, nodded to him in quiet respect. He for sure was a cowboy.

And the stories continue and each one verifies all those men were, indeed, cowboys. Everyone is now deceased with Joe Cannon being the last to leave our ranges. Joe came looking for me when he saw the Life Magazine photo of John McMillen and Albert Wilmeth that reappeared in a Range Magazine article in recent years. His opening remark was from his heart.

Without even looking at the caption, I knew who those cowboys were, and I can even tell you the names of those horses!

Some of us were lucky enough to experience and witness the work ethic and the skill set of those old-time cowboys. Their being taught us lessons many of which are disappearing as fast as their colorful memories.

Today, the AT Cross remains in the hands of the descendants of Dan McMillen, the Billings family. Grandson, Bill McMillen’s offspring have not only held it together they have grown it. That is a rarity that deserves acclaim. Let’s all hope this old historic brand remains attached to these sons and daughter of the American West who have endeavored to bridge time and history together.

There can’t be a more worthy, earthy endeavor.

 

Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico. “Andele pues!”

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