Deep in the heart of Texas : Cotton thoughts. by Charles D Ezell |
As the new year brought spring, it meant caving. Finding newborn calves blending into a lush green background bawling for their mothers was beyond words.. It was work with the family as usual as I left the house at daybreak and rode to the families lower one hundred and twenty acres. The idea of spring roundup meant our herd was heading to the railroad pens for market. My brother, Matt, had always managed the sale of our cattle but this year for unknown reasons, my brother James was in charge. I never question the reason knowing James could manage things well. Later, I learn, Matt was entertaining something the family would need to vote on. Textile mills were springing up throughout the south and the price of cotton was escalating. The farms who were raising cotton were doing great and showing profit each year. The young Priest boy, the one everyone addressed as Shorty, was home from college with much to share about cotton farming. Matt was fascinated with the idea but there was one thing standing in the way. We were ranchers and knew nothing but raising cattle and I doubt there would be any changes. The three thousand acre ranch our parents had left us would stay the same. It would be much like James said, “Someone needs to feed the nation with beef and let others make our clothes while doing it.” I must admit, James was right. As our farming community grew, our cattle markets did likewise. This made our town grow as well. Our two general stores were expanding, and we were seeing more new faces wishing to find work and settle. Even our bank was getting more deposits, and the funds grew as well. I would say, the population had grown another fifty families adding two new offices, one a lawyer from the east another freight hauling company. Though we were enjoying our little peaceful community, I personally hoped it would stay that way. The only time our jail had company was to let a drunk cowboy sleep it off only to awaken the following morning to pay a small fine and be on his way.
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Charles D Ezell
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