The sign of ownership on the cow range was as potent as the iron bars of hoarded wealth in the settlements. The respect for this sign was the whole creed of the cattle trade. Without a fence, without a bar, without an atom of actual control, the cattle man held his property absolutely. It mingled with the property of others, but it was never confused therewith. It wandered a hundred miles from him, and he knew not where it was, yet it was surely his and sure to find him. To touch it was crime. To appropriate it meant punishment. Common necessity made common custom, which became common law, which in time became statutory law. But with each and every step of this was mingled the first and abiding principle of the American cattle man — the love of justice.
For the salient features of the cow trade we must go far hack into the past, and as usual search among its beginnings in the Spanish Southwest. What, then, must have been the problem which presented itself to that old Spaniard, the first cowman of the West, as he sat a half-wild horse in a country almost wild, and looked out over herds of cattle wholly wild? He could not feed these cattle, and he could not fence them. They roamed free and uncontrolled, mingled with herds from other parts of the country which were supposed to belong to some other owner. How should he establish the extent of his just claims as against the just claims of his neighbour? Surely it must have taken even the slow mind of the old Spaniard but a moment to realize that he must find some means of pinning upon each separate animal of all the thousands his own sign of ownership, so that it should not be confused with the animals belonging to other men. But how should this be done? This sign must be something which would endure always, which neither wind nor water would erase. How could such a thing be compassed? Surely, reasoned this distant and mist-enwrapped old Spaniard, this sign must be burned deep into the hide of the creature itself! For the creature did not shed its hide. The mark burned there would always remain. Had not the galleys of Europe shown that? Had not the Inquisition taught it, and the Incas proved it in their persons? Truly the question was solved. On each animal there must be seared this sign!
This was an idea which grounded itself upon justice — that justice in this case perhaps tempered with a respect for the knife and escopeta of one's neighbour. At least, our early ranchman talked this over with his neighbour, and thus they formed the first cattle men's association of the range, and registered the first brands. No doubt these primitive cowmen went at their business in a loose and inefficient way. They drove into the nearest corral all the cattle they could find, irrespective of age or sex, and, each agreeing upon what should be called his own, they began tracing upon the shrinking hides of the animals the first rude imagery of ownership. No regular stamp for the branding implement had been formulated. The only branding iron was a straight bar of iron, whose end was heated red hot in the fire and then used as a glowing pencil with which to inscribe on the living flesh the agreed emblem of title. It is not likely that the initials of the owners were the first signs used, for the old dons had so many initials and titles that the hide of an ordinary steer would hardly have served to show them writ large as their owners liked to see them. But that was a day of crests and coronets and heraldic signs, as well as a day of much religious fervour. The cross, the sword, the lance — these were things much in view in that time, and perhaps they contributed of their significance to these first totems of the trade. The circle, the square, the triangle, the bar, the parallel lines — all these, too, were things simple and not easily to be confused. Some of the old Spanish brands have hints of some such origin. They were executed upon a large Bcale, the expanse of hide seeming to invite large patterns for their tracery. When imagination failed a ranchero in those days, he varied matters hy a series of unique cuttings of portions of the animal's anatomy. Perhaps he cut off half an ear from each of his calves, or cut an ear off on one side and made a deep V in the other ear. Or he undercut one ear, or slit both ears, or did many other ingenious embroideries in such portions of the animal as offered him the best field for operation. He might cut a wattle on a jaw, or slit the dewlap so it hung down, etc. These marks were as constant as the brands, and of course needed to be done in the same regular fashion. They continue in use upon the range to-day. Of course, as the country grew older and more cattle came upon the range — the property of an increasing number of owners — there arose necessity for increasing variety in marks and brands, each of which needed to be different from all others, and yet simple and readily recognised under the conditions of ranch life. To-day there are thousands and thousands of such different brands.
For many generations the cattle of the prolific Southwest ran free, each bearing on its hide the sign of the man who owned it. That is to say, a part of the cattle did, for in the loose methods of the early days the rodeo was shiftless and imperfect, and many cattle got through year after year unbranded. Such cattle ran wild over the range, and belonged to nobody or to anybody. There was no system of dividing them out among owners. They were not enumerated or estimated or taken into account. Each ranchero branded cattle until he felt too weary to continue in the work, and so left it to the saints to finish, or until he had all the cattle he cared for. A cow was worth no actual price, and such a thing as a market there was not. The unbranded cattle increased in numbers for many years. Of course, every one has heard of the enterprising Texan of the second quarter of this century, by the name of Maverick, who made a business of searching the range for such unbranded cattle and putting his own brand on all such he found. Thus in a few seasons he got together an enormous herd, and so laid the foundation for a vast fortune. His example was followed by many, and until a time long after the civil war the "Maverick" supply was a prominent source of profit in the cattle trade. Many a young man owed his start in life and subsequent independence to this custom, which at the time was an allowable and legitimate one; and there were large herds in Texas and New Mexico which had their beginnings in such operations. At the time of the opening of the Northern ranges the Maverick industry was less profitable, but the question of unbranded cattle still remained; for, of course, in the nature of things it was impossible to collect every animal born upon the plains, and so there ran at large the unestablished title to a vast amount of wealth, whose consideration was one demanding serious thought.
Yet another question came into the early problems of the cattle trade. At times a man might wish to sell some or all of his cattle. His son might wish to marry and move away, or his son's wife might wish to bring as dowry a few cows, or he might wish to pay his wife's father a few cows for his daughter. How could such change of ownership be indicated? Naturally, by the addition of the receiver's personal brand. But then some suspicious soul asked, How shall we know whence such and such cows came, and how tell whether or not this man did not steal them outright from his neighbour's herd and put his own brand on them? Here was the origin of the bill of sale, and also of the counterbrand, or the "vent brand," as it is known on the upper ranges (probably through the corruption of the word "vendor" or "vend"). The owner used his own brand on another part of the animal, and this, in the sign language of the range, meant, "I, owner of the recorded brand of, say, Triple Cross, have sold this animal, as see his hide, to the owner of the recorded brand of, say, J. Bar A." The bill of sale corroborated this unchanging record. It was a trifle unfortunate for the animal if it chanced to be conveyed a great many times. Some animals from the Spanish ranges in the early cattle days were covered with a medley of composite marks with which the fabled lawyer from Philadelphia would certainly have been quite helpless.
Yet another use of the idea of marks and brands came up at the time of the transfers of the great herds from the South to the North at the time of the trails. As it was very likely that such herds would suffer much loss on the way from straying or stampeding or theft, it was customary to "road brand" each animal of such a herd, this brand being the sign of ownership en route. This brand saved many cattle to the drovers, as there were certain men who made a business of looking up missing cattle and returning them for a per capita consideration to their owners.
Such were some of the more obvious and simple forms of the necessities and uses of marks and