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Half A Man

by Dr. Lindley J. Stiles

229 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-1103; ISBN 1-4120-0735-6; US$21.00, C$25.75, EUR16.75, £11.75

Ranching round-ups, and rattlesnake stew fill this adventurous tale of a 12 year-old on a unique cattle drive in northwest New Mexico.

Ride along with Half A Man as he struggles to become a "real man."

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about the book      about the author      table of contents and sample excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book Half A Man is a true story about 12 year-old Lindley's struggles to be accepted as a real man. It deals with the Federal Government's Foreclosure on unpaid loans made to New Mexico cattle ranchers to increase their meat production for soldiers in World War I. When the war ended, prices dropped and ranchers in the remote north western part of new Mexico who had no market for their beef, defaulted on their loans. David Stiles, Lindley's father, was persuaded to undertake the task of gathering steers to pay the government debts and drive them to the nearest railhead, Grants, New Mexico. Dave Stiles, veteran of many cattle drives in his youth, stipulated one request if he was to undertake the unpleasant job of foreclosing on his neighbor's cattle, namely, that his 12 year old son would be hired on for the effort. Buford Threlkedld, the Washington agent in charge reluctantly agreed that the boy could be put on the payroll, but shown as half a man, at half pay. Called, "kid" and "the boss's baby" and other belittlling names by Firpo, one of the cowboys on the crew, and assigned by his father, the boss, to such kid jobs" as tending the fire for the branding, helping the cook, getting up early to drive in the remuda of mounts for the crew, and driving the tail-ender drags of the herd, the boy sought ways to prove he was a real hand. His success was like a roller-coaster-like a boy one day; like a man on another. Down day came with his going to sleep and losing steers who hid in the brush and getting fired by the by the boss, being assigned to watch the horses while others drove the steers across the Chaco, doing a "girl's work" when helping the cook; openly crying when Tex's beautiful horse, Copper was lost to the quicksands, and getting tripped with his food plate by his enemy, Firpo, as well as his failure to eat rattlesnake meat, considered a test for being a cowboy. Highlights of his success were: being the boss of two other grown cowboys sent to gather the Macklin steers and exposing an attempt to hide animals to keep them from being taken, doing well on the old bay mare while crossing the Bisti, being asked by the boss to introduce the beautiful Frances to all the other hands, and finally being able to rescue Firpo when his hose fell with him during the stampede. Readers of Western Books will find action on every page. The descriptions of the round-up, and cattle drive will be applauded by the experts and enlightening to all who are unfamiliar with the details of organizing and executing a drive of 1500 steers to market. The description of how a small town, Grants, welcomed the coming of the cattle as a time to celebrate. "Half A Man is a jewel that should not be missed, I simply couldn't put it down", wrote the popular critic, Marc Simmons of the first printing.

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About the Author Dr. Lindley Stiles, a world class poet, author and educator, was born on a cattle ranch near where Tatum, New Mexico now stands. His distinguished professional career was anchored in his boyhood experiences on his father's cattle ranches-on the Caprock, near Grants, at Pueblo Bonito, and on the West Gallegos. He graduated from the Farmington, NM High School which elected him as one of the first members of its Academic Hall of Fame. After completing his formal education at Fort Lewis College and the University of Colorado, Dr. Stiles served as Dean of Education at the University of Virginia, and the Interdisciplinary Studies at Northwestern University. Dr. Stiles has recorded his memories in I Never Rode Alone; My Boyhood on A New Mexico Cattle Ranch. Cowboy in the Classroom, his professional autobiography, was written to accompany the Stiles Career Shelf in the Archives of the Deering Library of Northwestern University. Class-room Cowboy: Out to Pasture, is an addendum which deals with his on-going career activities. All contain various episodes from his cattle ranching experiences which sparked his pioneering spirit as a professional educator and writer. His creation of the social wisdom, The Best Should Teach, led to his being named a "Living Legend" by the International Biographical Centre, in Cambridge, England.
Simmie G. Plummer is a New Mexico native who has loved stories about her familiy and about New Mexico since she was a child. She taught history for more than thirty years, was a Fullbright Scholar, and the author of The Constitution Made Easier which is used by high schools throughout the USA.
Lori Musil is a native of Tucsan, Arizona, USA who currently resides in Cerrillos, New Mexico. Her work as an artist and designer has made collector's items out of the books she has helped to produce. The creative and detailed pictures testify to her love of children, horses and other animals. Lori's work encompasses a wide range of artistic media and has been shown and sold throughout the world.

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Table of Contents and Sample Excerpts

Contents

A Dedicated Book
Acknowledgements
Foreward: A Piece Of History
Prologue: The Dream

1.Half A Man
2. The Lay Of The Land
3. Education Of A Dude
4. Trail Drive Traditions
5. Top Hands
6. Hiring On
7. Getting Organized
8. Foreclosing On Cattle
9. Who's The Boss?
10. The US Brand
11. On the Trail
12. Old Coronado
13. Bisti
14. The Boss Fired Me
15. Crossing the Chaco
16. Pueblo Bonito
17. The Price Of Water
18. Strays And Fences
19. Roping Exhibition
20. Cowgirl Stops The Herd
21. Rattlesnake Contests
22. Stampede
23. Lost Government Dude
24. Loading Out

Epilogue: A Prayer Answered
Glossary
Lasca
About the Authors

From Chapter 1

The next morning, I tagged along as Dad met Threlkeld in front of the Post Office as arranged. Beside the Post Office on Main Street was a plaza with benches and a well where any thirsty traveler could pump some good drinking water. This was the place where old men gathered every day to lean against the Post Office windowsills whittling and telling yarns. With this interested audience, Dad and Threlkeld discussed the job.

My heart leaped with joy when Dad began the discussion by saying to Threlkeld: "If I am to do this job, I would want to take my son along as one of the riders. He has driven cattle before."

Threlkeld looked at me in disbelief. "Why, he's just a kid!"

"On a horse," Dad replied, "he is as much a man as anyone."

"Maybe so, but the government doesn't employ children. How old is he?"

"Almost twelve," I blurted out before Dad could answer.

There was a long pause. Threlkeld looked at me and then at Dad. Dad returned his gaze unwaveringly. I kept my eyes on my shoes. Then, seeming to sense that this might be a deciding factor in Dad's decision, Threlkeld conceded "OK, but he is too young to appear on the government payroll. You will have to list him as half-a-man and give him half pay, $16 a month.

To my delight Dad replied, "Then, I'll take the job."

I was elated beyond words, and I became officially half a man.

From Chapter 9

I was pleased when Dad gave me my first big responsibility. It was to bring back 115 steers belonging to Joe Macklin over in the Gobernador country. Dad sent two extra hands, BJ and Buster, with me. Buster had been loaned to the drive by the Macklin ranch, so he knew the country. It would be a 75-mile ride from the Gallegos ranch. Dad estimated that to be a threeday horseback ride, but a week's drive with the cattle. He gave me a copy of the foreclosure papers for 115 steers.

"Buster knows the Macklin range; he should be a help to you," Dad told me.

"Lindley is in charge," Dad told Buster and BJ "You are to follow his instructions, just as though they were mine."

I wasn't surprised at Dad's putting me in charge; I had been given responsibility over grown men before. The men assigned to me were temporary hires; Dad didn't know them very well; hence, he made me the boss. I suspected, too, that he was trying to show Buford Threlkeld that I was more than half-a-man.

Before we left on our trip I raised a matter with my dad that I had been thinking about for some time.

"Both of the men who are assigned to my team are wearing side arms," I mentioned to Dad. "Shouldn't I have a gun to wear, too?"

Dad's quick answer I have never forgotten. "If you have to have a gun to manage men, you are not cut out for the job."

From Chapter 13

Around midafternoon, Old Bay nudged the last of her charges up the steep climb out of the Bisti, and they began to join the grazing herd that spread out toward the waving flag still visible above the chuck wagon. Milton, George, Montana, and Slim Man rode back to relieve the drag riders so we could get some hot food to eat. When I reached the chuck wagon I dismounted and dropped the reins. I knew Old Bay was trained to stand and expected to return to my post after I had eaten. Firpo and Red were already there and were having great fun at my expense, bragging about my "bronc." Their mood grew more and more hilarious until suddenly Firpo jumped on Old Bay and started running her full out, fanning her with his hat and whooping. That old mare moved like I had never seen her, right toward a juniper where she swerved at the last possible second and threw Firpo into its branches. Then she sedately trotted back to the wagon and positioned herself just where I had left her.

Jim Farmer saw the whole show. *No doubt about it, the old lady is a fine judge of character,* he said and handed me a handful of corn for her.

I couldn*t have said it better myself, I thought, as I watched out of the corner of my eye while Firpo tried to wash the blood off his face where the juniper had scratched him. I held out the corn for Bay to nibble. She flicked one ear at me as if to say *Thanks.*

From Chapter 14

José laughed. "There are old stories about a monster who lives beneath the sands of the Chaco waiting for the unwary man or beast. They say it claims them for its supper."

While we were waiting for the Chaco to become crossable, my dream of being accepted as a regular hand was rudely jolted. Dad had not come back from checking the Chaco yet. I had just filled my plate with veal, beans, and biscuits. In my other hand I had a cup of hot coffee, which I was trying to learn to drink black in the cowboy tradition. I was walking away from the serving table looking for a place to sit when Firpo stuck out a foot and tripped me. Down I went, food, coffee, and dignity, flat on my face in front of everyone.

Firpo acted as though it were an accident. "Oh I'm so sorry," he apologized, "I guess I am not used to having kids around who are just learning to walk."

"You did that on purpose," Big George accused, walking toward Firpo with his fists clenched.

"Cool it," Milton Thomas called out in a stern tone, as he walked between Big George and Firpo who had gotten to his feet and was inching his right hand toward his side arm. José's knife appeared as if by magic as he walked toward Firpo. But Milton waved him back and turned on Firpo. "We'll have no more of your pranks, Firpo, or I'll throw you to the quicksand dragon."

From Chapter 12

We had about half the steers across when our luck turned. My first indication of disaster, as I watched from the safety of the south bank, was an explosion from Preacher. The contentious Macklin was not happy at being held back. He made a break for the Chaco right in an area where previous crossings had stirred up the quicksand. The whole herd of Macklin steers followed him. Tex, who was closest, rashly drove Copper to head them off. Macklin evaded him and plunged into the streambed. Immediately he encountered quicksand. Somehow he plunged on through, but his followers were not so fortunate; they began to bog down. Tex, eyes focused on Macklin went after them swinging his rope. As he threw the loop, the sorrel screamed and suddenly bogged down up to his neck. Tex, thrown to the side, turned and saw only the upstretched head of his beloved horse; he felt the sand sucking him under too. "Save Copper. Please save Copper," Tex screamed as he looked back to the spot where he had last seen his horse's head. But it was too late; he saw only swirling sand and water that marked where the horse had been sucked under. The Chaco had already claimed Copper.

Quick-witted Bronco threw a loop over the floundering Tex. "Lie flat and stop kicking," he ordered. "Let me pull you out." Tex did as he was told as Bronco dallied the rope around his saddle horn and dragged Tex toward solid ground.

It had happened so fast that I felt paralyzed. I sat on Old Bay right there on the south bank, not 200 feet away, and watched the tragedy unfold. I wanted to help but didn't know what to do. I had been told to stay with the remuda and knew I should, but something in me wanted to help Tex, to save Copper. Somehow I felt I was a shirker for not rushing to help. I would have nightmares about it for days, dreaming that I watched, unable to move, while my friend went under the sand.

From Chapter 23

"Tell us about it," Dad urged.

"Well, when I left you, I expected to send my wires to Washington, order some more hay delivered, then catch up with the drive. But because it was the weekend, it took three days for the answers to come back. While I waited, I learned that it would be useless to send hay wagons out of Farmington. They couldn't catch up with you. I thought I could buy hay from some of the ranches as we moved along. So I bought a beautiful Navajo rug for my wife and took out after you.

"But you had already passed the point where the road turns to Burnham's Trading Post. I saw your tracks, but you were not following a road. I didn't find any hay on the ranches I passed, so I decided to go on to Gallup and order hay from there. When I started to leave Burnham's, the Chaco was in flood stage. It was a quarter-mile wide and three feet deep.

"I waited at Burnham's for three days. Then when the water flow was down I decided, against Burnham's advice, to try to cross it. I told him I just had to get to Gallup. When he saw I was determined to go anyway, he said he would tie a rope onto the car and give me a pull with his saddle horse if I needed it.

"We made it almost all the way across. His horse jumped on solid sand and began to pull as the coupe started t

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Catalogue Information

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