Chapter 2

Having spent one winter up north, I was in no mood to spend another, so as the seasons changed, I loaded my horse on a rail car and headed west, in the general direction of Texas. With my earnings I was able to afford a berth in the Pullman car.

It was during the journey that I heard about the land for sale in the Lower Rio Grande valley south of Texas. The train I was on would be picking up passengers in Kansas City for an excursion to the Magic Valley, where crops could be planted ‘year-round’, according to the spectators that sang their praise.

With nothing better to do I signed up to tag along; especially after meeting a comely young lady who was going along with her father on the trip.

So it was that I disembarked on a railway siding in a hastily built rural setting of Swallow Texas, that certain young lady had little in common with a former soldier and roughneck driller other than her chance to flirt a little bit.

I recognized her intentions soon enough but listened to her father’s spiel anyway, He was a consummate salesman. She drew potential suitors like a ripe fruit drew flies. But if one had a mind to just enjoy looking, he could settle on her looks and behaviour, just fine.

Coming from the hill country of central Texas, the flat countryside with its ugly mesquite and cactus shrubland that surrounded the railway siding was anything but pleasant, even in the early winter, the heat was welcome compared to the chilly winds that swept the Great Plains further up north.

Two other families got off the train in town and hopped onto a wagon for a tour of the surrounding farms and fields.

The sights were inspiring, instead of corn and other grains, we were shown fields of carrots, beets, onions and cabbages. Several fields had cotton growing as high as your shoulders. But the most amazing sight was the citrus groves. Oranges as big as your doubled fists were hanging fresh on the trees in one field.

I just reached up and picked one of them, after being assured that such was acceptable behaviour. Peeling the fruit easily, I ate a slice and relished the flavour and juiciness of the fresh fruit. I shared my prize with several of the youngsters that rode on the wagon with me.

That night I spent in a hostel with several other bachelors, sleeping in an open bay. It might not have been much, but sure beat pitching tents on a dusty prairie up by San Antonio.

I listened to the others talk of their plans and wondered how they might benefit from my experiences. The next day was more of the same, riding along and looking over the farms that dotted the landscape and visiting an irrigation pumping station that brought water from the river to a demonstration farm.

It sure beat farming along the narrow strip of land beside creeks near my old home in Fredericksburg.