Cowboys & Caballos

Step back in time with me to the Texas Gulf Coast frontier, in the 1800s, and capture the vision of a stampeding herd of magnificent wild horses framed against the panorama of the vast Texas skyline. These equestrian beauties, their long flowing manes lifted and tossed by the wind; captivated those lucky enough to behold them running wild and free. With nostrils flaring, the pounding of their rhythmic hearts keep tempo with their thundering hooves. Their glistening hides, hot and steamy from the intense Texas sun, reveal the strength and power of their defined muscles propelling them away from their pursuers. 

Despite the beauty of these majestic steeds, they would have been as useless as a well without water and clouds without rain to the newly formed Texas ranching industry were it not for the cowboys following them fast and hard, intent on taming their wild hearts. And tame them they did. 

The Texas mustangs were first introduced here in the 1500s by the Spanish, and by the 1800s, along the Texas Gulf Coast, they were as prolific as the legendary longhorns they would be trained to herd. The Spanish mustangs eventually blended their strength and beauty with the domestic horses of the ranchers and those of the Indian tribes making the mustang in its purest form, almost extinct in this area. 

While interviewing for this publication it was the black cowboys who came to mind whenever I asked folks about memorable cowboys they remembered. Many of the cowboys on the Texas ranches in the 1800s era before emancipation were black and most had worked the land their entire life. When given a choice, a majority of them chose to remain loyal to the ranchers and the land they had grown to love and their descendants after them continued in their footsteps. 

Lester Hankamer said the best cowboy he knew who worked for his daddy was Estus Speights. “Estus was a good one,” said Lester, “he was a general good cowboy. He could rope cattle and he knew how to handle them. He knew how everyone liked to work their cattle, he didn’t get out and run ‘em to get them in the pens. He took his time and pushed them like they were supposed to be pushed, he was a good “gentle hand” worker,” he recalled. “That’s the only “real” cowboy who worked for my dad, he was the best one of the bunch. Rayfield Williams also worked for dad, and he knew how to work cattle” Lester concluded. Virginia Mayes Loya said of Estus, “He was just so darn sweet you wanted to hug him! He was a wonderful, wonderful person. He worked for my Grandma Effie Haynes for years.” 

Another well known Chambers County cowboy was Fred Johnson, born in 1883 in Double Bayou, Texas. Fred worked for James Jackson on the JHK Ranch in Double Bayou for sixty years. In his book, JHK Ranch, 1940-1963, Jim Bob said of Fred, “He knew the cattle from A to Z and taught me a lot about how to handle them. When I knew him, he was in his 70s and still very active. We had a bad “Brimmer” bull that would not stay with the herd,” Jim Bob continued. “He would run off about a half mile and paw the ground and dare anyone to come near,” he exclaimed. “Uncle James said to leave him alone as he would tear up more men and rigging than he had time to repair. However, one day Mr. Fred Johnson rode out to bring back the bull as he approached, he untied his yellow saddle slicker and when the bull was close, he unfurled it in front of his horse. That bull took an awful fright and headed for the safety of the herd!” Jim Bob declared. “Another time we had a cow that absolutely would not stay in the herd. As soon as we would rope her and bring her back, she would go out the other side. . . the next time she was roped Mr. Fred said to throw her down. When this was done, he took his oak whip handle and beat the bottoms of her feet. When she got up she was sore-footed and could not run off, but only walk with the herd,” said Jim Bob.

The following information was taken out of Peter Jenkins book 'The Untamed Coast.' 

"There used to be plenty of tough-as-leather cowboys in the Texas coastal cattle country. There weren't many left by the time I visited. This rarity was why Ralph Holmes, at age seventy-two, cowboyed for two ranches. He worked a lot for Joe Whitehead.  

Ralph had been a professional cowboy since he was twelve years old--and there are few anywhere in the world who could claim that they had been cowboying for sixty years. That's cowboying on a working ranch, not show-biz rodeoing. Ralph, who was once a champion rodeo calf-roper, knows the difference well.  

The first time I saw Ralph was from behind. He was walking toward a truck, leading his slim-built white-faced horse. And I could see that the space between Ralph's legs had been permanently formed in the exact shape of a horse's midsection, like a Chinese woman's foot that has been bound to become small. Ralph's leather chaps had been etched by thorns that slap and gouge; he wore them because he had to. His hat had deep, saturated stains from hundreds of unforgiving roundups. Ralph wore gold-rim glasses now. His gray mustache was carefully trimmed. His arms didn't swing. He kept them poised at his side, always ready to yank back on the reins, reach for his rope, pull his hat down harder in the wind, or brace for a charging cow. 

Ralph stepped strong, yet his boots did not move fast. In this dead-on summer heat, nothing moved fast unless it thought it was running for its life. 

I recently sat down to chat with Bob Kahla at the Juanita Hargraves Library in Winnie, TX, a library named in honor of his aunt, Juanita Kahla Hargraves. Bob is a well-known fixture in the Chambers County area and affectionately called “Cowboy Bob,” not because of how he dresses, although he dresses the part, but because that is who he is. His cowboy lifestyle is one that has been passed down from grandfather to father to son and one he has passed down to his children. 

Bob, in his saddle-worn faded wranglers, pearl-snap shirt, and traditional straw hat, settled back comfortably and proudly shared his Kahla cowboy heritage with me. 

“My Great Great Grandfather and his wife left Germany by ship in 1847. He and his Dutch wife were to receive the deed to land west of Galveston. They landed on Bolivar and my Gr. Gr. Grandfather died of scarlet fever soon after arrival. His son, my great grandfather, William Kahla, was born either on the ship or on the Bolivar Peninsula. His mom could not claim the land because she would have to work or farm it, so she married again. She married a German fiddler player, Johann Simon Beckshoft. My grandfather, William Kahla, grew up to be a rancher-farmer and boat captain in Bolivar.”

“He acquired 1500 head of cattle by 1900 and they were lost in the great storm. Then in 1915 he lost another 1500 head in the 1915 storm. He said he would have another herd if he lived long enough.”

“My grandfather, Louis Kahla moved to Stowell after the 1900 storm. He had ridden the storm out in the attic of a house that floated 2 miles. He said he’d never stay at Bolivar again during a storm. He worked on the Grant Cade estate ranch on Bolivar and met my grandmother, Matile Dugat, while herding cattle in Fannet.”

“He and his brothers would lope their horses from Bolivar to Fannett to dance with the Dugat girls on Saturday night. He and my grandmother bought a hotel in Stowell that became known as the Kahla Hotel. Many working men stayed there and ate their meals there while my grandfather ranched and farmed.”

“My father was a rancher and rodeo producer. There were thousands of wild horses and horses that were half broke all over the prairie, turned out by people who didn’t want to feed them. During the 1930s, my grandfather, Louis Kahla, and his cousin, Swede Kahla, put on rodeos at Patton Beach at Bolivar Peninsula. They put on the first rodeo in Southeast Texas.  I remember the arena was still there when I was a kid.” 

“Dad said they snubbed the broncs up to pick-up horses and then got on the bucking horse, because they didn’t have any chutes. They had wild cow milking, steer roping, and whatever and that was their rodeo. There was no admission fee. They barbecued a tough old jersey cow and put a lot of hot sauce on it and sold the barbecue and beer to make a little money.”

Bob said his father, Bill, was a fine horseman who was way ahead of his time as a horse trainer in Southeast Texas where they still did things the “old ways.” For example, the horses were allowed to run wild and free until they were four or five years old, then they were roped and tied up until their “heads got sore!” They were made to buck in a pen to get the “jump out of ‘em”! Then it was outside until they were run down. Bill preferred the gentler approach. He would use patience and a gentle hand to gentle break the many horses he broke and trained for ranch work. He was especially adept at teaching a horse to handle or “neck rein.”

 “After WW II there were horses everywhere. They were using tractors on the farms by then, they were still using some horses, but it wasn’t like it was when they used teams of twelve horses pulling the separators. So, they were all over the place and my dad started selling them. He wound up with so many horses that he started trying them out as bucking horses. He had a few young guys that wanted to be bucking horse riders, so he’d put them in the chutes and let them ride them. If they bucked good he’d keep them and lease them to the rodeos for $10 a night. If you leased ten horses a night that would be a $100 which was pretty good money right after the war. In 1955 he got a professional rodeo association card and started putting on professional rodeos. He put on rodeos with his stock as far away as Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi.” 

“He produced rodeos for about ten years putting on his last rodeo at the Coushatta rodeo arena in Louisiana in 1964. He leased out stock after that.” 

“I started leasing out stock to amateur rodeos when I was 13 or 14, making me the third generation of Kahla Rodeo Producers. “I started riding bulls and broncs at that time with my best friend, Buck Hamilton,” said Bob.  “I won the College National Finals in 1971 and the SRA Nationals the same year.” He proclaimed with satisfaction.”

Bob spoke with pride when speaking to me of his family. He shared his wife, Evette’s abilities as a fine horsewoman as well as his daughters’ and son, Luke. He said his daughters were natural born riders. Bob said, “Luke’s my stepson, but I’ve raised him since he was 4 years old. He’s my son as far as I’m concerned and he thinks I’m his dad, and I think that’s just fine.” 

“When my son was about four,” Bob shared, “I loaded him and my two daughters on two horses. We rode down the railroad track in Stowell. I’d drop Shelly off at the first school, then ride down the track to the high school and drop Terri off. When I did the horse pooped right in front of the school.” Bob said with a chuckle. “Luke and I continued through town to the day care near the bank. The folks at the daycare knew we were coming, so all the little kids were out there waiting for us to arrive. The kids said, “Luke’s a real cowboy!” ‘cause I had him dressed in boots and spurs with a cowboy hat and bandana.” 

Bob went on to tell me that four years ago, Luke was the world champion cutting horse trainer in the novice horse class. What a testimony to the kind of father and mentor Bob has been, imitation is the highest form of flattery. Bob continued to tell me, “He lives in a house next door to him with his family and the grandkids have a trail to our house. I like that just fine!”