William Taylor Gainer
Cowboy of the Range—an Ex-Confederate Soldier

William Taylor Gainer was born in San Augustine, Florida, March 9, 1840. He was the son of Redden Gainer who fought in the Battle of San Jacinto and died in the California Gold Rush in 1849. His mother died when he was a small lad. He and his sister Amanda were raised in Jackson County by their aunt, Mrs. Winnie Brown. They first landed at Galveston to come to Texana by boat. Mrs. Winnie Brown located her home on the West Carancahua Creek. His sister Amanda married Captain Sam Wildy, who took William to live with them. At that time Captain Wildy owned slaves and a large stock of cattle and was classed among the wealthy men of the county.

He married Elizabeth Wiseman, who was born April 1, 1847 and who died in 1914, and to this union were born the following children:

William Henry “Harry” Gainer
Redden Gayle
Marion Gayle
Lula Estell Gayle
Lizzie Alice Gayle
Taylor Wright Gayle
Nathaniel Wiseman Gayle

He said when he first came to Jackson County the timber between the two Carancahua Creeks was alive with game of every description—Mexican lions, bears, panthers, catamounts, deer, wolves, turkeys, geese and ducks in untold numbers. And as to alligators, he says, “The ponds and streams were so full of them and they were of such immense size that they were often killed, their skins sun dried and used for making bridges, fences and stock pens.”

Before William Taylor Gainer had attained the age of a man, he became a typical Texas cowboy of the “old school” and was at home on the prairies many years before there was a pasture fence between the Gulf of Mexico and the Arctic Ocean. He is quoted in effect as follows: “After I became large enough to ride a cow pony, my life was practically spent upon the prairies. I might say until ‘barbed wire’ pasture fences put the ‘cowboy’ of old out of business.

Mr. Gainer gave a very interesting account of his life and experiences in an interview to Col. S. M. Lesesne, which was printed in a state paper several years ago and is as follows:

“When the Civil War developed I enlisted in the Confederate service as a member of the renowned Terry Rangers. After a few months with that command in Tennessee I took the measles, and, my health failing, I was discharged from the service. I returned home, but had not been there more than two weeks until I was drafted and assigned to duty in Major Dunaway’s battalion of cavalry, which was then stationed on Padre Island. We were transferred to Mustang Island, and were not there long before the battalion was captured; Joe Herd, Tom Randall and I were the only ones whom the Yankees did not catch.

“When the gunboats and transports came in sight a call was made for volunteers to carry a dispatch to the commander at Fort Esperanza on Matagorda Island. We responded to the call. In performing this duty we had to swim Aransas Pass to St. Joseph Island, and Cedar Bayou to Matagorda Island. After discharging this duty, we crossed to the mainland and were returning to our command, but learning that it had been captured, we reported to Captain Borden, whose headquarters were near the old George Sutherland homestead on Mustang Creek in Jackson County. He put us in the courier service on the picket line between the mouth of Old Caney Creek and Brownsville.

“Captain George W. White, Confederate beef agent with headquarters at Austin, soon detailed me for collecting and buying beeves for the troops in Texas and Louisiana. I had to gather 500 per week. The people of Texas owning their stocks of cattle and having more game and beef meat than they could shake a stick at, and there being no accessible beef marker, the ranges were thoroughly black with cattle. There were fine beeves by the thousands and some of them were so large that in the distance I could hardly tell whether they were beeves or elephants.

“When I heard the news of the ‘break up’ I had 900 beeves under herd on what is the present townsite of Blessing. Shanghai Pierce brought the news to me, saying ‘For God’s Sake, turn those beeves loose. The Confederacy has gone up the spout.’

“I sent a hand to the ‘Plank Pen’ on the Mustang Creek to find out from Henry Snodgrass, who was stationed there to receive and pay for beeves, what I must do. He set me word to turn the beeves loose, and I and the hands rode off from the herd, not caring what became of them.

“After returning home and resting about a month, I returned to the prairies, and commenced branding the calves and yearlings in the numerous large and small stocks that had been placed by the owners in my charge. It took a two-horse wagon to carry the different branding irons I had to use. In the four largest stocks I branded, respectively, 700, and 1,600, and 1,800 and 2000 calves, including what I branded in the smaller stocks, and the sum total was about 10,000. In doing this work it kept my force hustling from the crack of day until late at night. Frequently when we would finish branding the round-up of the day, night would be on us and find us on jaded ponies, six or ten miles from grub and camp. On Saturdays if sundown caught us with only a few calves on hand we would round them up and brand them on horseback. I had two rules that had to be observed in my camp: We never worked on Sunday, and whiskey was never allowed in it. Both the taste and odor of it was always nauseating to me as long as I roamed the prairies and inhaled the pure ozone that floated in the invigorating Gulf breezes.

“But after returning from the ranges, I opened a hotel at the county seat (Texana).

“But returning to the prairies after the branding season had closed, I would contract to gather and deliver beeves to buyers. Once I gathered a herd of 800 beeves in Jackson County for Dave Garner of Indianola, and delivered them on the east side of the Trinity and never lost a beef. In ages they were from four to fifteen years old, and they stampeded nearly every night, but I had good ponies and cowboys that knew their business and followed the herd regardless of high water and windy weather. I have often been asked why cowboys always wore sombreros; they did so as a protection against hail and thorny brush. No matter what happened, or what kind of weather was coming, the cowboy was expected to follow and stay with his herd,

“I remember on one occasion we were holding a herd during the passing of a terrific thunder storm, and before it had passed, over four beeves were killed by lightning. I tell you the real, old time cowboys while working the range would frequently catch a taste of what General Sherman called war. They were often glad to find enough muddy water in cow tracks with which they could allay their raging thirst. They knew all about the sufferings that the extreme of heat and cold inflicted on those who had to stay in the saddle regardless of the weather. They were often called upon to risk their lives by running full speed over cracked prairies into which you could drop fence rails out of sight, or by following stampeding herds through darkness so dense that it would turn a streak of lighting. We could follow the herd by the noise of the hoofs and the popping of the longhorns as they would strike each other. It was nights like these that would make the cowboy say his prayers and think about passing through the valley of the shadow of death. On runs like these it was no trick at all for the trusty cow pony to step in a hole, turn a somersault in the air and land on his feet still running without jostling his rider out of the saddle.

“But withal, the life of the cowboy had its bright side. When the day’s work was over, and the cowboys had dispatched their supper of roasted calf ribs, biscuits and black coffee, around the campfire, they were never too tired to tell yarns, play jokes and indulge in poker games until a late hour at night.”

William Taylor Gainer in his later years was very much attached to his youngest son, Nathaniel Wiseman, who was in the World War. He would walk to town every day to get the letters from his son and was very spry in every respect. Just as soon as his son returned from the battlefields of Europe, the father seemed to have lost all interest in life. Mr. Gainer died at Edna, Texas, March 19, 1919.

The Cavalcade of Jackson County, Third Edition, pages 380-383
Used by permission of the Jackson County Historical Commission

GAINER—Edna, Tex., May 26.—William T. Gainer, aged 79 years and a pioneer resident of Edna, died at the family home in this city yesterday. Mr. Gainer was a Confederate Veteran and was one of the oldest settlers in Jackson County. He is survived by a number of grown children.—San Antonio Express, May 27, 1919