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About Pat
About Pat
PAT D. LANE
I was supposed to live the life my father wanted me to and be a great ballplayer. Instead I went from the penthouse to the shit house by the time I was 10. Started going to the country with my brother in laws that both were raised in Premont. I got tough damn quick. Had a falling out with my dad at 15 and I got wild. Out of high school I went to California to surf and chase good times.
4 months later I cut my ass and had over a hundred stitches in it. Recovered at my mom’s in Falfurrias. I was 18. Landed there a teenager and left a man! Here’s my story and my perspective on growing up in the country and witnessing how the many infamous Texas ranches came to be.“
Pat’s Personal Mission
Children’s Oasis Foundation
Pat’s mission is to provide donations to his daughter’s organization. Children’s Oasis Foundation is a charitable 501C3 dedicated to working with children who are neurodiverse and their families. Pat has an office inside Oasis Academy, a school for children with autism and with related mental health and developmental disabilities. It is the mission of Oasis to make an impact in the lives of unique children so they can live purposeful lives in the community.
Message From Pat
The last page in the book is my favorite story and I didn’t even write it. Maybe your family has been impacted by autism just like mine. Thank you for your support of our mission to create programs for those individuals out there that out live their caregivers.
INTRODUCTION TO PAT LANE'S BOOK:
BEFORE THE STORIES ARE LOST
To the best of my knowledge the stories within are true, and the names have not been changed to protect the guilty. The men in these stories have left this world excepting me, to pass these stories on and is the reason why I wanted to tell them. Before you plunge into these stories, it is critical that you understand, that this was at a time that is long since been gone; I strongly urge you not to try this today, the penalties if captured, will follow you for the rest of your life. Certainly, there exists many who will give anything a try, pero my stories are from an era that made this possible and please again, let it go. In 1906 two families whose names were the Hornsby’s and the Culpepper’s left their homes in La Grange, Ga. and moved to Texas. Like others, they were lured by the prospect of the available fertile land in the Rio Grande valley. The land did not yet have the water supply from the irrigation canals (resacas), so they opted for land north of the valley between Falfurrias and Premont. The Culpepper’s had a young son named Zenus who eventually married Mammie Lee Hornsby. Mammie’s brother married the Culpepper daughter, and I called him Grandpa Hornsby. We do not have a word in the English language for a brother and sister marrying a brother and sister, but in Spanish they are called cocunos. Grandpa Hornsby’s son Wayne, was my stepfather. Uncle Zenus taught Wayne and he taught me, the rest they say is history. Now that I am getting up in my years,I find myself compelled to write these stories down, if I don’t, they will be lost forever.
All these men are gone now and it was a different time than today. Driving through South Texas now and seeing the high fences makes me so sick I physically want to violently discharge my stomach contents. The land owners used their influence to changes the laws in Texas, so if caught today, they can take everything you got and lock you away, for a long time for killing one of their deer. During my time, if caught the fine wouldn’t amount to much, maybe a couple of hundred dollars. The thought of losing your virginity to a game warden or Ranch security by getting caught, was more important to me. I took that as part of the code to be an outlaw hunter. You are going to do it anyway, and none of us ever wanted to get caught, and a man should have pride in what he does. I made a resolution, that there just wasn’t any way them pecker heads were going to outsmart me! I can proudly say that I was the cause of several of them to lose a lot of sleep trying to catch me. Unlike most other outlaws around, I was taught to keep my mouth shut. Too many of them boys that got caught, did so because they ran their mouth about the deer they took. The King, Kennedy, East and some others encompass over 2 million acres where these stories occurred, and that is a
bunch of Texas controlled by a hand full of people. During my tenure, those ranches employed a plethora of suck ass pimps that would rat you out. I was taught to go in quietly, shoot one time only, leave no trace behind, and keep your damned mouth shut! It worked for many years for those who taught me and that was good enough. When I officially became an outlaw hunter, completing the required curriculum and in strict accordance with the laws and code; I went forth and made some stories of my own. We did not condone nor approve of leaving meat in the field. The thought of it alone was foreign and repugnant to our Posse, where buzzards and coyotes are allowed to feed on fresh venison. We killed those bucks for food and entertainment and never left meat in the field. I have had some wall-hangers in my sights and let them walk, because I knew retrieving that animal successfully would be questionable without running the risk of getting caught. Out of all the men I have known that killed a significant number of bucks illegally, there are but a few that were never caught. I am proud to say that I am one of those cherries. The King Ranch and game wardens had their sights set on me for years, pero they never laid a glove on me.