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LETTERS

from Old Friends and
Members of the Wyoming
Stock Growers Association

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LETTERS

from Old Friends and
Members of the Wyoming
Stock Growers Association

The S. A.

Bristol Company

Cheyenne, Wyoming

F oreword

At the annual meeting of the Wyoming Stock Growers
Association, held in Cheyenne, on Tuesday, April 7, 1914, the
following resolution was adopted:

Resolved, That it is the sense of the Association that the
President appoint an Historical Committee to gather data for a
history of the Association and development of the cattle business in
the State of Wyoming , said committee to consist of three members ,
with power to appoint a sub-committee consisting of one member
from each county in the Slate; and that every old member of the
Association is earnestly requested to furnish said committee all
memories and available data , that they may be able to properly
commemorate the pioneer history of Wyoming.

Honorable John B. Kendrick, who was then President of the
Association, appointed the following committee: Mr. N. K.
Boswell, Mr. B. J. Erwin and Mr. Harry E. Crain.

Mr. Boswell notified the Secretary that it would be impossible
for him to serve on the committee, and requested that Mr. Crain
be delegated to assume the duties of chairman.

Mr. Crain communicated with a number of the old-time
stockmen, requesting them to record their experiences of early
days on the range. But few are left to tell the story, and we
are publishing in this little pamphlet the letters written in response
to Mr. Crain’s request, printing them in the order in which they
were received. They contain much of historic interest — memories
of the picturesque days of the cattle business — typifying the
character of the men who rode the range and laid the foundation
of Wyoming’s greatest industry.

THE COWMAN — GOD BLESS HIM!

Cheyenne, Wyoming,

June 5, 1923.

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Boston, Mass., March 12, 1915.

Mr. Harry E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming,

My Dear Sir:

You ask me in your letter of March fourth for “all the
information I can think of” about the early history of the
Wyoming Stock Growers Association. This is a large con¬
tract, and having nothing but my memory to rely upon, I
fear that I might go far astray on dates and facts. These
should be accurate for any “history” but there are some
events that are deeply impressed upon my memory. If
your committee will accept reminiscences, they may prove
of interest to the present generation who are now members
of the Association, and recall to the “Old Timers” who are
still extant, some incidents of the early days when the Wyo¬
ming Stock Growers Association was recognized throughout
the West as a powerful agent for law and order in a country
so vast and so sparsely populated that the accepted legal
methods of the “effete East” were powerless to protect life
or property where every man was “a law unto himself.”

It was in the late seventies and the early and middle
eighties, that the Association reached the zenith of its power
and its usefulness. Then the “open range” included western
Nebraska, southern Dakota, eastern Montana, southern
Idaho, northern Colorado and the whole of Wyoming, with
Cheyenne as the centre of the range cattle business.

The prospective profits of the cattle business and the
picturesque life of the “cow boys” who, at that tiihe were
founding a type now renowned in song and story, attracted
men from all walks in life and of many nationalities. English¬
men like the Frewens, Irishmen like Horace Plunkett, now
Sir Horace Plunkett, and Scotchmen like John Clay, were
representative of many of their race who came to the great
West to try for a fortune, and with it get a touch of real life .

(5)

Of Americans, nearly every city of every state in the
Union had one or more of its citizens to share in the building
up of a great country. Boston was largely represented,
and there were so many Harvard graduates that a jocular
cow boy once said, so far as he could see “it took four years
for a Boston feller to go through Harvard College to fit him
to come to Wyoming to learn cow punching at $30 per month.”
But the Harvard men, like Teschemacher (or “Teschy” as
he was better known) and his friends, came and stayed.
They soon learned that the cow business was not all “picnic”
but it brought out the best there was in them and they made
good citizens, ever ready to help in the building up of the
country of their adoption.

On the first Monday in April the Wyoming Stock Growers
Association opened its annual meetings at the Court House,
Judge Carey or “Tom” Sturgis, or some other good man in
the chair. And such a gathering of real men would be dif¬
ficult to duplicate. “Cattle Kings” and “Cattle Barons”
from all over the great range country, owners of thousands of
cattle, and the “little ranchman” with fifty or one hundred
or more were there, all united in the one desire to do the best
they knew how for the business. Cooperation was the
watchword; the good of one was the good of all.

Also came the managers and general freight agents of
the railroads, bringing with them their live stock agents, to
make rates and secure contracts to carry the thousands of
fat beeves to the Chicago market in the shipping season.
Who could withstand the cheery smile of dear old Col. Hooker
of the Rock Island, or the genial comradeship of Jake Hardin
of the Burlington? It seemed almost a necessity for us to
divide our shipments that neither of these good fellows should
be disappointed.

Prominent at these meetings were the “Texas men”
who had already started their drives and “had a few more
than they had contracted to dispose of,” and the men from
Oregon who “would sell a bunch of two-year-olds that are
the finest on the range.”

Then there were present the foremen of the various
ranches, who were there to see that the roundups in their

(6)

districts should be arranged to their satisfaction. And the
interested visitors, “tenderfoot” perhaps, who contemplated
buying into the business; and other strangers who came from
curiosity to see how this great industry of cattle raising was
controlled.

All these made a large gathering that taxed the capacity
of the Court House to the limit. Three days were usually
expended before all the business of the Association was
transacted and the meeting adjourned, but the entire week
and longer elapsed before the various elements had finished
what they came for and departed; a busy week for everybody.

In these reminiscences one must not forget the Cheyenne
Club which was so closely identified with the cattle interest,
opening its hospitable doors to all comers and adding greatly
to the cordial relations existing. Many a contract was closed
in the evenings “after the meetings” and the spirit of good-
fellowship was strengthened while discussing some knotty
subject and a “cold bottle” seated around the cafe table.
One of our young English friends expressed the idea when he
said: “Cow punching, as seen from the veranda of the
Cheyenne Club, was a most attractive proposition.”

Gone are the glorious days of the “open range.” The
“Cattle Barons” and the “Cowpuncher” followed closely
the Indian and the Buffalo, to prepare the way for the Granger
and more civilized conditions. Many of the “Old Timers”
have “gone across the Range” but in the hearts of all who
yet live, there is a warm spot for those good old days and a
thorough appreciation of the great work done for that new
country by the Wyoming Stock Growers Association.

Give my kindest regards to all the friends.

Yours very truly,

(7)

New York, March 15, 1915.

Mr. Harry E. Crain,

House of Representatives,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

My Dear Sir:

Your letter of the 4th inst. has been received and read
with pleasure and interest. I do not believe that I can give
you anything but a brief statement relative to the Wyoming
Stock Growers Association, for although my recollection of
the years I spent in Wyoming and especially of my experience
in the Association, is of the most pleasant nature, it is now
twenty-four years since I returned to the East.

I went out to Cheyenne as an executive officer of the
North American Cattle Company, a company organized by
Mr. Thomas Sturgis and his brother-in-law, Mr. C. G. Weir.
As this company established its headquarters in the office
occupied by the Union Cattle Company and the Wyoming
Stock Growers Association, I soon became interested in the
activities of the latter organization, first in a clerical capacity,
and later as Mr. Thomas Sturgis’ successor as Secretary of
the Association.

When I settled in Cheyenne, I found the Wyoming
Stock Growers Association a full-fledged, well-organized
and very efficient organization. Mr. Thomas Sturgis was at
that time, by common consent, and in spite of all contem¬
porary criticism of some of his policies, the leading figure and
guiding spirit of the Association, although he relied upon the
counsel and active support of as fine a body of men as ever
were banded together for good and a common cause.

Among these I remember Joseph M. Carey, N. R. Davis,
A. T. Babbitt, H. E. Teschemacher, Horace Plunkett, Dennis
Sheedy, Henry G. Hay, John Clay, F. E. Warren, W. C.
Irvine, Bartlett Richards, John B. Thomas, A. H. Swan,

(8)

W. C. Lane, G. B. Goodell, T. B. Hord, E. B. Bronson, T.
W. Peters, George W. Baxter, and many others.

The main function of the Association was the annual
districting of the territory for roundup purposes. Repre¬
sentatives from all sections of the territory attended the
annual meeting of the Association and before adjournment
a complete round-up list was prepared, setting forth in great
detail the district boundaries, the names of foremen, the place
and time for the assembling of each roundup, etc.

Considering all the difficulties of the problems to be
solved, this part of the Association work was always extra¬
ordinarily well done, evidencing unusual executive and
practical ability on the part of the governors.

Another, and perhaps the most important of the features
of the services rendered by the Association was the inspection
of shipments at the Stock Yards in Omaha and Chicago by a
staff of experienced men, experts in the matter of brands,
who kept constantly on the lookout for mavericks and strays,
sending their reports to the secretary’s office in Cheyenne,
which in the aggregate represented a substantial recoverable
value to the members of the Association.

Second to none in importance and efficiency was the
Detective Department, under the skillful management and
direction of Mr. N. K. Boswell — a man, who, with rare
courage and discretion, successfully performed a most difficult
duty and supplied, in those days of freedom from restraint
amounting almost to license, the only semblance of authority,
law and order that was at all tangible. It can be safely said
that without the soothing influence exerted upon the 4 hustler”
of those days by the existence of the well-organized and ener¬
getic detective bureau of the Association, the life of the
cattleman in Wyoming might have been less free from loss
and anxiety.

In another direction the Association rendered invaluable
service to its members and to the country generally, by the
employment of a high-class veterinary, under whose constant
watchfulness disease among cattle was surely detected and
promptly dealt with.

(9)

I had the honor to serve as a member of the last Terri¬
torial and the first State Legislatures, and it was as a member
of the latter body, that I first interested myself in the formu¬
lating of the law which converted the Association from an
association of individuals to a state organization, or rather
an organization recognized and regulated by the law of the
state.

An organization like the Wyoming Stock Growers Asso¬
ciation was naturally subject to, and probably deserved,
some criticism, but in the main it may be truly said that it
fulfilled its purpose admirably, and that although it may have
had to adapt itself to changing conditions, it probably is
today still serving a very useful purpose in the community.

With kindest regards to all the surviving members of the
“Old Guard”, I remain,

Yours cordially.

(10)

Grayrocks, Wyo., March 20, 1915.

%

Hon. Harry E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

My Dear Sir:

In response to your esteemed favor of the 19th inst.,
asking me to give you some information of my early recollec¬
tions of the cattle business of the country for the information
of a committee of which you are a member, I respectfully
submit the following statement:

In the summer of 1868, Mr. Benjamin B. Mills of Fort
Laramie, went to Kansas, Iowa, and Missouri, and purchased
250 cows and one or two bulls, which he drove to Fort Laramie,
arriving there during the month of October, ’68. He turned
them loose on the Laramie River about six miles west of the
Fort, and had good success with them during the winter and
spring. Early in the summer of 1869, the Sioux Indians
raided his herd and drove off some thirty head or more, none
of which were ever recovered, as no white man was allowed to
cross the North Platte at the time for any purpose.

About the latter part of October, 1869, the Indians made
another raid on the herd and drove off sixty odd head, con¬
sisting of cows and calves. On this raid, the Indians danger¬
ously wounded the herder, Michell Miguel, a Mexican.

In March, 1870, the Indians again raided the herd and
drove off some twenty -five or thirty head, which reduced
the herd to about 120 of the original stock, but there had been
a fairly good increase.

Soon after the last raid, March, 1870, Mr. Mills moved
the herd from the Laramie River to Chugwater Creek, and
located it four miles south of Bordeaux, at the junction of
Richard Creek, where he established a camp with three herders
living in tents.

(11)

During the month of June, 1870, the Indians raided this
camp and drove the herders off and then killed four milk cows
and their young calves, pillaged the camp and burned every¬
thing they could find about the camp.

In October, 1870, I established myself at what is now
Bordeaux, and went into the general ranching business.
Mr. Mills then moved the herd to the immediate vicinity of
my ranch and his herders lived with me. Sometime during
the summer of 1871 Mr. Mills died. Gibson Clark was
appointed administrator of the Mills estate and sold all the
property at public auction in October, ’71. This herd was
known as the “Ben” Mills herd, but was a partnership con¬
cern, being owned by B. B. Mills and William G. Bullock,
and at the sale, as above mentioned, I purchased the Mills
undivided half interest. I had full charge and continued to
run the herd on the Chug water until the fall of the year 1876,
when I moved the bulk of it to La Prele and Box Elder Creeks,
south and west of Fort Fetterman. In 1877 I moved all the
herd to Box Elder.

After purchasing an interest in the herd, I rebranded all
the cattle by starting the SO brand in November, 1871. I
also started the LD brand at the same time. In September,
1880, I sold the herd to Williams and Smith, and commenced
the ups and downs of life of a ranchman, with the LD brand
at Bordeaux. About 1882 Williams and Smith sold the SO herd
to Taylor, Coffee & Gill, and later J. M. Carey & Bro. bought
the same herd from Taylor, Coffee & Gill.

In August, 1871, Jules E. Coffey and Adolph Cuny put a
herd of about 600 head on the Sibylee (or Sibyl , I am not sure
which) creek, locating at what is now known as the = (Two
Bar) ranch. They erected good improvements and had varied
success for two or three years and then sold out to Swan Bros.

About the same time, 1871, F. M. (Butcher) Phillips
established his ranch at the mouth of Chugwater creek. He
started with steers mostly bought from Iliff, but in 1873 had
enlarged to several thousand, and in 1885 sold all his holdings
to Whipple & Hay.

In the fall of the year 1872, Mr. Levy Powell was taking
a mixed herd of about 2,200 head through to Montana or

(12)

Idaho, and as it was late in the season, decided to winter on
the North Laramie River, and located at the mouth of Fish
creek, about two and one-half miles west of Uva. While
looking after his cattle in, I think, March, 1873, he was killed
by Indians on Fish creek. Some of the cattle were run off
by the Indians, and “Butcher” Phillips bought the remainder.

The foregoing are some of my off-hand recollections of
the early cattle business. I may be mistaken, but I believe
the “Ben” Mills herd was the first of its size to be established
(1868) in this part of the country for the purpose of stock
raising.

I could give more reminiscences of herds and men, but
imagine that it would only amount to repetition of what you
will get from others. I will add, however, that in September,
1874, Johnson & Walker put a herd of 3,000 Texas steers and
cows on Horseshoe creek where the “Fetterman Cut-off”
road crosses. This was the first herd located on that creek.
They were attacked several times by Indians in ’75 and ’76
and lost one or two herders, but managed to save most of
their cattle.

Yours very truly.

(13)

Denver, Colorado, March 22, 1915.

Mr. H. E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

My Dear Sir:

In answer to your letter of March 19, 1915, I will say:

I left Independence, Missouri, on the eighth day of May,
1849, for California, up the North Platte, by way of old Fort
Laramie — then in the Dakotas, now Wyoming — at that
time an American Fur Company post. Stayed in California
until 1852 in the mines; back by way of the Isthmus to In¬
dependence, Missouri, in 1853; drove six yoke of cattle to a
freight wagon to Sante Fe, New Mexico, and back in the fall.
The freight train consisted of about twenty-five wagons and
about thirty men. In 1854 I drove ten mules over the same
route to Sante Fe, New Mexico, loaded with merchandise for
merchants in Sante Fe — about thirty ten-mule teams in
the train T — and back in the fall.

In 1855 I went with a mail party from Independence,
Missouri, to Sante Fe, New Mexico, working for the mail
contractors, Hockaday & Hall, in which business I remained
until 1857. The mail went each way every month, taking
about twenty-one days to make the trip, allowing the balance
of the time for lay-over for the teams to rest. We had many
difficulties with the Indians at different times. In September,
1856, Colonel Sumner had a fight with the Cheyenne Indians
in the Smoky Hill country, and I met him at Little Arkansas
as he was on his way to Fort Leavenworth and I was on my
way with a mail party to Sante Fe, New Mexico. He was
camped below the road some distance and sent an orderly up
to tell me that he wanted to see me. I went down to his
camp and he told me that he had had a fight with the Cheyenne
Indians on the Smoky Hill and had killed some eleven of them
and that I had better look out on my route crossing the

(14)

Arkansas. He thought that I might come in contact with
these Indians and they would be on the war path. I asked
him for an escort until I met the incoming mail to Indepen¬
dence, and he said his mules were poor and he could not furnish
me with an escort. I told him that I would have to go ahead
and do the best I could, I supposed, without an escort, which
I did. After I crossed the Arkansas, in the sand hills some
ten miles from the crossing, one evening I ran into a band of
about one hundred Cheyenne warriors, all painted up and on
the war path. They jerked me off the seat of the coach and
wanted to know if I was “capitan” — meaning the man in
charge. I told them yes. They said that they had had a
fight with the Great White Father’s soldiers, who had killed
some of them. They took the wood off the top of my coach,
built a little fire, got out their pipes and formed a ring around
the fire with us mail boys inside of it. They told us that on
account of the soldiers having killed some of their party, they
wanted revenge, and proposed to take it out on us, but I
out-talked them. They had a little Mexican boy along whom
they had captured a few years before, who had learned to talk
the Cheyenne language and I had a man who could talk
Spanish. I interpreted through my % man to their boy and the
boy interpreted to the Indians what I wanted to say. I told
them that there were plenty of them, they could kill us and
to go ahead and kill us. We could not help ourselves as they
outnumbered us and had overpowered us. But I said the
Great White Father to whom the papers that I was carrying,
will kill all of you if you kill us, so there won’t be any of you
left. They talked among themselves — one party of them
was for letting us go and the others wanted to kill us, and after
six hours’ jangling amongst themselves, they decided to let
us go. I told them that as they had taken all of our supplies
and we had several hundred miles to go before we could get
to Fort Union and get something to eat, I would have to turn
back on the trail I had made that day and catch up with a
freight train of Majors Russell and Waddell, that I had passed
early that morning to get more supplies before I could con¬
tinue my journey.

(15)

They finally agreed to let me go back and formed a line
on both sides of the road as we turned around, and there was
where I expected they would “feather” me as we went back.
I went back to the train, got there about daylight that morning,
and we fed our mules and laid down and took a sleep and when
we got up the train had pulled out. We got something to
eat, hitched up and overtook the train, and travelled with it
up to the place where the Indians had attacked us. Then
we went on and made our time in to Sante Fe with the mail,
traveling night and day as we had lost several days.

Some six years after that, on Horseshoe, at Ben Holli¬
day’s old stage line station, I met one of those Indians who was
with the party that attacked us up on the Arkansas in 1856,
and he told me that after they let us go that night they made
up their minds to kill us, and that they took after us but
didn’t overtake us.

In the fall of ’58, I took a train of thirty-six eight-mule
teams from Atchison, Kansas, loaded with supplies and
merchandise for Livingstone & Kinkaid, to Salt Lake, Utah.
Our mules were all wild and the weather was bad for Sep¬
tember. The mules got so thin and poor that we had to winter
at Fort Laramie. In the# spring of ’59 we continued our trip
on to Salt Lake and unloaded our wagons at Salt Lake and
Camp Floyd. Camp Floyd was a government post com¬
manded by Johnson. We left the mules in Utah that summer,
as Hoard & Smith, the owners of them, thought that they
could sell them to the government. But they didn’t sell them
and the mules were taken back to Independence, Missouri,
that fall. Meantime, I went back to Independence ahead of
the mules and in the fall drove them to St. Louis and put
them on the mule market there and they were sold.

In March, ’60, I drove a four-mule team to Denver for
two men by the names of Ki Harrison and Sid Barnes. The
wagon was loaded with nails. Nails at that time were worth
25c a pound in Denver. The latter part of March, 1860, I
went up into California Gulch in the vicinity of what is now
Leadville. There were some 3,000 people in the gulch that
summer when I was there, would be my guess. I mined
there that summer, came back to Denver in the fall of 1860,

(16)

and wintered in Denver down on Blake and Sixteenth Streets,
in a little old frame house where the American House now
stands.

In the spring of ’61 I went to Fort Laramie and got a
hay contract from the Government to furnish 100 tons of
hay at the post at $29.00 a ton. Another man and I cut it
with scythes. I put in that contract that summer and in
the fall of ’61 went to work for Ben Holliday on the Overland
Stage line, and ran as messenger from Julesburg to South Pass
several trips, and the superintendent of Slade’s put me in
charge of the transportation of the bull teams. I had charge
of them, putting in wood and hay at the stations along the
route. I would place five or six teams at a station and put
a man in charge of them, and he would go ahead and put in
hay and wood according to my directions, and I would travel
up and down the line on the stage coaches and see that the
work was carried out, etc.

In ’62 they moved the stage line from the North Platte
road across to Denver, and they then ran from Denver to
La Porte, Cache La Poudre and up Cherokee Trail to Bitter
Creek, there intercepting the old road. We established the
Virginia Dale station as headquarters. I got out the logs to
build that station with.

In ’63 I quit the stage line and went back over to Fort
Laramie and during the summer traded with the emigrants
who were on their way to California and Oregon. I traded
them well stock for lame stock, etc., and followed that up until
1864. In the fall of ’63 E. W. Whitcomb and I were putting
up a lot of hay in Chugwater and cutting it with scythes, to
feed our horses on that winter, right where the old station
stands now. It was pretty tough, hard work, and I got tired
one day, threw my scythe into a bunch of willows and told Mr.
Whitcomb that if I could not make a living without cutting
hay with that damn scythe, I would starve and so I quit my
job.

In 1865 I went across to Fort Hallack near Elk Mountain.
In the fall of ’65, E. W. Whitcomb and I came down to Cache
La Poudre, Colorado, and wintered.

(17)

i

In 1866 I went back over to Fort Laramie. In the fall
of ’66 I went down to Nebraska City, Nebraska, and bought
six five-yoke bull teams and wagons, loaded them with groceries
and provisions, and came back up to Horse Creek, forty miles
below Fort Laramie, and bought out a man by the name of
Tod Reynolds who had a little store there. I put my goods in
it and fixed to stay there that winter. That year Ed Creighton
of Omaha was building the telegraph line across to Salt Lake
from Omaha, and I got a contract for getting out telegraph
poles for him. I sent my men up Horse Creek to Bear
Mountain to get out the poles and hired two men with four-
mule teams to haul them down to the store on the road. The
Indians came along through the country up on the Laramie
River and ran off a band of horses from different parties who were
living on the Laramie at that time, and on their way across
through Goshen Hole they ran across my two men loaded
with telegraph poles. They killed and scalped the men, took
their mules and went on. The next day after that there was
a party of men from the Laramie river following their trail
and they discovered where they had killed and scalped my
men — it was winter time and the bodies were lying there
frozen hard and stiff. They came down to my store and told
me about it. I wanted to send word up to my men to pack
up and move their teams and everything down to the store.
I had a little Indian boy living with me, so I wrote a note,
gave it to him and told him to go up to the camp and I in¬
structed him not to go by those wagons, for I knew that if
he saw those dead men there he would come back without
going to my camp, so I told him to go around the wagons.
But he had to go by the wagons and when he saw them he
took the back trail and came back; so we got up a party and
went up the next day to my camp and got my cattle and
wagons and men together, and came back by the two wagons
wThere the men were killed, loaded them on, brought them do wn
to the store and buried them the next day. The Indians got
so bad through the country that I had to move up nearer to
the fort for protection, so I packed up, loaded everything on
and left the store building standing by itself. It wasn’t a
great while until the Indians burned that down.

(18)

In ’67 I bought some more teams from a man by the
name of Kerr and took a wood and hay contract at Fort
Laramie. That fall I sold my teams to Jim Porter and he
loaded them with grain and stuff for the government at Fort
Laramie, Fort Reno and Fort Phil Kearney.

In the spring of ’68 I bought some teams, took a contract
for helping move the government posts Fort Reno and Fort
Phil Kearney down to Fort Steele in Wyoming. During that
time, just after I got back off that trip in the fall, I was living
on Horse Creek twenty-five miles north of Cheyenne. The
Indians came along and run off twenty-four or twenty-five
horses — all I had except one.

In 1869, a man named John Richards and I took a wood
and hay contract for Fort Fetterman. We went up in the
spring and started in to work on our contract. He was to
put in the hay and I was to put in the wood. He had mule
teams and I had ox teams. During the summer he got
drunk, and riding along in front of the sutler’s store at Fort
Fetterman, he shot and killed a soldier who was sitting along¬
side of the store and then went with the Indians who were
on the war path. I was at that time camping on Deer Creek
above the fort some thirty miles. We were then working on
the hay. The Indians came along one day and got after my
men who were running the mowers and they all got into the
brush and willows and beaver dams and lay there two days and
came into camp at night as wet as rats. I could not get them
to cut any more hay, so I went to Omaha to the chief quarter¬
master and tried to get the contract annulled, but they needed
the hay and he would not stand for it. The men would not
do any more work while I was away. I came back down to
the Chugwater along about December. I had to hitch up
my train and come over to Cache La Poudre in Colorado,
and bought the hay and had it baled and hauled it up to
Fort Fetterman about two hundred miles, all at $20.00 per
ton. I lost about $5,000 on the one hundred tons of hay. I
had William M. Brown in charge of the train.

In July, 1870, I sold all my work cattle to a man by the
name of Pritchard. We loaded them right where the Chey¬
enne depot now stands into the cars in one of those little short

(19)

chutes that they loaded and unloaded horses in. They were
the first cattle loaded and shipped out of Wyoming and went
to Paris for beef, as it was the time of the Franco-German
war. I got $70 per head for them and Pritchard got about
$150 per head.

In the fall of 1870 came my first experience in the range
cattle business. That fall I bought 200 head of two-year-old
heifers on the Chugwater. The country was all open then and
I had good success with the cattle. I think I had about ten
Durham bulls with this bunch of cattle. The only range
stuff in the country at that time was that of Bullock & Mills,
Later Bullock & Hunton had a small bunch of cows below the
mouth of Richard, known as SO ranch.

In the winter of 1871 and 1872 I got a government beef
contract at Fort Fetterman. I bought my beef cattle to fill
that contract from Ab Loomis, who lived on the Cache la
Poudre in Colorado. They were mostly dry cows.

I stayed on the ranch then at Chugwater with this herd
of cattle until 1884 when I sold out to a Scotch company.

In February, 1873, (?) the association was formed known
as the Laramie County Stockmen’s Association. Mr. W. L.
Kuykendall was secretary. The association was composed of
the few stockmen in the country who had a number of herds
in Western Nebraska, northern Colorado and at that time,
southeastern Wyoming. The purpose of this association was
to further the interests of the range cattle business, the prin¬
cipal work of which was to get a record of the brands and to
formulate a system of roundups. M. V. Boughton was the
first president of the association. We used to hold meetings
in Judge Kuykendall’s court room in the old probate court,
and had some very warm times in discussing the best way to
handle this new business, but we had an exceptionally good
class of men in with us, which made the results of the associa¬
tion very productive. A little later the cattle industry began
to grow. Large interests came from eastern money centers,
such as Boston, and this business developed into the largest
industry in the West. In about 1879 this little association
was merged into what was known as the Wyoming Stock-

growers Association, of which A. H. Swan was the first presi¬
dent and Tom Sturgis, secretary.

This association protected the stockgrowers when they
made their shipments to Chicago, which, at that time, was the
only market, by having inspectors at the points to which they
were shipped, to inspect the brands. When sold, the proceeds
of any man’s brand — it did not make any difference who
had shipped the cattle — were held out and sent to the owner.
The mavericks on ranges were generally conceded to belong
to the man who owned the stock on that range, or what they
considered his range. Later on, the mavericks were sold and
the proceeds turned into the association. These systems were
adopted at the annual meetings, which were held in Cheyenne
the first week in April of each year, at which time there was a
gathering of all cattle kings, ranchmen and ranch foremen of
the different outfits, who were always there to see that the
roundup districts were divided so that they could be handled
without too much confusion and for the benefit of all con¬
cerned.

After selling out, I handled some stock down on Bear
Creek at the Y Cross ranch. I did not consider I was in the
stock business after I sold out on Chug water in 1884.

The association is still in existence and has proven to be a
great success in the western country, Wyoming especially.

Yours truly,

t

(21 )

Denver, Colorado, March 24, 1915.

Mr. Harry E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

My Dear Sir:

I have your favor of the 22nd inst., in reference to con¬
versation I had with you on the morning of the 21st regarding
the Wyoming Stockgrowers Association, whose headquarters
were at Cheyenne.

I was one of the executive members of the association for
six years. The service the association was to render was to
agree on roundups at different parts of the country where it
was most desirable, and for inspector’s service and such other
work as was necessary for the protection and welfare of the
stock interests of Wyoming and the western country in
general.

I well remember Mr. Thomas Sturgis, Mr. Lane, Mr.
Goodell, Alex Swan and Will Swan, also Judge Carey, F. E.
Warren and many others who were members of the associa¬
tion at that time. I also remember very well Mr. Tesche-
macher, Mr. de Billier, Mr. Van Tassell, Mr. John Kuykendall
and Mr. Hi Kelly as being some of the men I was well ac¬
quainted with in those days, as well as Bosler Brothers, who
were my neighbors on the North Platte, and Pratt & Ferris
who were also located on the North Platte.

The meeting of the association was quite an event each
year and there was a renewal of acquaintance and trading in
stock. Many Texas stockmen attended th£ meetings and
while there made sales of southern cattle to the northern
ranchmen. The association had among its members men from
all parts of the world.

Mr. F. E. Warren has since been, and is now, United
States Senator, and the representation on the board or the
executive committee of the Wyoming Stockgrowers Associa-

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tion was a class of men of very high order, capable of engaging
in almost any kind of business they might have chosen, but
they preferred the western, outdoor life and sunshine that went
with the stock business, as well as the profit that was supposed
to be made out of cattle at that time. This was one of the
incentives, but there were others equally as great.

I remember Colonel Hooker, who was stock agent for
the Rock Island Railroad -at that time, and there are many of
the Texas stockgrowers whom I remember very well, among
them being Major Seth Maybry, Captain Millett, and John
Lytle. These men drove their cattle from Texas to the
northern market.

The business was very attractive in many ways excepting
the risk and hazard of hard winters and Indian raids, which
did occur in the early days. The winters were very severe
on the herds of cattle and in 1884 the range losses were con¬
siderable, but with free grass and water, good shelter and no
taxes, it took but a few years to work out of our losses and still
have a profit in the business.

The Calf-branding season was very interesting, and it
took considerable riding to roundup the cows and calves.
When the large herds were brought from the south, they were
all re-branded with the brand that belonged to the ranch.
This was quite an event as it took many days to brand the
large herds that were bought in those days and turned on the
range.

The season for shipping beef cattle was also very exciting.
Cutting out the beeves from the herds and driving them to
the railroad for shipment required considerable time. From
two to three months were consumed in the shipping of beeves
to Chicago, to which market most of the cattle went at that
time, although some were sold in Omaha.

There was no conservation of the public domain at that
time and beef sold at less than one-half what it is selling for
now and the consumers thereof were given cheaper beef than
they have been given since the conservation law has been in
force. Settlers that have come into the country have taken
up some of the range, it is true, but there are thousands of
acres of good grass that go to waste every year, and were it

(23)

not for this conservation law, I feel that beef would be very
much cheaper than it is now, as free grass has always made
cheap beef and would continue to do so were the laws the
same now as they were when I was in the business.

Trusting that these reminiscences of the business in which
I was engaged many years ago, will be satisfactory to you
and serve your purpose, I am

Very truly yours,

(24)

Chadron, Nebraska, March 31, 1915.

Mr. Harry E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Dear Sir:

Your letter of the 20th inst. at hand. You ask me to
write you something about the early days of Wyoming and
the ups and downs of which I have been guilty. It would,
however, take lots of thought and paper to tell all of it.

I remember the first stock association that was ever
organized in Wyoming. It was in 1874, I think, might have
been later. However, it was held in a livery stable. M. V.
Boughton was president and Judge Kuykendall was secretary.
We had no roundup districts at our first meetings.

I consider myself about one of the oldest timers in the
cattle business. My start as a cattleman was very humble,
being a hired man, but a boss of other hired men. In 1871,
when I was yet quite a young man, I hired out to D. H. & J.
W. Snyder to drive a herd of cattle from Texas to Wyoming
Territory. They were driving ten herds with about 1,500
head to the herd. In those days driving through was a hard¬
ship, as we had to break the trail, fight Indians and scare
buffaloes out of the way to keep them from stampeding our
cattle. There were thousands of them after striking Kansas
and Nebraska.

We had lots of fun with the early settlers while going
along. They would catch us grazing or watering our cattle
on their lands and would demand pay nearly every time.
As I was a little stubborn, I got out of paying many times,
but when I was met by fifteen or twenty men with shot guns,
I would come through. Having but little money, I often
settled with lame cattle — and didn’t steal them back either.

Well, we got through to Cheyenne along in August, after
three months on the trail. As no one there wanted to try

(25)

raising cattle on the plains, the herd, excepting about 1,200
steers, fours and up, went on to Idaho. Those steers were
picked from all the herds to get the number and John and Tom
Durbin were the buyers. As we had to sell by weight, it was
up to us how to do it. We cut out about 300 head, took them
to town and weighed them and finally averaged the whole at
1,200 pounds. They were good ones and fat, perhaps more so
on account of having had the best and freshest grass in the
world — and we were not used to handling cattle and did
not run them to death.

Well, the rest of those cattle went on to Rosses Crossing
on Snake River, Idaho, and struck some nice; snow storms.
To a Texas cowpuncher who had never seen snow, it looked
like 4 ‘the other place” on the plains.

That winter I went back to Texas and in 1872 the same
parties drove only three herds, one of which I had. We got
thru to Cheyenne all right and sold one herd to J. H. Durbin,
one herd to Judge J. M. Carey and one to F. M. Phillips, who
lived close to old Fort Laramie on the Laramie River. I had
to deliver and turn over the cattle to him and I had a time with
the tally, as the Snyders wanted him to take the Texas tally
and he would not. So I tallied out and they did not tally
with the Texas tally — less yearlings, more two-year-olds,
and so on, making quite a difference when he had to pay for
them. As they were fairly classed I could do nothing
but hold him to his trade. By the time I got the herd off
my hands, the Snyders had bought about 10,000 cattle from
the Dalton Bros, of Texas, and had to receive them at Oga-
lalla, so I had to go there and help tally them out.

When we sold to Durbin Bros. I had to deliver the cattle
on Horse Creek. Durbin went through ahead with a wagon
and planted pine trees for us to drive by. He asked me to
trail the cattle as long as possible so as to make a trail to
travel by. We did, and that old road is there today.

One little incident I have never forgotten. When I was
cutting ages, John Durbin wanted to know what I went by
in telling a yearling from a two-year-old. I described the
difference in their horns, so he said: “You go by the horns?”

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which I admitted. We were getting along fine until a big
two-year-old came out and I called to him: “One two-year-
old.” Durbin says: “Hold, on, he has no horns and I call
him a yearling.” I had to let him go as such for I had lost
my key.

I went back to Texas when the geese began to move.
By that time I thought that I had better be getting into the
cattle business for myself. I hunted up a partner who had
about as much money as I did, was a cow man and had been
on the Chisum trail. A. H. Webb was his name. We bought
a herd of cattle, about 1,500 head, paid for part of them and
gave notes for the balance. We made for Cheyenne in the
summer of 1873. It being a panic year, we could not sell for
as much profit as I wanted, so I held the cattle and wrote
back to find out if they would hold our paper for another year.
I was favorably answered — that they would if we would pay
them 2% per month or 24% per year. That almost tickled
us to death as we were paying 3% per month for what we were
getting at Cheyenne banks.

So I located a ranch on Box Elder Creek, sixty -five miles
north of Cheyenne. There had never been a cow track in
the country, so the grass was fine and cattle got fat. I got a
contract to furnish about sixty cows a month and drive them
to the post at Ft. Laramie. I had a hard time but was paying
up our notes. I did not know until then that I was so tough.
I was from Texas but could wallow in snow at thirty below.
By the next fall with what beef we had we paid off all our
debts.

I remember that I sold steers to bullwhackers for work
steers. As cattle men were afraid to scatter their brands in
this way, I could get $25.00 more per head for them than they
were worth. The road ran within about five miles of my
ranch. I would go down when these bullwhackers came
through, get the boss and ride among my cattle and he would
pick out the ones he wanted. Then the trouble would begin.
They wanted each wild steer necked to one of their tame steers.
I would get a necking on a tame steer and rope a wild one and
get my rope through the necking on the tame one and take a

(27)

turn with my horse and pull them together — then they would
tie the two steers together.

On that ranch the Indians kept us stirred up for five or
six years. We carried guns on our saddles all the time and
never thought of going to the spring after water without a
gun in one hand and a bucket in the other, and took guns along
with us when we went to milk the cows. When I built the
ranch house I made the windows so high that no one could
shoot us in the night.

I stayed there until times got too tame for me, then sold
out to Sturges & Lane in 1879 and bought a herd of cattle
and moved north to where I now have a Hereford ranch in
Hat Creek Valley, fifteen miles from Harrison, Neb. That
was a fresh range and of course there were lots of hardships.
We had to get all our supplies from Cheyenne, 175 miles
away, and freight everything by wagons. As we had to
bring heavy loads, sometimes it would take a month to make
the trip.

Well, I have my ranch there yet, but I had to get deeds
to the lands I occupy, as Uncle Sam and I could not agree.
We came very near running together once. I thought I was
the fellow who discovered that country but he sent a bunch
out from Washington in 1883 and surveyed me out of house
and home and told me what I could do. I wanted to treat
with them but they would give me no red wagons so I had to
take my medicine.

I lived quietly there until 1885. Then the Northwestern
Railroad came poking in and brought the festive grainger.
Then trouble did begin. It was not like the Indians for one
couldn’t shoot and the only way I could do to get even was to
go into the banking business, so I am there. I also bought
out a ranch oil Raw Hide creek in 1886 and am running cattle
there now. I got so old that I have to have a partner, so the
firm name of that ranch is Coffee & Tinnin.

The Snyder Bros, for whom I drove are half -uncles to
Mrs. J. B. Kendrick, the wife of the governor of Wyoming.

I live in Chadron, Neb., but my heart is very soft for
Wyoming. I lived in Cheyenne for quite a few years and all

(28)

my children were born there. Take it back from 1871 up
to 1881, Cheyenne and Wyoming were a little wild and great
changes have taken place. I am glad that I am alive.

Yours truly,

(29)

Cheyenne, Wyo., April 3, 1915.

Mr. H. E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Dear Sir:

I arrived in Cheyenne, Wyoming, on September 6, 1876.
There was a sand storm, which to me, was a wild comparison
to my home I left in “Old Virginia”, where everything was
beautiful with growing crops, flowers and vegetation of all
kinds. There were about twelve trees in Cheyenne. The
sidewalks were two boards about twenty inches apart. There
was only one school house — the Central — with its newly-
added west wing.

My brother, Charles E. Clay, had previously come west
when Wyoming was Dakota. He worked for Mr. William
Bullock at Fort Laramie, who was a friend of my father’s
back in Virginia.

I lived on a ranch near old Chimney Rock. The Indians
would sometimes raid down on the ranchers and drive off
their stock and horses. While I lived on Chugwater, I met
Wm. Booker, John and Tom Hunton, Hi Kelly, E. W. Whit¬
comb, Tom Maxwell, A. Loomis, McFarlands, McUlvan,
Searight, Ashenfelter, Kerr, S. Doty, Z. Thompson, Colin
Hunter, Phillips, A. H. Reel, Tom Kent and many others.
We were all neighbors and enjoyed all the free western hos¬
pitality and amusements which were dances, and often went
sixty miles to attend, starting early in the morning, arriving
at our destination at sun-down, where a warm supper was
awaiting us. Then dancing would begin and continue until
sun-up. At midnight we had supper, then as soon as it became
day-light, breakfast was served. Then we would start for
home, weary and sleepy after being gone two days and one
night.

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The doors of the houses were always open; the latch¬
string always being on the outside and any traveller could go
in and prepare himself a meal which was freely given.

I married and settled up in the foot hills. We had a few
horses and cattle. My husband died in 1891. Everything
had to be sold. Mares he gave Whipple & Hay $200.00 each
for — I got $22.00. Cows which he bought back in Iowa for
$50.00, I got $13.00 for, and calves thrown in.

Abdut that time Tom Horn came to Wyoming as a
detective, employed by the stockmen to stop so much rustling.
In Mr. Horn I found a man of refinement and education.
I nursed him after he came back from Cuba with the Cuban
fever. Dr. Barber got me the job, for which I was well paid.
I lived about a mile from where the Nickel boy was killed.
I never thought he, Horn, was the guilty one. I have often
regretted that Mr. Horn did not come to Wyoming several
years sooner and break up the gang of Langhoff Brothers,
from whom I suffered heavy losses.

I have often seen Buffalo Bill and other noted men of
the day. I have seen Cheyenne grow from a village with
about twelve trees in it, to a modern city. The C. & N.
railroad has been built, as well as the Burlington, and the
old stage coach — with the bull teams and mule teams —
have become a thing of the past. The City Park was where
the freighters corralled their wagons.

The first garden I ever saw in Wyoming was at Hi Kelly’s
on the Chug, in 1877.

I would often go out riding with the cowboys, who would
have their Winchesters and revolvers and bowie knives with
them, with a belt filled with cartridges, which was very fascina¬
ting to me as well as unique.

The climate has changed very much. The winters are
not so severe and we have more rain. The Wyoming stockmen
have brought order out of chaos — made Wyoming bloom and
bloom as the rose, and the day is not far distant when she will
take her place as one of the richest and best, as well as the
most beautiful states in the Union. The scenery cannot be
surpassed, and as I look back over the thirty-nine years of
my life in Wyoming, I say of those early pioneers, “well done

(31)

thou good and faithful servants.” The hardships and risks
they ran were borne with patience and cheerfulness.

Yours truly.

(32)

Diamond, Wyoming, April 10, 1915.

Mr. Harry Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Dear Sir:

In reply to your request that I should furnish you with
a written statement showing cause why I should be classed
as an “old time cow man,” and a member of this noble or¬
ganization, not knowing just what you want, will have to go
back to Texas, my native state, and relate some of the ups
and downs I have had in the cattle business.

In 1861, when my uncle, Jack Elliott, started to the War
of the Rebellion or to Mexico he gave me an old cow and a
little calf, and my father gave me a pony and a bridle, and a
sheepskin for a saddle. My cowboy uniform consisted of a
straw hat and a long hickory shirt, so at five years of age I
was a cattle owner fully equipped for the business, but that
winter the old cow died or went to war. As I thought in those
days everything went to the war but women, children and
negroes, and as my little calf was not a heifer, and owing to
my age, my herd did not increase during the war, but when
the cruel war was over and my father came home, I owned a
work steer. My father knowing my fondness for little calves,
gave me a little calf for my steer, and he continued to give
me a little calf every spring for my yearling until I was
about sixteen. Then I went out of the cattle business
by giving the little calf to my sister. In 1866, my father
added to my uniform a saddle, overalls, a wool hat, a pair of
shoes and started me out reping. Reping in 1866 in Texas
was quite different from reping in Wyoming in 1915. We
didn’t call it roundup in those days. We called it cow-hunts
and every man on this cow-hunt was a cattle owner just home
from the war and went out to see what they had left and to
brand up what I had neglected to brand during the war. I

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was the only boy on this cow-hunt and as my little calf was
at home with its mother, I was looking for cattle that be¬
longed to my father before the war. We had no wagon.
Every man carried his grub in a wallet on behind his saddle
and his bed under the saddle. I. P. Olive was boss and I
will state here that he was some boss. I was put on herd
and kept on herd when we had one and I don’t think there was
ever a day on this hunt when we didn’t have a herd, and I
carried a lot of extra wallets on behind my saddle and a string
of tin cups on a hobble around my pony’s neck. A wallet is
a sack with both ends sewed up with the mouth of the sack in
the middle. I just mention this for fear some of the cow men
don’t know what a wallet is. Whenever the boss herder
couldn’t hear those cups jingling, he would come around and
wake me up. We would corral the cattle every night at some
one of the owners’ homes and stand guard around the corral.
I didn’t stand any guard but I carried brush and corn-stalks
and anything I could get to make a light for those who were
not on guard to play poker by. They played for unbranded
cattle, yearlings at fifty cents a head and the top price for any
class was $5.00 a head, so if anyone run out of cattle and had a
little money, he could get back into the game. For $10.00,
say, he could get a stack of yearlings. My compensation for
light was twenty-five cents per night or as long as the game
lasted. Every few days they would divide up and brand and
each man take his cattle home, as we now call it — throw-back.

This cow-hunt continued nearly all summer, so in the
winter of ’66 I started to school. I went to school two or
three days nearly every month when there was any school.
When I wasn’t going to school I was picking cotton or cow¬
hunting until ’69. Father sold his cattle to J. F. E. and F. N.
Stiles, and threw me in with the cattle, with the understanding
that he would receive $12.00 per month for my services, so
you see I began to slip back, owner to rep, rep to common
waddie. I worked for Stiles as waddie, top-hand and boss
until the spring of 1876, when Stiles sold their cattle and me
with them to D. H. and J. W. Snyder. Snyder built some
corrals and a branding chute on Turkey Creek on Stiles’
range and put their brother, Tom Snyder in charge of said

(34)

corral and that was our headquarters. We had no tents,
tarpaulins, cabins or anything of that kind. We had a
wagon with a cover over it and a little grub in the bottom of
the wagon box, which we kept dry. By the way, I had no
bed, but used J. W. Snyder’s and when he visited us, he had
the pleasure of his own bed with me in it. It was the best
bed on the job, consisting of a buffalo robe, one suggan, one
blanket and a feather pillow. Snyder hired a big crew of
men and started me out with a two-horse wagon, a bunch of
saddle horses and some cow boys just from Tennessee and a
few Germans from Round Rock to gather these cattle and
turn them over to Tom Snyder to hold and road brand, so I
started out as boss of the first wagon I ever saw on a cow hunt.
I had no check book, one reason, I couldn’t write a check,
and another, there wasn’t a man in Texas could read a check,
so checks were not in use. Our first stop out from headquarters
was for noon. My Kaiser cook came to me, said he had no
pan to mix his bread in, so I told him to mix it in the water
bucket or top of the flour sack. After dinner I went to feed
the work team in the feed box attached to the hind end of the
wagon box. I discovered he had mixed the bread in it.
After using language to him that would not look well in this
report, I put him on a horse and sent him back to headquarters,
told him to tell Mr. Snyder to send me another cook and a
breadpan, so I put one of the cowboys at driving the team and
pulled out for the next camp. The new cook and pan arrived
O. K. in time for supper.

I want to speak of our grub as it was my first starting
in at high-living. We had flour, coffee, sugar, beans, bacon
and some dried apples in a barrel that some northern Yankee
had shipped in to Texas to kill off what few Confederates were
left in Texas. The cook started in to prepare some of those
apples for dinner. He filled a skillet full of them, put in some
water and put the lid on, and the first thing he knew, the
apples had thrown the lid off and were all over the fire, in fact,
they were all over the camp. I don’t think any barrel would
have held what was once in that skillet, so I ordered them
thrown out and prohibited the boys from eating any of them
until they got back and found out from Mr. Snyder what

(35)

they were, but the barrel was handy for the boys to throw
their extra saddle blankets in. When we got back and found
out they were not poison, we ate nothing but dried apples
and drank water as long as the apples lasted, but never had
any more cooked.

On this cow-hunt, I saw for the first time a cow boy put
sugar in his coffee. We soon got the herd put up. Snyder
had all the cows and calves cut out, and turned on the range,
and I was put at Olive’s ranch to work with them and look
after Snyder’s cattle. Tom Snyder drove the herd on north,
and J. W. Snyder went to buying beef steers of Olive, Sauls,
Littin & Tinnin. He would receive the cattle at Olive’s
ranch, put me in charge of them to drive them to Rockdale,
the nearest railroad point, to ship them north, and, as I have
said, checks were not in use; the parties selling the cattle
would go along and help drive them and get their cash,
generally in silver, put it in a sack and take it home. As I
boarded with Olive, and as I mentioned the high-living with
Snyder, I will mention Olive. They furnished coffee, corn
meal, salt, whiskey and beef, provided you didn’t kill one of
theirs. We would sometimes get out of coffee or meal or
salt but never out of whiskey or beef. Some unknown parties,
not in favor of Olive’s way of doing business, on the night of
August 2, ’76, slipped up and set the ranch on fire and the
shooting began. When the smoke cleared away I was running
across the prairie with my life and night clothes and a Win¬
chester handed me by a dying Olive. I don’t know whether
it was loaded or not, but I was afraid to drop it for fear the
attacking party would hear it fall. The first time I saw Mr.
Snyder after that, I resigned, and picked cotton the balance
of ’76. January 1, ’77, I rented land and put in a crop.
When I got the net proceeds of that crop in my pocket, I
started to the Bryant Agricultural Military College to finish
my education. The habits I had contracted while a cowboy
and persisted in following, did not meet with the approval of
the college officials and I finished in fourteen days, so I went
back to my old employer, J. W. Snyder, at Round Rock, and
hired out to him as common waddie, to go down on the coast
and help drive a herd of cattle to old Cheyenne. Tim Hamil-

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ton was the boss to Julesburg, Colorado, where Snyder turned
over several herds to the Ilif outfit and I came on to Hills¬
dale below Cheyenne, with Bob McMurday as boss. Here
Snyder delivered cattle to Alex Swan, John Sparks and others,
and Mr. Snyder took us all to Cheyenne and paid us all off
in Ben Heilman’s store, so I presented myself to a new ducking,
blanket-lines suit of clothes and sallied forth to see the sights
of Cheyenne. McDaniel’s Theatre was running full-blast, so
there I went; so the next morning I soaked my forty -five
Colts so as to have a little jingle in my pocket and began
looking for a job. I got a job with Tom Branson’s outfit,
Dave Knight as foreman. John Sparks was interested in
the outfit — that is, we had a lot of 4J cattle. We branded
the cattle at Ex-Governor Carey’s ranch on Little Horse
Creek, and then drove them to where Douglas now stands.
We camped over night at what now is the State Fair Grounds.
The next morning we turned about half the herd across the
river. We turned the balance loose on the north side, and
the wagon went back to Cheyenne for more cattle. The
boss was down with the rheumatism, so he and the cook,
Frank Merrill, Bill Ward, Bumpus, one of the partners, and
I, were left here to build a ranch. Merrill and Ward cut the
logs and hewed them on LaBonte and I hauled them with
two yoke of steers. We had just about completed the house,
when we got word Branson had bought the Red Bluff ranch,
at the mouth of Elkhorn, so we moved down there. He had
bought the ranch alright — and trouble with it.

The man he bought the ranch of went to work for him.
It seemed the place belonged to W. C. Irvine, who owned the
ranch then that Jim Shaw now owns, and was our closest
neighbor. Alas! it wasn’t long before we got acquainted with
Mr. Irvine, for one day as Daily, the man who sold the ranch,
the boss,- cook and myself, were quietly eating our dinner in
Mr. Irvine’s cabin, Mr. Irvine poked a Sharps rifle in the door
and demanded possession. Mr. Irvine and Dalev began to
have some warm words and as there was no window in the
cabin and that gun was too large for me to pass it in the door,
I asked Mr. Irvine to please raise it that I might get out
under it. This was my first meeting with our honorable

(37)

Treasurer, and for many years President of this Association.
So he had our stove thrown out and his put in, and when he
left and we were sure that he was in Cheyenne, we threw his
out and put ours back, finished our house and put in the
winter there. But Irvine finally got the ranch. In the spring
our wagon started out. I think they worked from Fort
Laramie up the north side of the river to Fort Fetterman.
We had a small two-horse wagon, two little mules hitched to
it; no tents, stove or mess-box, nor any convenience we have
these days. Branson and I went with the O U wagon, Joe
Hazen, foreman. The roundup started April 1, ’79, at Fort
Fetterman and worked up the north side of the river to the
mouth of Poison Creek. We would swim our cattle across
the river every day as we would work the south side later.
The wagons never left the river. We drove all the tributaries
to the camp on the river and rounded them up. We drove
the cattle sometimes thirty or thirty -five miles. When we
had worked all the country north of the river that we deemed
necessary, we came to Fetterman and crossed the river on
the old government ferry boat, then worked up the south side
to old Fort Casper. There the first roundup I was ever on
in Wyoming broke up. That summer I formed a partnership
with Sam McGatlin, a nephew of John Sparks, and we were
very successful that summer in poker playing, monte dealing,
and horse racing, and we bought twenty-two head of old
cows of Branson and he said we could work and run our cattle
with him. My partner and I concluded I had better go back
to Texas and buy some yearlings, put them in with some herds
coming up and come up with them and he would work on for
Branson. As he was not known in Texas by that name, I
consented to go, so I went to Chicago with a train of cattle.
After spending a couple of weeks in Chicago and visiting all
the prominent cities of Texas I had never seen, about the time
the grass started I wrote my partner that I didn’t believe that
I would buy any yearlings, but if he wanted any and would
send me his money, I would invest it in yearlings and come up
with them. He wrote back that he had been in Cheyenne a
month, and didn’t think he wanted any yearlings ; that he had
sold our cows for a big profit to a half-breed Indian on credit;

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that the Indian had resold them for cash and had gone to
parts unknown and that he was leaving that day for Idaho.
I haven’t seen him or the Indian since, but I came up the trail
alright in the spring of 1880, with Morris & McCutcheon
cattle. Jess McCutcheon was boss. The boss quit at Oga-
lalla and the herd was turned over to me to hold until sold,
which was not long. I then went to work for the 0-0 outfit,
Hanner and McKaulley as owners, Joe Stratton as foreman.
We drove the herd to Antelope Springs and turned them
loose. In ’81 I was rep on Powder River. In ’82 I run
second wagon on spring roundup on Powder River. That
summer I drove beef to the railroad to ship to market, one
bunch to Pine Bluffs, two bunches to Thatcher, Nebraska,
which was then the terminus of the Northwestern railway,
3,500 head all told. That winter I went to Texas. January
4, ’83, I was married in Texas, and in the spring after I came
back, I was put in as foreman of the 0-0 outfit, at $125.00
per month and a check book.

I could handle the men and the cattle alright, but the
check book was considerable trouble. It gave me some
notoriety, as I received a great many letters from bankers
whose letters were all notifications of overdraft. In ’84, I
was made foreman of the roundup from the mouth of Black
Thunder to Fetterman. This roundup was known as the
Lance Creek roundup. A. Spaugh was foreman from be¬
ginning somewhere east of Lance Creek. I don’t remember
where it started. My wages were raised to $150.00 per month,
and I received ten per cent, of all the maverick money. This
was the first year the mavericks were ever sold, and the
proceeds went to the Association. The foreman was required
to give a bond and sell all mavericks every ten days and send
the proceeds, with the ten per cent., to Tom Sturgis, who was
the Secretary of the Association. Our old friend, Luke Vor-
hees, Charle Campbell, my manager, were my bondsmen.
My first sale was to Metcalf and Williams. Mr. Campbell
instructed me to buy them in for him if I could get them for
him at $15.00 per head. As I could pay only $15.00, and
John T. Williams gave more, I sold them to him. I put M
on the neck — the Association brand, and Williams put his

(39)

brand on them. When I sent in my report, Mr. Sturgis
wrote back by return mail, saying it was not the intention of
the law to sell those yearlings to little thieves like Metcalf
and Williams, but Mr. Campbell said I was inside the law
and to go ahead and sell them to the highest bidder,
so I sold the next bunch to W. P. Ricketts, who wasn’t any
better in my estimation, than J. T. Williams. I continued to
run this outfit until the bad winter of ’86 put them out of
business. So in the spring of ’87 I started in to run the 0-K
and G-M outfit. It had taken me about seven months to
find out that they had no cattle, and I told them so.

I began to realize that the cattle were getting scarce,

and so were jobs, so I bought a few cattle in ’87. In the

spring of ’88, for the first time in my life, I found myself
without a job, so I ran the general roundup from Lance
Creek west. In ’89 and ’90 I worked for the Ogalalla outfit,

run a wagon when there was any cow work to do. W. C.

Irvine was manager. In ’91 I established my first cow ranch
on the head of the Belle Fourche.

The laws of Wyoming required a man to brand his calves
before they were a year old and as a great many of the cowmen
violated that law by not branding their calves before they
were a year old, I adopted some of those neglected yearlings
and put my brand on them so the cowboys would know whose
they were, and also to increase my herd. I followed that
industry until ’99, when I discovered that the legal talent, so
necessary for my business, was so expensive that my profit
was not sufficient to carry on the business and eat regularly, so
I sold out and left Weston County with some regrets, a lot
of good friends and no bad debts, and came to Converse
County and bought Royston’s Ranch on Lightning Creek,
with a few horses and cattle. I didn’t have stock enough to
make ranching pay, so in 1902 I went into the First National
Bank of Douglas, with my breath stronger than my intellect,
and after knocking over a couple of clerks and getting by the
cashier, I found Mr. J. DeForest Richards, President, of the
Bank, in his private office, and after making my cross and a lot
of promises, I borrowed some money to buy cattle with. I
bought some two-year-old southern steers. I run them for

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two years and shipped them to Omaha and when I had them
all shipped out, I found that I had lost the interest and my
labor, but consoled myself that I was a cowman and could
borrow money, and that I had had the use of those steers for
two years, and that I would never buy any more until I could
fatten them.

So here I am, in 1915 still borrowing money and buying
cattle, and if I ever die, which I think is very doubtful, I will
still have that little calf to hand down to my grandson, little
Lee Moore.

Now, Mr. Crain, I don’t know whether this is the kind of
data you want or not, but it is about the only kind I can
furnish, and if you don’t want to have it read, throw it in the
waster basket and I will not be offended.

Yours very truly.

(41)

New York, N. Y., 11th April, 1915.

Mr. Harry E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Dear Harry:

With the best of inclination to carry out what you ask in
regard to the Wyoming Stock Growers Association, I have
been unable to manage it. Your letter found me laid up
with la grippe and the time you gave me required that I reply
by return mail or thereabout. So I had to give it up, although
I would gladly have contributed a chapter to the history of
the old Association, which was for many years not only dear
to my heart but quite as near to my hand as was my own
business. I was Assistant Secretary, my brother being secre¬
tary, and together, we came pretty near to running the Associa¬
tion, in so far as policy and details were concerned. I was for
a number of years the editor of the Wyoming brand book and
at that time I should have been hard to fool over any Wyoming
brand.

When the stockmen of Wyoming so generously remem¬
bered my brother Thomas in the presentation of that testi¬
monial of their affectionate interest in them, he commenced
his address of thanks by referring to Queen Mary’s grief over
the loss ,of Calais in her reign, when she said that when she
died they would find “Calais” written on her heart, and saying
that in his case the Wyoming Stock Growers Association
would be found on his, and my feeling for the old Association
was much the same as his. We were with it from its inception
until he left Wyoming in 1887, and saw it grow from the
original twelve — I think I am right in the number — until
it became so powerful that “Doc Middleton” said “if the
Wyoming Stock Growers Association would let up on him, he
did not care for all the sheriffs in Nebraska.” We did not
“let up on him” and by the aid of Billy Lykins, as brave a
man as I ever met, we finally landed him behind the bars.

(42)

Doubtless I could give you a good many interesting
episodes of those old times, but after all in such matters, I
should “sit at the feet” of my dear old friend Boswell, who
probably knows more of our inside history than any other
man living. Ask him to tell you how he captured those three
noted outlaws from three different roundups “and neither
roundup knew they had left it.” As he said in telling me
about it, “we did not go after outlaws with a baggage train
and brass band in those days, Mr. Sturgis.” In the last six
months that we ran our detective bureau, we sent eight (I
think) men to the penitentiary and about that time property
was more safe in Wyoming than in any other part of the nation.
Cattle thieves were “almost as scarce as hens’ teeth” and
some of our members insisted that they were all gone and that
“Sturgis was spending too much money.” Baxter and others
objected to paying the assessment of one per cent, per head
and the bureau was closed. You know how long it took the
rascals to come back, until no owner could go on his own range
in the northern part of the State, and the result was “the
Crusade.” It was known in parts as “the invasion” but it
was as sensible as the old crusades and about as successful,
foredoomed to failure before it started. Those cattlemen
found themselves paying five cents per head instead of one
and found also that they failed to get protection, even at that
rate, but Boswell knows all about that.

I cannot attempt to give you a history of the Association
or anything like it at this time nor at this distance, for most
of my records are in my quarters in Cheyenne, where I cannot
well reach them, in the old offices of Charley Wright back of
the Cheyenne Club.

Yours sincerely,

(43)

Cheyenne, Wyoming, April 12, 1915.

Mr. H. E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Dear Sir:

You requested me to write some of my experiences and
give a bit of early history concerning the start of the first
stock association. I herewith submit the following:

I will state how I happened to be in Wyoming, and after¬
wards became interested in stock growing, a resident of this
State, and made Cheyenne my home.

My brother, John H. Durbin, first came to Cheyenne in
January, 1868. He entered the employ of Amos Peacock,
who was a stockman and the owner of two meat markets, one
located on Ferguson street, now Carey Avenue, which John
was in charge of. He urged me to come and take charge of
the other one, located on Eddy Street, now Pioneer Avenue.
After making arrangements for six months’ employment, I
arrived in Cheyenne on August 20, 1869, and took charge of
the Eddy Street market, until the big fire in January, 1870,
when it burned down. The buildings were constructed of
boards stood on end, battened with strips on outside and lined
with muslin and papered inside. The fronts were square and
sheeted with weather boards, and when the fire started, they
burned like tinder. The wind blew and in a short time two
city blocks were in ashes. The fire burned so rapidly that
most of the stock on hand was consumed, together with some
personal belongings. The loss by me was keenly felt, and my
possessions were not very extensive then ; but worse than that —
I was out of business.

In the spring of 1870, brother John and I formed a co¬
partnership under the firm name of Durbin Brothers, and
bought Amos Peacock’s business. The purchase included his
market, slaughter house, hogs, and nearly 500 head of cattle.
The sale was made on the faith he had in us, as we had only

(44)

about $1,500.00 to make the deal. In the fall of 1870, we
bought 500 head of sheep from Peacock and they were the
first sheep brought into Wyoming. They were ranged south¬
west of the town. The shipping of mutton from Omaha and
other points for market pruposes was very unsatisfactory, so
we bought sheep to have them near to be slaughtered as
needed. In 1871, we brought stock sheep to Wyoming and
engaged in sheep raising. These were ranged where the
Warren Live Stock Company now has a camp, about four
miles from town.

We established our cow camp above Fort Russell on Crow
Creek, where some time afterwards, Mr. E. W. Whitcomb
built a home and later he sold it to Harry Oelrichs. Every¬
body knew Harry and this place was noted for its many social
entertainments and tally-ho parties. It is now known as the
Charley Hirsig Ranch.

In the spring of 1871, we moved our cattle to the Dick
Lathom ranch on the old Fort Laramie freight road at Horse
Creek. About this time we bought a contract from Benj.
Gallagher, to furnish fresh beef from the block to Fort Russell
for one year at $8.35 per hundred. Mr. Gallagher had ob¬
tained a contract from the U. S. Government to furnish fresh
beef at the price named to all the government forts in Wyo¬
ming, commencing July 1, 1871. It should be remembered
that the grass in Wyoming at this time was abundant, and had
some of the fattening qualities of corn. The game made no
impression upon it. The cattle that were here made little
difference in the supply left, so there was plenty of grass.
We could go into our herd and find very acceptable beef ten
months in the year, so we filled this contract and supplied the
market from our herd.

In June or July of this year, we met D. H. and J. W.
Snyder, stockmen, who were making a drive of cattle from
Texas. We bought about 500 to help fill the contract with
the government' and supply our market. It was at this time
that I first met C. F. Coffee, who trailed the herd from Texas.
He was a good-natured, happy-go-lucky individual, who
wore a smile that would not come off. Charley, as he was
known, made several drives from Texas to Wyoming, and

(45)

arrived at destination on time, safe and sound. He was
dubbed with the name of “Chalk Eye” on the trail, because
he showed so much white in his eyes. Mr. Coffee drove a
herd for himself in 1873 and located his stock on Box Elder,
in this county, and is still engaged in stock growing, and is
also interested in several substantial banks.

We moved our cattle east, or down Horse Creek from the
Lathom ranch seventeen miles in 1872, and established a
ranch called the J-D. We built a house, stable and corrals.
The first time I went to the ranch that summer, I took 800
pounds of supplies in a spring wagon, with one horse pulling
the load. My sister and Miss Johnson, who afterward in
the fall became my wife, accompanied me. The directions
given how to go were — face north and keep Long’s Peak to
my back and keep going. Those directions were all right up
to the time I reached the breaks of Horse Creek, when over
the divide Long’s Peak was not to be seen. With nothing
to go by, I followed an old surveyor’s trail until Horse Creek
was reached, then down the creek until camp was found.
The distance, by nearest way, is thirty miles from Cheyenne,
but I traveled forty miles in arriving there. We bought cattle
this year and continued to do so each succeeding year.

Our nearest neighbor was M. V. Bough ton, twelve miles
north, on Bear Creek. John Freel, a freighter, had a camp
eighteen miles east on Horse Creek, on the old freight road
from Cheyenne to Red Cloud Agency on the Platte River,
near the mouth of Horse Creek.

About twenty -five miles east of our camp, on the same
creek, was the Creighton & Alsop cattle ranch, known as the
“Half Circle Block.” This firm was the owner of the largest
herd in Wyoming at that time. I think their camp was first
established in 1870. They owned several thousand head.

John W. Iliff owned cattle ranging on the north side of
the South Platte River. They ranged between Evans and
Julesburg, Colo. He was at this time the owner of more
cattle than anyone, either in Colorado or Wyoming. My
impression is he began in 1868.

J. M. Carey & Bro. engaged in stock growing, first located
on Crow Creek near the mountains, and later moved to the

(46)

V

North Platte country where the city of Casper is built. This
firm became one of the largest owners of cattle in Wyoming,
and is still in the business.

The growth of the cattle business, up to and including
1873, had been rapid; many had engaged in it. The country
where most of the stock had been turned loose was east of
the mountains and between the Platte Rivers as far east as
Ogallala, Neb., the cow camps growing closer each year.
When a stock owner wished to work his cattle, he would send
word to his neighbors and all would roundup, get their stock,
brand calves, turn loose or drive home. But so many outfits
had come in and rounded up the stock, and ginned them so
much, they could never get fat. This continual working over
and over of cattle was detrimental to the business, and those
interested, seeing the necessity of a change in manner of
working stock, wanted some plan or system laid down. After
some of the owners had talked the matter over, they agreed to
meet in Cheyenne some time during November.

The records of the “Laramie County Stock Association”
show the following stock owners met in the office of D. C.
Tracey, County Treasurer, on November 29, 1873: Messrs.
M. V. Boughton, John Snodgrass, John H. Durbin, Thomas
F. Durbin, M. A. Arnold, Tom McGee, A. H. Reel, W. L.
Kuykendall, T. A. Kent, John F. Coad, and D. C. Tracey —
eleven men at the first meeting. Only two are known to be
living — Tom McGee and Thomas F. Durbin. M. V. Bough-
ton was chairman and W. L. Kuykendall, secretary. Each of
these gentlemen was elected later the the respective office
as president and secretary.

The object of the meeting, as stated, was the general
protection of the live stock industry and the best way of
conducting the range work. On motion of Mr. Kent, it was
decided to draft resolutions to present to the legislature.
We adjourned until February, 1874, when we met •in Kuy¬
kendall’s office. At this meeting we got down to business.
There were present about twenty -five stockmen. Great
interest was manifested, every phase of the business being
discussed, and each entered into a mutual pledge to see it
through. We adjourned to February 24, 1874, when the

(47)

President appointed a committee consisting of D. H. Snyder,
J. M. Carey, Mr. Maynard, H. N. Orr and A. H. Reel to "draft
rules governing roundups. The meeting adjourned to the
first Monday in April, which was on April 6, 1874. We met
when the committee on roundups reported and the report
adopted. John Snodgrass was made foreman of the first
roundups laid out in Wyoming. The place for starting was
on Pole Creek, near Hillsdale, and the date, on or about
May 15th. The route was east on Pole Creek to Potter,
Nebraska; then return to Pine Bluffs and go north to the
Creighton Ranch on Horse Creek, thence east to head of
Lawrence Fork on Pumpkin Creek, thence east on Pumpkin
Creek to Court House Rock, thence north to the North Platte
River, thence west to the mouth of Horse Creek in Wyoming,
south on Horse to mouth of Bear, the Fox, Lone Tree and
Box Elder, then back to Horse Creek, and up said creek to
Lathoms, when the roundup would divide, part going on up
Horse Creek to mountains and on south to Crow, while the
other part went north to Bear and east on Bear and disband,
which took about five weeks.

During the winter storms cattle would generally drift
south and east, in some instances travelling a hundred miles,
so it was necessary to gather them. In order to do so, it
required some mutual organized effort on part of owners to
club in and send representatives, and when gathered, have
sufficient help to drive them home.

In organizing the stock association and fixing the time for
its meeting in April each year, it brought the owners together,
where they could discuss their interests, plan for better pro¬
tection, lay out the different roundups, name the foremen
and fix the date and place of starting. The beginning of
roundups were at first started with one, but the country
covered in later years, the number increased to about forty.
These meetings proved to be of great benefit. The growth of
the business was rapid. It extended to every county in
Wyoming, covering the entire range country in the Terri¬
tory (now State) — and at its annual meetings there were
representatives from more than half of the states in the
Union.

In 1874 a county association — in 1879 it had become one
of national importance. It was at the April meeting in
1879 that the name was changed to the “Wyoming Stock
Growers Association,” which name it still carries. It had
outgrown its county name, but it had started in motion a
business association from which results obtained we are
unable to estimate.

The Association employed detectives to catch cattle
and horse thieves, employed inspectors to inspect all cattle
shipped to the market centers. The number of cattle sent to
market each year would run from 120,000 to 180,000 head.
It was said of this Association when it had its greatest meetings,
that its membership represented a value of one hundred
million dollars.

There is much that could be said about the Indians who
made raids into the cow country, steal some horses, and
occasionally kill a cowboy, when the cowboys would then
arm themselves for protection. These were Sioux Indians
who were running in southwestern Dakota and northwestern
Nebraska, whose agency was north of the Platte.

In 1877, we sold the J-D ranch to Evans, Jackson and
Haws of Council Bluffs, Iowa. We purchased the VB ranch
on Bear Creek from M. V. Boughton and sold it to Sturgis
& Lane in 1881, who were large owners of cattle. We then
purchased the Jackson herd in 1881, located in Carbon
County on the Sweetwater River. Sold half interest to Rosen¬
baum Bros, and Godfrey Snydacker of Chicago, in 1883.
Then we organized the Durbin Land and Cattle Company,
with a capital of $750,000.00. We purchased 15,000 Texas
cattle in 1884 to add to our holdings. The shortage of feed
on the range in 1886 and the spring of 1887 made the loss
from fifty to sixty per cent, of all cattle in Wyoming.

In 1889 and 1890 we drove the remaining cattle to the
Crow Reservation on Tullack Creek near the “Custer Battle¬
field” in Montana where they were sold later to Matt and
William Murphy.

There are many incidents that could be related here that
might prove of interest. What I have written is more of the
personal matters that concerned the firm of Durbin Brothers.

(49)

You can make use of this in such a manner as in your judgment
seems proper.

I am,

Yours truly,

( 50 )

Dublin, 11th May, 1915.

Dear Mr. Crain:

I have searched my old correspondence and other docu¬
ments relating to those far off ranching days and I have
ransacked my memory for incidents connected with the
Wyoming Stock Growers Association which might be worth
recording. Nothing has come, I regret to say, that could
possibly interest the readers of the history of that institution
which you and others are about to give to the public.

I never was in the inner circles of the Association. I
lived chiefly in the northern portion of the State and could
not attend meetings in Cheyenne. Beyond obeying the
laws of the Association and profiting by its protection, the
only active part I took in its affairs was when a large number
of us organised a presentation to Mr. Thomas Sturgis in
recognition of the valuable services he rendered to it as its
Secretary in the late seventies and early eighties.

Your letter, asking me to contribute something out of
my recollections, reminded me of a connection in which the
Stock Growers Association flashed across my mind a few
years ago. I was writing a series of articles for “The Outlook”,
since published by the Macmilland Co. as a little book on
The Rural Life Problem of the United States. My chief
solution for that problem was the application of the co-opera¬
tive principle to the American farmer’s business. The
following passage in a chapter entitled “The Weak Spot in
American Rural Economy” may suggest to some a new aspect
of the Association’s work and the possibility that it exercised,
unconsciously, an important influence upon later developments
in American agriculture. Speaking of the backwardness of
American farmers in the matter of business combination, in
striking contrast with the readiness with which Americans

combine together in all other important business occupations,
I said:

“Americans as a people are addicted to associated action.
I have seen the principle of cooperation developed to the highest
point in the ranching industry in the days of the unfenced range.
Our cattle used to roam at large , the only means of identifying
them being by certain registered marks made by the branding-
iron and the knife. The individual owner would have had no
more property in his herd than he would have had in so many
fishes in the sea but for a very effective cooperative organisation.
The Stock Association , with its “ round-ups ” and its occasional
resort to the Supreme Court of Judge Lynch , were an adequate
substitute for the title deeds to the lands , and for fences horse-
high , bull-strong and hog-tight. But then we were in the Arid
belt and the frontier -pioneer stage , we had no politics and no
politicians ”

With apologies for so poor a response to your request,
which must not be attributed to any lack of sympathy with
your undertaking, I am,

Yours sincerely,

Harry E. Crain, Esq.,

Cheyenne, Wyoming, U. S. A.

Fort Worth, Texas, February 8, 1917.

Mr. Harry E. Crain,

Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Dear Mr. Crain:

While I was in Cheyenne I promised to write you some
of my recollections of the early trail.

In 1867 Mr. Goodnight and Loving drove two herds of
cattle from this country to Colorado by way of New Mexico.
That was about the beginning of the trail drive from Texas.
I went up as a cow hand with the second herd some two or
three weeks behind the first herd. We went up the Pecos
River up to New Mexico and Colorado. Mr. Goodnight and
Mr. Loving both went with the first herd until they got some
distance up the Pecos River, then Mr. Loving, with one of
his men, one-armed Billy Wilson, left the herd, expecting to
go to Fort Sumner, New Mexico, and have the cattle sold
when they got there. A day or two after they had left the
herd they got up on what is known as the Black River, coming
into the Pecos River from the Guadalupe Mountains. Here
a band of Indians attacked Wilson and Loving and ran them
down to the Pecos River, just a short distance to the east,
and wounded Mr. Loving in the arm very seriously. Wilson
and Loving took refuge in the tall cane breaks and the Indians
did not venture in after them, but got away with their horses
and saddles. Along in the night Loving persuaded Wilson
to go down to the Pecos River, swim down a distance and
make his way back to the herd, saying that he was wounded
himself and could not get away. Wilson did this and walked
back on the trail about two days, without food, before he
met the herd.

He was lying out under a bluff near the trail when the
herd came along and a man by the name of Mose Cooch saw
him lying there and went over and woke him up. Wilson
reported what had happened, that Mr. Loving had told

him to go back to the herd as he didn’t expect that he
could get away, and they drove the herd on to Fort Sumner
which was about 200 miles up the river. At first they doubted
Mr. Wilson’s statement but after seeing Mr. Loving, he, of
course, corroborated what Wilson had said. The Indians, it
seems, left the place after running the two men into the cane
breaks, and Mr. Loving came out in the morning, got to the
trail and tried to make it to Fort Sumner. About fourteen
miles west of there he came upon some Mexicans with ox
carts and they hauled him into Fort Sumner. When he
arrived at Fort Sumner the wound in his arm was so serious
that although the arm was amputated, blood poisoning set in
and he died and was buried at Fort Sumner.

The herd I was with came along later. We had no
trouble with our herd on the trail. We drove them up to
Southern Colorado, arriving there the middle of December
and about the first of February Mr. Goodnight sold the cattle
to Iliff , who drove these cattle to Cheyenne right in mid winter.
Our outfit then started on its return trip to Texas. We got
an extra wagon and a pair of mules, exhumed Mr. Loving’s
body and hauled it to Weatherford, Texas, where he was
buried. Mr. Loving was the great-grandfather of the Secre¬
tary of our Texas Association, Mr. E. B. Spiller. Mr. Charles
Goodnight is still living at Goodnight, Texas, forty miles
east of Amarillo, on the Ft. Worth & Denver, and has a famous
herd of buffalo. In 1879, I went over the same trail all the
way to Colorado and located on the Arkansas River just
north of where La Junta is.

The next spring I drove 1000 head of cattle to Salt Lake,
going out east of Denver and by way of Greeley, just at the
time when Greeley was being first settled, then southwest of
Cheyenne up Dale Creek and out by Laramie City, where
Bill Nye used to run a newspaper. He had his office up over
a livery stable and had a sign up to show his friends where to
find, him, which read something like this: “Go through to
the back and take the ladder, but if you are in a hurry, wring
the mule’s tail and take the elevator.” We drove all the way
to Salt Lake that year and as there were no cattle on the trail
to bother, it was more like a summer outing to me. From

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Laramie we went west. There was all sorts of game along
the trail, including elk and lots of fish; also fine grass for the
stock. When we got to Bitter Creek the water was bad and
grass was scarce and we had a pretty hard time until we got
west of Green River, when we struck good country again.
We crossed Hams Fork, Black Fork and Bear River and
then reached the Mormon settlements. They were very
nice to us and we could buy everything at reasonable prices
and if our stock got into their crops the damage bills were
very reasonable. We made our way around to Corinne,
where Bear River runs into Salt Lake. There we bought a
small bunch of California horses and returned to Colorado
over the same trail, reaching there in November. Iliff,
Hutton and Cratton at that time handled most of the cattle
that came into that country.

In 1871, I made another drive and went over what was
known as the Chisum trail, which went through by Fort
Worth, where I now live, to Wichita, Kansas. Then, in¬
stead of going by Abilene, Kansas, to Ogalalla, Nebraska, I
turned up the Arkansas and went to Colorado where I ranched
for eight years. It is my memory that that year there were
450,000 cattle driven over the Chisum trail to Abilene and
Ogalalla. Since then I have driven a number of herds through
the Panhandle and up through Colorado and crossed the
U. P. east of Cheyenne and into North Dakota.

I was very pleased to meet, while in Cheyenne recently,
an old Texas cowboy by the name of J. B. Kendrick, who is
now Governor of Wyoming, and was recently elected to the
U. S. Senate.

Very truly yours,

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