I loaded my wagon with what goods I thought would be most in demand by the cattlemen. I selected a considerable quantity of tobacco, bacon, baking powder, canned goods of several kinds, a coil of rope, cartridges of different calibre, coffee, sugar, and some other things—all necessary on the trail. I also bought a tent and cooking outfit. The latter consisted of a coffee-pot, skillet, frying-pan, coffee-mill, six knives and forks, six tin plates, six cups and saucers, the latter of tin, in order to provide against the possibility of our having some company on the road. By the time I had my trading done, Wagner was ready and waiting. We hitched up and pulled across the river, where we encamped for the night. Part of the horses we hobbled, and two we kept picketed in order to guard against being left on foot the next morning if anything should stampede our stock during the night. When the stock had been cared for, we proceeded to make arrangements for ourselves, and while Wagner cooked the flapjacks I was looking around for sleeping accommodations, as it was difficult to find a place level enough to suit the purpose. The making of our beds did not cost much effort, but one had to guard against sand-burrs, cactus, tarantulas, rattlesnakes and centipedes.
The next morning found us up early after a good sound sleep, and hustling around to get ready for the first day of our new venture. When we had tended to the wants of the stock and ourselves, we hitched up and started off at a slow pace, as the team was not accustomed to the heavy work, and it would take some time for them to become inured to the hardship of the trail. Out across Five Mile Creek and up the divide along the old Camp Supply route until we reached the summit, we made our toilsome way. We reached the apex about noon time and halted for dinner. After giving the horses a good rest, we proceeded on our way, and as our route now lay down grade we made better time. Evening found us at Mulberry Creek, where Johnny Glenn and Dutch Pete kept a road ranch. This roadside caravansary served as a halting place for the stage coach, and furnished refreshments for passengers when needed. As there was a good camping ground there, we unhitched and turned the horses out to graze and made preparations for our own accommodation. When we had eaten supper, we brought the horses in for the night, and then after chatting and smoking for some time we turned in for a good night’s rest. Early morning found us on our way again towards the South. We kept rumbling along until we reached the division point of the stage line, where horses were changed by the driver, P. G. Reynolds. This location, I believe, is not very far from where the present town of Ashland, county seat of Clark county, is situated. Here we stopped and had dinner at what was called the Widow Brown ranch. From this place we proceeded down the Bear Creek trail and reached the Cimmaron River that same evening. The river being up, we could not cross, and we camped on the North bank not far from where an old German named Clem maintained a road ranch. The river as I said was full and this may seem strange, as it had not rained in this section for more than three months. The cause of the rise lay in the fact that there had been considerable rain in Colorado. This added to the snow melting on the mountains made the river rise to its full capacity. Here we had to remain for three days, waiting till the waters would subside enough to permit a crossing. We were not the only ones that met with an obstacle in our progress by the river’s behavior, but it proved a boon to us as well as adding to our store of knowledge. On the other bank of the river were cowpunchers with their herds waiting to cross also. It was amusing and instructive to us to watch them in their efforts to induce the leaders of the herds to take to the water. When a puncher succeeded in getting the leaders into the stream, he would ride or swim his pony alongside of them to keep them from milling, or drifting down the river. It was very exciting to watch those herds crossing the swollen stream with the cowboys yelling and whooping among them. It seemed as if pandemonium had taken a holiday. By the time the last of the herds had crossed, the river had subsided somewhat, and we pulled over to the opposite side without any great difficulty. It was with a sigh of relief we reached the solid footing on the other bank.
Then we were in the Territory and bade farewell to civilization until we returned to the North bank of Cimmaron River. We left the Camp Supply trail and went Southward to the old Custer trail, which was being used by the cowmen at that time. We did not stop at noon time, but kept on our way, intending to make a short drive and camp where the grass had not been eaten off by the trail herds, and where there was a supply of water for our stock. About four o’clock in the afternoon we found a satisfactory location and went into camp. We turned the horses loose to graze. They needed it, as they had been living on rather short rations since we had started on our jaunt. For ourselves, we built a fire of cow-chips and made out a supper on bacon and flapjacks. This done, we looked over our outfit and made what repairs were necessary for the next day’s drive. Everything being attended to, as security demanded, we turned in for the night, intending to make a permanent location the next day. As this was my first night in the Territory, I must say that I felt very lonesome. It was a fine moonlight night, and the stars seemed to flicker and dance for my special benefit. I could see the handiwork of the Great Creator all over the firmament as far as the eye could reach, and my admiration for the beauty of the planetary system was unbounded. When I arose in the morning and threw the saddle on my old favorite pony, Jimmie, to get an idea of the lay of the land, things seemed to look different. When I had returned to camp after my survey of the neighborhood, I had come to the conclusion from the general appearance of the country and the great contrast with what I had viewed from my bed at the wagon, that some Spirit of Evil had been brooding over things in general, and while in that mood had laid the country round about in waste, and Nature was doing her best to restore it to its primitive beauty. We travelled that day until we discovered what we considered an ideal spot to locate our store. It was not far from the trail, and there was plenty of good grass and water for our stock. We set to work to arrange things for our purpose, and it was not long before we had things in shape to do business. Our tent-store was, fortunately, placed about half a mile from where the cowmen used to halt and bed down their herds for the night. The presence of those men served the purpose of breaking the monotony of our surroundings, for it was a pleasure to hear them singing as they rode around their herds at night to render them quiet and keep them from drifting off during the night. Not only did they help to pass away the time for us, but it gave us an opportunity to do a little business also.
When we had located and arranged things to our satisfaction, we spent some time riding around looking over the situation and conjecturing the prospects. We found very few range cattle in our vicinity, which I afterwards learned was due to the fact that the ranchers kept their cattle away from the trail so that they would not become mixed with those on the drive, or become infected with the Texas or splenic fever. For the purpose of effecting this, they maintained men along the trail to turn back any range cattle that showed a tendency to wander in the direction of the through herds. During our ride we killed a brace of wild turkeys, and this gave us a welcome change from the monotony of rusty bacon.
Things did not look very prosperous as yet, and began to think that I had made my journey to no purpose, and would likely have to haul my load back to Kansas again. While in this frame of mind, and not being very cheerful over it, sitting in the shade of my tent, a man rode up to my emporium of commerce. We passed the usual salutations and had a chat. In the midst of our conversation he informed me that he had met a man who would likely purchase some of my wares. I could hardly realize the gist of his remark, as it was such a surprise, although I was there for the purpose of selling goods. I managed to recover from the shock with considerable alacrity, and invited him into my tent. He looked over my stock of goods, and before he left me he had purchased more than half of it, and gave in payment an order on Wright & Beverly. He said that his herd would be along in the evening, and he would have the grub wagon load up the purchases.
That evening the herd came along, and as the place was the bedding ground for the through herds, they made the necessary preparations for putting in the night. When the cowpunchers had eaten supper, they came over to our tent to purchase supplies of tobacco and cartridges. As there was nothing else to do, and as we had been getting rather lonesome in our retired place, we spent the evening agreeably, spinning yarns, relating experiences of the trail, etc. In the meantime the grub wagon arrived and was loaded with the goods purchased earlier in the day. Before bidding us good night, the boys invited us to take breakfast with them on the following morning. We accepted, and shortly after daybreak we heard the cook’s cheerful announcement that “chuckaway” was ready. As the wagon was near our tent we did not have far to go, and before we reached it all hands were up and dressed and ready for the morning repast. We were somewhat surprised to find that the cook had fried salt bacon for the boys. In explanation of this he said that they were tired of fresh meat. We were weary of salt bacon, but good manners forbade our saying so, and we did our share with as much gusto as possible. A little fresh beef would have been much to our liking just then. By the time breakfast was over, the horse wrangler had arrived with the saddle stock. Ropes were stretched, one from the front wheel and one from the rear wheel of the wagon, and the horses driven in between them, where each man roped his mount for the day. The cook and the wrangler then attended to their own wants. After covering the camp-fires with soil to prevent the fire from spreading over the prairie, they were ready to set out on their long jaunt to Montana, or some other feeding ground. We bade the boys good-bye and returned to our store to await new arrivals.
As the business of the preceding day had been more than I expected from the general survey of things when I first arrived, I soon saw that if I had another customer of the same dimensions of the first one, I would have very little with which to do business. I determined to send Bill to Dodge City for another load of provisions. I made out a list of what I wanted, greased the wagon and started him off. Under favorable conditions, he should make the trip in about eight or ten days, but if the roads became bad, it would require a much longer time. Before he left I had him make a good store of biscuits for me, as I was not able to turn out an article of the kind that would coincide with the digestive powers of any human being. I gave him strict orders, among the other things, not to forget to bring something to read, as there was nothing at hand for that purpose except a Patent Medicine pamphlet, and I had read that so often and so thoroughly that I had some of the symptoms of seven different maladies that were therein pronounced fatal. If I had been in the neighborhood of a drug store at the time I should have bought a supply of the cure-all regardless of results. Living as I was at the time, alone, I escaped the consequences of both the cure-all and the diseases mentioned in the pamphlet. When Bill was well on his way, I meandered around into the tent and out again, down to the creek and back again; in fact, I was just like a stray colt, did not know where to go, nor what to do. I soon discovered what my malady was. It was lonesomeness in its direst form. It settled on me like a fog settling over a marsh. It penetrated my very being. Everywhere I went I could feel it. Whatever I saw seemed tinged with it. I tried drinking strong coffee to drive it out, but that was no avail, so I saddled old Jimmie and took a ride over the prairie. On my way back to camp I killed a wild gobbler, thus providing myself with fresh meat. The cleaning and cooking of my prize relieved the monotony a trifle. I don’t know whether I cooked him according to the recipe in the latest cook book published, but in any case he tasted fine. My pony seemed to realize how lonely I was, for whenever I went out of my tent he endeavored to come to me, and strained at his rope to approach as near as possible. I went over to him and he put his head on my shoulder and seemed to say, “It’s all right, Dennis, Bill will be back in a few days and then you will have company. In the meantime I shall try to keep you from becoming too lonesome.” Needless to say, I put in considerable time with old Jimmie, currying him and fixing his water and feed in the best manner possible. I loved old Jimmie, for he was my friend. I knew not at what hour, nor what moment, my life would depend on his fidelity, and I knew that I could rely upon him to the last breath.
One day followed another without any perceptible difference between one and the other. In my surroundings I lost track of the time. I was longing for the return of my partner, and continued to picture the progress of his journey, where he was, what he was doing, etc. I felt like Robinson Crusoe, and in some respects his plight was more endurable than mine. He declared himself the monarch of all he surveyed, and his right there was none to dispute. Not so would he have issued his declaration if he were living in the Territory at the time, as his right would likely be disputed by the first man that came along, and as for there being a monarchy at the time, it was not thinkable, at least under the conditions in which I was living.
That was a time when every man was supposed to remain silent about what he had heard, and have very little to say about what he saw. Horse stealing had become quite an industry at the time, and was carried on by bands of outlaws between Arkansas, Missouri and Colorado. As there was no telephone, telegraph or mail facilities, they were comparatively free from detection, especially as they travelled through the most unfrequented parts of the country. Their route brought them through the section where I was camped. One day I saw five of them coming in my direction, attracted by the sight of my tent. When they arrived where I was sitting, I invited them to dismount and come into my tent. They did so. They inquired if I had any tobacco, and I told them that was one of the commodities I was dealing in at the time. As that was all they wanted, they bought several pounds and then prepared to depart. I invited them to remain to dinner and they accepted the invitation. When they had consented to be my guests, I told them I had everything to make a first-class meal, but was short on biscuits, and could not make them as I did not know how, and I said I would be pleased if one of them would make them. One of them remarked, “Now, Jack, there is a job for you.” I pulled out a sack of flour, a can of baking powder, gave one of them the coffee mill to grind some coffee, took a bucket and started for the creek for a pail of fresh water. The rest of them busied themselves building a fire of cowchips, and things began to take on the appearance of home. When Jack had his biscuits ready, I brought out my select assortment of tin-ware, passed around plates, knives, forks and whatever else was necessary, and we all set to work with a gusto. The gobbler, biscuits and other edibles did not last long, as each of us seemed to have a first-class appetite. While eating and joking at the same time, I told them of the reason of my asking them to remain for dinner, namely, that I was out of biscuits and that I was tired of living on crackers, and I knew there would be some one in the crowd who would be able to make them. I saw, besides, that their horses were jaded, and told them they might as well remain for a time to rest their stock. In all my joking and talking with them I took particular care not to ask them whence they came, nor whither they were going, nor what their business was in that part of the country, as that would be the height of impropriety. After we had chatted for a considerable time, they took the saddles off their horses, picketed one or two, and turned the others loose to graze. My loneliness was fast disappearing as the result of companionship of my fellowmen, even if they were a gang of horse thieves, and as a result I began to feel better and things began to wear a different aspect. I recalled a statement made by some one that it was not good for man to be alone, and I found it true, and made a resolution that I would never be left alone again in the future.
That night I saddled up old Jimmie, and taking one of my visitors, went out in search of some wild turkeys. I had previously seen a flock in the neighborhood, and had a fairly good idea of where they were roosting. As soon as the moon had come up we began looking around among the trees that grew along the bank of the creek, and to our great delight discovered a few. We secured two of them and returned to camp. Next morning, Jack, who had been delegated to cook for us during his visit, was up and had the game dressed in the most approved fashion, and had also turned out a new supply of biscuits. When I rolled out of my blanket, I discovered that my company was made up of early and energetic risers, and I was delighted to know that the cook had done so well, and showed my appreciation later. The rest of the group had gone off in search of their stock, and were then returning. Breakfast was ready by that time, and we all set to without much preliminary apology for poor appetites, for we had good ones. The service was rather plain; a tomato can served the purpose of a sugar bowl, a sardine can for a salt cellar, and other utensils were provided in the same manner. During the meal one of the boys asked me which was the best way, through No Man’s Land to Colorado. I divined immediately that they were horse thieves, for I had only a suspicion of it before. I gave him some kind of an answer, and I do not know whether it proved satisfactory to them or not. Breakfast being attended to and the dishes washed and put away, they made preparations for departure. They thanked me for my kindness and assured me that they would be glad to meet me at any time or place. When they had gone I began to feel the loss of company again, but I also began to realize the danger I had encountered owing to their brief stay, for if a posse of officers had happened along while they were my guests, it would have been hard for me to explain my compromising position. As it is usually the innocent bystander that gets hurt, I suppose I should have been the one to suffer, as there would have been some very warm work for a while. There was one thing impressed itself on my mind very much during the stay of my visitors, and that was the absence of vulgar or profane language. That went to prove that they had had good training by good parents who would have been proud of their personality, though they could not approve of their occupation.