Cattle Trails of the Prairies

By Charles Moreau Harger in 1892

The vast, undulating prairies of the American West, a landscape painted in hues of gold and green, once echoed with the thunderous rhythm of countless hooves. These were the days of the great cattle drives, a pivotal era in American history that sculpted the economic and cultural identity of the nation. The story of the cattle trails of the prairies is not merely a tale of livestock; it is an epic saga of resilience, ambition, and the relentless pursuit of opportunity in a burgeoning nation.

In the year 1860, Texas stood as the undisputed titan of livestock production in the Western States. Its sprawling ranges, stretching as far as the eye could see, teemed with herds numbering in the thousands. Cattle-raising wasn’t just an industry; it was the lifeblood of the Texan economy, eclipsing all other enterprises in importance and sheer scale. The foundation of this industry was laid centuries prior, with the introduction of Spanish cattle during Texas’s tenure as a Mexican province. These hardy breeds, adapted to the harsh environment, multiplied exponentially, their numbers swelling to an estimated three and a half million heads. While selective breeding had led to some improvements, these cattle remained a testament to their wild ancestry: wiry, nervous creatures with long limbs, slender, branching horns, and restless, watchful eyes. Their agility and speed were remarkable; they could run like deer and possessed a wildness that demanded respect.

Texas’s unique climate bestowed upon it a near monopoly in the cattle business. The pastures remained verdant year-round, offering sustenance to the massive herds. Furthermore, the state’s strategic location provided access to crucial markets. Herds from the eastern part of Texas could be driven to points along the Mississippi River, while those closer to the Gulf could be shipped by water. This proximity to markets gave Texas a significant competitive advantage.

In earlier times, Mexico had served as a significant consumer of Texan beef, but economic instability had diminished its role. The fine, hair-like "buffalo grass," a hallmark of the prairies stretching eastward from the Rocky Mountains, proved to be an invaluable resource. Nourishing in both winter and summer, it provided a consistent source of sustenance. Even the mesquite, often overlooked, offered a welcome change of diet for the ever-grazing herds.

The outbreak of the Civil War thrust upon Texan ranch owners a peculiar and unwelcome burden. With the Northern markets severed and Southern business life in disarray, disposing of the rapidly growing herds became a near impossibility. Occasional, furtive sales along the Mississippi River became virtually the only avenue for commerce. Prices plummeted, and the best animals on the ranges could be purchased for a mere two to four dollars a head. Driving cattle northward was not a common practice, and with the escalating conflict along the Kansas and Missouri frontier, the opportunity to initiate such drives evaporated. The livestock, once a source of wealth, was now neglected and devalued. Ranchers found themselves "cattle-poor," their dreams of fortune dashed by the harsh realities of war.

In the aftermath of the war, during the years 1865 and 1866, Texan ranch owners, driven by desperation, resolved to reach Northern markets at any cost. Thousands of animals were gathered in the northeastern part of the state, preparing for the arduous journey to Missouri railroad stations. The summer of 1866 marked the beginning of this massive movement, with an estimated 270,000 heads being pushed northward. The routes taken were often haphazard and ill-defined. Many drives commenced at the Rocky Bluffs Ford on the Red River. From there, they would proceed up the Kinishi Valley, across the plains to Fort Smith, Arkansas, and then, following a circuitous route through the Ozark Mountains, traverse southeastern Missouri. This meandering path became the most commonly used line of travel.

However, the drovers encountered a new and formidable threat. Lurking in the wilder regions of southern Missouri and northern Arkansas were bands of outlaws, the unrepentant successors to the guerrillas of the Civil War. These bandits, leveraging their advantageous position, imposed merciless tribute upon any drover passing through their territory. This tax was a heavy burden, and no matter how cunning the herders, the massive herds were invariably detected. If the outlaws’ demands were refused, the drovers often faced physical violence. Furthermore, the outlaws would employ a tactic of driving the cattle into a stampede. One of the persecutors would ride furiously at the herd, swinging a colored blanket. The timid beeves, bewildered by the unwanted sight, would scurry in every direction, becoming more frightened as they ran until the herd would be scattered over miles of territory. Days and weeks of search on the part of the cowboys, as the herders who assisted the drover were called, would serve to secure only a portion of the lot.

Adding to the drovers’ woes was the ever-present fear of Spanish fever, a disease that devastated Northern cattle and was thought to be carried by Texas cattle. The hostility of the Cherokee Indians in the northeastern part of the Indian Territory (present-day Oklahoma) further complicated matters, blocking a more westerly route that could have circumvented the bandits. Many cattle were lost on the arduous trek through the Ozark Mountains, and those that survived reached markets in St. Louis and Sedalia in poor condition, fetching meager prices. The year’s drive proved discouraging and unprofitable for the Texas cattle barons, prompting them to explore alternative strategies for disposing of their ever-growing surplus. The lucrative prices commanded by good stock in the North, coupled with the availability of capital for investment, fueled the search for a viable outlet for the abundance of beef. The narrative of the cattle trails of the prairies is one of constant adaptation and innovation in the face of adversity.

The solution to the cattle raisers’ dilemma emerged with the construction of the railroads across Kansas. In 1867, the Kansas Pacific Railroad, later to become the Kansas Division of the Union Pacific, was being built westward from Kansas City along the Kansas River valley. As the railroad pushed westward, it gradually became apparent that it held the key to the cattle industry’s revival. The region it traversed was sparsely populated, consisting primarily of rudimentary cabins and the ubiquitous saloons. However, the tide of emigration was swelling, and a vast empire awaited its conquerors.

A pivotal figure in this transformation was Joseph G. McCoy, an Illinois stock dealer who recognized the potential of the Kansas railroads. He conceived the audacious idea of establishing a major shipping point along the new railroad line, earning him the distinction of being the originator of the Kansas and Texas cattle trails of the prairies. Encouraged by railroad officials, McCoy orchestrated the establishment of suitable stockyards in Abilene, Kansas, a station situated 165 miles west of Kansas City. The town, consisting of fewer than a dozen houses, lay in the heart of a richly-grassed prairie, perfectly suited for grazing incoming herds.

McCoy dispatched a lone horseman on a perilous journey across the Indian-infested prairies, tasked with directing any herds he encountered to the nascent shipping point. The horseman rode southwest, crossing the Arkansas River near present-day Wichita, Kansas, and venturing into the Indian Territory. Initially, he struggled to locate the scattered herds and faced considerable difficulty in persuading the drovers that they would be treated fairly, given their past experiences with violence and exploitation. However, he eventually convinced some, and a herd of approximately 2,000 head, owned by Californian ranchers, became the first to traverse the northern end of what would become a legendary trail. That season, around 36,000 cattle, representing a mere one percent of Texas’s total supply, reached Abilene, and the drovers returned home satisfied with the facilities. The first shipment from Abilene occurred on September 5, 1867, celebrated by an excursion of Illinois stock dealers who arrived on a special train to witness the event. Despite the initial enthusiasm, the year’s business resulted in financial losses due to flood damage, Indian raids, and Eastern prejudice against Texas beef, which was often perceived as too wild for consumption.

Despite the initial setbacks, the momentum had been established. In 1868, a general sense of goodwill toward the new market permeated the Texas stock owners, resulting in a northward drive of over 75,000 head. The following year, 1869, witnessed an even greater surge, with 160,000 cattle thundering up from the Southern ranches, resembling a horned army.

By this time, well-defined trails had emerged, and for two decades, these trunk lines connecting the major producing and consuming centers held sway. The most renowned of these was the Chisholm Trail, named after Jesse Chisholm, an unconventional frontier stockman who pioneered its use. Chisholm, a bachelor residing in Paris, Texas, owned thousands of cattle grazing on the southern ranges of the state.

Extending from the Red River through Texas, the irregular "Southern Texas Trail" terminated near Cooke County. From the Red River, Chisholm charted a course to Kansas, riding ahead of his herd and identifying the most favorable path. He forded the Red River near the mouth of Mud Creek, followed that stream to its source, proceeded northwest to Wild Horse Creek, west of the Signal Mountains, and crossed the Washita at Elm Spring. A northward trajectory led him to the Canadian River, where he soon encountered the Kingfisher Creek Valley. This valley led to the Cimarron River. After passing the headwaters of Black Bear and Bluff Creeks, the next significant stream was the Salt Fork of the Arkansas River, which he crossed at Sewell’s Ranch. Sewell, a government post-trader, enjoyed favor with the Indians and operated two large ranches in the Territory.

Entering Kansas near Caldwell, the trail took a slightly east-of-north direction, crossing the Arkansas River near Wichita. Here stood the infamous "First and Last Chance" saloon, its signboard strategically positioned to attract cowboys traveling both north from the Territory and south from the market. The trail then veered northeasterly, passing through Newton and continuing over the divide between the Smoky Hill River and the Arkansas River, eventually reaching the prairies south of Abilene. Thousands of herds followed Chisholm’s route, transforming the trail into a prominent thoroughfare.

Stretching for over 600 miles, including its southern extension, the Chisholm Trail, worn into the bare earth by countless hooves, resembled a chocolate band winding through the green prairies, connecting the North and South. The cattle trails of the prairies served as arteries of commerce and cultural exchange.

As the constant traffic eroded the earth, the trail became lower than the surrounding terrain, flanked by small sandbanks sculpted by the wind. Bleached skulls and skeletons of animals that perished along the way marked its borders, while occasional low mounds indicated the final resting places of cowboys who had "died with their boots on." Dilapidated wagon frames served as reminders of breakdowns, and barren, circular "bedding grounds" dotted the landscape, each a testament to a herd’s overnight stay. The wealth of an empire flowed over the trail, leaving an indelible mark for decades to come.

Sharing prominence with the Chisholm Trail was the Old Shawnee Trail. This trail led to Baxter Springs, a lesser Northern shipping point that opened around the same time as Abilene. Baxter Springs was situated on the newly completed Fort Scott & Gulf Railroad, in the southeastern corner of Kansas. The Shawnee Trail began at the Red River near Snivel’s Bend, approximately 40 miles east of the Chisholm Trail’s starting point, and ran nearly parallel to its rival for about 100 miles.

A connecting trail linked the Shawnee Trail to the Chisholm Trail at Elm Spring. The Shawnee Trail then veered northeasterly, passing north of the Shawnee Hills, crossing the Canadian and North Canadian Rivers near the Sac and Fox Agency, and traversing the Creek reservation. It forded the Arkansas River west of Forts Davis and Gibson. Turning more easterly, it passed west of Vinita, Oklahoma, before reaching Baxter Springs, Kansas. Named for its passage through Shawnee Indian country, this trail became as well-worn and well-known as the Chisholm Trail. Both trails, barren like city streets, were marked by the whitening bones of countless animals that had succumbed to the arduous journey.

Positioned between the two main trails was the "Middle" or "West Shawnee Trail," diverging from its namesake near the Canadian River and heading almost due north until it reached the Arkansas River, which it followed into Kansas. It then ascended the Whitewater Valley, crossed the Cottonwood River, and followed the Neosho and Clark’s Creek valleys, terminating at Junction City, Kansas, 25 miles east of Abilene. In later years, the Chisholm Trail spawned a western offshoot that branched off near Elm Spring, passing near Fort Reno, Oklahoma, and heading northwest into western Kansas, reaching Dodge City on the Arkansas River and also northeast to Ellsworth on the Smoky Hill River. As the country became more settled, cattle were driven further west, and this "Western Chisholm Trail" became the primary thoroughfare for herds destined for either direct market or maturation in the invigorating air and pastures of Wyoming and Montana. While individual drovers sometimes deviated from the established routes, most cattle traffic followed the major trails, mirroring the concentration of commercial shipments on a few prominent railroads.

Along these cattle trails of the prairies, ranches sprang up wherever suitable land could be acquired. Northern Texas, southern and western Kansas, and later, parts of the Indian Territory, rivaled the Gulf region in the production of marketable animals.

The number of cattle reaching Abilene soared to 300,000 in 1870, creating an almost continuous procession of bovine travelers along the Chisholm Trail. To facilitate the movement of these herds, surveyors were dispatched to straighten the trail from the Kansas border to the shipping station. Fresh mounds of earth marked the improved route, saving the drovers considerable distance. News of these efforts spread, and Texas ranch owners, appreciating these advantages and the escalating prices in Eastern markets, prepared to send even greater numbers of cattle northward.

The ranches, predominantly located in southern and southwestern Texas, provided opportunities for countless young men who, after the Civil War, sought their fortunes in the Southwest. By 1871, these individuals were in a position to bring their marketable stock to market, driving nearly a million cattle north. Abilene alone received 600,000 heads, while Baxter Springs and Junction City received half as many. Cattle grazed for miles around the major shipping points, awaiting sale or shipment. From any vantage point, one could see thousands of sleek beeves, their branching horns gleaming in the sunlight, with herders watchfully patrolling the perimeter. Several counties in central Kansas were essentially transformed into cattle yards, and it seemed as though the industry would soon consume the entire state.

However, this represented the peak of the boom. Prices began to decline, inclement weather negatively impacted the cattle’s condition, and the dreaded Spanish fever, which seemed inextricably linked to Texas cattle, caused more problems than usual. The herds were held on the grazing grounds until fall, in the hope of a price rebound, but to no avail. Eventually, shipping ceased altogether, leaving over 300,000 cattle unsold. While some cattle were carried over each year, either due to lack of sales or for fattening on Northern corn, this number was unprecedented. The drovers moved their stock westward to the buffalo grass region, making it impossible to obtain hay and corn in central Kansas for the massive herds.

The onset of the winter of 1871-72 brought a severe ice storm, coating the prairie in a layer of ice. Thousands of cattle and hundreds of horses perished from cold and starvation. While some carcasses were skinned, the majority were left for the wolves. Approximately 100,000 hides were shipped from three stations after the storm. The winter proved brutal throughout, and it was estimated that fewer than 50,000 cattle survived. Herds that once numbered 60,000-70,000 were reduced to a few hundred. Like other booms in the West that had overreached themselves, this one culminated in collapse.

Abilene’s prominence faded. Ellsworth, located forty miles further west, became the new shipping point on the Kansas Pacific. The Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad, nearing completion through the southern part of the state, began to compete for the trade. Newton, where the railroad intersected the Abilene trail, diverted many herds, sharing the title of "The wickedest town in the West" with Ellsworth, a title Abilene had previously held.

Dodge City later adopted this moniker and, with the discovery of mineral resources in Colorado, passed from the state and became the property of Leadville and Deadwood, South Dakota. At the new shipping point, another colorful saying gained popularity: "There is no Sunday west of Newton and no God west of Pueblo." Wichita also attracted drovers, shipping 80,000 heads in 1872, while three times that number were shipped from the other towns combined. In 1873, 450,000 heads were shipped from Kansas, followed by another decline in prices and unfavorable weather conditions, although not as severe as those of two years prior.

Soon after, Dodge City, situated on the Chisholm Trail’s western offshoot to Ellsworth, was reached by the Santa Fe Railroad, absorbing the more northern station’s trade just as Newton had supplanted Abilene. For 12 years, it reigned as the undisputed shipping center for Texas cattle in the state. While the drives never reached the scale of 1871, they remained substantial until the construction of railroads across the Indian Territory and the establishment of shipping points in Texas itself. Even then, the drives did not cease entirely, with thousands of cattle continuing to trickle across the line each year, destined for markets in Dodge City, Wichita, and other railroad hubs.

The opening of Oklahoma in 1890 created another barrier. The 1891 season marked the end of the bovine exodus that, for two decades, had provided employment and profit for countless Western workers. The advantages of that method of marketing had disappeared, and henceforth, the only herds to traverse the once-bustling thoroughfares would be young stock slowly transported from the warm climate of the Gulf region northwesterly, skirting the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, to reach the highland feeding grounds of Wyoming and Montana after a six-month journey. A year or two later, these animals would go to market as sturdy, hard-fleshed beeves, ready for export.

The drover and his cowboy assistants faced formidable challenges in guiding the herds from the Southern ranches to the Northern shipping points, demanding both skill and courage. Only a man of unwavering resolve and quick reflexes could successfully manage animals that possessed the traits of wild beasts rather than domesticated livestock. The Texas steer was no respecter of persons. He held a healthy fear of the man on horseback, seemingly sharing the savage’s belief in the invincibility of that combination. Separately, neither man nor horse stood a chance against a herd fresh from the range, akin to being surrounded by wolves or jackals. With their long, sharp horns, these steers could easily injure an enemy, and their fights among themselves resembled the ferocity of jungle contests.

The initial encounter between the cowboys and the cattle occurred during the annual round-up, when the owner’s cattle were gathered for branding. The offspring received the mother’s mark, with the ranch owner possessing a brand exclusively, similar to a manufacturer’s trademark. After the young animals had been lassoed, restrained, and branded with a red-hot iron, leaving a permanent scar, they were released. No human hand touched them until they reached the age of four and were ready for market. The cowboys lived in cabins near water sources and monitored the stock daily, sometimes with herds located 10 or 20 miles away. Any "mavericks," unbranded stock over one year old, that joined the herd became the property of the person branding them, often significantly augmenting a herd.

The cattle barons of the cattle trade’s heyday lived like royalty. They rarely resided on the ranch, preferring to live in Texan cities or travel luxuriously, while their wealth grew exponentially. Many were unaware of the exact number of cattle they owned.

Their lives were marked by extravagance and opulence. Diamonds, carriages, and lavish banquets defined their existence. At the height of their power and wealth in the late 1870s and early 1880s, they essentially controlled the Lone Star State. Their cattle grazed from No Man’s Land (present-day Oklahoma Panhandle) to El Paso, Texas, fueled by high prices and capital investment. However, the arrival of the agriculturist signaled a change, with farms gradually displacing ranches.

The initial owners did not always send their cattle directly to market. Drovers specialized in purchasing marketable beeves from ranch to ranch. "Dogies," "sea-lions," and "longhorns" were common nicknames for the cattle, with size varying based on latitude. Southern Texas stock was smaller, with drives ranging from 4,000 to 6,000 head, while northern Texas stock typically had drives of 1,500 to 3,000 head.

In addition to camp equipment and food, the drover secured approximately eight men per 1,000 cattle as drivers and six to ten horses per man, depending on the quality of the horses. After 1883-84, with reduced Indian threats and fewer herds on the trails, four to six men per 1,000 head were deemed sufficient. The cattle were "cut out" one by one using lassoes, and each animal received a "road brand," a supplementary mark to prevent confusion during the journey to market. With everything in place, the long march commenced.

Spring was the usual starting time, and during the peak seasons of May, June, July, and August, a continuous procession of herds traversed the great trails. Herds were often so close together that drivers could hear one another urging their stock forward. Despite the utmost care, stampedes sometimes occurred, resulting in significant time and labor losses during separation.

Once underway, the herds moved with remarkable orderliness. A herd of a thousand beeves could stretch for two miles or more, creating a picturesque scene. The leaders were flanked by cowboys on wiry Texas ponies, riding comfortably in large saddles with high backs and pommels. Riders were spaced at regular intervals, resembling an army on the march. The cattle’s movements displayed a similar regularity. Certain individuals consistently led the way, while others maintained their relative positions within the herd day after day.

The initial driving was intense, covering 20-30 miles per day until the animals were exhausted. After that, 12-15 miles was considered a good day’s progress, extending the journey to 40 to 100 days. The daily routine mirrored that of a regiment on the march. From morning until noon, the cattle grazed toward their destination, supervised by cowboys in shifts. By midday, the cattle became restless and were herded back onto the trail, walking steadily for eight to ten miles before halting for another graze at early twilight. As darkness descended, the cattle were gathered into a compact mass, with cowboys riding in ever-decreasing circles around them until they finally lay down to rest. Around midnight, they would typically rise, stand for a while, and then lie down again on the opposite side. Extra vigilance was required at this time to prevent them from wandering in the darkness. Cowboys, either sitting on their ponies or slowly circling the reclining cattle, maintained watch throughout the night, rotating shifts at regular intervals.

Under clear skies and bracing air, cattle driving was a pleasant and healthy endeavor. However, rainy days brought restlessness among the cattle, making the ride unpleasant. Nights, in particular, were wearisome, and the cattle were prone to stampedes.

The triggers for stampedes were unpredictable, much like the causes of human panics. A flash of lightning, a snapping twig, a wolf’s howl – seemingly insignificant events could instantly send the entire herd into a frenzy. The mass of hair and horns, with fierce, frightened eyes gleaming like emeralds, would erupt into motion. Recklessly, blindly, they surged forward, regardless of obstacles, and only the fleetest horses could keep pace with the leaders. Cowboys would push their ponies to their limits, striving to get alongside the leaders and gradually turn them into a circle.

The following cattle blindly followed, eventually joining the front, and "milling" commenced. Like a massive millstone, the bewildered creatures raced round and round until they either collapsed from exhaustion or recovered from their terror.

Stopping the milling after a stampede or in the cattle yards at the end of the trip was a challenging but crucial task. As in a stampede, any animal unable to keep up would be trampled to death. The human voice proved to be the most effective tool, as physical force was out of the question. The cowboys would begin to sing as soon as the milling started, regardless of the song. Even the most profane individuals would sing camp-meeting hymns to soothe the agitated steers, a practice that might have surprised the devout members of their home churches.

A stampede invariably resulted in losses and increased the likelihood of future panics. Certain volatile leaders were often shot to prevent them from inciting further stampedes. Another danger was the mingling of two herds, and in earlier times, the presence of buffalo posed a significant threat. A stampeding herd of buffalo was almost certain to trigger a panic if within earshot, necessitating outriders to divert their course. Furthermore, marauding Indians were a constant concern, leading to numerous skirmishes between cowboys and Native Americans. However, establishing an understanding with tribal chiefs typically ensured safety. Thus, accompanied by challenges that demanded all their strength and ingenuity, the horned host moved onward. Rivers were crossed by swimming, maintaining the same order as on land.

Upon reaching the outskirts of the shipping station, the herd was held on the plains until the drover finalized a sale or secured railcars for shipment. The animals were then driven into the stockades, coaxed or forced into the cars, and dispatched to the packing houses. The journey had been alien to them, often characterized by harsh treatment and the close confinement of yards and railcars, a first for many.

Cattle loading was followed by "paying off" the cowboys, who then enjoyed a brief respite before returning to another year of arduous labor and meager provisions. After nearly twelve months on the prairies, they were unlikely to spend their time in quiet contemplation. The cattle towns catered to their vices, with saloons and dance houses thriving. Gambling was rampant, and quarrels frequently escalated into murder. During the peak of the season, might was the only law. On occasion, a marshal like William Hickok, the original Wild Bill, could maintain order, but only through superior speed and daring.

The figure of the cowboy has been romanticized and glamorized. However, the reality was far removed from the burlesque stage hero or the drunken terror depicted in dime novels. The cowboy lived a hard life, sleeping outdoors for months, with limited access to news, books, or the benefits of society. The roughest Western immigrants, along with many Mexicans, were drawn to the profession by its excitement and relatively high wages. Their excesses shaped the world’s perception of all cowboys. The challenges of working with wild horses and ferocious Texas steers, coupled with the temptations of the cattle towns, often brought out the worst in their character. However, many cowboys were raised in Christian households and eventually became productive citizens, contributing to the development of the West.

The cowboy, with his white, wide-brimmed hat, long leather whip, lariat, and clanking spurs, is now a relic of the past. The vast Texas ranches are enclosed by barbed wire fences, and a genuine Texas steer would draw as much attention as a llama in the old cattle towns. Abilene, Ellsworth, Newton, and Dodge City have transformed into bustling cities surrounded by thriving agricultural communities, complete with churches, schools, electric lights, and other hallmarks of modern civilization. The only vestiges of the past are a few weathered buildings, identified as saloons where legendary figures engaged in deadly encounters.

The cattle trails of the prairies fostered closer business relationships between the North and South, benefiting both regions. However, the life they represented was unsustainable. The homes of settlers have encroached upon the grazing lands, and railroads have eclipsed the trails in number and importance. Like the cavalier, the troubadour, the Puritan, and the "Forty-niner," the cowboy and his way of life have become figures in history.