Riders of the Pony Express

By Glenn D. Bradley in 1913

The annals of the American West are filled with tales of daring, resilience, and unwavering commitment. Among these, the story of the Pony Express stands out as a testament to human ingenuity and the relentless pursuit of communication in a vast and unforgiving landscape. The Pony Express, a fleeting but unforgettable chapter in American history, relied on a cadre of exceptional individuals – its riders. These men, often young and facing constant danger, embodied the spirit of the frontier, ensuring the swift delivery of mail across the continent.

Consider these stark pronouncements, culled from frontier newspapers of the era: "Bart Riley the pony rider, died this morning from wounds received at Cold Springs, May 16th." "The men at Dry Creek Station have all been killed, and it is thought those at Robert’s Creek have met with the same fate." "Six Pike’s Peakers found the body of the station keeper horribly mutilated, the station burned, and all the stock missing from Simpson’s." "Eight horses were stolen from Smith’s Creek on last Monday, supposedly by road agents." Such were the grim realities faced daily by those who dared to ride for the Pony Express.

The very existence of the Pony Express depended upon the courage and skill of these men. It required a workforce of cool-headed, hardened individuals, men who possessed not only exceptional horsemanship but also an intimate understanding of the treacherous terrain and the ever-present threats that lurked within it. These individuals had to be experts in the art of self-preservation. It is a testament to their fortitude that they were able to perform their duties, even the simplest of them, in the face of constant danger and almost unbelievable hardships.

The stories of the Riders of the Pony Express are filled with extraordinary adventures, often surpassing the realm of fiction. While historical records preserve some anecdotes and acknowledge the collective achievements of these brave men, countless acts of individual heroism remain lost to time. The stories are so thrilling and exceptional, surpassing what one would imagine.

While honor is due to the station keepers, whose isolated outposts often bore the brunt of attacks from Native Americans and bandits, it is to the riders that the seeker of adventure is most drawn. The Riders of the Pony Express‘ skill and fortitude were the linchpin of the entire operation. Both riders and hostlers endured similar privations, often reduced to consuming wolf meat and drinking foul or brackish water to survive.

Each rider was typically assigned a 75-mile route, utilizing three to seven horses. Accidents were inevitable, and riders frequently found themselves lost, leading to significant delays in maintaining the rigorously tight schedules. The most dramatic events often unfolded when riders faced emergencies, stepping in to fulfill the duties of comrades who had been killed or injured while awaiting their turn. The courage of the Riders of the Pony Express was a crucial factor in keeping the mail moving.

One such tale belongs to Jim Moore, who later became a ranchman in the South Platte Valley, Nebraska. On June 8, 1860, Moore found himself at Midway Station, Nebraska, strategically positioned between the Missouri River and Denver, Colorado. The westbound messenger arrived carrying vital government dispatches destined for California. Moore immediately "took up the run," riding continuously for 140 miles to Julesburg, the end of his designated division. Upon arrival, he encountered the eastbound messenger, also carrying crucial messages from the West Coast to Washington. Customarily, Moore would have rested for a few hours before returning, but his replacement had been killed the day prior. Undeterred, and recognizing the paramount importance of maintaining the schedule, Moore, after a mere ten-minute delay and without even pausing to eat, remounted his horse and began his return journey eastward. Despite the lurking threat of Native Americans, hunger, and sheer exhaustion, he completed the round trip of 280 miles in an astonishing 14 hours and 46 minutes, averaging over 18 miles per hour. Furthermore, his westbound mail had successfully traversed the distance from St. Joseph, Missouri, to Sacramento, California, in a record-breaking eight days and nine hours. Jim Moore demonstrated the resilience of the Riders of the Pony Express.

William James, affectionately known as "Bill" James, was a Virginian who had crossed the plains with his family at the tender age of five. By eighteen, he had become one of the most skilled Pony Express riders. James’s route lay between Simpson’s Park and Cole Springs, Nevada, in the rugged Smoky Valley mountains. Although his round trip was only 120 miles, he completed it in a remarkable 12 hours, including all stops. He consistently rode California mustangs, utilizing five animals in each direction. His route traversed the summits of two mountain ridges, cut through Shoshone Indian territory, and represented one of the most isolated and perilous sections of the entire line. Yet, Bill remained unfazed by the danger and never encountered any serious trouble.

Theodore Rand rode for the Pony Express for the duration of its operation. His run stretched from Box Elder to Julesburg, Colorado, a distance of 110 miles, which he covered entirely at night. His schedule demanded a pace of ten miles per hour, but Rand frequently averaged 12 miles per hour, effectively saving time for riders who might encounter difficulties. Initially, Rand used only four or five horses in each direction, but in accordance with the company’s revised policies, this number was later doubled, providing him with an extra mount every 12-15 miles.

Johnny Fry, a native Missourian weighing less than 125 pounds, was the first rider to depart from St. Joseph, Missouri. Despite his youth and slight stature, Fry was a formidable individual. His division ran from St. Joseph to Seneca, Kansas, a distance of 80 miles, which he covered at an average speed of 12.5 miles per hour, including all stops. When the Civil War erupted, Fry enlisted in the Union army under General James Blunt. Sadly, his promising career was cut short in 1863 when he was killed in hand-to-hand combat with rebel bushwhackers in southeastern Kansas. In his final stand, Fry is said to have killed five of his assailants before succumbing to his wounds.

Jim Beatley, whose real name was Foote, was a Virginian who rode on an eastern division, typically westward out of Seneca, Kansas. On one occasion, he traveled from Seneca, Kansas, to Big Sandy, Nebraska, a distance of 50 miles, and back, doubling his route twice in one week. Tragically, Beatley was killed in a personal dispute with a stagehand on a ranch in southern Nebraska in 1862.

William Boulton, one of the older riders, rode alongside Jim Beatley for approximately three months. Once, while running between Seneca and Guittard’s Station in Kansas, Boulton’s horse gave out five miles from the station. Without hesitation, he removed his letter pouch and carried the mail on foot to the station, where a fresh horse was promptly provided, allowing him to resume his schedule.

Melville Baughn, known as "Mel," had a pony run between Fort Kearny, Nebraska, and Thirty-two-mile Creek. While "laying off" between trips, a thief stole his favorite horse. Baughn quickly discovered the theft and, after hastily saddling another horse, gave chase. Despite being at a disadvantage, Baughn’s superior horsemanship allowed him to close the gap. After a chase of several miles, he forced the thief to abandon the stolen animal at Loup Fork and flee. Baughn recovered his horse, returned to his station, collected a waiting mailbag, and resumed his run without further delay. For Baughn and his fellow riders, pursuing a horse thief was merely a minor inconvenience.

Another Eastern Division rider was Jack Keetley, who also rode from St. Joseph, Missouri, to Seneca, Kansas. Keetley’s most remarkable achievement was riding from Rock Creek Station in Nebraska to St. Joseph, then back to his starting point and on to Seneca, and finally from Seneca back to Rock Creek Station – a grueling 340 miles without rest. He traveled continuously for 31 hours, averaging eleven miles per hour. During the last five miles of his journey, he fell asleep in the saddle, completing his long trip in a state of exhaustion.

Don C. Rising rode for the Pony Express for nearly a year, from November 1860 until the line was discontinued the following October. He spent much of his time running eastward out of Fort Kearny. On two occasions, Rising maintained a continuous speed of 20 miles per hour while carrying important dispatches between Big Sandy and Rock Creek Station in Nebraska.

One rider, known as "Little Yank," was a young boy barely out of his teens, weighing just one hundred pounds. He rode along the Platte River between Cottonwood Springs, Nebraska, and Julesburg, Colorado, frequently covering 100 miles on a single trip.

Another rider named Hogan rode northwesterly out of Julesburg, Colorado, across the Platte River to Mud Springs, approximately 80 miles distant.

Jimmy Clark rode between various stations east of Fort Kearny, typically between Big Sandy, Nebraska, and Hollenberg, Kansas. Sometimes his run extended as far west as Liberty Farm on the Little Blue River.

James W. Brink, known as "Dock" Brink, joined the Pony Express Company in April 1860. While Brink was a reliable courier, he gained notoriety for his role in a fight at Rock Creek Station, where he and Wild Bill Hickok defeated the McCanles Gang of outlaws, killing five of them.

Charles Cliff, at just 17 years old, had an 80-mile pony run. Like Brink, Cliff earned his reputation as a fighter, battling Native Americans. While freighting with a small train of nine wagons, Cliff was attacked by a party of one hundred Sioux Indians and besieged for three days until a larger train arrived and drove them away. Cliff sustained three bullet wounds and twenty-seven bullet holes in his clothing, but he recovered and continued to serve the Pony Express.

Jay G. Kelley helped Superintendent Roberts lay out the route across Nevada. Kelley recounted that willow trees were cut near the Carson River to construct corduroy roads, and the men often carried these timbers for 300 yards while battling swarms of mosquitoes.

At the Sink of the Carson in Nevada, Kelley assisted in building a fort for protection against Native Americans. Without rocks or timber available, the structure was built of adobe mud, which the men trampled with their bare feet to achieve the proper consistency. The soil was soaked with alkali, causing their feet to swell.

They then erected a fort at Sand Springs, 30 miles from Carson Lake, and another at Cold Springs, 32 miles east of Sand Springs. At Cold Springs, Kelley was appointed assistant station-keeper under Jim McNaughton. During a Paiute Indian outbreak, Kelley, while on guard, noticed the horses were uneasy and saw an Indian peering over the stockade. He fired, but missed. The next morning, many tracks were found around the station, suggesting the shot had frightened away potential attackers.

During this same morning, a Mexican pony rider arrived mortally wounded, having been ambushed by Native Americans. Kelley, the lightest man at the station, was ordered to take his place and continue with the dispatches. On his return trip, he had to pass through the aspen thicket where his predecessor had been wounded. Expecting trouble, he sped through the thicket, holding a repeating rifle at the ready. Upon clearing the thicket, he saw suspicious movement in the underbrush and fired several shots, causing the movement to cease.

A few days later, two United States soldiers were ambushed and killed in the same thicket.

One of Kelley’s most challenging rides was the 37-mile stretch between Cold Springs and Sand Springs, devoid of any water sources.

Once, while riding past a wagon train of immigrants, Kelley was shot at, narrowly escaping with his life. On his return trip, he confronted the group, who claimed they thought he was an Indian.

The Riders of the Pony Express faced not only the perils of the wilderness, deserts, blizzards, and Native Americans, but also the potential danger from their fellow white settlers. They courted danger and were seldom disappointed.

No account of the Pony Express would be complete without mentioning Robert Haslam, known as "Pony Bob," and William F. Cody, known as "Buffalo Bill."

Haslam’s most impressive performance occurred during the Paiute raids. He stopped at Reed’s Station on the Carson River and found no fresh horses. After feeding and resting his horse, he rode to Bucklands, 15 miles downriver. His replacement was unable to continue, so Superintendent W. C. Marley offered Haslam a $50 bonus to take up the route.

Haslam accepted, and within ten minutes, he was off, armed with a revolver and carbine. He rode 35 miles to the Sink of the Carson, changed mounts, and continued 37 miles to Cold Springs. There, he changed horses again and rode 30 miles to Smith’s Creek, where he was relieved by Jay G. Kelley. Haslam had ridden 185 miles without stopping.

At Smith’s Creek, he slept for nine hours and then started back with the return mail. He found Cold Springs in ruins, with the station-keeper dead and the horses stolen. After watering his horse, he rode on to Sand Springs, reported the incident, and convinced the station man to accompany him to the Sink of the Carson, likely saving his life. At Carson, they found a group of men under siege by Native Americans. Despite their pleas for him to stay, Haslam continued on to Bucklands.

Superintendent Marley increased his bonus to $100. Haslam rested for an hour and a half, then resumed his ride to Friday’s Station, having ridden 380 miles with minimal rest.

William F. Cody, known as "Bill," had a hazardous route between Red Buttes and Three Crossings. The latter was on the Sweetwater River, named for the three times the stream crossed a rocky canyon. Cody also had to ford the North Platte River, which was half a mile wide and 12 feet deep in places.

Cody joined the Pony Express after the line had been organized. At Julesburg, Colorado, he met George Chrisman, who hired him temporarily to ride the division held by a rider named Trotter. It was a short route, 45 miles, with three horse relays each way. After several weeks, Cody was relieved and went to Leavenworth, where he obtained a letter of recommendation from Mr. Russell, head of the firm, addressed to Jack Slade, Superintendent of the division between Julesburg and Rocky Ridge. Slade, initially skeptical, hired Cody and assigned him the dangerous 76-mile run between Red Buttes and Three Crossings.

One day, Cody found that his replacement at Three Crossings had been killed. Cody filled in, riding 85 miles to Rocky Ridge and returning with the eastbound mail – a total of 322 miles.

On another occasion, Cody was chased by a band of Sioux Indians. He outran them and reached Sweetwater, where he found the station raided, the keeper slain, and the horses stolen. He rode 12 miles to Ploutz Station, reported the incident, and completed his run.

Another time, Cody suspected that bandits might try to steal a pouch rumored to contain a large sum of currency. He hid the real pouch under a saddle blanket and carried a dummy pouch filled with waste paper. Two highwaymen stopped him and demanded the pouch. Cody threw the dummy pouch at the head of one of the outlaws, then drew his revolver, disabled one, and rode over the other, escaping unharmed.

The men who rode the Pony Express, often rough and unlettered, played a vital role in the history of the American nation. Their courage, resilience, and unwavering commitment to delivering the mail, despite facing constant danger, earned them a place among the legends of the American West. Their sacrifices helped connect a growing nation and contributed to the winning of the West.