The Cattle Kings
By Emerson Hough in 1918
The era of the cattle kings emerged as the iron horse stretched its rails across the vast expanse of the Great Plains. The indigenous tribes, once the undisputed masters of this domain, were gradually receding under the relentless pressure of westward expansion. The iconic buffalo, though still present, was destined for near extinction, marking the end of an age-old symbiotic relationship between the Native Americans and these majestic creatures.
The period leading up to the latter years of the Civil War witnessed the northern range as an expansive, unfettered territory, arguably the most extensive land offering ever presented to a people. No individual or entity laid claim to it; no one sought ownership in the traditional sense. The abundant grasses and pristine waters offered a readily accessible and profitable foundation for anyone venturing into the range with cattle. Land laws remained ambiguous and loosely enforced, allowing individuals to interpret them according to their own ambitions and desires.
The Homestead Act of 1862, a landmark piece of legislation designed to promote settlement and agricultural development, functioned effectively in regions suitable for farming, where a quarter section of land (160 acres) could sustain a family. However, on the sprawling cattle range, this law proved inadequate. Cattlemen, in pursuit of sufficient grazing land for their herds, frequently circumvented the Homestead Act. This disregard for the law, intended to provide equal opportunities for all, paradoxically fueled the rise of powerful timber and cattle kings.
Along the major waterways that crisscrossed the northern range, ranchers and their employees strategically filed claims, securing access to vital water sources. The adjacent dry lands became subservient to these strategically positioned holdings. For the most part, open lands were held under what amounted to squatter’s rights; the first cattleman to establish a presence in a valley typically had his rights respected, at least initially. This marked the heyday of the open range, before the arrival of fences and formally demarcated farms. The era of the cattle kings was underway.
From the South, a transformative force emerged, revolutionizing the rapidly evolving West: the northward migration of countless cattle along well-trodden trails. These trails stretched from the Rio Grande to the upper plains of Texas and beyond, tracing the north-south axis of the Frontier – a region defined not only by its geographical boundaries but also by its unique character and spirit. This era would forever be known for the cattle kings.
The Indian Wars, a tragic chapter in American history, played a significant role in the burgeoning cow trade. As Native American tribes were confined to reservations, the government faced the responsibility of providing them with sustenance, primarily in the form of beef. Corrupt Indian agents exploited this situation for personal gain, and the "Beef Ring" in Washington, D.C., became a notorious symbol of political corruption. This unsavory alliance between corrupt politics and unscrupulous business practices had a profound impact on the cattle industry. Herds driven up from Texas, arriving late in the season, were sometimes rejected due to favoritism towards politically connected suppliers. This created a need for "holding ranges," further solidifying the capacity of the northern Plains to sustain and improve cattle. The era of the cattle kings was being built on a foundation of corruption.
As the price of cattle began to climb, so did the demand for open range. This triggered a complex narrative of leased lands and fenced lands. The frontier still presented opportunities for the bold to profit from the labor of others. Lands leased to Native American tribes became entangled in the cow trade and in political machinations until a firm hand in Washington intervened. Eastern methods of business and governance, previously foreign to the West, began to encroach upon the newly acquired territory, bringing with them politics, graft, and influence. The cattle kings faced new challenges.
Each herd driven north, regardless of its ultimate purpose, contributed to the education and experience of cattlemen from both the northern and southern ranges. Some southern ranchers began establishing feeding ranges in the North while maintaining their breeding ranges in the South. The seemingly limitless demand for cattle in the upper range fueled this expansion. The cattle kings controlled the market.
Railroad entrepreneurs recognized the immense potential for freight transportation. They envisioned a future where iron rails would parallel the northbound cow trails, competing with nature to transport beef to market. The rapid development that ensued, as westward-bound rails crisscrossed the newly won frontier, spanned a mere two decades. Terms like the Chisholm Trail and the Western Trail became commonplace, along with names of emerging marketplaces like Ogallala, Nebraska, the "Gomorrah of the Range," which served as a major distribution point for cattle destined for the rapidly developing northern ranches. The Yellowstone, Powder, Musselshell, Tongue, Big Horn, and Little Missouri Rivers became familiar landmarks on the map. The era of the cattle kings was supported by the railroad.
A wave of bold and carefree individuals from the South spread across the new West, captivating the interest of people from older lands. Money was plentiful, and independence was the norm. It seemed that individuals could transcend the limitations of their lives and achieve unprecedented levels of freedom, self-indulgence, and ease. A chorus of boisterous laughter echoed across the great range, suggesting a land brimming with untapped potential. The cry arose that there was land enough for all out West. Trains of white-topped wagons competed with crowded coaches heading west on the rails.
This influx of people and capital led to a fundamental readjustment of values. Land that had previously been considered barren and worthless now held riches greater than the gold of California. New forms of security and value emerged. Banks, initially hesitant to lend against land, readily provided loans secured by cattle at interest rates that, at the time, did not seem exorbitant. A new system of finance took hold, fueling the expansion of the cattle business. Hundreds of thousands of cows migrated north from the inexhaustible ranges of the South.
It was a wild and extraordinary era, characterized by generosity, contentment, and boldness. The life of a cattleman with a well-stocked range on the Plains was considered unparalleled. The region stretching from the Missouri River to the foothills of the Rocky Mountains was hailed as the finest country in the world. The cattle kings reigned supreme.
Cities along the trails benefited from the northbound cattle trade. Wichita, Coffeyville, and other towns in southern Kansas vied for prominence as cattle markets. Agents from the Chicago stockyards ventured south along the trails into the Indian Nations, attempting to divert herds to their respective markets.
Native American tribes, not yet fully confined to their reservations, sometimes exacted tribute from the herds making their way north, either through theft or outright extortion. Trail-cutters and herd-combers, both licensed and unlicensed, preyed on the northbound cattle, often with justification, as herds frequently included cattle bearing brands other than those registered for the drovers. Cattle rustling became a lucrative industry, rivaling the banditry of the placer camps. The sudden influx of wealth attracted both the strong and the unscrupulous, who sought to profit from the labor of others. The presence of graves along the trail or at the edge of town was a grim reminder of the dangers, but life was cheap, and bloodshed was commonplace.
During the early, unregulated days of the cattle industry, the frontier operated according to its own set of rules and standards. However, an increasing number of individuals from the East, with more refined notions of trade and business, began to arrive. The enormous waste associated with the cattle range could not be sustained indefinitely. The losses incurred through theft by range-rustlers created an unsustainable burden for prudent businessmen. Similar to how vigilantes maintained order in the mining camps, the new property owners on the upper range established their own interpretations of law and order. Cattle associations, formed by owners of vast herds for mutual protection and gain, were a natural development. In addition, a highly efficient corps of cattle-range vigilantes emerged, dispensing swift justice to rustlers through hangings and shootings. The era of the cattle kings was starting to be challenged by law and order.
This era was frenzied and short-lived, marked by a final burst of frontier lawlessness. Towns like Dodge City, Kansas, and Ogallala, Nebraska, became notorious for their unrestrained behavior. Fortunately, the best men of the new regime, law officers, and vigilantes gradually brought order to these capitals of vice. Over time, the lights of dance halls, saloons, and gambling parlors dimmed one by one across the frontier.
By 1885, Dodge City, once a renowned hub of the cow trade, had declared its intention to cease operating as a cow camp. The residents of Dodge recognized that a new era had dawned, largely due to the arrival of homesteaders who erected barbed-wire fences, cutting off the town’s access to the holding grounds for northbound herds.
The introduction of barbed-wire fences in the 1870s dramatically altered the landscape. It allowed individuals to enclose their own water-fronts and homesteads. Initially, and without objection, they also included vast tracts of rangeland to which they had no legal claim. These individuals, similar to the large-handed cow barons of the Indian Nations, wielded considerable money and political influence. With seemingly endless range still available, the construction of drift fences went largely unchallenged.
Up until this point, little attention had been paid to the "Little Fellow," the man of modest means who registered his own brand and, through hard work and perhaps some opportunistic acquisitions, built up his own herd. However, cattle associations began implementing rules prohibiting foremen from owning or registering their own brands. While no specific suspicion was directed at any individual foreman, those who insisted on retaining their right to own a running iron and a registered brand were politely encouraged to seek employment elsewhere. The era of the cattle kings was coming to an end.
The once generous methods of the old range began to tighten. Even when the Little Fellow could fence his own land, it often proved insufficient to support his herd profitably. Growing animosity arose between the large cattle owners and the smaller ones, particularly on the upper range, leading to bitter conflicts. The cow kings accused their smaller rivals of rustling cattle, while the small men accused the larger operators of the same practice, claiming they had grown rich through such means.
Cattle associations, with their brand inspectors stationed as far east as the stockyards of Kansas City and Chicago, held a significant advantage over the smaller operators. They employed detectives who scoured the country in search of individuals with flexible interpretations of property rights. The cattle business became increasingly stringent and demanding. Easterners introduced their concepts of property, low interest rates, guaranteed returns, and secure investments. The age-old conflict between property rights and individual liberty played out once more, with the States ultimately prevailing over the Frontier. The era of the cattle kings was over.
Paradoxically, the barbed-wire fence, initially favored by the large operators, eventually became the greatest ally of the Little Fellow on the range. The Little Fellow, taking advantage of the Homestead Act, pushed further west, away from the established railway lines, to locate and fence off land and water for himself. "I’ve got the law back of me," he declared, and he was right. Around the old cow camps and the new settlements, homesteaders fenced off so much land that there was no longer sufficient space near the shipping points to hold large herds from the South. Artificial barriers to the long drive began to appear along the southern range. Fear of Texas competition or Texas cattle fever likely motivated ranchers in Colorado and Kansas to impose cattle quarantine laws in 1885, nearly disrupting the long drive that year. Proposals to fence off the trails and confine the northbound herds within the fences proved impractical.
The railroads soon rendered these discussions moot. Their agents traveled to Texas, convincing shippers that it would be cheaper and safer to transport their cattle directly to the ranges by rail. Eventually, rails running north and south across the Staked Plains into the heart of the lower range carried the majority of the cattle. Thus, the era of the old cattle trails came to an end. The cattle kings were no more.
What date marks the definitive end of that last frontier? The year 1885, when the cattle trails effectively ceased to yield their vast tribute, is as good as any. However, the decline of the frontier was a gradual process that began when the first gaunt "nester" from the States unhitched his sun-burned team beside a source of fresh water on the rolling lands of the West and examined the land map in his hand.
"I reckon this is our land, Mother," he said.
With those words, he sealed the fate of the old frontier.
By Emerson Hough, 1918. Compiled and edited by Kathy Alexander/Legends of America, updated April 2024.
Excerpted from the book The Passing of the Frontier, A Chronicle of the Old West, by Emerson Hough, Yale University Press, 1918. (now in the public domain). Emerson Hough (1857–1923) was an author and journalist who wrote factional accounts and historical novels of life in the American West. His works helped establish the Western as a popular genre in literature and motion pictures. For years, Hough wrote the feature “Out-of-Doors” for the Saturday Evening Post and contributed to other major magazines.
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