The Desperado of the Plains

By Emerson Hough in 1905

The vast expanse of the early American West was defined by a transient population, restless souls drawn by the allure of quick riches and boundless opportunity. The intrepid men who chased mining booms across the rugged Rocky Mountains exemplified this migratory spirit. Their journeys, fraught with peril and hardship, carved paths through a wilderness where even the most straightforward travel was arduous and the worst was nigh impossible. The West, even its mountainous regions, was initially settled by wanderers, individuals whose inherent disposition favored constant movement over settled existence. This nomadic characteristic deeply impacted the establishment and enforcement of law. Towns sprang up and were just as quickly abandoned, spurred by necessity or the whispers of fortune elsewhere. Property remained fluid and unstable, making taxation a near impossibility, and any semblance of executive authority struggled to maintain order in the face of such constant flux. The very foundation of law, a stable and rooted population, was conspicuously absent.

Consequently, the pervasive lawlessness of the Old West stemmed more from its unique circumstances than from any inherent moral deficiency within its inhabitants. The situation underscored a fundamental truth about human nature: even good men could be swayed when confronted with the irresistible temptation of vast, unguarded wealth. The concept of The Desperado of the Plains was, in many ways, a product of these conditions.

The decades following the Civil War witnessed a shift in the economic landscape of the West. The easily accessible placer deposits of the Rockies and the Sierra Nevada Mountains began to dwindle, giving way to the more labor-intensive quartz mines. Simultaneously, massive cattle herds from the southern states began their northward trek onto the sprawling ranges beyond the Missouri River. The open plains, previously untouched, beckoned to the same adventurers who had once flocked to the mines.

Here lay a different kind of wealth: mobile, unattached, and seemingly unclaimed. It was nomad wealth waiting for a nomad population to seize its share. Once again, the absence of permanent homes and established legal structures allowed individuals to govern themselves according to ancient, often savage, customs. Frontiersmen were now armed with repeating rifles and fixed ammunition, creating a force more formidable than any previously seen in history. The plains became the stage for the continuation of the wild and desperate acts that the mountains had begun. The image of The Desperado of the Plains took root in this environment.

The dominant form of property on the arid plains was livestock. Agriculture was yet to arrive, and many believed it never would. Enormous herds of cattle, originating from Texas and Mexico, were driven north to meet the expanding railroads. These cattle also served as breeding stock, populating the upper cow ranges. Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, western Nebraska, and the Dakotas discovered their potential for raising range cattle, often surpassing the southern ranges in the quality of their livestock. Soon, thousands upon thousands of cattle roamed freely across the vast, unfenced landscapes, guarded by men as nomadic as the herds themselves. Cattle were relatively inexpensive, providing a valuable food source in a land recently depleted of its buffalo. Killing a cow for sustenance was often considered a minor offense. While a man’s horse was considered sacrosanct, the abundance and constant movement of cattle made them a less protected commodity. The stories of The Desperado of the Plains often involved encounters with these herds.

Ownership of these herds was diffuse and difficult to trace. A cattleman might reside in Texas while maintaining herds in Montana, and vice versa. Property rights were primarily defined by the brand imprinted on the animal, a symbolic mark serving as the sole claim of ownership.

The respect for this brand was the cornerstone of the cattle trade. Cattlemen held their property without fences or direct physical control. Their cattle mingled with others, yet remained distinct, wandering for hundreds of miles without the owner’s knowledge. Yet, the animal was undeniably his, destined to be reunited with him. To tamper with the brand, to appropriate the animal, was a crime demanding retribution. Common necessity gave rise to common custom, which, in turn, became common law, and eventually, statutory law. The legend of The Desperado of the Plains is inextricably linked to these evolving laws.

When Anglo-Saxons first arrived in the Southwest, they encountered the established Spanish system of the "Fierro," the iron mark denoting ownership, and the "venta," the sale brand indicating a transfer of ownership. These practices became accepted as wise and rational, quickly becoming part of American law across the plains.

Large herds of cattle roamed almost freely, each ideally bearing the owner’s brand. However, many animals lacked any identifying mark, rendering their ownership ambiguous. As the northern ranges opened, the issue of unbranded cattle, known as "mavericks," persisted. In a time of perceived abundance, there seemed to be enough for everyone. It was a glorious era of freedom and plenty, a baronial age in the vast and seemingly inexhaustible West.

The introduction of the "venta," or sale brand, began to complicate matters. A purchaser could now imprint his own Fierro brand, signifying ownership of the cow.

However, doubts arose: How could one verify the origin of the cattle and ensure that the buyer had not simply stolen them from a neighbor and applied his own brand?

This concern led to the development of the bill of sale and the counter-brand, or "vent brand," as it was known in the upper ranges. The seller duplicated his recorded brand on another designated part of the animal, creating a record of conveyance when paired with a signed bill of sale. Multiple conveyances would leave the hide scarred and difficult to decipher. The addition of "road brands," used to protect property during transit from the South to the North or from the range to market, further complicated the process. The reading of brands and the determination of ownership could become a contentious issue, often leading to heated disputes. In the West, arguments frequently escalated into violence. Ruthless individuals established themselves along the cattle trails, challenging the brands of trail drivers. Some succeeded in their claims, while others met a violent end. The trails from Texas to Montana were marked by a string of unmarked graves.

The circumstances created a fertile ground for individuals who chose to disregard the law. Property was readily available without labor, and its title could be easily contested. Ownership depended on testimony and records, which could be manipulated or erased. Brands, applied with iron, could be altered with iron. This situation gave rise to a lucrative industry in brand alteration, creating a new type of Western character: the rustler, brand-burner, or brand-blotcher. The rise of The Desperado of the Plains was tied to the prevalence of these crimes.

The temptation to steal cattle and alter brands was immense. Wild cattle roamed freely, and a hot iron imprint could establish ownership, provided no one else had branded it previously. Determining priority was a matter of proof. With a "running iron," a straight rod readily available on a saddle, a cow thief could easily erase a previous brand and apply his own. A "U" could be transformed into an "O," a "V" into a diamond, or a half-circle into a circle. Animals could be killed, skinned, and sold as the thief’s own. The only barrier between the thief and the owner was a small mark, and the only impediment to altering that mark was the thief’s moral compass. The range was vast and desolate, offering ample opportunity for undetected theft.

This confluence of temptation and opportunity led many to cross the line between right and wrong. Their justification lay in the fact that the line was newly drawn, often ambiguous and imprecise. The actions of The Desperado of the Plains were often rooted in this moral ambiguity.

From stealing and re-branding an occasional cow, the profits of larger-scale operations became apparent. Cowboys, entrusted with the care and protection of herds, grew weary of working for meager wages. They began to establish their own small ranches, starting with lawfully purchased and branded cattle. Stray mavericks would wander onto their land, and they would brand them. Faint or illegible brands were overwritten with their own. They discovered that pyrography with a hot poker could be remarkably profitable. The rest was simple. The initial step was crucial, but who could pinpoint when that step was taken? As cattle prices rose, owners began to pay closer attention to their herds, leading to the enactment of laws to protect their increasingly valuable property. Owners were required to use fixed or stencil irons, and the use of straight "running irons" was forbidden. Each ranch was mandated to have its own unique iron or stencil. Texas, as early as the 1860s, outlawed the use of running irons, making it dangerous to be caught riding the range with one concealed beneath the saddle flap.

Anyone found in possession of a running iron faced immediate suspicion and required swift explanations. Cattle associations were formed in various territories and states, becoming the heart of the cattle trade. These associations united into a national organization. Detectives were stationed at stockyards in Chicago and Kansas City, tasked with identifying stolen cattle shipped with or without altered brands. This marked the beginning of armed, legal conflict between cattlemen, large-scale thieves, and smaller-time rustlers accused of excessively altering brands. The prosecution of these men was undertaken with the same fervor as the pursuit of horse thieves, with a crucial difference: while horse thieves were universally reviled, many found justification for the actions of the rustlers, who were often perceived as doing what their accusers had done before them. The exploits of The Desperado of the Plains were often met with mixed reactions.

The rustler might use a running iron to rewrite the desired brand, but this method was clumsy and easily detected, as the fresh wound would slough and appear suspicious. A piece of red-hot haywire or telegraph wire was a more effective tool, capable of being twisted into the shape of nearly any registered brand, seamlessly connecting the edges of the existing mark to create the illusion of a single, original scar.

The fresh burn blended with the older one, making it impossible to prove that it was not part of the initial brand. Another technique involved branding through a wet blanket with a heavy iron, leaving a deep wound that was less prone to sloughing, thereby concealing the fact that the brand had been applied long after the roundup and was therefore subject to suspicion.

The methods used to alter brands were numerous and ingenious. By altering lines, the rustler could effectively transfer ownership of a distant neighbor’s cows to his own herd, often without any direct confrontation.

The rustler, the range burglar, was blamed for most of the mysterious and untraceable crimes. Some of these men could offer legitimate excuses for their actions, which they did not consider wrong. The sudden hostility of the newly arrived cattlemen fueled resentment and conflict, often leading to violence.

The bad men of the plains emerged during this era, and their actions can be attributed to these factors. Many were refugees and outlaws, while others were initially decent men who succumbed to the prevailing moral ambiguity. Fierce battles raged between the rustlers and the powerful cow barons. Eventually, commerce prevailed, and the lawless element was forced to leave, even before the formal establishment of law.

The vigilantes of the cattle range, initially organized in Montana and expanding southward, conducted a ruthless campaign. In one operation, they killed between 60 and 80 men accused of cattle rustling. In one instance, they hanged thirteen men from a railroad bridge in northwestern Nebraska. From 1876 to 1886, it is believed that these vigilantes executed more men without legal process than have been executed under the law in all of the United States since then. These lynchings, of course, were also against the law. The history of this early civilization reveals that the term "law" is a broad, flexible, and relative concept, often difficult to apply precisely. Even the concept of The Desperado of the Plains was subject to varying interpretations of the law.