Get ready to hitch a ride to the wild frontier with tales from the legendary George W Brown, also known as Hoodoo Brown. Born under the Missouri skies in 1847, he invites us into his past, from fighting in the Union Army to life as a bullwacker, hauling wood for the government. His trailblazing tales are packed with excitement, danger, and the raw reality of frontier life. With every twist and turn, from dodging wild Texas steers to navigating treacherous wagon trips, we're right there with him.
And the journey doesn't end there! The second half of our adventure features Jack Stilwell, a scout handpicked by Colonel George A Forsythe for a special operations unit. He takes us from being recruited at Fort Hays to the throes of intense battles, leaving us hanging on his every word. Jack’s recollections of the Battle at Beecher's Island will make your heart pound and your mind spin. Then, it's back to George Brown as he teams up with Buffalo Bill and other scouts on a mission to clear the Republican region of Indians. These unmissable chronicles from the frontier will have you yearning for the wide open plains and the echo of cattle drives in the distance.
Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
Get ready to hitch a ride to the wild frontier with tales from the legendary George W Brown, also known as Hoodoo Brown. Born under the Missouri skies in 1847, he invites us into his past, from fighting in the Union Army to life as a bullwacker, hauling wood for the government. His trailblazing tales are packed with excitement, danger, and the raw reality of frontier life. With every twist and turn, from dodging wild Texas steers to navigating treacherous wagon trips, we're right there with him.
And the journey doesn't end there! The second half of our adventure features Jack Stilwell, a scout handpicked by Colonel George A Forsythe for a special operations unit. He takes us from being recruited at Fort Hays to the throes of intense battles, leaving us hanging on his every word. Jack’s recollections of the Battle at Beecher's Island will make your heart pound and your mind spin. Then, it's back to George Brown as he teams up with Buffalo Bill and other scouts on a mission to clear the Republican region of Indians. These unmissable chronicles from the frontier will have you yearning for the wide open plains and the echo of cattle drives in the distance.
Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
My name is George W Brown. They call me Houdou Brown. I was born in Newton County, missouri, march 20th 1847. At the age of 18, I volunteered for service in the Union Army. I served with the third regiment of Missouri Volunteers. Following my discharge as an Army scout, I traveled along the frontier working odd jobs until I reached Junction City, kansas, in 1868. There I was employed to haul wood for the government with an outfit bound for Fort Wallace. Here I had my first experience in yelping up wild Texas steers to haul the heavy laden wagon train through to Fort Wallace.
Speaker 1:Although several days had been spent in taming most of the wild cattle, the men had plenty of trouble getting a train of wagons underway. It was near four o'clock in the afternoon before the order to start was given. None of the outfit of bullwackers were seasoned hands and many of the long horned steers came unyoked. One bullwacker's first attempt at driving ended in a ludicrous failure. It ended in fact in a double knot, every steer having its feet over every chain and most of the yolks turned upside down.
Speaker 1:The customary plan of the March was to drive each day. An early morning drive, usually made before breakfast, ended at eight, nine, thirty or probably ten o'clock. If breakfast was taken first, the drive might extend until 11 o'clock. But in any case the morning camp depended on feed and water for the cattle and the condition of the weather and favorable camping grounds. During the rest period the cattle were unyoped, watered and herded on the grass and the men had their first meal of the day.
Speaker 1:The train on which I bullwacked had two wagon upsets the second day out and when night came only a mile of the trail had been covered. The next morning the overhead sky burst over us like a jewel shining in the sun. When we discovered most of the steers, it wandered down to a nearby creek. The boss told me to go down to the creek and drive him back. Grabbing my hat from the ground where I was sitting, I approached the boss who stood over me. What'll I ride your horse? The boss stepped up into my face. His face was suffused with rage. He fairly screamed you can go down and drive him out on foot. I stepped back with puzzlement. I can't drive them. Wild steers afoot. The boss glared at back at me, quivering in anger, ready to snap. If you can't do that, you can quit, he said, and quit I did. I've often thought this quarrel with the wagon boss was a fortunate turn of events for me, even though I felt like a bankrupt lad stripped of my dignity and my job. I found out later this bull train continued on its way up to Fort Wallace and on the trip back the Indians killed seven of the men. I was uncharitable enough to hope that my unreasonable wagon boss was one of the number who never came back.
Speaker 1:I left the bullwack in profession with a better ending in mind and traveled to Abilene. I reached Abilene after a few days, march. There I found one of the wickedest towns I ever saw in my life. Abilene was the point at this date in September 1868, where the Texas cattle herged reached what was then the western terminus of the Kansas Pacific Railroad, now incorporated into the Union Pacific Railway System. From here these great herds were distributed to the markets and feeding zones far to the east.
Speaker 1:I got into the swim of these activities at once, working four or five days, loading cattle cars On another day. While there I met a man by the name of Young. He said to me what are you doing here? When I told him I didn't have any permanent job, he then said he was camped out north of town on a little creek and continued Some of these days. Soon I'm going to go buy a herd of cattle and I'll need some hands to drive them to Colorado. I've got a little team of mules out there and if you'll go out and stay with me till I buy those cattle, I'll give you a job. I said, alright, I'll go with you.
Speaker 1:I can only say, for the short time I knew Mr Young, he had become a slave to his own way of thinking. He did not waste much time on the non-essentials. He had his bed and a covered wagon out there a mile and a half from town, and the first night we went there to go to bed he pulled out and showed me the biggest roll of money I ever saw in my life. Mr Young was a methodical individual who kept his campsite in immaculate order and wanted me, as disorganized as I was, to keep his makeshift home as orderly as a military camp. I did not mind so much his order of business, as long as he had the money to pay me for work. It was but a few days till he bought six hundred head of cattle and that night when we went to bed I said your roll is not quite as big as it was. He said no, not quite, but I ain't broke yet. And he pulled out the roll and showed it to me again. I could see very little difference in the size, and this is the truth too. I've often thought what short work those abalone tufts would have made of us had they only known of this money. I've wondered too at Mr Young showing such a great roll to me, a stranger to him. Well, it was only a few days till we started for Colorado.
Speaker 1:A man named Owen M Smith bought fifteen hundred head of cattle for the Colorado range and merging them with Young's. We moved out in the long hike together. Smith being a Texas drover of ripe experience, and Young, with no cattle lower worth mentioning, gave Smith the upper hand and he was installed as the manager in full control. Now, this man Smith, he was a real wrangler. He taught me a few things about cowboy culture and driving large herds of cattle. Mr Smith was our trail boss. He had what I call horse sense. He was a practical man, strong and direct. He was the kind of man who believed in the cause and put the drive into those cattle to Colorado before he thought about the welfare of the rest of us. The plane's environment where he worked was a flat, treeless place with a vague horizon and vast distances to overcome.
Speaker 1:To drive this herd to Colorado I had to learn a little about moving cattle along a trail. When we first put down the trail, mr Smith made us drive the cattle briskly for several days. He made us closely guard the herd so that they would stay bunched together and not break away. Since I was new at the job 21 at the time I was selected as a drag rider. I rode at the back of the herd where the cattle bunched together, keeping the herd moving and eating plenty of dust. The first few days of the drive the cattle were rounded up compactly at sunset. At night half of the men slept until midnight while the other half would ride round and round the bed ground the soil was.
Speaker 1:We went forward for the first few nights. We camped one night in the bottom office at Fort Zara. This camp was 65 miles east of Fort Dodge. The next morning we received orders from the commanding officer at the fort not to go any further without an escort. We continued there for three days as a result but got no escort.
Speaker 1:The Indians were very bad. They were in plain sight and camped on the south side of the river. Disparing of getting an escort and contrary to orders, we went forward, soon reaching Pawnee Rock and camping a few miles beyond for dinner. On the south side of the river, armed bands of Indians were in constant view, passing from hilltop to hilltop, watching for a chance to attack or stampede the animals. We were all on edge and restless as a blue bottle fly on a warm summer's day.
Speaker 1:After dinner, smith ascended a sand hill and observed a big cloud of dust on the road from Fort Dodge to Larnet. Smith ran down the hill screaming at the top of his lungs. I believe we'll be attacked by Indians in a few minutes. Grabbing our guns, we began running back and forth like frightened sheep, settling into our post, waiting for the attack From our position, overlooking the road. The dust began to settle. It was then we recognized the dirt driven up from the road was not made by Indians at all, but a call on the soldiers.
Speaker 1:It troubled me that Mr Smith mistook the dust on the road for a band of Indians. I exclaimed my anger with Mr Smith plainly visible. You gave us all an unnecessary scare. Everyone in these parts knows Indians have their own trails and would not use a man-made road. Mr Smith showed his displeasure with me and told me to find my own way down the trail to Fort Dodge. Two other men quit with me. We went the distance from Pawnee Rock down the trail until we reached Fort Dodge. We were hungry, tired and penniless. When we arrived at the fort we decided to see if we could get a few handouts from the quartermaster. He gave us a five day supply of rations, asking us in return to ride along in an ambulance headed to Fort Larnad.
Speaker 1:Fort Larnad was established in 1859 to protect travelers on the Santa Fe Trail from Indian attack. The fort was situated on the banks of the Pawnee River. The fort was first developed from a group of adobe buildings and at the time of my arrival substantial sandstone structures had been completed. The fort now served as a disbursement point for Indian annuities. I did not stay long at Fort Larnad, for it was still in need of work. I thought I might work in another place, so I joined a mealtrain departing for Fort Parker.
Speaker 1:After a few days travel along a dusty road, we arrived at Fort Harker where I joined a second mule train bound for Fort Hayes. The train bound for Fort Hayes, was made up of 25 wagons. Each wagon had a six mule team. I traveled four days with this mule train 65 miles west up the Smoky Hills River with Jack Dickey and his assistant, a man named AJ Peacock, in hopes of getting a job. After arriving at Fort Hayes, still in need of a job, some of the boys and I traveled north, a mile and a half over to Hayes City. We arrived in the evening.
Speaker 1:Hayes City, like all other towns on the frontier, was largely composed of ruffs, yet it was full of life. The town was prospering, especially after the railroad arrived. Hayes City had two hotels the Gibbs House and the second built by a man named Boggs. The town had become the central point from which the west and southwest obtained supplies before the Santa Fe Railroad was completed to Dodge City. That evening I walked past the Moses and Bloomfield General Store into a newly established frame structure saloon. This is where I climbed up on a bar stool and sat right next to Jack Stillwell. His real name was Simpson Everett Stillwell.
Speaker 1:The young Stillwell, 17 at the time, was known as Jack. I was glad to make his acquaintance, as I found him to be a man of good principle and a bone companion. Jack had become acquainted with the so-called Cimarron Cut-Off at the Santa Fe Trail. Working wagons and hunting buffalo on the southern plains, he made his living on the outer edge of civilization, inside what was then the most dangerous territory America had left to offer. Through our growing friendship, he soon disclosed a personal interest. First, inquiring where I was working, I told him my life story up to that day. After I had finished, he earnestly inquired why not go along with me and be a scout? I can get you a job. Jack said he had been a scout for the Army after joining up. On August 24th of that same year, he told me he had been doing some scouting out of Fort Dodge when Sheridan issued orders for the creation of a special operations unit composed of seasoned scouts. It was at this point in his story that I became interested in becoming a scout myself. I leaned over the bar and reached for a half full bottle of whiskey. The night was still young and I poured another shot into our glasses. Well, how did you get into the scouting business, I asked? Jack raised his shot glass in appreciation for my kindness, as if to toast his next statement to me.
Speaker 1:A colonel by the name of George A Forsythe, was looking for 50 first class hardy frontiersmen, each with an intimate knowledge of the Kansas frontier, to be used as scouts against the hostile Indians. He said he rounded up 30 men at Fort Harker and then Fort Hayes where he rustled up another 20. Forsythe had assembled an entire troop within a matter of days. I was one of the 20 Forsythe found at Fort Hayes. Forsythe told me, despite my age, I possessed precisely the kind of knowledge and skill Sheridan was looking for. Jack swigged down his drink with one gulp, looked over to me with a glimmer in his eye and began reminiscing back to his first adventure as a scout, jack said.
Speaker 1:Five days after I was recruited, sheridan dispatched a special operations unit of scouts to Fort Wallace in far western Kansas, about 25 miles from the Colorado border. Our mission was to deal with the Indians who had been conducting raids on the Kansas Pacific Railroad and on the Smoky Hill stage route to Denver. On September 10th, forsythe and our unit of scouts left Fort Wallace in pursuit of a war party that had recently attacked a wagon train, killing two Mexican teamsters, near the town of Sheridan, kansas, where the Kansas Pacific tracks came to an end. I think I know this place. I said Isn't that near the Ericarie fork of the Republican River, just across the Colorado border? Yes, you're exactly right, said Jack with excitement in his voice. He poured himself another shot of whiskey and emptied it as soon as the liquid hit the top of his shot glass.
Speaker 1:We were camped in a little bottom of land on the morning of September 17th opposite an island. From a distance I noticed Roman knows getting ready for the attack. I saw him put on his warp on it, the finest ever worn by any plains chieftain. The Indians started a stampede of our pack animals on their first charge. Desperate and exposed, some of the men shot their horses so they'd be able to lie behind them for cover. Out stunned, they shot their horses. I exclaimed why in the world would they shoot their horses? Why didn't they not get behind a sandbar for cover, I asked.
Speaker 1:By this time in Jack's story, my eyes grew weary. My head was wandering around the room in circles. Hey Jack, I need to get off this bar stool and find a stable chair to sit in and a table to lean my elbows on. Let's move over there, I said, pointing to an open table across the room. I grabbed the glasses and Jack grabbed another full bottle of whiskey. The first bottle was drunk down to the bottom corners of the bottle.
Speaker 1:We maneuvered across the room like two old sea captains coming off a long voyage. It was with weak legs. We stumbled to the far end of the saloon, bumping into every customer along the way. When we reached our table, I laughed inside with relief as one customer yelled out to Jack You're gonna have to pay me for another drink, buddy, or I'm gonna skin you alive. Jack waved the man over, filled his glass from the bottle he carried over from the bar to our table. Hey, aren't you, jack Stillwell? The man asked. Yes, I am, replied Jack, with a smile.
Speaker 1:I'm about to tell the second part of my story, the story about Beecher's Island. Do you want to join us? Sure, he said. The three of us settled into the chairs behind a circular table in the dark corner of the room. Where was I? Jack questioned himself. Oh yeah, I was about to get to the good part, the part about how that old foul mouthed French scout by the name of Pierre Trudeau and I got mixed up in a clandestine mission. Jack took a breath and continued. Well, after the men began shooting their horses for protective cover.
Speaker 1:From the first Indian charge we heard Forsythe yelling orders at us. Forsythe, first in command, ordered Peter Trudeau with three other men and I to go to the east end of an embankment. Five of us were caught running low among the cotton woods to the east of the island when Roman Nose charged up the embankment. Arriving before we did. Roman Nose, the old Indian chief, was within thirty yards of me and the other four scouts when I observed the spear he was holding fall from his hand. His body was in the act of falling from his pony when his shouting warriors caught him and carried him from the field. Jack thought back then continued this first desperate charge was successfully met and driven back. A lull now followed. This gave us time to count the dead and care for the wounded. Fred H Beecher, second in command, was killed at the first grand charge made by the Indians. Dr Morris was killed at the same time.
Speaker 1:From the east end of the island, separated from our unit, I could see Forsythe looking through his field glass. He was observing a band of warriors assembling around someone who talked and acted as if he had taken command. When the second charge was about to be made, shark Grover, one of our experienced scouts, said Boy, let's make for that island. This was instantly obeyed and all of us joined up on the island to hold off the second charge. The Indians came down the valley on foot, their ears splitting war cry filling the air. I estimated that the advancing columns numbered twelve hundred or more Forsythe's men, and our little band of scouts now numbered only twenty-nine. Forsythe commanded us to withhold our fire until the mass of maddened warriors had reached the sand beds in the river. Then, when they were scarcely one hundred yards away, the order to fire was given and a rain of death blazed out, killing Dolknife and many of his bravest warriors. Within hours, over half of our troops were dead or wounded. Forsythe himself was desperately wounded, one ball shattering the left foot and ankle, another inflicting a severe flesh wound in his thigh, while the third struck him in the forehead, ranging up and back, leaving him wholly unconscious for one full hour.
Speaker 1:Forsythe soon determined that the only course of action would be to send two of his men for reinforcements to Fort Wallace, a 120 mile journey through Indian infested lands. Forsythe must have thought at the time it was best to call for both the youngest and oldest to the group. So he selected Pierre Trudeau and myself to volunteer for a clandestine life or death mission. We made a good pair. I spoke Sioux as well as Comanche in Spanish, while Trudeau understood Cheyenne, allowing at least one of us to converse with any likely challengers.
Speaker 1:We departed a little after midnight on September 18th, walking backwards in our stocking feet to fool the Indians into believing that moccasins made our tracks. Trudeau and I were forced to make our way through the hostile territory under cover of darkness, lying low throughout the daylight hours. Once we had to quickly conceal ourselves from the view of approaching warriors by crawling inside a buffalo carcass. The animal skeleton was intact and retained its dried hide. But as we lay silently inside this impromptu hiding place, bad luck prevailed, as a rattlesnake slithered up within inches of our faces. In an extraordinary feat straight out of the pages of a dime novel, I dispatched the serpent by shooting a well-aimed stream of tobacco juice directly at the snake's head.
Speaker 1:After the Indians had passed by, the trouble continued. Under duress from the double encounter with death, my partner Trudeau apparently lost control of his senses, commencing to sing and discharge his revolver before I was able to calm him down. Toward the end of four days of hardship, said Jack. Trudeau and I reached the Denver stage road and encountered a Mexican in a two-horse buggy. We asked him to drive us to Wallace. When the Mexican refused, we pointed our Spencer's at his head. By sundown the same day we reached the fort.
Speaker 1:The rescue of four-sized men in what became known as the Battle of Beecher's Island made my name well-known across the plains. It was well into the night when Stillwell finished his story. The saloon now alive with ruffs and loud with drunkenness. That did not seem to bother the sleeping man next to me as his snores rumbled thereafter above me. I nodded a good evening to my new friend Jack and ventured over to the hotel where I slept peacefully into the next morning. The next day, after an early morning breakfast, I met up with Stillwell. He introduced me to Lieutenant Pippoon, in charge of the scouts, and after introductions I applied for a job. The Lieutenant, with light complexion, gray eyes and dark hair, quizzed me closely to learn of my fitness. I had told him about my service and the cavalry arm of the Union service. He was well pleased and told me he would take me, telling me where I could get my meals and where to sleep.
Speaker 1:On October 4th, after a few nights of good sleep and the military stables, I was roused from a heavy slumber at the sound of revelry. The cool air of early October had a lomy fragrance. The ground was lumpy, like I was on a bed of earthen rocks. My clothes felt damp as a flower in the dew of the dawn. Was I still dreaming? The bugle continued its harsh reality to my ears as I set up to take in the shafts of light that burst through the gaps of the wood canopy above.
Speaker 1:Today was the day, the day Custer was to arrive at Fort Hayes. The troops from his old regiment were to make ready. As he traveled by rail from his Michigan home, the command orders could be heard from one end of the post to the other. Custer is coming, make ready. General Custer did not delay. He never did.
Speaker 1:Within less than a week, on the early morning in October, who should come racing into the post accompanying the ambulance from the railroad station at Hayes City, but made a blucher flirt? Stag hounds, rover the old foxhound, fanny the little fox terrier and all the other custard dogs who should spring out of the ambulance before it had stopped at headquarters? But the general himself. There he was with his yellow hair, shining eyes, quick voice and limber, trim figure, ready for business again. Behind the ambulance the horses fill, shared and in custis lee, led by an orderly From beyond the headquarter office. Seeing this, my heart leaped into my throat. Custors come, custors come, seemed to run through the post with a happy hum. It sounded like a bugle call. I immediately resolved that where the general went I was going to, no more cattle drives for me. No, suddenly I felt strong and well ready for anything. That was how the general made everybody around him feel. He was energetic and enthusiastic.
Speaker 1:Now it was positively known that General Sheridan planned a winter's march against the Indians to catch them in their villages. Sheridan figured he could seize the Indians while there was no grass for their ponies and they could not travel at will. Many heads were shaken over the scheme as being full hearty one Whole. Jim Bridger, the celebrated trapper and mountaineer, a tall, lean, leathery face, wintowed man, came all the way from St Louis to expressly tell General Sheridan that the whole command would be snowed in and lost With 500 freight wagons were busy taking supplies from Fort Harker and Fort Levenworth to a new post south in the Arkhands River country. With these supplies on hand for the soldiers, horses and men well clothed General Sheridan reasoned that the white men would do better in the winter than the red men. The only way to bring those Indians to terms is to give them a good thrashing. I rely on you for this, custer. I heard him say We'll carry the war into the enemy's country when he isn't expecting it.
Speaker 1:Nothing was lost with General Custer. No, not old Curly. He acted as happy as if he were starting on a buffalo hunt or a ride with Mrs Custer and the dogs. He stayed only a few days at Hayes for instructions and final preparations and went out. He rode southward bound, eager to resume command of the Seventh. I, on the other hand, would ride in a different direction to Fort Wallace.
Speaker 1:By the time of my departure by a wagon, fort Hayes was well stripped of its scouts whom I knew California, joe, jack, corbin, tradell and Romeo. They were now south of the Arkansas River. Buffalo Bill was out with some of the 5th Cavalry while Bill was carrying dispatches on the trail, and with them the 7th Cavalry located 30 miles south of Fort Dodge. A few days after I joined these scouts at Fort Wallace, we drew horses and made a trip up to Smoky Hill River as far as Monument Rock. We reconnoitred around Fort Hayes, going north, thence, east, covering a period of 4 or 5 days, returning by way of Fossil Creek. No trace andians was found and so we reported to the commanding officer. The following accounts reflect George Brown's story of the skirmishes on Beaver Creek From the life of George W Brown, kansas Historical Society Collections, volume 27.
Speaker 1:Soon after arriving at Fort Wallace, general Carr took command of a force with orders to clear the Republican region of Indians. His force was composed of the 10th Cavalry and portions of other organizations. The noted Buffalo Bill accompanied the command. Our scout, lieutenant Papoon, was along. We struck the Republican River about 40 miles below its forks, then followed up on the north side of the river. On day three our scouts were in front down on the Republican. We saw them riding back towards the command, closely pursued by hostiles. It was an exciting chase but the scouts escaped without injury.
Speaker 1:The whole force joined in a chase of the Indians but after a protracted effort we failed to catch the fleet-footed pony and his rider. Our horses were too clumsy and unfit for the race. After the command stopped giving up the chase, an Indian returned to sight, riding up to the top of a high ridge. Here the Indian pulled off several stunts with the pony, which seemed fleet and beautiful. His purpose was to irritate and tantalize the pale-faced command, angered at him.
Speaker 1:Not wise, a scout with a long nose that had earned him the nickname Nosey, asked one of the soldiers for his long-range Springfield rifle gun. Elevating the sight to 900 yards its limit, nosey, making further allowance for distance by elevating the muzzle, drew down on our pony show in Indian and fired. Looking quickly, we saw the pony fall from the shot. The late rider jumped to fellow's warrior pony astride and quickly disappeared. It was not long till the pony sprang up and commenced running, finally heading for our lines, being soon caught. We found that the bullet ripped off the bone projecting over the left eye and after a bit of time he was alright. The pony carried into our lines a regulation Indian saddle which we secured. We took both along to Sheridan, at that time the terminus of the Kansas Pacific. There we sold it for $30, which afforded us plenty for a gala time frontier jamboree. These Indians abandoned the Republican country and headed south. General Carr was now ordered with his forces to Fort Lyon, colorado, and there, united with General Penrose's command,