Welcome aboard our time machine as we travel back to the wild and raw era of buffalo hunting in late 19th century. We're embarking on a powerful journey that begins with Quana Parker, the son of Cynthia Ann Parker and a Comanche war chief, watching a white hunter craftily set his sights on a buffalo. As if frozen in time, we recount the scene in all its stark realism. What follows is a deep dive into the lives and adventures of these buffalo hunters. Their stories, fraught with challenges and triumphs, lay bare the raw spirit of the time.
Are you ready to live vicariously through a buffalo hunter from the late 19th century? We bring you the story of Billy Dixon, a man of the wild who carved a significant name in history during the great buffalo slaughter of 1872-1873. Experience the adrenaline rush as we recreate the heady excitement in Dodge City, complete with an Irish jig performed by Mike McCabe. Every tale is an echo of the past, a reminder of a time when life was a game of chance, survival, and sheer grit.
As the final part of our journey unfolds, we follow the expedition of Billy Dixon, Mike McCabe, William Masterson, and Billy Tyler as they venture south of the Arkansas River in pursuit of buffalo. Despite warnings from Amos Chapman about the road fraught with Indian encounters, the buffalo hunters press on. As the send-off from Dodge City fills the air with cheer and anticipation, we hope you feel the spirit of adventure coursing through your veins, just as it did for those brave souls in the late 19th century. Hold on to your seats, because this historical journey is one wild ride you won't soon forget!
Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
Welcome aboard our time machine as we travel back to the wild and raw era of buffalo hunting in late 19th century. We're embarking on a powerful journey that begins with Quana Parker, the son of Cynthia Ann Parker and a Comanche war chief, watching a white hunter craftily set his sights on a buffalo. As if frozen in time, we recount the scene in all its stark realism. What follows is a deep dive into the lives and adventures of these buffalo hunters. Their stories, fraught with challenges and triumphs, lay bare the raw spirit of the time.
Are you ready to live vicariously through a buffalo hunter from the late 19th century? We bring you the story of Billy Dixon, a man of the wild who carved a significant name in history during the great buffalo slaughter of 1872-1873. Experience the adrenaline rush as we recreate the heady excitement in Dodge City, complete with an Irish jig performed by Mike McCabe. Every tale is an echo of the past, a reminder of a time when life was a game of chance, survival, and sheer grit.
As the final part of our journey unfolds, we follow the expedition of Billy Dixon, Mike McCabe, William Masterson, and Billy Tyler as they venture south of the Arkansas River in pursuit of buffalo. Despite warnings from Amos Chapman about the road fraught with Indian encounters, the buffalo hunters press on. As the send-off from Dodge City fills the air with cheer and anticipation, we hope you feel the spirit of adventure coursing through your veins, just as it did for those brave souls in the late 19th century. Hold on to your seats, because this historical journey is one wild ride you won't soon forget!
Return of the Great Hunters
Cattle Drives Website
Legends of Dodge City Website
Order Books
The year is 1873. The buffalo hunters have moved their killing season 100 miles south of the Cimarron River onto the stake plains in the Texas Panhandle. Quana Parker sat on his horse and quietly watched as the white hunter created a stand among the buffalo herd. The buffalo grazed in a two mile wide prairie between the two men. The white man set a pair of cross stakes low in the ground then lay down behind it. Quana, a tall, muscular, half-breed Indian, watched the white man using stakes of wood to form a tripod guide for his rifle.
Speaker 1:Quana Parker, the son of Cynthia Ann Parker, a white woman, had been captured by the Comanches as a child. The white hunter below him now took careful aim at a large bull. As the son of Chief Paedon N'Kona, he despised the white hunters who invaded his lands. His father taught him at the age of 15 to be a warrior. As a teenage orphan, the young Quana established his reputation as an aggressive and fearless fighter. He became a war chief at a relatively young age. Now he watched below as the white hunter took aim at a lead bull. Waiting, waiting. The bull finally turned sideways to offer a good shot, and then a puff of smoke appeared from the man's weapon A good mile from the hunter, the bull simply fell to the ground on its side. A full second later, quana heard the boom of the man's big 50 roll across the plane like low thunder. He stood for a moment in utter amazement, then whipped his horse to instant full speed back to the Quaidi village, and his warriors, josiah Wright Moore, remained on the ground and reloaded Because the bull was their leader. The other buffalo and the herd simply stood around days while John Wright Moore brought the others down one by one. The Indians would later describe the sharps rifle as shoots today and kills tomorrow.
Speaker 1:One time the buffalo were thought to be a boundless resource, and the Indians doubted at first that these huge, thundering animals could ever be vanquished. In 1867, the buffalo count in the southern plains estimated at nearly 50 million. But by 1869, tanneries all over the world discovered the wonders of buffalo leather. In the 1870s everything changed. The war was over and hundreds of veterans many who lost everything to the battle between the states moved westward in search of a renewal. The railroads had pushed into Kansas but then stopped dumping hundreds of unwaged men idle for work. The quick solution for many was to get a rifle and a horse and set out to kill buffalo. The plains area became jammed with trading companies seeking to buy robes from the hundreds of buffalo hunters who had joined with skinners and teamsters to create a giant assembly line of death. For the most part, these men never considered that they were robbing the Indians of their livelihood, nor did they find any reason to fret about the natural restocking of this valuable resource. They had come to make their fortune with shot and powder. They killed for the hides and left the meat to rot in the sun. It was a depreciation that the Indians could never understand. For them the buffalo was a walking storehouse. It provided everything from clothing to fuel for the campfire. It was after the big hunt of 1872 that the Arkans' Buffalo herd laid in remnants. The bones and carcasses were scattered into the breaks of the Simeron and the wilder countries southwest. In the spring of 72, almost all the buffaloes crossing over the Arkans' River had been annihilated. The railroad admitted hauling 1,378,359 buffalo hides between the years of 1872 and 1874. General Nelson A Miles said 4,373,730 buffaloes had fallen in the three years since the hunters moved down into the Arkans' River Valley.
Speaker 1:By 1873, the buffalo hunters had already invaded the Indian hunting grounds in southwestern Kansas. These enthusiastic buffalo hunts to the south of the Arkans' River occurred without interference from the army. In the fall of that same year, lieutenant Colonel Dodge with a company of troops rode over the central plains of Kansas. He had been told of the devastation caused the year before from the big hunt. Colonel Dodge wanted to see for himself the magnitude of carnage the buffalo hunter had reeked over the central buffalo herds. He merely replied into his journal. Upon return to the fort when there were many herds of buffalo the year before, there were now myriads of carcasses. The air was foul with a sickening stench and the vast plain which only a short 12-month before teemed with animal life, was a dead, solitary, putrid desert. A Santa Fe Railway conductor, j H Helton, said he could have walked for 100 miles along the right of way without stepping off the carcasses, so great was the slaughter that in 1872 and 1873 the railroad hauled 1,250,000 hides out of Kansas and nearby territory.
Speaker 1:Now that the central buffalo herd had grown near extinction, a new hunting ground had to be established In search of the new buffalo herds. J Wright Moore and John Webb saddled their horses and took a trip through the Texas Panhandle. For five days they rode through a sea of grazing buffaloes. Their report excited the other hunters, but there was some hesitation because of the Medicine Lodge Treaty of 1867. The treaty was made to reserve the rights for Kiowas, comanches, southern Cheyennes and Arapahos. Only these tribes were allowed to hunt the lands south of the Arkansas River. These were the hunting grounds, heavily patrolled by the troops from Fort Dodge. The military patrols were given the strictest orders to confiscate the buffalo hunters' mule teams, wagons and supplies if caught crossing the Cimarron. On the other hand, texas, which owned the land now in question, had not been partied to the treaty. Steel Frazier proposed that the Hyde men send a delegation to Fort Dodge to ask its commander, lieutenant Colonel Dodge, what the penalty would be if the hunters crossed into the Texas Panhandle where they knew buffaloes still abounded. According to Buffalo runner J Wright Moore, who went with Frazier to the fort, dodge received them very cordially. After canceling his other engagements, wright Moore asked advice from the commander of the 3rd Infantry at Fort Dodge, richard Irving Dodge. He, like most of his comrades in arms, believed that the Indian problem would be resolved as soon as the buffalo were gone. Boys, replied the officer, if I were hunting buffalo I would go where the buffalo are Dodge, then took the Hyde men by the hands, bid them goodbye and wished them success.
Speaker 1:My name is Billy Dixon and I was born in Ohio County, west Virginia, on September 25th 1850. I became an orphan at the age of 12 and sent to live with my uncle, thomas Dixon, who lived at the time in Ray County, missouri. In the fall of 1864, I took a job working as a woodcutter along the Missouri River and later went to work for a government freight contractor in Kansas as a bullwacker and mule skinner. I enjoyed my life as a bullwacker and knew it to be short-lived, as the surveyors there were seen along the trails taken out across the plains of path for railways. In those days I worked with a particular breed of sweat-soaked plainsmen who were noted as red-shirted brigands, jailbirds and desperados. I possessed little during these times a bowie, knife, revolver and a bullwhip. My salary was less than $25 a month. I walked most of the time and when there was mud I waited. When there was rain I got drenched. My bed was always on the ground under my wagon. My clothes, even when cleaned, were stained with mud, dust, sweat, grease and tobacco juice. If there was one thing in common between us bullwackers and mule skinners. It was our bullwhip. The bullwhip was our badge of recognition. It did not take me long to learn how to snap my 20-foot long, heavy-braided, raw-hired whip. I could crack my bullwhip overhead to inspire the dumbest ox or most obstinate mule and flick a fly off the ear of any animal without touching it.
Speaker 1:I quit the job as a bullwacker in 1866 and went to work on the McCall family near Leavenworth, kansas. While working on the farm for about a year I went to school. I did not like school much, so I returned to doing what I was good at, and that was hunting and trapping. I found myself trapping furs in September of 1869 on the Selene River northwest of Fort Hayes, kansas. This is where I became a skilled marksman and thrived as a hunter. At that time buffalo cowhides were selling for $1 each and bullhides were $2. I used my hunting profits to purchase a ranch supply store. I found being tied down to one location was not the life for me, so in 1871 I took off to hunt buffalo once again. I left my store to my manager and while I was away my manager sold out and departed with all the proceeds. I returned to hunt and buffalo during that same year and hired me a team of skinners.
Speaker 1:By September of 1872, I made my way to southwest Kansas and started hunting buffalo south of the Arkansas River. This was the beginning of the high tide of buffalo hunting, and buffalo fell by the thousands. My friend Mike McCabe and I visited Front Street in Dodge City and witnessed thousands of buffalo hides awaiting shipment, and filthy buffalo hunters and traders filled the town's establishment. This was a time when Dodge City was just getting its start. The Atchison, topeka and Santa Fe Railroad had arrived in Dodge City the same year. The town soon became the Buffalo Capital of the West. In fact, I learned, the town was first named Buffalo City until the founders discovered there was already a town by that name, so they changed the name to Dodge City after the nearby fort. This was my last big hunt in this region, for I found there were more hunters in the country than ever before or afterward. It was during this time that the term stinker was coined. More buffalo were killed that season than in all subsequent seasons combined. During these years, I estimated that some 75,000 buffaloes were killed within 60 or 75 miles of Dodge City.
Speaker 1:On one occasion, my men and I loaded up our hides and headed for Dodge City where we got from $250 to $4 apiece, the highest price I ever received, with the buffalo fitting in the area. I began to scout Buffalo herds in Texas as far south as the Salt Fork of the Red River. In the early part of March 1874, I went back to Dodge City and there I met up with a lot of buffalo hunters who had come to town to get away from the lonesomeness and have a good time. There was lots of talk about the increasing scarcity of buffaloes on the old range and all of us agreed that we would have to drift further south to make buffalo hunting a paying business. Those of us who had been venturing down in the panhandle country described what we had seen and gave our opinion of the region as a buffalo range, which of course was favorable.
Speaker 1:In Dodge City at this time I met a man by the name of AC Charlie Myers. Myers, a frontiersman turned hide agent. Myers was well known among the buffalo hunters for his ability to cure buffalo hams for the eastern market. Myers established a general merchandise business trading furs and supplying hunters out of Fort Dodge before the railroad reached Dodge City in 1872. Myers, an unassuming man, knew the hide trade was coming to an end, so he decided to assemble all the hunters in the area.
Speaker 1:We gathered in front of Myers' store. The atmosphere was one of elation, the warm spring air occasionally punctuated by whoops and hollers. Each man knew the other, as there was something magical about being part of this crowd, a troop to the greatest buffalo hunters ever assembled in one place. We gathered in front of Myers' store. The atmosphere was one of elation, the warm spring air occasionally punctuated by whoops and hollers. Each man knew the other, as there was something magical about being a part of this crowd, a troop of the greatest buffalo hunters ever assembled in one place. We acted the same, cheered at the same moments and felt the same emotions together. What I read on their faces is written on mine, and in that echo of our humanity, we are as close as being one as we will ever be. In that moment of unity, there is a feeling of freedom I cannot feel in other parts of my life.
Speaker 1:Myers stepped out on the boardwalk, pointed his sharp rifle above his head and fired around. His shot silenced the crowd. Next to Myers stood a tall, slender man with a full black mustache by the name of Charles Rath. Rath was well known in these parts as a successful trader of hides who had made his living in the mercantile business. Men, as you all know, we have come short of our resources and there will never again be a big run of buffaloes this far north, said Myers. Most of you know this. It is because of the enormous buffalo slaughter that took part of the range in 1872 and 1873. Myers paused and pointed in the direction of Charles Rath.
Speaker 1:I have asked my good friend Charles Rath to be present today, said Myers. He and I, along with a few others, are planning on a new venture to hunt buffalo south of the Semeron River. Stepping out of the crowd, to my surprise, spattered the Irish voice of Mike McCabe. He boasted upon our troop Hell boys, that's deep in Indian country, said McCabe. The only thing in the world I, mike McCabe, was afraid of was an Indian. If I am willing to go, then the rest of you should be packing your bags and join in on the venture. Mike ended his statement with a short Irish jig, causing discord of applause, cheering, whooping, hollering, clapping and stamping the feet.
Speaker 1:What about the soldiers? Yelled out a voice from the crowd. Do we have their permission to hunt that far south. A second voice rang out yeah, and what about the hide market? That side of the country is almost a hundred miles from any mercantile establishment. How are we going to get our hides to the market Right? More stepped up to the boardwalk in front of Myers and raised his hand over the crowd. Boy is. All I can say is that I've seen this herd of buffalo and there's plenty of money to be made. More leaned upon his sharps rifle and looked every man in the eye and continued in a strident timbre of voice.
Speaker 1:Steel Frazier and I received permission from Lieutenant Colonel Dodge for us hunters to cross over into the Texas Panhandle. Colonel Dodge told us we'd be doing the army a favor to rid him of the Indian problem by killing off the buffalo. Myers stepped up and stood next to more. Boys said Myers with a long pause. I'm willing to take my entire stock of merchandise and pull down into good Buffalo country. Now, who's with me At that moment? Shout to joy echoed down the streets of Dodge City. We all cheered for a new venture and here in the uproar, another man by the name of handra hand decided to take his whole outfit and go with us. This was a good boost, as we were delighted to welcome every newcomer, especially a man like handra hand, who had lots of nerve and knew all the ins and outs of frontier life.
Speaker 1:After the gathering ended, my good friend and companion, mike McCabe, came over to visit. He asked me if I wanted to join him for some scamper juice. Mccabe told me he had met up with an elegant woman by the name of Lizzie Palmer and wanted me to become acquainted with her. He reminded me of the two dollars that I owed him. I rarely ever made a full settlement with McCabe, as his preference was to draw his pay in installments. When he worked for me, I paid him $50 a month. Sometimes you would have several hundred dollars ahead, and again he would be considerably overdrawn. I Got down to the job of a settlement with him, reminding him that when he quit me in 72 that I carefully figured each item and found that just two dollars were due him Now he'd returned. After which he said with a twinkle in his eye it beats to davel that a man should work three long years and get just two dollars. I Gave him the two dollars and he went away in good humor.
Speaker 1:I Followed Mike down the street a ways when I noticed a hunter by the name of Jordan, who had been with us at the time of the gathering. He was carrying a sharp 50 caliber buffalo gun and the crook of his arm he entered the doorway of the same saloon that Mike had entered. Then, up the street, I saw the new city marshal. A man by the name of Brooks Brooks, a highfalutin feller and a mean rip, took a resting place against an awning pole across the street. From the saloon he looked out into the street with some confidence while flashing his two pearl handled holster revolvers. Brooke was a shabby character sporting a narrow mustache with a long, rounded face trimmed out with a van dyke goatee. He wore a tall circular crown black hat supported by a colorless linen shirt. The slip-shot dress gave the appearance to everyone who regarded him as dangerous.
Speaker 1:I looked back in the direction of the saloon and saw Jordan pick up his rifle. He steadied it against the door facing, took aim and was about to fire when Mike McCabe stumbled out between Jordan and his target. Jordan raised the gun to avoid shooting. Mike Brooks, from his vantage point, must have caught the motion of Jordan's gun barrel. He suddenly threw himself to a sitting position on the ground behind two barrels of water, trying at the same time to draw one of his guns. Somehow the gun hung and he failed to pull it from the scabber. Jordan, not seeing Brooks, fired at the barrel. Brooks hid behind the 50 caliber bullet from Jordan. Sharp rifles spat a red flame against the afternoon sun. The bullet went through the barrel and lodged in the metal hoop, but cut a hole through it. So the water spouted out and ran down Brooks neck. Brooks's ears shuddered and the bullet went through the barrel. Brooks's ears strained for more sounds, more clues as to where the next shot would land. Jordan, thinking his single shot had killed Brooks, jumped on his horse and rode off.
Speaker 1:Brooks stood up once Jordan cleared, he fished the bullet out of the barrel, held the lead slug in his and carried it with him until he reached the front of the saloon. That is when Mike McCabe started his Irish jig. Given any opportunity, mike would dance for a crowd. Mccabe's jig hadn't changed in five years. He was given all the fancy steps and dancing as if a full orchestra was playing. Although his legs were no longer a blur and the toes weren't pointed, he could amuse the crowd by raising sand. Upon seeing Brooks he stopped dancing and seemed displeased. His conduct was somewhat laughable, but he got a slug from Brooks for his effort. Afterward he joined in with Brooks who no doubt needed to celebrate his survival. Mccabe held his well-earned lead slug from Jordan's rifle high in the air. The hunters laughed with their hearty tones. Mccabe collected the drinks he'd been promised and everyone bent an elbow at the bar. I was told later that Brooks could not stand the gaff of his cowardly move of ducking behind the barrel. Within a few days of the Jordan fuss, brooks took the rag off the bush, procured French leave as city marshal, skedaddled from dodge and became a full-time slum guzzler. When the gunplay between Jordan and Brooks was over, I went to the livery to gather up some of my belongings. It was an hour or so later, in the middle of making preparations for the journey, when three hunters entered Hambell's livery Two of the hunters I knew well Mike McCabe and Billy Tyler.
Speaker 1:A third man who I had met his acquaintance on the southern plains was a hunter by the name of Masterson. Billy Tyler was young, maybe too young to be among us, but was spirited, tough and hard worker. He had hunted with the best I knew of him first when he skinned hides with Prairie Dog and Houdou Brown. Brown liked Billy and kept him around for some time until Brown opened the second saloon business in Dodge City. William Masterson was a chunk of steel and anything that struck his fancy drew fire for adventure. Masterson had built a reputation on the plains as a man who wears the mantle of duty and obligation with grace and ease. He lived in a dog-eat-dog world and believed only the strong survive. His instincts were finally tuned. Masterson was becoming a legend for his ability as a marksman who followed the righteous path. In age, masterson was perhaps next to Billy in his 22nd year. Mike had red hair and a fiery temper, but he was a fine fellow and I thought a great deal of him. He was one of the best workers I ever saw.
Speaker 1:Mike would fight at the drop of a hat and again would sulk for weeks at a time over a fancy drawing. The men nicknamed him Cranky or Fighting McCabe. When he was in a good humor a livelier fellow could not be found, but the moment he got a grouch he clouded up like a panhandle thunderstorm. Mccabe's only drawback was when he would get into a stoop. He would imagine that the world was against him, after which, in a great huff, he would quit, draw all his pay and strike out for the nearest town and its first gambling house within its reach. There he would remain until his last dollar was gone. Some fine morning, a few weeks in passing, mccabe would show up with a beaming face and good-natured Blarney take his old job and work even better than before. I thought the both of them had something on their mind about the hunt and that's why they'd come to see me.
Speaker 1:Masterson McCabe and Billy Tyler convinced me to join the outfit, as all were good men and could not be denied. The four of us became partners and made preparations to move south of the Arkansas River, deep into Indian territory. We had no definite point in view, expecting to locate our camp where grass, timber, water and buffaloes most abounded. We did not think about it much at the time, but had we calmly discussed what was ahead of us, all would have seen that the undertaking was not without peril to life.
Speaker 1:Soon, every man was busily engaged in gathering his equipment for the long trip to the new country. Each outfit, a party of four, purchased and loaded the necessary supplies. Our supplies consisted of a sack of flour, five pounds of coffee, ten pounds of sugar, some salt, a side of bacon and a few pounds of beans. Our ammunition included sixteen pounds of lead and four hundred pounds of powder. There were many things to do and if forgotten any necessary part of an out would cause annoyance and trouble. As we would be far from a railroad. We had no idea when we would get back to civilization. A lot of fellows at Dodge thought that maybe we might never get back.
Speaker 1:Moving on the Canadian meant a one hundred mile journey deep into Indian territory. The area was known as the Staked Plains, the Alano Esticado of the Texas Panhandle. The Staked Plains is a vast grassy plateau that rises abruptly from the Flat Lowlands. There would be no getting away by making a fast run to Fort Dodge or Fort Hayes. It meant fighting to the last ditch and victory to the strong. Myers's plan was that every hunter that wanted to go should load his wagons with supplies such as were used on the Buffalo Range, for which Myers would pay a liberal freight rate. And upon establishing permanent camp Myers would sell the supplies to the hunters at Dodge City Prizes. This seemed fair enough. When we moved out of Dodge in March of 1874 there were about 50 men and 30 wagons. Ac Myers had the largest outfit, with four freighter wagons hauling his entire $50,000 business.
Speaker 1:Many of the citizens of Dodge came out to the boardwalks to cheer us on as our wagons rumbled down Front Street. My wagon and team were in the lead. Mike McCabe drove with Tyler sitting next to him. Masterson and I rode saddle with me in the lead At a slow pace of my horse. I looked over the boardwalk and saw the eerie face of a man I once knew, a half-breed by the name of Amos Chapman, who did not cheer. His look was the kind of silence that falls right before you get knifed in the back. His gaze sent a shiver down my spine and I felt my blood chill in my veins. The sky was empty, not just the birds but of clouds. There was no weather at all. Even the sunlight felt cold.
Speaker 1:Amos Chapman had spent time at Fort Supply as an Indian scout and interpreter. Chapman, a husband of a Cheyenne woman, often attended the councils of his wife's people. It was his presence on our leaving Dodge City which concerned me most. He knew the war chiefs and how unsettled they became when hunters entered their hunting grounds. Hey you, dixon, he shouted. There's a lot of them. Kyle was in Comanche's, down there, that trail where you are headed, he muttered darkly.
Speaker 1:Billy Tyler sprang up from a passing wagon seat, turned and looked directly at Amos who stood staring at our wagon. We'll shoot our way through all those Indian nations if we have to, shouted Billy. The crowd hearing Tyler's statement erupted in cheers like an auditory volcano. It was all quiet one second and then deafening the next, rising to an upsurge and then falling to a trickle, before some nervous tension commanded silence once more. The crowd had been so jubilant, singing the songs that belonged to the enabryated and joyful. The atmosphere was one of elation. The crisp march air, occasionally punctuated by whoops and hollers, now all fell into silence. Our caravan slowly moved to the Cimarron crossing and out to the edge of the frontier.