Written by Clay Riley – There are a lot of Brown County pioneer family names in this article by Dick Sullivan, when published in the March 1924 Frontier Times Magazine*. The magazine was published on a monthly basis by J. Marvin Hunter (1880–1957) of Marfa, Texas from 1923 into the 1950s. He had a passion for Texas history and documented first-hand accounts of the early days in west Texas. He established a museum in 1927, where many artifacts of this region were displayed. We owe a great debt to these early publishers that recorded and preserved the life stories of these early day pioneers, peace officers and Texas Rangers.
ON THE BUFFALO RANGE – 1873
W. F. (Dick) Sullivan, San Saba, Texas.
“Some of my children and friends have asked me to write a short sketch of my experience in West Texas during the early days, and I will attempt to do so, without apology to any of the wiseacres. I would not know Grammar if I met it in the road, for I was deprived of schooling when I was growing up, like many of the other boys who were raised on the frontier.
I was born in Mooreville, Mississippi, in 1854, and left there with my parents in 1868, to come to Texas. Although I was just a little chap at the time, I drove a team of oxen to a wagon, in which my mother rode with me. The rest of the party had mule teams. We stopped at Pilot Point, in Denton County, which was then a wild and wooly country. In the spring of 1869, my father died and my mother was left with six little children to raise, in a strange country. Nobody but an orphan knows what it means to be an orphan, no schooling, no father’s hand to guide you, and nothing but a trying struggle staring you in the face.
We lived on the old Chisholm Trail, when thousands of cattle were being driven to Kansas and other northern markets, and in the spring of 1872. I went up the trail with a herd of cattle for J. T. Wilson. The herd was from La Salle County, and all of the hands were Mexicans except Wilson, myself and Charlie Cooper of San Antonio. We passed up by Fort Worth, where we bought supplies. There was no railroad there then, and we bedded our cattle right where the packing house stands now. We crossed Red River and went through the Indian Territory on our way. We stopped near Wichita, Kansas, on the Ninesquaw River. In September I returned to Texas with Moses Stephenson’s outfit, which was composed of twenty-three men, and twelve new wagons. We had gray-backs (chiggers) good and plenty all the way back and put in most of our time scratching. Nobody knows what good scratching is unless they have these pests.
In the fall of 1872, I went to Brown County where I was hired by Bob Terrell. He was trading dry goods for cattle, and was camped in an old log house, eight miles above Brownwood, on the Bayou. Terrell slept in the house and I slept outside, and one night, while the moon was shining almost as bright as day, a party of Indians ran a big bunch of horses near the house within a few feet of my pallet, and I did not wake up until they had passes and Terrell called me. This was on the old road from Comanche to Camp Colorado, and the only (low water) crossing on the Bayou. It is likely if I had awakened as they passed, the Indians would have taken my scalp.
In the fall of 1873 I went on a buffalo hunt with nine other men, three of whom were ‘”Slick” Clements, Ben Anderson and Lon Anderson. Seven of us were on horseback, and three drove wagons.
We passed out by Camp Colorado, as at that time Coleman hadn’t yet been born. This side of Cedar Gap, in what is now Taylor county, we killed our first buffalo, cut out some hams and tender loin, and took all the kidney fat to cook with. A short distance further on “Slick” Clements borrowed my needle gun and killed a big doe, which was the fattest deer I ever saw. The fat was an inch thick between the hide and the meat. Pretty soon another boy came in with a big turkey gobbler, and we went on down to a spring branch to camp, and on our way discovered a cabin covered with buffalo hides. Three of us walked up to the cabin and learned that it was Kin Elkins’ western ranch. They had killed three bears that afternoon, and gave us a whole bear to take back to camp with us. Now you can imagine what a feast we had at supper. Buffalo, turkey breast, fat venison and bear meat, all cut up and fried together. I have always thought it was the best supper I ever ate.
The next day we passed through Cedar Gap, and stayed ten days on the buffalo range, and in that time, we loaded our three wagons with buffalo meat and hides and went back home. We camped some nights in sight of Indian camp fires, and saw lots o£ Indian sign, but they were watching us from the mountain tops and knew our strength, so they didn’t bother us.
On January 4, 1874, I joined Jim Connell’s company of Rangers. Company C. Charlie Webb, who was afterwards killed by John Wesley Hardin in Comanche, was our first lieutenant. One time we were camped near Government Knob, when twenty-five of us were detailed to scout west for Indians, and our chuck wagon was to load and follow and overtake us on the Salt Fork of the Brazos. We never saw our wagon, and had to live on buffalo meat without salt or bread for fourteen days. It tasted mighty good when we got back.
At that time Brownwood was a very small place, with only two stores and one saloon. In 1872 there were seventy-five men in Brown county, and for a long time I could hear of only four of my old comrades of those days, but last September at the old Rangers’ Reunion at Menard, George Womack of Brownwood and Dick Cheatem of Santa Anna walked up and put their arms around my neck, and said ”Dick, don’t you know me?” and the tears flowed like rain. And we thanked God that six of us are still on this side of eternity. The other three are Charlie Taylor, Bob Routh and Al Cheatem, all of whom have been living at Brownwood forty-six years. After I was mustered out of the ranger service I received my pension check for $680.
I have lived in San Saba county forty-three years, part of the time on a ranch, and about twenty years in the hardware business. I have a wife and twelve children to share my love.”
*Edited to correct spelling and to shorten the narrative for this column. C. R.
Source: March 1924 – Frontier Times Magazine
Image: The Herd Quitter 1897 – Charles Marion Russell
This and many other stories are available at the Brownwood Public Library – Genealogy & Local History Branch at 213 S. Broadway. Volunteers from the Pecan Valley Genealogical Society are there to assist you in your family or local history research.
Clay Riley is a local historian and retired Aerospace Engineer that has been involved in the Historical and Genealogical Community of Brown County for over 20 years. Should you have a comment, or a question that he may be able to answer in future columns, he can be reached at; pvgsbwd@gmail.com.
