Across The Fence: Billy Dixon at Adobe Walls, June 1874

In 1843 William Bent established a trading post, near the Canadian River, in the north-central panhandle of Texas. From 1843 until 1848 the outpost served as a gathering place for trappers, traders and the Native people of the region. Originally a log fortification, enclosing 6,400 square feet, the post was soon reinforced with adobe blocks nearly two-feet thick. As hostilities between the whites and the local Kiowa and Comanche tribes escalated the outpost was abandoned. After it was abandoned William Bent set off kegs of gunpowder and blew it up. It was at these ruins in November of 1864 that Col. Christopher Carson and 300 troops set up a defense against nearly 3,000 Comanche and Kiowa. After more than eight hours of continuous fighting Col. Carson was able to successfully hold off the attackers and safely withdraw.

Although the outpost was never rebuilt it was a well-known site and frequently used by hunters, trappers and travelers on the Santa Fe Trail as a relatively secure campsite. The sturdy adobe walls, which had survived the explosions set off by Bent, provided limited but welcome shelter from the elements.

In the early 1870’s a group of hopeful entrepreneurs established the new Adobe Walls a little more than a mile north of the old ruins. All of the buildings at the new outpost were constructed of adobe blocks with walls two feet thick. Rath and Wright established a store at the new Adobe Walls as well as Myers and Leonard. Hanrahan opened the most popular and only saloon at the settlement and the necessary Blacksmith shop was located nearby. The walls of Myers and Leonard’s store made up the northwest corner of a picket stockade that enclosed a mess house and a well. The close proximity, of the three main buildings, to each other, and the thick adobe walls would prove to be one of several factors that insured the survival of the inhabitants of this remote settlement during the historic second battle of Adobe Walls.

In 1874 the Union Pacific Transcontinental Railroad was celebrating its 5th anniversary. The steady advance of progress and civilization had followed the twin ribbons of steel across the continent leaving in its wake massive piles of buffalo bones and hordes of land-hungry settlers. The ever increasing flow of humanity across the central plains had resulted in the rapid decline of the once great herds and the nomadic tribes of plains Indians were being persistently pursued and subdued as the buffalo, their main source of survival, was being systematically exterminated. The prime buffalo killing grounds of western Kansas and south-central Nebraska had been reduced to small herds of stragglers not worth the effort to hunt. The buffalo had moved to the southwest and the Texas plains now offered the last best range for the continuing demand for buffalo hides.

In the spring of 1874 it was to this region, southwest of Adobe Walls that Billy Dixon came with two skinners and set up his hunting camp. Billy claimed that a good skinner could skin 50 buffalo a day and when the migrating herds reached the area where Billy was set up he killed enough buffalo to keep his skinners busy for several days. While they were busy skinning, Billy headed to Adobe Walls to see if he could hire more skinners.

Over the next few weeks Billy made several trips from his camp to Adobe Walls to haul in buffalo hides, purchase supplies and keep his wagon in good repair. The newly established settlement proved to be of great benefit not only to Billy and his crew but also to more than 200 hunters who had come to the region for their share of hides. On one of Billy’s trips to the Walls, around the 23rd of June, as he and his partner were crossing the rain-swollen Canadian River, their wagon was swept away and one of the mules drowned. In addition to the loss of a good mule, all of their supplies were lost as well as his prized buffalo gun a Sharp’s Big 50. The loss of his weapon was a major setback being his sole means of doing business.

When they arrived at the outpost they learned that a couple of hunters and their skinners had been attacked and killed by the Cheyenne. It was not unusual for a few hunters to be killed and scalped every year but rumors were flying that a major war was in the making. Billy quickly decided to return to camp, make sure that his skinners were safe and bring them back to the new Adobe Walls until things had settled.

On June 26, 1874 Billy returned to Adobe Walls. His first order of business was to purchase a rifle to replace the one he had lost in the Canadian River. All that was available at Rath and Wright’s store was a Sharps, round barrel 44, not near the rifle of his old Big 50, but it would have to do. Billy took the 44 with him to Hanrahan’s but forgot to take along the case of ammunition that he had purchased. That evening, after a long discussion with Hanrahan, the two of them decided to partner up in the hide business. They shook hands on the deal and determined to leave the Walls the next morning.

That night several other hunters had come in to the little settlement of Adobe Walls and a small, impromptu rendezvous was soon underway. Talk of Indian war parties and scalped hunters was forgotten and the revelry of comradeship turned to stories of the past and plans for their future wealth when their harvest of hides had all been sold. Business was good that night at Hanrahan’s Saloon. In addition to the eight men who lived at Adobe Walls and ran the businesses, there was a married couple from Dodge City who had recently come to start a restaurant in Rath and Wrights’ store, Mrs. William Olds was the only woman at Adobe Walls. Those who celebrated their anticipated good fortune were eighteen hunters including Billy Dixon and Bat Masterson. Among the twenty-eight adventurous souls gathered at Adobe Walls on that warm summer night, fewer than ten were able marksmen who made their living as shooters, Billy Dixon was one.

After the revelry of the evening had subsided the men retired to their bedrolls. It was common for these men, accustomed to a rugged life on the open plains, to bed down under the stars. Most slept outside, Billy spread his blankets near the blacksmith’s shop and two brothers, the Shadler’s, slept in their freight wagon along with their big Newfoundland dog that curled up at their feet. Doors to the adobe stores were propped open to allow the fresh prairie breeze to freshen the staleness inside.

The evenings stillness was short-lived when around 2 o’clock in the morning, two men who were sleeping inside Hanrahan’s were jolted awake by what sounded like a rifle shot. The two men, Welch and Shepherd, bolted from their beds and discovered that the sound had come from the cracking of the huge cottonwood log that served as the ridgepole of Hanrahan’s roof. Apparently the weight of the earth and sod on the roof had stressed the log to breaking. In short order fifteen men were up helping to repair the damage. A group of men went to the nearby creek to cut a post that would prop up the sagging ridgepole. After the repairs had been made most of the men went back to their bedrolls and all was once again quiet.

Hanrahan and Billy decided that since they were already up and awake they might as well gather their gear and strike off early to set up a camp and begin a days kill. There was a barely discernable hint of pink on the eastern horizon as Billy rolled up his blankets and threw them into his wagon. As he gazed toward the horizon where the horses were picketed, something out of place caught his eye. It appeared to be a large shadow that had formed near the horizon but Billy couldn’t make out what it was. Then suddenly, the dark blot began to spread across the horizon like a fan and the quiet of early dawn was split with the shattering yell of hundreds of Indians.

“There was never a more splendidly barbaric sight,” Billy later wrote. “Hundreds of warriors, the flower of the fighting men of the southwestern Plains tribes, mounted upon their finest horses, armed with guns and lances, and carrying heavy shields of thick buffalo hide, were coming like the wind. Over all was splashed the rich colors of red, vermillion and ochre, on the bodies of the men, on the bodies of the running horses. Scalps dangled from bridles, gorgeous war-bonnets fluttered their plumes, bright feathers dangled from the tails and manes of the horses, and the bronzed, half-naked bodies of the riders glittered with ornaments of silver and brass. Behind this head-long charging host stretched the Plains, on whose horizon the rising sun was lifting its morning fires. The warriors seemed to emerge from this glowing background … I was thunderstruck.”

M. Timothy Nolting is an award winning Nebraska columnist and freelance writer. To contact Tim, email; HYPERLINK "mailto:[email protected]"[email protected]