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Wichita River. Now it's time to cross the Red (on a
ferry boat) and set their sights on Oklahoma
Territory!
Territory
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
(1890s), the buffalo herds had been driven to near extinction by the railroads and
land speculators. The decimation of the buffalo became the major point of
contention between the Indians and the white settlers. Photo by Dustin Ward.
I believe they crossed the Red River at a place called “Hill’s Ferry” the morning of the 3rd day. Grandmother said in my tape that they
crossed on a ferry, and Hill’s Ferry was right on their route according to the 1894 map. It was probably Grandmother’s first ride on a
boat, and crossing that big wide river must have been quite an adventure for her.
I read that ferry fares averaged one to two dollars for light and heavy wagons, 18 cents for one man and horse, 6 to 12 cents for each
person, four to six cents a head for horses and cattle, and lesser amounts for smaller animals. With a heavy wagon, two adults and
three children, two horses, two milk cows and a pony, that ferry ride probably cost J.P. somewhere around $3.
The Red River takes its name, of course, from the color of the current. The color comes from the red clays of the river's headwaters
to the west. The Prairie Dog Town Fork of the Red River originates in New Mexico, flows through Palo Duro Canyon in the Texas
panhandle, becomes the boundary between Texas and Oklahoma, and then flows through Louisiana to the Mississippi. It could be a
real menace to early travelers trying to ford it because of its variable currents and quicksand bottom.
After they crossed the Red they were in Oklahoma Territory. The United States acquired most of the Territory in the 1803 Louisiana
Purchase from France. Oklahoma (a Choctaw word meaning “home of the red people”) was set aside as Indian Territory in 1834. In
1890 the region was divided into Indian Territory and Oklahoma Territory. The two were combined to become the State of Oklahoma
in 1907 (ten years after Grandmother arrived at Oak Creek Farm.)
J.P. and family were now traveling through Comanche and Apache lands. By 1897 the tribes had ceased hostilities and were
generally peaceful. Though homesteaders probably no longer feared for their lives in Indian country, they undoubtedly were more
than a little uncomfortable traveling through there anyway. There were occasional incidents when small bands of young Comanche
braves would ride up to a homesteader’s wagon, pick through his belongings, and “trade” for flour, coffee, frying pans, or whatever
appealed to them at the time. Luckily, the Stubblefields never encountered any problems like that.
They were in true Great Plains country now, with sky so big it seemed to swallow everything, and with tall prairie grass that blew in
waves across the flat surface of the land. Back then the native grasses (big and little bluestem, golden shortgrass, and buffalo grass)
grew as high as a pony’s back. There was an ever-present danger of prairie fire, especially in autumn and winter. Homesteaders
would always try to camp alongside a creek. Besides providing water to drink and bathe in, the creeks also provided some protection
against raging prairie fires. And alongside a creek was about the only place you would find trees on the Great Plains, therefore the
only source of shade from the sun and wood for cooking.
The creeks back then ran much clearer than the red muddy ones you see in western Oklahoma today. None of the Indian land was
cultivated, and the thick prairie grass anchored the soil and prevented erosion. The creeks ran with more water volume back then,
too, because there were no upstream dams to trap water for livestock and irrigation. So the creeks that Grandmother camped at
were clearer, swifter, and safer to drink than those you see today.
I read a couple of accounts of early settlers who camped at Whiskey Creek the first night after crossing the Red River at Hill’s Ferry.
So not having anything else to go on, I figure J.P. probably did about the same thing. I marked number 3 on the map at the Whiskey
Creek crossing. They would have traveled about 23 miles that day.
Day 4 –To Snake Creek
About 10 miles north of Whiskey Creek Grandmother would have gotten her first glimpse of the Wichita Mountains. They become
visible on the horizon like a mirage; small bluish humps only a little darker blue than the sky (under arrow above). They are only about
30 miles away but seem much further. I bet when her dad told her their destination was on the other side of those mountains she
thought the trip would never end.
One of the things that stood out as I read accounts of early day settlers was their description of the abundance of wild game. They all
commented on the great numbers of deer, antelope, elk, prairie chickens, wild turkey, and quail. There were a lot of snakes, too. In
my tape Grandmother talks about seeing one: “We had a pony with us. We brought two milk cows and a pony, and my brother and I
would take turns riding the pony and we’d go ahead of the wagon apiece. I went out quite a way from the wagon and the biggest
snake I ever saw anywhere, I think, was crawling across the road. Looked like a big old fence post or something. And I rode back to
the wagon and told Papa what was up there, so as we got up there he got a chunk of something and killed the old snake. But I
wondered why he did because the ones he killed didn’t make a dent in getting rid of snakes.”
Speaking of snakes, I wrote earlier about a settler who mentioned a place called “Snake Creek Station” on the stage road between
Henrietta and Ft. Sill. It was a place where travelers could stop to camp, water their horses and livestock, and stock up on
provisions. I’m thinking J.P. probably camped somewhere in the vicinity Snake Creek Station that night.
It could be that Grandmother had trouble falling to sleep that night if she lay there wondering just why they named that place Snake
Creek! And that night (or any night on the journey, for that matter) Grandmother would have heard owls and coyotes. She might also
have heard the howls of wolves or screams of a panther, because they were roaming the plains back then too.
Day 5 – To Medicine Creek
On the fifth day they would have reached the Wichita Mountains.
The towns of Lawton and Cache weren’t there then, and wouldn’t be
for another four years when the Kiowa/Comanche lands opened for
settlement (in 1901). Ft. Sill was there, though. I don’t think they stopped
there because Grandmother never mentioned anything to anyone
about it, and I think she would have. Also, if you look back at the 1895
map, it’s a little out of the way of their route.
There is a natural passage through the Wichita Mountains near
West Cache Creek that is now State Highway 115. I believe that
is the route J.P. took, and it is certainly a more direct route than
skirting either the east or west sides of the Wichita range.
There were two pioneer outposts in the area where J.P. could have
stopped to stock up on provisions. One was called “the Red Store”
and was located somewhere in the area the town of Lawton is located
today. The other was called West Cache Trading Post and was
near the wagon road into the Wichita Mountains. Both places did a lot
of trade with Indians living in the area and with pioneers passing through. My bet is they stopped at the latter, near West Cache Creek.
In Uncle Herk’s tape Aunt Leta asks about some names carved
into rocks at a spring near Cache. This is how Grandmother
described it: “It was just flat sand rock. Right down in those rocks
was that spring water. And I remember Papa taking his horses out
there. It was off the road we traveled . . . I don’t know how he found it.
Of course we followed along, or I did, and I could read some things but
couldn’t pronounce them, and it seems to me like two or three feet
around that spring was different names carved of the old, old cattlemen
and things that come through there – before it was ever settled.”
I’ve tried and tried to find where that spring was located, but can’t
find any record of it. I had some e-mail correspondence with a very
helpful gentleman named Charles Ellenbrook, who knows the Wichita
Mountains as well as anyone. (He is author of the book Outdoor and Trail
Guide to the Wichita Mountains.) He said the closest spring to the
Cache area is called Hackney’s Spring, but there are no names carved there.
I’m thinking if the names were carved in sandstone they would probably have
eroded away after 100 years anyway.
This area was heavily populated with Comanche, Kiowa, and Wichita Indians, so Grandmother would have seen more Indians here
than on any other part of their journey. It may have been here that her mother Alice tried to communicate with one of the Indian
women. This is how Grandmother told it in Uncle Herk’s tape: “Mama and an old squaw met up, and they were trying their best to talk
to one another. Each one wanted to know about their children. And she told Momma that she had three that had gone to heaven – she’
d take her hands, you know, and she indicated three of hers had died. And I remember how hard they tried to understand one
another.”
It was also in this area, probably, where Grandmother poetically describes on Uncle Herk’s tape the beautiful Indian horses she saw
on the trip. “I saw herds after herds, and they was just as pretty to us kids as if they’d been that many wildflowers. Now I thought that
was just something heaven had sent, was those pretty, painted horses. All colors.” (Wasn’t that a great description! In the tape you
can actually hear the awe in Grandmother’s voice some seventy years after she saw those horses.)
I don’t know for sure where J.P. and family pulled their wagon over and camped that night. It may have been on West Cache Creek
near the trading post, or they may have gone further north and camped on Medicine Creek within the mountain range. I’m thinking
since Indians often put up their teepees and camped around the trading posts, J.P. probably went further north. And since Medicine
Creek is a beautiful little creek surrounded by mountains, I’m going to say that’s where they camped.
On my ride through the Wichita Mountains I came across these buffalo grazing right next to the road. I pulled my bike right up next
to them. They didn’t seem to appreciate the Harley sound at all and looked fitful, so I shut it down. They quickly got back to grazing
and I got several good pictures. It was kind of a thrill to be this close to the mighty buffalo! I’ve been here before and the buffalo are
usually way off next to the mountains and you would need a zoom lens to get any kind of picture. But I could have taken a few steps
and touched one of these guys (there are signs here and there throughout the refuge warning people not to get too close, so I didn’
t.) I felt lucky to be so close and spent about an hour watching these amazing creatures.
There is a good story of how the buffalo came back to the Wichita Mountains. As we all know, white buffalo hunters had practically
extinguished the species through wholesale slaughter. The Kiowa and Comanche Indians, who had always honored the buffalo
through the Sun Dance, started performing a new ritual called the Ghost Dance to bring them back. But the Ghost Dance didn’t work
and they didn’t come back. That’s where Quanah Parker enters the picture.
Quanah, like Geronimo, became friends with President Theodore Roosevelt. Teddy Roosevelt was probably the most “macho”
President we ever had. He was a Rough Rider, hunter, horseman and fisherman.
He had great respect for Indians and became good friends with both Geronimo and Quanah Parker. He even came to the Wichita
Mountains one time to hunt wolves with Quanah on horseback. Quanah saw it as an opportunity to talk to the new President about
the extinction of the buffalo. In short, he asked the President to bring the Buffalo back.
Roosevelt honored his request, and in 1901 set aside a portion of the Wichita Mountains as the nation’s first game preserve. He
arranged through the New York Zoological Park and American Bison Society to ship fifteen buffalo to Cache OK by train. When the
train arrived the Comanche, Kiowa, and Wichita Indians in the area were there to welcome the buffalo back. They were dressed up
in their finest and brightest regalia. I read that Quanah wept when the buffalo were loaded off the train. From that initial herd of 15
there are more than 500 on the refuge today.
I also saw a herd of Texas longhorn on the refuge. The true Texas longhorn was at one time getting bred out, heading toward
extinction. A small herd of the true unmixed breed was brought to the refuge in 1927. There are more than 250 now.
So back to J.P. and family. When they took the wagon road through the Wichitas and came out the north side they were on Kiowa
lands. Their route would probably have taken them by a tiny community called Saddle Mountain. By 1902 Saddle Mountain had a
post office and Indian mission, but when they passed through there wasn’t much there. They may have camped for the night in the
area. I marked it as 6 on the map.
Day 7 – To Oak Creek Farm
Now here’s a mystery. In my tape of Grandmother she talks about going through “Mountain City.” She says, “We came to the
Wichita Mountains, and before we got to the farm we went across several sections of land, through a little place they called
Mountain City. We just angled over up there over to the farm. There was no roads surveyed out, you know.” I think she was
referring to Saddle Mountain when she said that. I couldn’t find where there had ever been anything called Mountain City. There
was a Mountain Park, but it didn’t exist when they came through and was too far west anyway. And there’s Mountain View, but it
was called Oakdale when they came through (changed to Mountain View in 1902.) So I’m thinking she may have been referring to
Saddle Mountain when she said Mountain City.
Whatever the case, it is clear from what she said above that once they got close to their destination there were no more wagon
roads. The wagon road they took through the mountains bore to the east. They needed to angle northwest. So this is the point on
their journey where they just struck out across the prairie and found their own way to the Oak Creek farm.
J.P. and family passed Rainy Mountain on this last leg of the
journey. It just sits out there by itself, a prominent land feature
in the area. Rainy Mountain is a powerful symbol to the Kiowa.
It symbolizes their sacred homeland, their final destination.
A Kiowa named M. Scott Momaday grew up around Mountain
View not far from Rainy Mountain. He became a Pulitzer Prize
winning author, taught for a while at Berkeley and now teaches
at the University of Arizona.
He wrote a book called The Way to Rainy Mountain. In it
he says, “A single knoll rises out of the plain in Oklahoma,
north and west of the Wichita Range. For my people, the
Kiowa, it is an old landmark, and they gave it the name
Rainy Mountain.” He goes on to say “Loneliness is an
aspect of the land. All things in the plain are isolate; there
is no confusion of objects in the eye, but one hill or one tree
or one man. To look upon that landscape in the early morning,
with the sun at your back, is to lose the sense of proportion. Your
imagination comes to life, and this, you think, is where Creation was begun.”
I figure J.P. and family passed on the east side of Rainy Mountain somewhere between Gotebo (which wasn’t even there then) and
Mountain View (which was called Oakdale then). They would have finally arrived at their destination, the Oak Creek Farm, sometime
in the late evening. In my mind’s eye I can see my Grandmother, little ten-year old Edna Maude, excitedly hopping off the wagon so
happy to have finally arrived after the hard seven-day journey. I can see her looking out over the surrounding hills for the first time
and taking in the beauty of her surroundings. I can see her rushing to the house, looking at the few rooms, so excited about her new
beginnings. And at ten she would have had no idea she would fall in love, marry, raise eleven children and see her grandchildren
play on that land.
Prairie, continue on to Part IV!
