Across the Fence; Prelude to the Red River War of 1874

As the first visible arc of the rising sun pushed against the bounds of a dark horizon and the soft pink light of pre-dawn spread across the north Texas plains, nearly one thousand Kiowa, Comanche and Cheyenne warriors seemed to erupt from the earth. Like lava pouring from the cauldron of the blazing, morning sun they swept forward in a mass of rage and revenge against the buffalo hunters at Adobe walls. Had it not been for the cracking ridgepole in Hanrahan’s saloon, several hours earlier, the entire settlement of 28 men and one woman would have been caught sleeping and unprepared. The massacre would have been swift and complete. The six men, who had bed down in the saloon, after their long night of revelry, were sleepily crawling back into their bedrolls. James Hanrahan and Billy Dixon were preparing to leave the settlement as business partners in a buffalo-killing venture.

Billy was the first to see the charging band of warriors and hear their chilling war whoops as they descended from the distant bluffs. He raised his Sharps 44 to his shoulder and without aiming, fired a single shot into the advancing hoard then turned an ran to the door of Hanrahan’s saloon. Although he carried the 44, the ammunition for the new Sharps was at Rath and Wrights where he had forgotten to take it with him the night before.

The dawn piercing war whoops and the thunderous bark of Billy’s Sharps had brought the men inside to a quick and lively wakening and they had already shut and blocked the door when Billy arrived. Behind him came another hunter, Billy Ogg, who had gone out to gather horses and managed to outrun the arrows that were whistling past his head. Together, the two men pounded their fists against the doors heavy planks until those inside hesitantly granted passage. Safely inside, Billy noticed that one of the men was banging away with a Sharps 50 and having little effect. “Here, I’ll trade you,” Billy said holding out the 44. No doubt the other shooter knew of Billy’s skill with the Big 50 and was happy to oblige.

In Hanrahan’s there were now ten men, among them was Billy Dixon and Bat Masterson. In Myers and Leonard’s store were gathered eleven men and at Rath and Wright’s there were seven defenders including William Olds and his wife. The Shadler brothers, who had spent the night in their wagon, were wakened only long enough to feel the sting of a blade through their hearts before they were scalped. Even their faithful dog, that rose up to defend them, was killed and scalped. Billy Tyler was also sleeping outside and made a dash for Myers store. When he reached the doorway he turned to fire and was shot through the lungs. He died a short while later.

Among the Native tribes Quanah Parker, the half-blood son of Cynthia Ann Parker, led the Comanche. Lone Wolf led the Kiowa and Stone Calf along with White Shield, were the leaders of the warrior bands of the Cheyenne. In the first thirty minutes of the battle the Indians could have had an early victory if they had pressed their advantage. They had expected their attack to catch the settlement completely off guard and asleep. The effective and deadly accurate rifle fire from the three adobe buildings was not expected. By sheer numbers the combined forces of Comanche, Kiowa and Cheyenne could have stormed the buildings, overwhelmed those inside and left all twenty-nine either dead or dying. In the very early fighting the Indians were at the doors of the buildings pounding with rifle butts against them. All of the windows were shot out and bullets zinged through the interiors like angry hornets. However, after the first attack there were no less than thirteen dead warriors around the three buildings and uncounted others a further distance out. The Indians withdrew from the battle, out of range of the buffalo guns, and retrieved what dead they could get to with relative safety. Repeated attacks throughout the morning resulted in the same outcome. The circling warriors tried to stay beyond the range of the deadly buffalo guns and periodically attempted quick rushes to the adobe buildings but were unable to inflict further damage.

By noon of that first day the Indians had retreated beyond the range of the Buffalo hunters skills and in effect had laid siege to the settlement at Adobe Walls. The men at Hanrahan’s were running short of ammunition so Billy and Hanrahan made a dash for Rath’s. A hail of gunfire greeted them as they sprinted the distance between the two buildings. Amazingly both men were unharmed. Billy stayed at Rath’s and Hanrahan made the return sprint back to the saloon with a bag full of ammunition.

At the end of that first day fifty-six horses lay dead around the perimeter of the battle site as well as twenty-eight head of oxen that had belonged to the Shadler brothers. Those at Adobe Walls were stranded and the only possible means of escape would be on foot. With a lull in the fighting several of the men ventured out and hurriedly dug graves for the Shadler brothers, Tyler and Ogg. Their unmarked graves have long been obliterated by wind and rain and the passage of time.

It was on the second day of a six-day siege that Billy Dixon made a remarkable and celebrated long range shot. The Indians had surrounded the settlement at a safe distance and a small group could be seen on a ridge nearly a mile away. Billy, known for his remarkable marksmanship, was challenged to take a shot. Using the borrowed Big 50, Billy took careful aim and squeezed off a round. A few seconds later one of the warriors on the distant hill tumbled from his horse. This seemed to take the starch out of the Indians resolve and was perhaps a significant turning point in the second battle of Adobe Walls. Later, an Army survey crew would measure the distance at 1,538 yards. Billy Dixon himself never boasted about that shot and spoke of it only briefly in his later writings, “I was admittedly a good marksman, yet this was what might be called a ‘scratch’ shot.

Over the next few days more hunters came into the new settlement and later a small detachment of soldiers. The bands of Kiowa, Cheyenne and Comanche withdrew from the field but over the next year continued their vengeful raids throughout the southwest. Though the battle ended with little success on the part of the tribes, it marked the beginning of the Red River War.

Billy Dixon never returned to the buffalo hunting trade but joined with the U.S. Cavalry as a scout during the ensuing war. In more than a year of fighting the combined forces of the southwestern tribes never achieved a decisive victory and were finally forced onto the reservations that they so desperately fought against.

As a scout, during The Red River Wars, Billy Dixon and another scout by the name of Amos Chapman, along with four troopers from the 6th Cavalry, were pursued and eventually surrounded by a large war party of Kiowa and Comanche. Taking refuge in the shallow depression of a nearby buffalo wallow the six men made a stand against seemingly impossible odds. During the three-day battle effective rifle fire held off the attacking warriors although one of the four soldiers was killed and the other five men each wounded. For this action, known as The Buffalo Wallow Fight, each man was awarded the Medal of Honor.

In 1877, three years after the Second Battle of Adobe Walls, Billy Dixon and the Comanche chief Quanah Parker met at Palo Duro where Quanah’s people were camped, after ‘jumping’ the reservation, near Charles Goodnight’s ranch.

“I met Quanah at that time,” Billy wrote, “having gone out with the troops. As we were riding along one day, he began talking about the fight at the Walls. When I told him that I was one of the men that had fought against him, he leaned over on his horse and shook my hand. We became good friends.”

Billy Dixon died on March 9, 1913 his wife Olive compiled his writings and began his memoir in his own words; “I fear that the conquest of savagery in the Southwest was due more often to love of adventure than to any wish that cities should arise in the desert, or that highways of civilization should take the place of trails of the Indian and the buffalo. In fact, many of us believed and hoped that the wilderness would remain forever. Life there was to our liking. Its freedom, its dangers, its tax upon strength and courage, gave zest to living, especially to young men, unapproached by anything to be found in civilized communities. Therefore, let it be said that if there was bravery and heroism, it came less by design than it did from the emergencies of accident and surroundings, and that usually it was spontaneous.”

The background and quotes for this column and the two previous columns have come from Olive K. Dixon’s book, Life of “Billy” Dixon.

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