Yesterday’s Trails

By William H. Spindler

True and authentic stories of Indians and Pioneers, including “Kid” Wade, “Doc” Middleton, Frank Hart, and many others, having their locale in western South Dakota and Nebraska, that picturesque area of “wide open spaces”, pine-clad canyons and hills, and badlands that had such a colorful and romantic past

by WILL H. SPINDLER

who spent 30 years in the United States Indian Service as an Indian day school teacher on the vast Pine Ridge Indian reservation of southwestern South Dakota.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Normanby Press
• Release date: Nov 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781786254542

William H. Spindler

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Text originally published in 1961 under the same title.

© Pickle Partners Publishing 2015, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

Cover image courtesy of Wikipedia

YESTERDAY’S TRAILS

BY

WILL H. SPINDLER

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

DEDICATION 6

YESTERDAY’S TRAILS 7

FOREWORD 8

KID WADE AND EARLY DAY RUSTLERS HAD COLORFUL CAREERS 10

OPEN RANGE COWPUNCHER—ONE OF NATION’S MOST ROMANTIC FIGURES 17

DOC MIDDLETON—LEGENDARY FIGURE IN PIONEER HISTORY 22

PIONEERS RECALL INDIAN BEEF ISSUES 26

PIONEER RANCHERS RECALL EARLY DAY CLOWNING 29

WEDDING MERRIMENT BROUGHT HUMOROUS, TRAGIC SITUATION 31

HERD WAGONS AMONG THE EARLIER ‘HOMES ON THE RANGE’ 33

WAR YEARS BROUGHT DIFFICULTIES TO ISOLATED RESERVATION AREAS 37

RESERVATION SITUATIONS SOMETIMES TRAGIC, AMUSING 39

SIOUX INDIAN RELIGION AND CHURCHES 43

DEWOLF FAMILY RICH IN PIONEER MILITARY HISTORY 49

OLD BLACKSMITH SHOPS NOW OF THE PAST 53

EARLY DAY PEDDLERS IDOLIZED BY CHILDREN 56

OLD COWBOY SONGS STILL LIVE IN CATTLE LAND 59

SOUTH DAKOTA GUNNERY RANGE BROUGHT MODERN INDIAN EXODUS 62

GORDON PIONEER—LAST OF COVERED WAGON FREIGHTERS 65

EAGLE MILLS A PROMINENT LANDMARK IN PIONEER DAYS 69

NEW ROAD RECALLS RESERVATION ROAD OF 1924 74

BUTCHERED STEER MARKED INDIAN DAY CELEBRATION AT POTATO CREEK 78

FIRST INDIAN SERVICE YEARS WERE LONELY, DISCOURAGING 81

WINTER OF 1935-1936 BROUGHT HARDSHIPS, TRAGEDY 85

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 92

Will and Lulu Spindler

United States Indian Service, Retired (since October 30, 1959, after 30 years of continuous service in small, isolated Indian day schools, all of which were on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation of southwestern South Dakota)

DEDICATION

Dedicated to LULU, my wife and partner through life and through the pages of this book, and to the Memory of my Brothers, CHESTER ARTHUR SPINDLER and FRANK ALLEN SPINDLER, both of whom served their Country during World War I and World War II.

YESTERDAY’S TRAILS

True and authentic stories of Indians and Pioneers, including Kid Wade, Doc Middleton, Frank Hart, and many others, having their locale in western South Dakota and Nebraska, that picturesque area of wide open spaces, pine-clad canyons and hills, and badlands that had such a colorful and romantic past

by WILL H. SPINDLER

who spent 30 years in the United States Indian Service as an Indian day school teacher on the vast Pine Ridge Indian reservation of southwestern South Dakota.

FOREWORD

Many trails lead back to October 24, 1929—that magic date of our entry into the United States Indian Service at good old Medicine Bow Day School, Potato Creek, S. Dak., on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, Some, dim and half-forgotten, wend their shadowy courses back into the dim mazes of oblivion; others, more clear-cut and more vividly marked by the milestones of time and events, follow a sort of middle course, half in shadow, half in sunshine; while many, bright and sparkling in their whole course from Today back through those happy Yesterdays, stand out clear and bright as cameos.

Some of these winding pioneer trails are stalked by tragedy and sorrow, like the thin howling of coyotes in pine-studded canyons; others are trails of intermingled sorrow, humor, and joy, curving here upward to the mountain, there downward into the valley; still other, trails of pure joy and bliss, clear-cut and sparkling, cling ever to the very mountain peaks...Memory trails, if you please...But what happy, joyous, priceless memories are some of these!

Much water has run under the bridge since that memorable day that now lies so far behind. On the outside tremendous changes have occurred as the wheels of Progress have turned endlessly onward, ever onward...World empires have risen and fallen, power-crazed fanatics with desire for world conquest have been overthrown and assigned to the rubbish heap, a world renowned depression has come and gone, and science and invention have made countless changes and improvements on their ever lengthening journey to Utopia...

But here on the vast stretches of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation these changes have been rather slow with the passing years. Here most of the Sioux Indians, as well as many of the whites, still live in log houses, often in the cases of the Indians with only the hard earth for a floor and poles or boards covered with earth for a roof. Here, too, with the exception of the main surfaced highways, most of the roads are still only winding prairie trails.

And this slow process of change is not only confined to the big reservation but to many other far-flung areas of wide open spaces, badlands, and rough, hilly, pine canyon-intersected areas in both western South Dakota and Nebraska as well...Frontier areas, if you please, where many aspects of the old Frontier may still be witnessed and felt even today.

It was while we were stationed at Medicine Bow Day School in the truly isolated Indian village of Potato Creek (where we spent 20 years of our service) that I first conceived the idea of writing these local color feature stories on the Indians and pioneers of these picturesque, colorful regions of one of our last Frontiers. The fact that Potato Creek was located only 20 miles southwest from Interior, a little town in the very heart of South Dakota’s weird, fantastic, fascinating Badlands, also gave us some excellent local color and history on the Badlands area itself.

If in the reading of these Indian and pioneer stories contained in Yesterday’s Trails the reader is given a more vivid picture and deeper understanding of the earlier history, way of life, and wild, primitive beauty of these isolated, romantic areas of western South Dakota and Nebraska, one of our greatest ambitions will have been realized.

WILL SPINDLER

Gordon, Nebraska

KID WADE AND EARLY DAY RUSTLERS HAD COLORFUL CAREERS

The turbulent doings of the horsethieves and vigilantes in the newly organized counties of Holt, Boyd, Rock, Brown, and Keya Paha in north central Nebraska often spilled over into Dakota Territory, so the number of stories of the hectic 70’s and 80’s of this region’s heyday of history became legion with early day Dakotans as well as Nebraskans.

Much water has run under the bridge and most of the old-timers of this wild, hectic era have slipped quietly over the knoll since those long-past days, still it is surprising how many of these stories still live in the hearts of the descendants of these sturdy pioneers.

The area in South Dakota where this nearly forgotten epoch in colorful western history occurred is now comprised in the Rosebud Indian reservation. To the wild, pine-clad canyons of this picturesque wilderness bands of horsethieves sometimes fled, when too closely pressed by the grim vigilance committees hot on their trail.

Horsethieves were very plentiful back in those days, especially in Holt County, the heart of the horsethief country. The big county was newly organized and with far more than its share of outlaws, rustlers, and petty thieves within its borders, it was beyond the pale of any real law that had much teeth in it.

Stealing horses became a highly organized, very remunerative occupation over the county. Horses could be moved swiftly and easily. In a short time they could have them in the more settled eastern part of the state or even in Iowa, where they sold well and no questions asked.

Many secret timber fastnesses along the Niobrara, Elkhorn, and Keyapaha rivers, as well as Turkey, Eagle, Brush, and other creeks, furnished made-to-order hideouts for the rustlers and their stolen horses. Sandhill pockets and blowouts came in handy, too...The horsethief gangs became highly organized, intricate, all powerful gangs.

The situation in the new county and adjoining territory became more and more desperate. The wealth of horses—sorely needed by the settlers—were being drained out of the area like water. The law at the county seat of O’Neill and other widely scattered county seats was far too weak to strike back with much force.

To cope with the desperate situation, secret societies known as vigilance committees, or more commonly dubbed vigilanders in the vernacular of the new frontier were soon organized among the settlers to take the law into their own hands and protect themselves from the renegades preying upon them. And it was not long before the black masks, white sheets, and deadly noose of the vigilantes became objects of great dread to all transgressors.

But the horsethieves were not cleaned out overnight. Their territory was vast, their hideouts plentiful, and their friends and help from the inside great. Suspicion among the settlers rapidly mounted as this wild, lawless era continued...It was mighty hard to tell just how your neighbor stood...

It was my lot to be born in Holt County, some 25 miles to the northwest of O’Neill, the same distance to the northeast of Atkinson, and some four miles south of the mystic old Niobrara River, right in the heart of the old horsethief-vigilante area. My father settled as a boy in 1879 and my mother in 1880 in this area. Although several decades had passed since that hectic era when I was a boy, memories of its violence, wild adventure, and swift, tragic death still lived brightly in the strong hearts of the old-timers who were our neighbors and who had survived the turbulent period.

Feeling ran high in those days of the horsethieves and vigilantes. Time, the great healer, has softened this feeling now. Eternity has claimed many of the most bitter, many others drifted long ago to other scenes, and the hearts of the few who still remain in the area have softened now.

Likewise the various stories connected with the horsethieves and vigilanders have so endured down through the years that their number is still legion. Approach the old retired cattleman or general old-timer in Rapid City, Deadwood, Belle Fourche, and most any South Dakota or Nebraska area and get him started on this colorful old era. Maybe he lived there during those wild days or maybe just heard about them from others, but you’ll be surprised at the great number of adventurous tales he can entertain you with.

The name of Kid Wade will live forever, or at least until the last story of the notorious horsethief-vigilante feud has passed into oblivion. A wild, adventurous youth in his teens and early twenties (very early 20’s, as he was hung in his 22nd year) during the period, he became the most notorious outlaw of them all. Seldom riding the same horse twice on his many depredations, he seemed to be everywhere—to pop up at most any time and place—and kept the harassed vigilantes forever on his precarious trail.

The stories of the Kid’s miraculous feats