DUANE
Duane's take
Now, I'm gonna tell you this one the way the official marker tells it — so buckle up, because this stretch of Concho County carries more history than it lets on at first glance. John S. Chisum.
Born in Tennessee in 1824. Came to the Republic of Texas in 1837. Spent a term as Lamar County clerk — respectable enough work — then started ranching in 1853.
And once he started, well, there was no stopping the man. By 1863, Chisum needed room. Room to breathe, room to graze, room to grow those famous Jingle-Bob herds of his.
So he moved his cattle to the Concho. Right here. Tens of thousands of Longhorns grazed this very ground, with ranch headquarters sitting ten miles to the east.
But this wasn't just ranching. This was wartime. From 1863 to 1865, John S.
Chisum was also a buyer of cattle tasked with feeding Confederate armies stationed west of the Mississippi River. That sounds straightforward enough — until you think about what it actually meant to get beef from the Concho to Louisiana army camps. First, there were Indians.
Then rustlers. Then, occasionally, a federal patrol standing between Chisum's cowboys and their destination. But the one that didn't carry a rifle and still managed to kill men and horses?
The Brazos River. Deep. Cold.
Every herd had to swim it. And the Brazos didn't always let everyone through. Here's a detail that'll stay with you.
When a herd hit a difficult crossing, cowboys would prod a heavy, wild bull — prod him and push him until he got angry. Good and angry. And then that bull would turn on the men and the horses.
Whether that chaos helped or whether the Brazos itself settled the matter, the marker doesn't say. What it does say is this: men and horses were lost. And still — still — the beef went through to the Confederates.
Now, I want to pause here, because the marker pauses here too, to set something straight. You may have heard of the Chisholm Trail — famed northbound cattle route, one of the great drives of the American West. John S.
Chisum's drives were, the marker says, heroic. But the man who gave his name to that trail? That was Jesse Chisolm.
Different man, different name. The marker is clear on that, and so am I. Chisum himself lived until 1884.
After the war, he moved his operations to New Mexico, built ranches out there, and found himself — as a bystander, the marker is careful to say — caught up in the Lincoln County Wars, the same chaos that tangled up Billy the Kid and a cast of other desperados. Tens of thousands of Longhorns. Cold river crossings.
Wartime drives through hostile territory. All of it flowing through this quiet stretch of Concho County ground. Some places look empty.
They just aren't.
What the marker says
(1824-1884) On this site during the Civil War and later, grazed by tens of thousands the Longhorns of cattle baron John S. Chisum. Ranch headquarters were 10 miles east. Here in 1863-1865, Chisum not only ranched but also was buyer of cattle to feed Confederate armies stationed west of the Mississippi River. Born in Tennessee, he came to the Republic of Texas in 1837. After a term as Lamar County clerk, started ranching in 1853. For room to expand, moved his well known "Jingle - Bob" herds to the Concho in 1863. Though he was not the man who gave the name to the famed northbound trail (this was Jesse Chisolm) John S. Chisum's drives were heroic. Herds bound in wartime for Louisiana army camps had to by-pass or to fight Indians, rustlers and occasionally a federal patrol. Concho cattle had to swim across the deep, cold Brazos River. Here cowboys would prod a heavy, wild bull till he was angry; then he would turn on men and horses. Or the Brazos itself killed men and horses. Still beef went through to the Confederates. After the war, Chisum developed ranches in New Mexico and was a bystander in the Lincoln County Wars of Billy the Kid and other desperados. (1965)