DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it — and friend, this one earns every word. Oliver Loving. The name alone carries the weight of three trails, two wars, and one of the hardest deaths you'll ever hear told.
Born in Kentucky, he came to Texas in 1845 — came to farm, to haul freight, to deal in cattle. He started a large ranch out in Palo Pinto County, and from there, he started rewriting the map of the American West. In 1858, Oliver Loving drove a herd of Texas cattle all the way to Chicago.
First time in history that had ever been done. The year after that, 1859, he drove another herd to Denver. The man had a nose for where the future was heading, and he kept walking toward it.
Then the Civil War broke out in 1861, and Loving shifted his considerable talents to the Confederate cause — serving as a beef contractor, furnishing meat to army commissaries. He also served on a twenty-four-hour patrol squad against Indians in the frontier town of Weatherford. He mapped out an 1862 expedition, three hundred or more Texans, aimed at wiping out depredating Indians on the home grounds in Colorado — but he couldn't get the necessary men to put that plan into action.
So the plan died on paper. After the war, Loving partnered up with Charles Goodnight, and together they drove cattle from Palo Pinto to Horsehead Crossing on the Pecos River, then up the river to Indian reservations and forts in New Mexico. That route became known as the Goodnight-Loving Trail — one of three major cattle trails this man had a hand in mapping, alongside the Shawnee and the Western.
Three trails. One man. Now.
Here is where the story shifts its tone, and you ought to listen close. In 1867, on that very trail, Oliver Loving was shot by Comanches. What happened next is the part that stays with you.
He crawled five miles. Five miles. And with nothing else to sustain him, he chewed an old kid glove for food.
Mexican traders eventually found him and hauled him to Fort Sumner — at a price of two hundred and fifty dollars. His wounds were treated there, but gangrene had already done its quiet, terrible work. Oliver Loving died.
His partner, Charles Goodnight, packed the corpse in charcoal and hauled him all the way back to Weatherford for burial — fulfilling Loving's last wish. Now that is a partner. That is a promise kept across hard country.
In 1887, Loving County was named for him — the only county in Texas named for a man who was, by then, already twenty years in the ground, and still the most instrumental figure in mapping three of the trails that built the cattle trade of this state. Oliver Loving. He came to Texas in 1845 to farm and haul freight.
He ended up hauled himself — in charcoal, back to the town he'd patrolled on foot. And the land remembered him anyway.
What the marker says
Only Texan instrumental in mapping 3 major cattle trails: Shawnee, Western and Goodnight-Loving trails. Born in Kentucky. Came to Texas 1845, to farm, haul freight, deal in cattle. Started large Palo Pinto County ranch. In 1858, drove herd to Chicago-- first time in history Texas cattle trailed to northern market. In 1859 drove to Denver. When Civil War broke out, 1861, was Confederate beef contractor, furnishing meat to army commissaries. Served on 24-hour patrol squad against Indians in frontier town of Weatherford. Mapped an 1862 expedition by 300 or more Texans to wipe out depredating Indians on the home grounds in Colorado, but failed to get necessary men to put this plan into action. After the war, with Charles Goodnight, drove cattle from Palo Pinto to Horsehead Crossing on the Pecos, then up the river to Indian reservations and forts in New Mexico. In 1867 on this trail, was shot by Comanches: crawled 5 miles, chewing an old kid glove for food. Hauled at price of $250 to Fort Sumner by Mexican traders, he had wounds treated, but died of gangrene. Partner packed corpse in charcoal, hauled him to Weatherford for burial, fulfilling last wish. Loving county was named for him in 1887.