Heroes of the Santa Fe Trail

by Randy D. Smith

  Such was the passing of one of the most successful and controversial trailblazers of the western frontier. In less than ten years, Jedediah Smith grew from a young adventurer from Pennsylvania to the senior partner of a firm that dominated the American fur trade. He came west with William Ashley in 1822 and within three years became a junior partner. During the 1824-1825 season he harvested 668 pelts setting a standard as a trapper that was never equaled. In 1825, he and his senior partner sold $50,000 worth of furs in St. Louis, a fantastic sum for those times. Along with his new partners, Bill Sublette and David Jackson, he bought out Ashley’s interest in the company and embarked on one of the most memorable adventures of exploration and tribulation in the history of the fur trade era. Before he returned to St. Louis in the fall of 1830, he had pioneered a trail to California, endured several near-massacres from hostile Indians, and had been literally wiped out of resources and left with only his wits for survival. Of 33 men and two women who had joined him in his quest for a Pacific outlet for his furs to the rich trade of the Orient, 26 had died, two had deserted, and two women had been kidnapped by Indians. In his mind and partially on paper was a map of the Far West that would not be duplicated until the 1840s. He returned to St. Louis after five years of exploration and adventure a moderately wealthy man whose main goal was to put his experiences on paper in the form of maps and journal recollections. In the spring of 1831 he was lured west again by the promise of riches to be gained from trading goods in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He set out as a partner of an 83-man expedition that included a number of famous mountain men such as William and Thomas Sublette and Thomas “Broken Hand” Fitzpatrick.

  Smith has been hailed by modern historians as a hero and vilified by others as a tragic bungler. As with most men of fame, the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle. One truth is certain from the accounts left behind by those who knew him. He was perceived as a man of cool courage and was respected as a leader. He was recognized as a man of religious stature who stood out among his fellows. Whatever the perception, Smith will always be one of the great figures of the Western Fur Trade Era and a model of strength and fortitude against what were, at times, monumental odds against him.

  No one knows the exact location of the incident that took Smith’s life. It is easy to become absorbed with the idea of experiencing the conditions and locations that led to Smith’s death. Although such an experience can never be duplicated, it can be approximated through study and fieldwork. By gathering different accounts of the incident and following the last vestiges of the trail a great deal of insight can be gained as to the exact conditions that brought Smith to his death. One of the most valuable tools is Maps of the Santa Fe Trail, a book compiled by Gregory M. Franzwa. With it and a series of writings concerning Smith and the Santa Fe Trail, an accurate reconstruction of where Smith had gone and why, can be made. Testing different alternatives provides several clues of why a man of Smith’s experience and talent could meet such a sudden and tragic end.

  At the time that Smith made his last journey, his caravan was confronted with the high plains passage that was to become known as the Jornada or Water Scrape, a 60-mile stretch of desert that loomed from the Arkansas River toward Lower Spring just south of present-day Ulysses, Kansas.

  Travelers of the Santa Fe Trail had three alternatives of travel once they reached the banks of the Arkansas River. One was to stay with the river west to the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains than swing south through Raton Pass into northern New Mexico. This was the longest and safest of the routes. Much quicker and more dangerous routes were by way of the Cimarron Cut-off that went through the heart of the Jornada. If weather was favorable and luck was with the caravans, the journey to Santa Fe could be cut by almost twenty-one days.

  One method of using the Cut-off at this time was to follow the river to the “Caches,” approximately six miles west of present-day Dodge City, Kansas, and make a dash southwest toward Lower Spring. In 1822, before travelers learned that the best time of year to make the crossing was in the spring, the Baird-Chambers caravan had become stranded in a snowstorm on an island. They were forced to endure three months on the island during which time most of their stock either died of starvation or was slaughtered for food. When the weather finally broke, the men abandoned their goods in jug-shaped holes that they had dug in the sand of the island and went on to Missouri to get fresh livestock. For years the island and the empty holes remained as a landmark for subsequent caravans to take the Cut-off. This alternative was known as the Middle Crossing.

  The Smith-Sublette caravan took place early enough for the so-called Lower Crossing to have been used since the Middle Crossing was not the proven route. Throughout the history of the trail, as men became more familiar with the Jornada, the actual point of the crossing of the Arkansas moved farther and farther to the west culminating with the Aubrey Cut-off founded in 1850-1851 near Lakin, Kansas, which by-passed Lower Spring and ran into Southeastern Colorado. By the time the railroads had been established, there were so many trail alternatives that for all practical purposes, the Santa Fe Trail was simply a general term for a very loosely organized transportation destination.

  Smith may have chosen the route that was essentially the same as Coronado had used almost 300 years earlier, that of trying to catch all three springs that existed along the headwaters of the Cimarron River. Since it was a dry spring that year, the caravan would have followed the wet route of the trail along the Arkansas River and caught Black Pool near Ford, Kansas. This almost bottomless spring was a never-failing source of water throughout the history of the trail and an early crossing point for those attempting the Jornada.

  From that point he may have followed Mulberry Creek almost straight west to present-day Ensign, Kansas. Mulberry Creek is today nothing more that a slough, very seldom carrying water except during times of rainfall. But in 1831, long before modern-day irrigation lowered the water table, it ran an almost constant stream of shallow water and would have been very tempting to travelers of the Cut-off. The distance from the headwaters of Mulberry Creek to Lower Spring would then be cut a few miles and increase the chances for a safe crossing.

  A curious thing about travelers of the Santa Fe Trail was that most of the wagons only carried a five-gallon keg of water for use. There was no water carried for the livestock.

  Throughout the trail until the Cut-off is reached, water sources are usually a day’s distance of travel apart, a distance of 15-18 miles. Saving precious weight mandated that carrying a supply of water for the animals was prohibitive. The livestock were left to the resources of the trail for whatever they drank. This system worked fine until the Jornada. A 60-mile run, if everything went right, meant that the livestock would have to go four days without drinking. That was a long time but it could be done.

  Josiah Gregg in his 1844 book entitled The Commerce of the Prairies relates his experiences of learning of the demise of Smith. Gregg relates that the Sublette-Smith caravan had started the journey to Santa Fe nearly a month before his own company. He states that his men had come upon signs of the leading caravan several times during the journey and that his group had received vague reports of their progress from Indians. Gregg also states that Smith’s group was comprised of beginners in the Santa Fe trade and that since several of them were veteran pioneers of the Rocky Mountains they must have concluded that they could go anywhere without a guide. Without anyone competent to lead them the group followed the plain track that led to the Arkansas River.

  The problem was that from present-day Dodge City to near Ingalls, Kansas, there was no regular crossing of the Arkansas. Over a period of years Ingalls became the most common crossing place. It wasn’t until an extremely wet period three years after the Smith-Sublette caravan that ruts deep enough to follow would establish a regular crossing of the Cimarron Cut-off. Although grass covers the rolling sand hills south of the river today, in Smith’s time the hills were sparsely covered with vegetation and any signs of previou
s caravans drifted away before the constant winds. An absolute lack of permanent landmarks made it nearly impossible for these sand hills to be negotiated except through dead reckoning. Experienced guides knew approximately what direction to take through the sand barrier. But an inexperienced group could miss the direction by as much as twenty degrees. That one error could cost a caravan at least two days and turn a difficult journey into a desperate encounter with death.

  There was a potential body of water northwest of present-day Montezuma, Kansas, which is now known as Wild Horse Lake. Both the Lower and Middle Crossing trails converge at this point. Wild Horse Lake is today little more than a dry depression but the two trails converge at this point and there must have been good reason for such an occurrence. Interviews with local residents about the location provide insight into the fact that as recently as the 1950s there was often enough water in the lake during wet years for the usage of motor boats and even some restricted water skiing. Wild Horse Lake lies two and a half days west of the headwaters of the Mulberry and two and a half days southwest of Ingalls. If the Mulberry was running shallow as would have been the case in a dry season, the distance could have easily become three or even four days. If Smith’s group miscalculated their direction or crossed the Arkansas too early they could have missed the depression entirely.

  Wild Horse Lake is an impressive name for a very unimpressive place. It is little more than a shallow depression surrounded by a few small sand hills. During times of low rainfall, the lake could dry up in a matter of days. Standing on the banks of the dry depression it is easy to imagine the frustration and concern that thirsty men would have felt. With no water present and at least a three-day journey to Lower Spring, quickly weakening animals would have mandated an immediate search for whatever water that could be found.

  It seems amazing that experienced explorers of the West would be so naive as to venture upon the Cimarron Desert without some guidance. Smith’s history, however, is marked with seems today as such irresponsible actions. On several occasions he roamed into the wilderness with little planning or advice often paying the price with suffering, starvation, and loss of life. But Smith had always been personally lucky even though his companions had not. He had crossed the vicious Mojave Desert on foot during an earlier trek to California. His group must have felt that they could cross the desert without a guide since men of such experience led them. It was a shortsighted fatal decision.

  Journals of the time state that the Smith caravan “broke up” when water could not be found. To break up suggests a reckless scrambling for the nearest water by whatever means necessary. But that does not make sense. The nearest water from the approximate site of Wild Horse Lake was Lower Spring, two or three days to the southwest. Other than making a mad dash for the river three days to the north, there was no other dependable source of water. Although the Jornada seems table flat, the entire area is laced with depressions and sinks. There was always the chance that one of them might come upon some water or the dim remainder of another caravan’s trail. It is much more likely that the caravan would have “fanned out” rather than broken up. Wagons could have spread out for quite a distance and still kept each other in sight in case of emergency. Had anyone found some sign of other caravans or traces of water, it would have been an easy matter to signal the others.

  It is at this point that Smith’s personal courage if not his wisdom becomes evident. At the time the whole area was laced with the shallow trails of buffalo that made their way across the Jornada. Buffalo cut trails much as modern domestic cattle do in pastures today. Cattle usually follow each other single file as they work their way to water after grazing. This trait will eventually lead to a shallow trail without vegetation that will lead to the source of water. Smith reasoned that these buffalo trails would do the same. Against the advice of other members of the party, he set out with Tom Fitzpatrick following the most likely of these trails. When a heavily laden caravan could only maintain an average speed of two or three miles per hour, it would be relatively easy for a man on horseback to outdistance the wagons.

  Toying with the idea that Smith may have worked his way to the north presents some interesting possibilities but eventually the theory does not stand up. It would have been too great a waste of time and energy to venture in that direction. Smith knew that water could be found to the southwest and since the caravan was traveling in that direction, it would have been the only logical direction for him to follow.

  There is an unbroken stretch of over 32 miles of the Santa Fe Trail that can be followed today. It lies in the Cimarron National Grasslands north of Elkart, Kansas. There is a broad depression marking the passing of the wagons that is deep and easy to follow.

  Walking this section of the trail it does not take long for a modern-day traveler to realize the vast distances involved, and the tremendous physical endurance that travel on the plains required. Water availability would have quickly become a nearly constant concern.

  Yet in several places along the dry bed of the Cimarron River, modern government workers and cattlemen have dug holes with tractors to act as seeps. Even in the low water table conditions of modern times, these seeps are full of water. Although these holes are not very pleasant sources for modern day travelers and are by-passed by us in favor of modern windmills and water pumps, desperate travelers could use them.

  Experimentation reveals that a person needs to dig only a few feet into the riverbed before a shallow seepage of water can be found. Even at that it is a marvel to realize the amount of digging men must have had to do to gain enough water for 80 men and several dozen oxen and mules. One man and horse could get enough water to survive but a caravan of the size of Smith’s needed a larger source.

  Today the Cimarron River is laced with trees and brush but in Smith’s time the land was barren. A modern visitation to the sight of Lower Spring reveals a spot of land that in 1831 would have been no more than one-fourth of an acre. By following the river channel a man would have eventually blundered upon the spring. But after three or four days without water, Smith’s caravan did not have the time to spare in a leisurely search for the spring. Scouts would have to find the water as quickly as possible and direct the wagons to it by the shortest route. By this time, hours and not days would have meant the difference between life and death for the livestock. And if the livestock began to perish then the caravan would have been slowed and delayed even more. It would have been a matter of time before the men themselves would have had to abandon their wagons to the elements and struggle on ahead on foot to save themselves.

  We are told that Smith left Fitzpatrick to wait for Sublette and the caravan at a hollow in the plain. Chances are that what the chronicle writer meant was that Smith and Fitzpatrick found the breaks in the plain that indicated the location of the river. From that point it would have been vital for Fitzpatrick to turn the caravan in the right angle of direction. But finding the location of the channel did not mean by any means that the water had been located. Smith would have made his best speed from that point on to try for the spring or at least some source of useable water.

  It is true that attempting the crossing without an experienced guide was a blunder that the entire group made but Smith’s actions at this juncture indicate a leader of courage and experience. Relaying scouts was a common method of guiding a caravan across difficult or unfamiliar terrain. And who better to be the lead scout than the likes of Jedediah Smith? Had Smith not been attacked he would have been able to get back to his group who then guided by Fitzpatrick and taking the best direction toward the spring.

  The Caravan members were able to reach Lower Spring and were informed by Mexican ciboleros (buffalo hunters) and traders upon arrival several weeks later in Santa Fe that a man fitting Smith’s description had been found alone on the plain by Comanche Indians and had been killed. Smith’s brothers were able to retrieve his bible, pistols and a rifle. Austin Smith wrote to his father in September:

  Your son, Jeded
iah, was killed on the Cimarron the 27th of May on his way to Santa Fe by Comanche Indians, his party in distress for water, and he had gone alone in search of the above river which he found, when he was attacked by fifteen or twenty of them—they succeeded in alarming his animal not daring to fire on him so long as they kept face to face, so soon as his horse turned they fired, and wounded him in the shoulder. He then fired his gun, and killed their head chief. It is supposed they then rushed upon him, and dispatched him…

  Josiah Gregg’s caravan was also told the story and it is recounted in his book. In the narrative Gregg relates:

  When Capt. Sublette’s party entered this arid plain it was parched with drought; and they were doomed to wander about for several days with all the horrors of a death from thirst staring them continually in the face. In this perilous situation, Capt. Smith resolved at last to pursue one of these seductive buffalo paths, in hopes it might lead to the margin of some stream or pond. He set out alone; for besides the temerity which desperation always inspires, he had ever been a stranger to fear; indeed, he was one of the most undaunted spirits that had ever traversed the Rocky Mountains; and if but one-half of what has been told of him be true—of his bold enterprises—his perilous wanderings—his skirmishings with the savages—his hair-breadth escapes, etc.—he would surely be entitled to one of the most exalted seats in the Olympus of prairie mythology.