W. A. BRUMLEY WILL TRY TO WRITE A HISTORY OF HIS LIFE

OLD TIMER OF INDIAN TERRITORY DAYS:

I was born in Collin(Colan) County, Texas, January 13th, 1874 to :Father; Albert Jackson Brumley, Mother, Elizabeth Griffith.

My father & mother leaving for Arkansas when I was three weeks old, living near Hot springs till I was about 10 years old, then we left Garlin County, Arkansas in 1884 for Chickasaw Indian Territory, which is 57 years ago. A neighbor said, Mr. Brumley, the wild Indians will kill all of you and scalp you. Also, Father said, I don't think they will, so we started in January or February, I don't recall which month, but bad weather was on us all the way. It took us 3 or 4 weeks to make the trip as we came thru in wagons and walked and drove our milk cows. Old Mat and Baby was their names. We would tie the calves up at night and milk them cows next morning. We had lots of wild meat on the way, as my older brother, Frank, was a good hunter, he hardly ever missed, using an old time full stock cap and ball rifle. He couldn't be beat for one shot.

Well, I will drop back and tell about my mother. She died in 1878, leaving six children, being 2 older and 2 younger than me and my sister. We had to do the cooking & housework, which you know was well done. After a while Father married again. Me & Sister rested awhile in the cooking. But pretty soon they quit and we taken up cooking again. For several years we left the cooking and were working in the fields.

Well, we came to String Town(Indian Territory) or Oklahoma, where I saw my first train. We children were walking along back of the wagon by the side of the railroad, looking for a train to come along. Finally one came by, just as it got even with us, the engineer pulled the whistle and we liked to jumped out of our hides. Well, we rode a long time till we came to Atakrandon (Atoka) out to Boggie Depot. Crossed there and landed in what was then called Leon, a little town on Red River. Was the men tough, was they bad? They surely was!! They all wore big hats, high heel boots, big Bell spurs, and silk handkerchiefs around their necks, and from one to two six shooters on their hips, and Winchesters on their saddles, and it was nothing to hear of a man or two being killed. Well, there we took a lease and cleared out a new place and made a crop in 1885.

Our trading point was Gainsville, Texas, about 40 or 50 miles. We didn't make more than 2 trips a year to town. Sometime that spring, one of our workhorses was stolen from us, and we never did get him back. That was the first year my father ever gave a mortgage in his life. He thought it was an awful thing to do. He couldn't sleep at night, he thought they would take his old family mare away from him. Her name was Kate. 1885 everyone of us could ride her at once if there was room. Well, there was lots of cattle those days. I say there was!! I saw from 5 to 10 thousand head passing our house several times that year. Sometimes it would take all day for them to pass. Well, we did good that year.

That year my grandmother died and was buried at Leon (Laney) Graveyard. Well, that fall we moved to a new lease, up close to Pole Crossing on Mud Creek on the north side of the creek. There we built a new house, dug a well, made a 10 thousand rail fence. A nice farm. Got an 8 year lease on it. That was close to Bresbie Mounds. My daddy killed wild turkeys at the yard fence. That year there was lots of ranch cows died and left little calves to

Starve to death that winter and we boys would take some of them

and raise them, and would of taken more if Father would have let

us. Well, times got better for us and we begun to learn how to manage in the Wild West. I could have been a good-sized stockman in short time if Father would have let me. For there was lots of mavericks, both hogs and cattle, and all you had to do was have a claim of such arid you could mark and brand just the same or the other fellow and I had that right to do so. There was lots of good prairie land, even here he thought it wouldn't make good corn or cotton. Rather the timber had to be cut before it would make anything. This place was put in 1886, we sold that lease that fall and rented a place one mile west from Old Man Barlow, that was Johnnie and Mollies father. Made a good crop and then moved a mile still further west on the Dactword Place. Every place we moved to we made rails and fenced and put in new land. We worked hard but we built up pretty fast. In this my brother Joe died of pneumonia and was buried at Leon, by grandmother Brumley. His name was Jodie Brumley. Then we sold

out again that fall and moved out in a camp till spring and then started to Washington Territory with seven families, nine wagons and about 300 head of cattle and about 40 head of horses. We were about six months getting to Pegasie Springs, Colorado. Wherever we went we had to make our roads, and haul our little calves and our water and wood. In lots of places we burned buffalo chips to cook with. We had a hard time, but a good time. I just wish I could make the trip again. My brother Frank being a real good shot with cap & ball rifle kept us in wild meat all the time, for there was lots of wild game all the way and plenty of fish in the streams. When we would come to them, well, we went to Bush Springs and Fort Sill, there we got a permit to go thru Comancheros reservation. We were told that it would be safer to do that or the Indians would give us trouble if we didn't. So we got one and started on our journey. Well, we got along very nicely that day, but the Indians discovered our campfire that night. The next morning they began by passing us every direction, and sometime about the middle of the day they were coming in on us from every direction and rounded everything we had up in a little squad, and there was a solid ring of them all around us. Looked like there was a dozen deep, the ugliest thing I ever saw. I thought then we would be killed & scalped. They had Dirk knives, BaeAndenes, six-shooters, Winchesters on everything you could think of to fight with. And their ponies were bare backed with just a rope around their necks. Was I scared? I sure was, and all the rest too!! But John Lucas, an old western cowboy was with us and he could talk their language and understand them too. Well, Old Quannah Parker was the chief and they would all do what he said to do. Old Quannah Parker said our permit was no good, and we would have to pay him before we could go on through the reservation. So John (Lucas) asked him what he would take and be satisfied and not bother us any more through their country. He talked to the rest of the Indians awhile and then told us one dollar a head, and the wagons, which was nine wagons or a good beef out of our herd. So our men talked it over with each other and made up the money and brought a beef out of our herd from one of my uncles and drove it out to them. And they taken it and away they went with it. Some of

them stayed around the camp and the boys bantered them for a shooting match, and they was ready, so they put up a spot & began to shoot and they were good marksman, to well. This beef settled the trouble, they all seemed friendly through their territory. Well, Navilo was our next town in Grier County. We camped on the bank of North Red River, and seined that afternoon and caught lots of fish, rested our teams and cattle till next morning. Well we started on, and when we got close to Salt Fork, the ranchers told us not to let our stock drink that water, or it would kill them. So there was a big herd ahead of ours and they drank of it and there was a dead cow every quarter or half mile for 40 or 50 miles ahead of us. Well, when we got there, every woman and child that could help, got out of the wagons with sticks and whips and everything they could get to fight with, and helped fight them cattle across that stream. We had a fighting time for a while. Well, we made it fine and didn't lose but one or two of them. But it sure would kill them when they drank it. Well, the next town was Mafatie and Fort Elet (Elliott). Well, we made camp on a little creek just south of Fort Elliott about one half mile. I had today the cattle. I had me a good pony, saddle, and .22 caliber seven shot pistol, belt and scabbard. I thought I was a real cowboy them days. And sure I was at that, as I could ride most anything I tried to ride. And I was a good shot with a rifle too, for I killed everything in our bunch, but the old women, and I was afraid to practice on them. Well, I was playing cowboy around the Fort that day and an officer came down from the fort and told me I had better put my gun up, or I might get in the guard house. So I told him I would and I did. Well, we started on next morning; hit Red River east of Tescasil, a real cowboy's town. She were bank full and rolling waves. We traveled up the north side till we came to Tescasil. Then we went northwest to the Pale Cat. Well, in a big canyon, I forgot the name of it, it was between Tescosie and the buffalow ranch there, we seen antelope and wild game of all kind and a few buffalow. We traveled two or three days without stock. What we had was caged on our wagons for family use. But they ran short so we decided to dig in a day at Sandy Branch for water. And we found water at 8 or 10 feet, but the sand would run in as fast as we would dig it out. it looked

like the whole bunch would starve to death before we could get the water for them. We happened to have some salt barrels along in the wagons and we got them out and took the baloms(?) out of them, one on top of the other one. We dipped sand and water out from the inside till we got them deep enough to furnish lots of water. Then we took wash tubs and placed them around the well. We began to dip water and fight the stock back while others drank. It took the whole force of men to do this. Well, we dipped water day and night till we got the whole bunch watered, which was about 400 head. That lasted about two days and nights. It looked like our time had come as well as the stock for everything in the outfit was starving to death for water. We would not have made it through to the Buffalow Ranch. Well, after resting up and watering everything as long as they would drink a drab, we started out early one morning, leaving our barrels in the well for the next bunch that might get caught, like we did. Well, hurrying along,the best we could reach Buffalow Ranch, all starved to death again. Nearby, some people called this Buffalow Springs. These springs were 40 or 50 yards across and anyway it was round and deep and clear as it could be, and boiling up in the middle and running off in a creek 10 or 12 feet wide, and waist deep. It was a beautiful place and fine building there. Well, there was several cowboys there, and one came in that afternoon carrying a young wild colt. He caged it from a herd of wild horses he had. It sure was a pretty little one. Well, we rounded up next morning and went to Clayton New (Mexico). There we stopped and worked getting cedar post for a week or 10 days. Made good money while we were there, then we went on to Springer, New Mexico. There we hit the mountains, had plenty of game. So we never rushed our stock anymore, for we could camp anywhere. We stayed at a saw mill and worked awhile. Then stayed on top of the summit that was Cumbers Pass. There the Nor Gage railroad crossed the mountain at Cumber Station, and we put up hay for about a month. There our cattle got nearly fat, that was the finest grass range I ever saw. Wild oats grew there almost like you had planted them. They were equal to grain we had raised. Well, my brother-in-law went out hunting one day and crippled a big elk and it made right at him. Run him under

a big pine log. His gun was a .44 single shot rifle. He loaded and shot eight times before he killed it. It looked like a young mule, but it sure was good eating. My brother-in-law's name was Ed Adams, an old western cow puncher. He has been dead four or five years. All the married men and women who made that trip is dead, but just a few and I will call their names later.

Well, when we stayed on top of the mountain as long as we wanted too, we started over the slope, where the water all ran south and west. The prettiest clear streams you ever saw. Full of mountain trout as they could be. And you could catch them as fast as you could take them off, and I had one in the air all the time. Oh how I wish I could do it again! Well, we moved on up to Pegasus Springs and struck up with a good old Dutchman. His name was Ben Minium. He was running a dairy, and he wanted to move to town. That was Pegaso Springs, Colorado. He let us run this dairy and ranch for him and he moved out and we moved

in. He furnished the feed for the cows and we fed them, and got all we made off them, and he paid us for other work. His ranch was on the stage route, five miles south of Pegosa Springs, Colorado. The slay passed twice a day all that winter, and the snow stayed at an average depth of three and one-half feet deep. Not a wagon wheel rolled all winter.

Well, Pegosa Springs was a health resort, the water was boiling hot, with white sulphur in it. It was a government affair and a nice little town at that. There was always someone coming in to be treated and to take these hot baths. Well, Father got a job hauling freight from Amargo, 30 miles to Pegosa Springs, on bob sled with a wagon bed on it. The sled he made was pretty good at that. Well. we put the old man up to two story huge log houses. One on his ranch and one in town. They tell me they are still standing today. This was in 1889. We worked nearly every day that winter in snow waist deep.

Well, our family mare, Old Kate, and another good mare about like her, took us through on this long trip. And when winter came, Old Kate would come up to the house in the snow up to her belly, and knicker for her corn. I have seen my father cry and tell Old Kate she would get her corn again, if he lived ling enough to get back to the Chickashau nation again. If it

had not been for Old Kate, I guess we would have stayed out there, for it sure was a good country. Them days you didn't have to ask for work, they would ask you.

Well, I'll say a little about our coon dog. He never struck anything in this country that he failed to fetch or tree. But, when we got out in the mountains in Mexico and Colorado, it was quite different with Old Bob. He was bobtailed and half bull and half hound. He would fetch anything that wore hair. One morning my brother Jamie went out after the horses and had caught one we called Shortie, and got on him and started the rest back home. Old Bob started a trail with his bristles all raised. In a few yards he put a bear up a pine tree. Jamie quit the horse and broke for the house screaming `Papa!!, Old Bob has treed the biggest coon I ever saw!” Father said, Jamie it must be a bear. He said , Frank, run up to the neighbors house and git his big gun. Old Bob was still barking heavy now and he did, and it was an old 50 needle gun. They went back to Old Bob and he was still sitting up in the fork of the tree. Papa said, Frank, make a good shot, if you don't he might kill Old Bob. You know Bob will catch him when he hits the ground. So Frank did, and at the crack of the gun, the bear fell out and Old Bob tied on to him. But he was too dead to hardly move. Well, that sure was a thrill, but it liked to ruin Old Bob, for he thought he would do them all that way. Well, a few days later, he was out with Frank and started another one, and up the mountain they went, Frank right after them. But they beat him up the mountain and Old Bob caught him and the bear knocked him crazy. When Frank got to him, he was still crazy. Well, there was game of all kind in the rocks and back in those days and all you had to do was to go out and get it, for there wasn't any laws against it. Those days, well life was worth living. Then, a living was nothing to study about.

Well, back on the plains where antelope was plentiful those days, you would see a little young antelope, wild up in the grass. You could walk up easy and walk around it and walk up to it and pick it up and hold it in your arms a little while, and set it down and walk off and it would take after you, and follow you to camp.

Well, that coming July, Father traded Old Kate and her mate for a good span of mules and started back to the territory with an extra good span of young mares, and about 4 or 5 days travel we camped one night. The next morning our young mares was gone and we never did hear of them again, we were sure they were stolen that night. Well, that put us in bad shape. We were fixed for a good two team crop when we got back. Well, J. R. Sanford and Mort Thorne came back with us and Old Man Allen too. We traded our cattle for horses and brought back about 100 head

with us, in all.

A

We were about 7 weeks on the way back. Landed at Heldton,

Indian Territory, now Oklahoma. Picked cotton that fall, got a lease from Can Gilstrap that winter, near Dixie. Moved to it and began making rails, clearing land and building a house. We got us a yoke of oxens that fall and broke land, and hauled rails andharrowed land with them. They would run us out of the lot everytime. I would go to take them up to work, but when I would get them to the furrow, I sure would pour it on them.

Well, that was the first year I ever tried to dance. I went to a dance with my girl one nite, and on the way she said, “Are you going to dance with me tonite?” I said No, so she said, Well1 if you ain't going to dance with me tonite, I ain't going with you anymore. So, I thought about that all the way. I couldn't stand that when we got there and the dance had started. They had danced a set or two and she came up to me and said, “Well, Willie, are you going to dance with me now?” I said , yes I will try it, she said come on, and we walked out on the floor and looked like everybody was watching me. And I guess they was, for every hair on my head was standing straight up on my head. Well, the fiddlers started and everybody else started, and I didn't know where I was anymore till they all stopped again. Well, I had wore all the new off by that time, and got along allright after that, said my gal.

Well, we sold out again that fall, and moved up to the barn crossing and Wild Horse, 3 miles west of Tussie (Tulsa). There my brother, Tame, taken sick and lay sick 4 months and died and was buried at Sandy Bear graveyard, 1891. And Father taken down sick and was down 6 weeks and when he got up and paid all the bills, he was broke. Again, we had just one team and wagon left there. I had a good saddle horse stole from me in broad open daylight.

Never did get him back. We had a good start there and lost it all, and moved back to El Reno, Oklahoma. While we lived there, the Cherokee strip opened up, and Father made the run, and got a good place, and wouldn't file on it.

He came back home and rented the Pater wagon yard, and run it about one year.

Then I became old enough to vote, and cast my first ballot in El Reno that spring.

Me and the Cowden boys planned a fishing trip down to the Washitau, east of Chickashaw, and I never seen home anymore for 3 years.

The next time I seen them all, they lived 3 miles north, and 1/4 mile east of Old Magee (Okla), now where LoneHill School house sets. I had a horse and saddle when I left home, and when we got thru fishing, I struck out for Choctaw nation, where my brother Frank was living at that time. Nine miles north of McAllister, on Bull Creek. I slept in a dugout the first night, now where Lindsay stands. The next night I slept east of Pauls Valley on the Washita river under a Berack tree. Used my saddle bags for a pillow, and covered with a blanket for cover. Staked my horse and fed him roasting ears, and roasted some for myself. That day, I made it on to Oak Grove where J.R. Sanford then lived. My brother, Coon, lived with J.R. at that time. I stayed a week with them and traded horses awhile. I was there and had to rue back awhile as the horse I got was stolen from the Father of the boy I had traded with. Well, I saddled up my horse one morning and started on my way to where my brother lived, 9 miles north of McCallister.

Well, my next stop was on Bogey, east of Old Stonewall. I thought I was going to have to lay out again. I was riding along studying about laying out, and noticed a new log house off to the left, down close to the bottom. I rode off down there and said hello. A man came to the door, and I said, Mister, could a boy get to stay all night with you? He said, well, I guess if you can stand it you can, so get down. I got down and taken my saddle off and we went and staked my horse out. And went back to the house and the lady called supper and they had very little to eat. But it was free as it could be. He said he had just come from Arkansas, and taken a lease and was putting in a place, and

guess we will live hard this year. Next morning his wife killed a chicken and his wife cooked it in water. Made a little water gravy with it, and we ate breakfast. Well, I saddled up and asked, how much do I owe him, and he said, not anything. Well, I said here is 50 cents, you need it as bad as I do. He taken it and said Thank you, I hope you get through alright. Well, I made a hard days ride that day and got to my brother Frank's that night. Well, he was making ties for the MKT railroad. It was put through McAllister in 1872. Well, I went in partners with him and we taken a lease on a place from Josh Marcun, on the head of WildHorse. One mile north of the big lake is on Bull Creek that furnishes McAllister's water. I have caught wild hogs right where that lake stands today.

Well, we worked when we wanted to and hunted when we wanted to and went to a dance once or twice a week, winter and summer. We would dance all night long them days. Well, while we lived there the government surveyed Chocktaw nation. Well, we built a good log house for Old Samson Lewis. He was one of the close commission me and at that time I knew him well and his family too. Well, I had all the fun that any boy should have for 3 years. We batched together and we kept 5 good deer dogs and tree dogs too. We would go at night and bring in coons and other varmints, a go in daylight and have a deer chase and always get one. Well, I had a little black mare, who knew when I saddled her and got my horn and gun, just what we were going to do. She knew every run the deer would make and when the dogs would start one, you could hardly hold her down, and she would listen to the dogs, and make cut offs. the same as I would. I would just like to live those days again. 1893. Well, I was still a single boy, 23 years old. Well, Father was living then 3 miles north of Old Magee, Indian Territory, and in very ill health. We sold out and moved moved up to where he lived. We rented us a place from Green Wood Mooney, close to Father, and batched again. Made a crop that year. But before I left down there, I was engaged to marry, Miss Mattie Nicholes, age 16. Well, I went by to bid her goodby, and I didn't see her anymore until crops were laid by. But I did not forget her. Well, when crops were laid by, I saddled my horse up and lead the other one and started after my

girl. Well, when I got there, I found everything all right, and she was still in the same notion. I was afraid of the old man, as she was full young. Well, I went deer hunting all day with the old man, just a purpose to ask him for Mattie. That was the darndest work I ever spit out, for I dreaded him. I knew he would kick out of the harness. Well, we got nearly back home, and I slapped it to him, and he was very quite about the matter. So I asked him to write me an order for the license, and he said “No”, he wouldn't do that. If you can get them yourself, all right. If you can't, it's just your hard luck. Well, I didn't intend it to be that way, so I told Mattie the trouble, and told her I could get the license at Paul's Valley, and told her if she wanted to go with me, we would take off in the morning, while he was gone to McAllister, about 18 miles in the wagon. We will be long gone before he gets back. She said alright, so I asked her mother, and she said alright. I think Mattie is good enough for you, and I think you are good enough for her and she cried.

Well, she slipped her clothes out and hid them, and was standing on the porch, waiting for the report of my gun. And when she heard it, she stepped off the porch, bear-footed and bear-headed, in that manner, with her clothes under her arm, and threw her arms around my neck and cried. Did I feel funny? I sure did. I would have fought the devil for her. Well, my other horse came in just right. I had the horse there, ready for her, and I helped her on the horse. I got on the other one, and we let out for Old Magee. Well, we got a late start, but made the trip O.K. I left her at my cousins and went on to the Pauls Valley that night, and got me a license, come back and was married that night.

Well in a day or so., went on out to where I had made my crop, and made our home in a little log house and gathered our crop. I made a good crop, sold my cotton in Wynnie Wood for 4 1/2 cents per pound. Bought us some household goods and thought we were doing fine, and was, in those days.

Well, in the fall, we moved back to Cipio, where her father lived, and rented a place over on Canadian River, and made another crop. While there she lost her health,and I sold out to Joe Dungan and went back to Maxwell. She didn't get any better, and went back to her fathers, and she died. I think that was in 1898 or 1899. Then I rambled for 3 or 4 years.

THIS WAS ALL PAPA WROTE. HE DIED ON JUNE 7th, 1943, AND WAS BURIED IN OLD MAGEE, NOW STRATFORD, OKLAHOMA

ON APRIL 5th, 1902, HE MARRIED DELLA ELIZABETH TRIMBLE FROM KENTUCKY AND THEY HAD NINE CHILDREN.

1 JESSIE CLARENCE BRUMLEY 1903
2 ALTA JANE BRUNLEY PHIPPS 1905
3 ANNA BELLE BRUMLEY GRABOWSKI 1907
4 CHESTER BRUMLEY (LEE) 1910
5 BERTHALENE BRUMLEY 1912
6 WILLARD BRUMLEY (ANDREW) 1915
7 EDNA JUANITA BRUMLEY NARDIELLO 1919
8 JOE BAILEY BRUMLEY 1917

9 CLEO BRUMLEY ROBERTS 1922

(MARY LOU CLEO)