The first town marshall in Abilene was Thomas James Smith. Smith proved his grit early on the job by disarming two bold cowboy / outlaws with his bare fists, first, a ruffian known as Big Hank, and a day later, Wyoming Frank. However, 5 months into the job Smith was killed by a local farmer Andrew McConnell and a neighbor, Moses Miles. After Smith was buried, now town mayor, Joseph McCoy determined that Abilene needed a "name" lawman to keep the peace in the cow town. In April of 1871, the town council hired James B. (Wild Bill) Hickok. Hickok a pistoleer of some renown, was hired at $150.00 a month plus 1/4 of any fines collected. Almost immediately, Hickok made enemies in part to his exerted control around town and partly due to his charm with the ladies. One such desperado was John Wesley Hardin. Two others were Ben Thompson and Phil Coe. The latter tried to push Hardin into a fight with Wild Bill. Hardin ignored the plodding and instead told Coe, "If Wild Bill needs killing, why don't you do it yourself?" Some historians believe that the Hickok, Coe dust-up was the result of competition over a woman. Others relate that the matter was due to the fact that Coe was mouthy drunk. Regardless, the trouble between the two inevitably came to a head on October 5, 1871. Before returning to Texas at season's end, Coe and several of his group decided to have "a little" fun before their departure. The group moved up and down the Abilene thoroughfare, forcing "victims" into the Alamo to buy drinks. Near dark, a shot was discharged in the street. Hickok, who spent a good deal of his time in the Alamo, rushed outside and demanded to know who had fired a weapon. Coe obliged that it was him. Standing within 10 feet of one another, both men suddenly fired. Coe's shots missed their mark, whereas Hickok's struck Coe in the stomach. In the fading light, another man rushed to the scene, flashing a pistol. Hickok didn't hesitate and shot the man dead. Later, he discovered that the dead man was his friend, Mike Williams. Coe died 3 days later, and in December Hickok was dismissed from his job.In February 1872, Abilene Mayor, Theodore Henry circulated a notice in Abilene and Texas that read: "We, the undersigned members of Dickinson County, Kansas, most respectfully request all who have contemplated driving Texas cattle to Abilene the coming season to seek some other point for shipment, as the inhabitants of Dickinson County will no longer submit to the evils of the trade." And Texans being who they are, responded by trailing their cattle to Wichita and Ellsworth. Less than 3 months later, Abilene, after enjoying cattle money for 4 1/2 years suddenly took on the look of a ghost town. Wichita enjoyed the enviable position of being the first market Texas drovers reached upon entering Kansas. Joseph McCoy left Abilene in the spring and visited Wichita where he observed the building of a spur line of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe RR. McCoy, ever the astute businessman, realized that with a shipping yard, Wichita would soon compete with any Kansas cow town. By April, Wichita employed McCoy to travel north and persuade cattle buyers to come to Wichita. By June, with the spur line completed, 18 carloads of Longhorns left Wichita for Chicago and by early fall, over 20 herds grazed within shouting distance of town.
E.C. Abbott - Abbott, better known as Teddy Blue, recalled his trailing experiences to Helena Huntington Smith in 1938. At the time Abbott was 78 years in age. His book - We Pointed Them North is filled with many colorful insights to the trailing business. One of his recollections was that Sam Bass worked as his father's wagon boss be...fore he came an outlaw. Another recounted how the "poorest" hands were relegated to riding drag on a herd. Abbott wrote of those cowboys: "They would go to the water barrel at the end of the day and rinse their mouths and cough and spit and bring up that black stuff out of their throats. But you couldn't get it up out of your lungs." On watering a herd, Abbott said, "You bring them up and spread them out along the bank, with the lead cattle headed downstream. The leads get there first, and of course they drink clear water, and as the drags keep coming they get clear water, too, because they are upstream." Another interesting recollection of Abbott's involved borrowing .50 from Calamity Jane at the Belly-Ups train station on the Miles-Deadwood stage line. (It was named Belly-Ups to honor all the buffalo hunters who went belly-up in the winter of 1883.) Abbott was broke and borrowed the money to buy a meal. He promised to pay her back one day whereas Jane replied, "I don't give a damn if you ever pay me." Abbott relates that he saw her again in 1907 standing on a street corner. Abbott approached and asked, "Don't you know me?" and promptly repaid the .50. He recalls that Jane replied, "I told you, Blue that I don't give a damn if you never paid me." "And," Abbott remembers, "after that we both went into a local saloon and drank it up.
In May of 1872, Ellsworth, Kansas was determined to become the "new" Abilene for Texas trailers. William Cox, liverstock agent for the Kansas Pacific RR, had cut out a new trail which shortened the trailer's drive by about 20 miles. The new trail, although still considered to be a part of the Chisholm Trail, was known by most as the Cox Trail. Ellsworth boasted of a bank for merchants and stock dealers, 3 hotels, and 13 saloons, and of course there were many "Prairie Nymphs" or what many called "Ladies of easy virtue." That summer, the Topeka Newspaper wrote of Ellsworth - "The authorities consider that as long as mankind is depraved and Texas cattle herders exist, there will be a demand and necessity for prostitutes." By August, Ellsworth, known as "the wickedest city in Kansas, accomplished its goal of replacing Abilene as the cattle capital. It was estimated that Ellsworth held a 177,000 head of Longhorns compared to 56,000 for Wichita. Wayne Gard writes in the Chisholm Trail that the biggest sale that year went to L.B. Harris of San Antonio, who was paid $210,000. for 7,000 steers. Even though fewer cattle were trailed to Kansas in 1872, the prices were higher, and Texas drovers were excited about 1873's prospects. Little could they know that world economic events would unravel in such an extreme fashion that 1873 was going to be anything but a prosperous year for Texas cattle drivers.
