Only lone horsemen and curiosity seekers pass through now. Word spread, everyone believed evil was perched on top of Stampede Mesa.Īll cattle drives from then on avoided that part of Texas. Several more attempts by other outfits which baulked at the previous stories ended with the same results. He, too, turned to the bottle and was never heard from again. Unlike Sawyer, this trail boss was overcome with guilt and grief. Again, most of them and four other cowboys riding horses fell off the cliffs to their deaths. In the early hours of the morning, for no apparent reason, the herd charged. The following season, another trail boss and his men bedded down their herd on top of that same mesa which had been cleared of any previous devastation or debris. Folks in that area turned their backs on him and he took comfort in liquor.He was never seen again No one would work for him and try as he might, not a soul would hire him, even for menial tasks. When the drive ended, it’s said he never worked again. With no remorse in his soul, he ordered what was left of his hired help to round up the remaining three hundred cattle and hit the trail again. Lifeless cowpokes and their horses scattered around them. Below the mesa were nearly 700 dead steer. Near dawn, Sawyer began surveying the devastating damage he’d caused. Horses holding the cowhands followed behind. Loud thunder and dark skies made the terrified herd keep running until they ran off of several nearby cliffs to their death. No one could hear the screams of the innocent as the animals raged through. The panicked livestock hurled straight through the farmhouse crushing everyone and everything in its path. Sawyer was screaming, whipping at the animals, as lightning bolts began flashing through the sky. Horses, some with riders, some without began running with all their might. Without explanation, he shouted and cursed and, waved a blanket high into the air to create a stampede. He’d taken this route hundreds of times without incident, but now this was blocking his entire herd from crossing. He was shocked to see a brand new homestead perched right on top of the hill. Sawyer, the trail boss rode ahead to check out the surroundings and look out for Indians. They’d planned to set up camp just over the ridge near the water. Late one night as they began climbing the slope to the top of the range near some water, a storm began brewing. The weather had been less than cooperative the cowboys were worn to a frazzle and the herd had been restless the entire trip. It all began like any other cattle drive should have back in the fall of 1889.
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