Red Fork Ranch owner Daniel William Jones saddled his horse and headed southeast after some of his cattle that had wandered off to avoid the snow-driven north wind. It was nine a.m. the day before Christmas, 1877. The temperature had dropped below zero.
+ Red Fork Ranch (now Dover, Oklahoma) handled cowboys and cattlemen driving their herds north from Texas during the summer and fall. It also served as a station for the stagecoach that carried travelers along the Chisholm Trail.
+ Jones took in cattle that the herders sometimes left behind – sickly stragglers – and nursed them back to health. He took pride in managing the road ranch, as he took pride in serving as a lawman when the need arose. He exuded confidence in all that he did.
+ This day seemed no different than others. Every day had its challenges out west. But this day was colder than most.
+ Dan Jones tightened his wool scarf around his neck and over his cavalry coat, pulled down his hat to keep it from blowing off, and spurred his horse east toward timber and south toward sand hills where he figured his cattle had wandered. At least the freezing north wind stayed mostly to his back as he rode.
+ As he suspected, he found the cattle and headed them back to the ranch. He braced against the sub-zero wind as he guided the cattle.
+ All went well till one calf rebelled. It tried to turn back. Jones circled back but then the calf tried to cut behind the horse. Jones jerked the reins to reverse directions and the horse slipped on ice and fell flat, landing partially on top of Jones. It jumped up and ran off by the Cimarron River.
+ Jones lay stunned. When he came to his senses he lay bruised and bleeding along the left side of his body. The bones in his left leg just above his ankle were shattered and exposed. He was more than three miles from the ranch.
+“Jonesy, this is the worst wreck you’ve struck,” he told himself. He had no idea how he could make it back. But he told himself, “I can’t give up. My enemies would have a laugh on me. And I can’t miss Christmas dinner.” He had hired George Haines and Haines’ wife from Caldwell, Kansas to serve as ranch keeper and cook.
+ Dan Jones had never given up in anything he tried and he wasn’t about to start now. His first thought was to drag himself near the Chisholm Trail and flag some travelers down. It was about 300 yards away. Jones knew that his cattle friend Ras Wilson was headed toward the Red Fork Ranch to share in the Christmas dinner.
+ Dan struggled on all fours, pain wracking his body, as he inched forward. The snow, ice, and rough ground sapped his strength as he dragged on. The stinging wind bit into his face. When he reached the trail he spotted some pampas grass, tall and thick enough to shield him from the deadly cold wind. There he rested. Meantime no one crossed the trail.
+ He knew he couldn’t stay there indefinitely regardless of its shelter, so he tightened his coat and scarf and struggled on. As he continued toward his goal, the ranch, he stopped briefly whenever he spotted more pampas grass for relief from the cold. The wind began to die down a bit later in the day, but Jones also noticed storm clouds to the northeast. He had dragged himself maybe one mile. He had two to go.
+ Excruciating pain racked his leg and body. His broken and exposed bones mixed with blood left a trail. He reached a point where he had to do something or he would pass out from the pain. He tore the sleeves off his cavalry coat and covered his shoes. He wrapped his woolen scarf around his broken leg.
+ He crawled through that night and into the next morning. That morning he reached a sand hill and from that position noticed as a stagecoach came rattling down the trail. He waved his hat frantically and shouted. No one noticed.
+ Luckily for Jones, the weather continued to turn warmer during the day. He struggled on. Now he warmed up enough to remove his slicker and overshoes. He could see his ranch within a mile from him. He stopped at some hackberry trees and picked up all the berries he could find and sucked the juice from them. Another stagecoach came along, maybe a quarter mile away. Again Dan waved his hat and yelled. The stagecoach continued on.
+ It was three p.m. that day when Jones came close enough to his ranch to notice his hired man, George Haines, and Haines’ son, Anderson, outside. George at first thought the man in the distance was a hunter but as he approached he saw the desperate Jones.
+ George and Anderson went back to the ranch and brought a horse-drawn wagon. They hauled Jones back, then Anderson rode to the Cheyenne-Arapaho Agency 30 miles south for a doctor.
+ He returned with Dr. Hodge and Jones’ friend, Mike Meagher, former Wichita city marshal who now lived in Indian Territory. The doctor with Meagher’s help, set Dan Jones leg.
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