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Moss, J.D.
Field Worker, John F. Daugherty
March 14, 1938
Father: J. L. Moss, born in Kentucky
Mother: Catherine Orr, born in Tennessee
My parents were Joseph L. Moss, born in Kentucky and Catherine
Orr Moss, born in Tennessee. There were three children in our
family. Father was a farmer. I was born in Texas December 21,
1859. I came to the Indian Territory in 1888. We crossed
Red River at Thompson's Ferry. We settled at the foot of the
Yellow Hills between Durwood and Mannsville in the Chickasaw
Nation. We came here to get grass for our cattle and we found
it. The grass was waist high or higher everywhere.
There was only a trail to Ardmore where we traded. The citizens
in our community met one day and erected a log cabin for a
schoolhouse. It had only one window and that was across the
end of the building which was closed with a shutter. The
building was heated with a cat chimney. We made seats of split
logs with wooden pins in them for legs. The writing desk was a
huge split log, set on legs made of poles.
In 1895 I had a chance to go with a neighbor to the Cheyenne and
Arapaho Country. When we got out there I decided to buy a place
near Arapaho in Custer County. I built a stone house and sent
for my wife. We were among the Cheyenne Indians. They were
different from the Chickasaws to whom we had become accustomed.
The Cheyenne's were very filthy in their habits. They ate their
meet raw. There were slaughter pens near us, and on the days when
cattle were butchered the squaws would come with their papooses. As
soon as the entrails were removed from the cattle the squaws would
grab them and begin tearing them into bits for the papooses to eat
The children ate the warm entrails as if they were candy. The
Government finally built nice little s for the Cheyenne's and
they refused to live in them, preferring to remain in their tepees.
They seldom spoke English. They didn't care to be like the white
man. They did all they could to prevent their children from taking
up any of the customs of the pale face.
I ran a saloon at Arapaho for several years. Old Mad Wolf, a Sioux,
used to look at a painting of "Custer's Last Fight" which I had
hanging above the bar, and shake his head in an angry threatening way,
running his fingers around the top of his head signifying that he would
like to scalp Custer. He hated him.
It was sixty-five miles from the issue camp at Arapaho to Darlington.
Indians were often sent from one place to another with Government
messages. They went on ponies and always made the trip in a day.
They started by daylight and got to their destinations by dark.
They feared the white man as much as he feared them. They would
return the following day with a message in answer to the one which
they had carried.
During the time I lived here I served on the police force. I guarded
"Hooky" Miller while he was in jail there. He and his partner, "Red
Buck" were being hunted. The county officers chased them five days
and finally found them at Simon's dugout. They surrounded the dugout
one night and waited for their outlaws to appear. Early the next morning
"Hooky" came out to feed the horses. The officers tried to arrest him
and a battle ensued in which "Red Buck" and an officer of the name of Glover
were killed. "Hooky" surrendered after his pal was killed and was held in
jail at Arapaho for several weeks, before being sent to the penitentiary.
It became my duty to be his guard. He was very submissive and easy to
manage.
I have lived in Murray County since 1910.
Transcribed by Brenda Choate and Dennis
Muncrief, September 2000.
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