“The journey, not the destination, matters…” – T. S. Eliot
In the days before highways and fast-moving cars, a good day’s ride was about 40 miles. That was the distance from the Rawlins Depot to the stage station at Lost Soldier, and roughly the same distance from Myersville on the Sweetwater River to Lander. The 40-odd miles in between Myersville and Lost Soldier were open country, often frequented by hold-up men, horse thieves, and various other outlaws.
The Lost Soldier Stage Station had a sordid history long before a single robbery ever took place. There are legends surrounding the naming of the station, but one thing is irrefutable: two soldiers from Ft. Steele, located on the Platte River 20 miles east of Rawlins, were lost in a winter blizzard, and their bodies were never found.
Whether they were couriers on their way from Ft. Steele to Ft. Brown (Ft. Washakie) or, more likely, a couple of young AWOL privates seeking the gold they’d heard about in tales of lost treasure along the trail, their fate remains unclear.
Either way, the stage station, Lost Soldier, was named in honor of their disappearance.
Lost Soldier Stage Station was located less than a mile from the ranch of Herman Bohack, a popular early settler on the southern edge of Sweetwater Country.
Bohack had staked a claim to an oasis in the desert that made up much of the stage route from Rawlins to Lander. Although he saw the potential in his ranch, he was never able to expand on it. Tragically, Bohack was killed in a freight accident in the summer of 1896. He fell from a heavily loaded, out-of-control wagon pulled by frightened, stampeding horses and was crushed under the wheels.
The students at Ft. Washakie remembered him as a jovial, generous man, always ready to open his home to weary or snowbound travelers.
The Indian Guide, February 1897,
“After having passed over a distance of 12 miles in about two hours and a half, the buildings of Bohack’s ranch will be reached. The stage does not stop here but passes close to the house. Poor Bohack, we knew him well. Many are the times that we have feasted at his bounteous board and reposed upon his beds of soft down. His cooking might not have suited Luculius, but his fare was abundant, and a hearty appetite made it equal to the best. ‘Tis now about six months since he fell from a loaded wagon and was instantly crushed to death. Peace be to his ashes.”
Clear, running water from Lost Soldier Creek, a generous supply of timber, and an exposed coal vein were just a few of the amenities found at his ranch. After Bohack’s passing, the ranch entered probate, and both the land and livestock were sold in Rawlins. As a result, all stage traffic was redirected slightly further north, where it now stopped at the Lost Soldier Station.
The Indian Guide, February 1897
“A small stream trickles from the mountains here and runs a short distance our onto the desert before it is swallowed up by the thirsty sand. On this stream’s banks the buildings are placed. They consist of a good log-house, barn, corrals, sheep shearing pens, etc. If the traveler has the time here, he can well employ a few minutes in visiting a fine spring which is situated about a hundred yards down the creek. This water gushes out filled with some kind of gas, the large bubbles of which rise up through the water and burst upon the surface. There is a vein of unusually good coal near this ranch, and a day will be found when the coal is valuable, although at present it is too remote from the railroad to admit of its being mined to any extent.”
“At shearing time Bohack’s ranch is a very busy place—many sheep are deprived of their fleecy covering here by the hands of shearers who travel from ranch to ranch in wagons. The sheep are dipped in a strong liquid to eradicate scab. These industries and the entertainment of transient visitors for a reasonable consideration (at Bohack’s Road Ranch) formed the means of support of Mr. Herman Bohack.”
“It may also be said in passing that indications of mineral oil have been discovered in this vicinity; as yet undeveloped, but possibly they may be in the future.”
The coal never played out, but the mention of mineral oil foreshadowed the future, when the small oil town of Bairol was established four miles east of Bohack’s Ranch.
Lost Soldier seemed to carry a curse; many old-timers claimed it was haunted by the memory of those dead, frozen soldiers. More likely, it was the rough terrain and the isolation from civilization that fostered crime—and, at times, even insanity.
Daily Boomerang, January 17, 1893
“A dispatch from Rawlins Sunday night says that George Franklin, an old freighter died at the Bell Springs stage station on the Lander Road of a fever two weeks ago. In the delirium of death, Franklin rose from his blankets and screamed to old Otto Schneider, the station keeper, ‘You damned bastard, you murdered me.‘
Schneider had nursed the freighter carefully, and was hurt to the quick by this outburst, which he could not comprehend. He secured a transfer to Bohack (Lost Soldier) station but has now disappeared. He rode off on a horse which was later found in the hills. He lost his head brooding over the remark of Franklin and is now, without doubt, dead in a snow drift. The stage company has offered a $50 reward for the recovery of his body.”
Lost Soldier Station sat at the highest elevation on the entire 124-mile stretch of the Lander Road, reaching 7,300 feet. The incline from Bull Springs was gradual but took its toll on the horses hauling heavily loaded freight wagons, some carrying as much as three tons of freight.
The Indian Guide, February 1897
“Leaving Bohack’s place, the road veers slightly to the left, or north, as it ascends the little Lost Soldier Creek towards the depression known as Crook’s Gap, in which the next stage station called Crooks is located. This gap gives a low crossing of the water shed from the summits in the Green Mountains, which separate the waters of the Sweetwater from those of the North Platte. The Green Mountains, so called, are merely hills of no very great elevation and the summit is a wide, flat with gently rolling sage covered hills on each side.”
Some of the criminal elements operating in the isolation of the vast trail were more of an annoyance than serious felonies. Petty theft was far more common in the Old West than popular media often portrays. In many areas, anything that wasn’t nailed down was considered fair game, and in some cases, even things that were firmly attached simply disappeared.
Carbon County Journal, September 17, 1887
Travelers on the Rawlins-Lander Road Steal 43 Telegraph Poles
“Lander Mountaineer: “Inspector Walsoe is justly indignant at the barefaced stealing of telegraph poles between Rawlins and Lost Soldier. The inspector counted forty-three stumps from which the poles had been chopped in just the last ten days. The penitentiary is waiting for some of these pole-stealing gentry.’”
This ongoing practice of chopping down the nearest telegraph pole to fuel a campfire wherever a waggoneer decided to camp for the night, forced the telegraph company to install iron poles in some locations between Lost Soldier and Rawlins.”
Obscure stories often fill the media during slow news cycles, typically in August and September. Sensationalized stories are nothing new. Newspapers faced heavy competition from the late 19th century through the rise of the Internet in the 1980s. A popular story could easily outshine a rival publication, and in Wyoming alone, hundreds of newspapers competed for the public’s attention.
Even when there weren’t murders, robberies, or major accidents to report, the stage route often made headlines. Here’s an example of a news cycle feeding on itself.
Cheyenne Daily Sun – December 29, 1893
Lander Stage Lost
“Lander, Wyo. Dec. 29–(Special to the Sun)—There is great excitement here over the non-arrival of the mail and passenger coach from Rawlins, which was due here yesterday noon. Dispatches from Crook’s Gap say nothing has been heard from the coach or passengers. It has been snowing hard in the Gap for thirty-six hours, and the snow is now three feet deep on the level and badly drifted in many places. It is feared that the coach has been lost and the driver and passengers may have perished in the cold. A relief party left here today.”
Once a story was published, it was often picked up by other newspapers. Long before the Associated Press had a system in place to share stories, they were spread the old-fashioned way—by reading the content from rival publications.
Natrona Tribune, January 4, 1894
“The stagecoach running between Rawlins and Lander, which was conjectured to have been lost in the heavy snowstorm, has been heard from. The passengers reached a ranch near Lost Soldier last Friday night, having ridden out on the stage horses, leaving the coach and the mail stuck fast in five feet of snow.”
Once a story was disproved, it became another tale to tell. Rival newspapers often commented on the lack of integrity in the content.