Preston Nutter: Utah Cattleman, 1886-1936

PRESTON NUTTER: Utah Cattleman,1886-1936

BY VIRGINIA N. PRICE AND JOHN T. DARBY

It would appear to be impossible to write of the history of the cattle industry and its founders in the Territory, later the State of Utah, without writing of Preston Nutter. Yet by some odd quirk of the written word, he has been ignored to such an extent that anyone who did not know him personally finds it difficult to think of him as anything more than another phantom western figure of the past, remembered only by the old-timers. Perhaps this is due, at least in part, to the fact that Preston Nutter himself was a quiet man who avoided publicity. However, the fact remains that until his death in 1936, he had been one of the biggest cattlemen in Utah for over 50 years.

Today we often think of the early cattle baron or cattle king as a rich despot who rode roughshod over his neighbors to satisfy his greed for more land and cattle. In some instances this was true, but everything Preston Nutter owned he acquired through his tireless energy, courage, and ability to take advantage of a situation when it presented itself. He was capable of great physical endurance. Old-timers who knew him take pride in recalling how he could ride a mule for days at a stretch without stopping for food or sleep. He accepted this as routine because of the vast distances he had to cover. When there was other transportation available, he took advantage of it with the same sense that a job was to be done. He was a good judge of horses, mules, cattle, and men and knew how to get the most out of them in an orderly manner. He was not the swashbuckling type one is generally inclined to attribute to the period. It is said that he never owned a pair of cowboy boots, yet he led a colorful life that reads like a western adventure story.

Preston Nutter was born in Virginia in 1850. He was orphaned at the age of nine; and after a miserable two years with relatives he disliked, he ran away and worked for a time as a cabin boy on the Mississippi River. At the age of 13 he joined with a government wagon train in St. Louis and headed west. The year was 1863 and a precipitous occasion for the youth. He bought his first horse and commemorated the year by giving it a "63" brand. (The same brand is still being used today on all Preston Nutter Corporation horses and mules.) The Civil War was crippling the South, but the West was wide-open to an adventurous young man with ambition. He went west with the wagon train and never returned to his birthplace.

Somewhere along the way he acquired something more than an ordinary amount of education. People who knew him in later years assumed he had some college education, but if he did there was no old school tie or "rah-rah" talk from him to bear this out. About all that is known for certain about his educational background is that after selling his first mining claim in Nevada for $5,000 he went to San Francisco to supplement his education. During this time he worked as a hostler at the Cliff House while attending business college. This was a natural and happy occupation for the lad. His father had been a breeder of blooded horses in the South, and Preston had inherited a natural aptitude and love for horses. There is a photograph of Preston Nutter taken about the time he left San Francisco. From this it would appear he had grown into a tall, wiry, handsome young man with either a frightened or worldly outlook on life.

In 1873 Nutter and a friend were prospecting for gold at the placer mines in Idaho when the first news of a rich strike in Colorado Territory's San Juan District leaked through to them. They promptly packed their horses and headed out. When they got to Provo, Utah, they met 19 other prospectors preparing for the same trip.

Winter was approaching and it is doubtful that the group would have considered going into a higher elevation of the Rocky Mountains before spring if the frenzy for gold and one Alfred Packer had not been present to urge them on. Packer claimed to be well-acquainted with the Colorado country. From all accounts he was the perfect villain type, and he had a convincing way with words. Packer was so convincing that he persuaded the group to hire him as their guide, and the party took off in the face of one of the worst winters on record.

The infamous case of "Alfred Packer The Man-Eater" is now a wellhashed story. Nutter served as scout for the party until it reached the winter camp of the Ute Indians near present-day Montrose, Colorado. By this time it had become all too obvious to him and some of the other men in the party that Packer was a whining fraud. He had been lost almost from the time the party left Provo.

Chief Ouray personally advised the group to spend the winter along the lower elevations with him and predicted dire consequences for anyone foolhardy enough to venture into the San Juan region during the winter months ahead. Packer insisted Ouray was only after what little money the party had left and eventually persuaded five of the men in the party to continue on with him. Nutter and some of the other men chose to remain with Chief Ouray and Chipeta.

Nutter arrived at Los Pinos Agency, Colorado Territory, early the next spring about the same time Packer arrived in camp looking fat and flourishing. He also had money jingling in his pockets. His accounts of the fate of his companions were so varied that Nutter soon surmised that all was not as Packer presented it and forced him to return to the San Juan country to look for the other men. Packer led Nutter on a wild goose chase for several days; it was not until the snow melted in the summer that the remains of the five men, whom Packer had eaten, were found.

When Packer was eventually brought to trial for his crimes in 1883, at Lake City, Colorado, Nutter was the prosecution's chief witness. By this time Nutter had served a term in the Colorado State Legislature and established a successful ore freighting business from the mining centers of Creede, Lake City, Aspen, and Ouray.

Nutter did little or no prospecting in the San Juan region. Soon after his arrival he made a more valuable discovery. There was an acute shortage of transportation to get the ore out of the mountains. He used what capital he had to buy ox teams, horses, wagons, and mules. It was said that San Diego, California, had an abundance of the latter at this time, so Nutter and a companion took delivery of a hundred there. Unbroken, untrained when purchased, the mules served as transportation east. Each man rode a different mule every day and when they arrived in Colorado the animals were ready for packing.

Colorado State records show that Nutter headed several house committees; it appears he was popular with his fellow Democrats in the state legislature, but one term was enough to convince him that he was not a politician. In 1883 he gave up his seat to Otto Mears and began looking toward the more lucrative and independent cattle business. For some years he had been buying cattle to pasture in the vicinity of Montrose, Colorado. A receipt dated 1881 shows a transfer of $6,100 to a Manti, Utah, bank for this purpose. It had become all too obvious to him that his freighting business would soon be obsolete with the advent of the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad's narrow-gauge line across the western slope of Colorado to the mining communities.

Two of Nutter's major moves were made during the most disastrous periods of the cattle industry. The first of these was in 1886. By this time he had sufficient capital to launch him into a rather extensive cattle operation. He sold his freighting business and moved to Grand Junction, a new railroad town of about 150 hardy souls at the forks of the Grand and Gunnison rivers. Here he began looking for a range where he could eventually run between 15,000 and 20,000 head of cattle.

With the forced removal of the Utes, the fertile Uncompahgre had been opened to homesteaders, leaving little room for cattle or catdemen. What range remained was being flooded with sheep, and the cattleman's rights to the free grass were being challenged. In search of more favorable conditions, Nutter turned again to Utah and the country he had scouted 13 years before while en route to the San Juan gold fields.

Along the northeastern part of Utah Territory in the vicinity of Thompson's Spring and north to Hill Creek, he found ideal country for cattle. There were relatively few settlers in the vicinity, and the only cattle outfit of any size was the Webster City Cattle Company. There was also a new railhead through Thompson's that could, on occasion, serve a useful purpose.

Here Nutter acquired a range described in documents as "ten by thirty miles" and transferred the cattle he had been pasturing around Montrose. Most of these were a breed referred to as "pilgrims" or descendents of the Texas longhorn intermingled with Durham breeding. Herefords were scarce and expensive.

Nutter barely had time to get his operations started before the sheriff of Gunnison subpoenaed him to appear again as chief witness at the second trial for Alfred Packer. Due to some legal technicality, the first trial held in Lake City had been declared a mistrial.

At the end of the second trial in May 1886, Nutter met S. G. Warzv, manager of the Cleveland Cattle Company, from Fairplay, Colorado. For some time the Cleveland Company had been experimenting with Hereford cows and bulls, but now the owners were interested in a more general run of marketable steers for a quick turnover in cash. This was an opportunity well-suited to Nutter's needs. He wanted cows, calves, and bulls to build up his herd. The Cleveland cattle were superior in breed and required less range country while supplying more beef for the feed than the mixed longhorn and Durham breed.

Nutter signed what was called a "Mutual Exchange Sale" with the Cleveland people. The contract called for exchanging a thousand head of two- and three-year-old steers of "good Utah cattle of native American stock," for an equal number of the Cleveland Company's cows and bulls. The Cleveland cattle were to be gathered by the first day of September 1886 "at some convenient place upon the range in Park County near Fairplay, Colorado, and with the assistance of Mr. Nutter and his outfit, be driven to a sufficient pasture range selected by Mr. Nutter in Emery County, Utah."

Considering the unprecedented drought that prevailed in the spring and summer of '86, creating a crucial shortage of feed and water on the ranges, Nutter found the Cleveland cattle in good condition for wintering when he and his crew arrived there in the fall. Perhaps if good fortune instead of fortitude had been his lot, Nutter would have had a big advantage in the exchange. The contract allowed him until the following spring to deliver his thousand head of steers. With his cattle ranging from the confluence of the Green and Colorado rivers north to the Hill Creek area in the Book Cliffs this gave him ample time for gathering. It also gave him time to place the Herefords and have them settled by calving time. The Cleveland Company, on the other hand, was able to avoid the necessity of wintering the steers.

As agreed upon in the contract, Nutter and six men in his outfit picked up the cows and bulls on the range near Fairplay in the early part of September and began the long drive across the Continental Divide at Tennessee Pass. From there they trailed by way of Glenwood Springs and picked up the old Indian trail that led along the Colorado River to Grand Junction. In fair weather and less mountainous country, this would have been an easy 200-mile drive that could have been covered in less than three weeks, but across the western slope of Colorado lies some of the most rugged country in the Western Hemisphere. The cattle could not be pushed. It is not known just how long it took Nutter and his outfit to get the cattle to Emery County; but considering the blizzardous conditions that prevailed, it is safe to say they broke no trail-driving records. However, from all indications his losses were small, and the cattle were in good condition to winter out.

By January of 1887, the northeastern plains of Utah resembled the Arctic Circle. Snow obliterated all signs of the waist-high grass. Rather than allow his cattle to roam in strange country during such severe weather, Nutter kept them bunched in the vicinity of Thompson's Spring where the railhead made it possible to ship in feed. At this time feeding was looked upon as an oddity rather than the custom; but there is every indication it paid-off because his losses were small and receipts show him buying more cattle throughout the entire bleak winter.

On May 14, 1887, Nutter and his crew met S. D. Pollack, agent for the Cleveland Cattle Company, in Thompson's Spring with a sufficient number of steers to satisfy the contract. "The steers are as good as the contract calls for and are perfectly satisfactory," wrote S. D. Pollack upon inspection at Thompson's Spring. "After receiving steers I have turned them over to Mr. Nutter to be delivered at or near Jacks Cabin on East River Gunnison County, Colorado. For which I am to pay him one dollar per head for all steers delivered. Mr. Nutter agreeing to be responsible for all losses except by death or accident."

From the old tally sheet, it would appear that Nutter was 125 head shy of the agreed upon number called for in the contract, but no mention of an adjustment was made in S. D. Pollack's receipt. No doubt the Cleveland Company was grateful just to find Nutter still in business. Many established cattlemen had been wiped out by this time.

The drive from Thompson's Spring to Jacks Cabin, situated about 30 miles east of Gunnison, Colorado, was west of the Divide, but the killing winter lingered on into the spring making the drive slow and tedious. The trails, streams, and ranges were strewn with dead carcasses of cattle and animals that failed to survive. There was little feed to be found along the way. However, this was country Nutter knew well from his freighting days; and according to a receipt signed in early June of 1887, he arrived on the Gunnison with all the steers in good condition. On his return trip to Utah he picked-up and delivered a few hundred head of cattle along the way for other ranchers — many of whom were selling out.

During the following year Nutter continued to build up his herd around Thompson's Spring, but in the latter part of 1888 he went into partnership with Ed Sands and Tom Wheeler. The three formed what was called the Grand Cattle Company, named after Grand County, and began operating in the triangle between Thompson's Spring, Cisco, Moab, and West Fork Canyon. The partnership was of short duration. Being a depressing period for cattlemen, only the determined and hardy survived. In 1889 Nutter bought out Sands and Wheeler and extended his operations further into the Hill Creek and Book Cliff areas.

At about the same time Nutter signed a contract to supply beef to the army and Indian agencies at Fort Duchesne, he also began shipping beef to the stockyards at Kansas City and other marketable points east. Instead of the present trend toward grass-fat yearling steers, Nutter shipped three-, four-, and five-year olds.

There is no record of how many cattle he ran during this period, but from the number he was selling he must have owned a good size herd. Many people were of the opinion that Nutter himself did not know the number of cattle he owned. At this gross assumption Nutter was prone to smile. He was much too shrewd a businessman not to have had a reasonably accurate tally, but cattlemen are, by tradition, a silent lot when it comes to discussing their business.

Today there is still a water hole in the Hill Creek Area named Bullprick Spring. Legend has it that the place received its name after Nutter and Red Moon, a renegade Ute operating off his reservation, had a run-in there. The story goes that for some time Red Moon and his band of renegades had been rustling Nutter's cattle. Eventually Nutter, who had an impressive appearance and commanding eyes, caught up with Red Moon and gave him a severe warning. Red Moon was in no position to retaliate at the time; but true to the form of all bad Indians, he and his renegades ambushed Nutter and his crew later at the waterhole. The Indians had rifles and were spread out in the surrounding brush. They had the drop on Nutter and his crew. However, Red Moon was more interested in humiliation than killing. The cowhands were eager to fight it out with the Indians, but to avoid bloodshed Nutter allowed Red Moon to give him several lashes with a bullprick whip. By such incidents water holes were named.

Others disagree with this version of the story, saying a vengeful, halfcrazed Indian would never stop short of killing; and Nutter, who was wellacquainted with Indian behavior, would rely on his Colt revolver rather than the mercurial mind of such an adversary. After all he had grown-up on a more realistic code than noblesse oblige, a code that permitted a man to survive in the West.

Legend also has it that Nutter once saved an Indian from a hanging. It seems he rode into camp to find his boys and the Webster City hands with their lariats already around the poor fellow's neck. With a stern, nononsense approach, he made them cut him loose. Red Moon? Perhaps.

Mrs. Nutter recalls a charming anecdote. On a provision buying trip to Myton, the Nutters were followed by a rather frail looking Indian, small in stature but great in exuberance. Nutter paid no attention until the Indian finally planted himself in front of him and with pixy, dancing eyes demanded "Who you?" Nutter gave him a quzzical smile and said, "Who are you?" "Me Chester, Moon's boy." "Moon was a bad Indian," Nutter replied. And Chester, teetering back and forth, threw back his head and laughed agreement. "Old Man Nutter, always fighting." Chester was delighted with the attention he was receiving.

Nutter smiled and went on about his business. Anyway, everyone seems to agree that Red Moon was in truth a "bad

Indian." He was later killed by a member of his own tribe.

This was also the period when Butch Cassidy, "Gunplay" Maxwell, and the Brown's Hole, Wyoming gangs were operating as freely as they pleased in the vicinity. Between train and bank robberies, the outlaws often turned to rustling. Like a lot of other ranchers, Nutter often found it more practical to hire the outlaws to work as cowhands during their "cooling off" periods. Most of them were cowboys at one time or another and made top hands, but what was more important their code prevented them from rustling from an employer.

Quietly living out his years in a small town in southern Utah is an old cowhand who worked for Nutter and at the same time led a nefarious life with the outlaws. Some of his old canceled checks from Nutter bear several pseudonyms, but the signatures arc unmistakably the same.

In the spring of 1892, "Gunplay," who was more noted for his talltalk than his fast action, was caught rustling Nutter cattle south of the White River. Nutter took him into Vernal, Utah, and filed a complaint, but by some unexplained means "Gunplay" managed to side-step the charge for a time and got out of jail. Before he could be brought to trial on the rustling charge, he was killed escaping from a bank holdup.

Nutter's second major move in the cattle business was made in 1893, during the disastrous year of the Silver Panic. For some time he and several old friends from his Lake City days had been negotiating in Washington for a lease on the fertile Strawberry Valley, located in the westernmost part of the Uintah Basin east of the Wasatch A fountains and Salt Lake City. In 1861 President Abraham Lincoln had set aside the entire valley of the Uintah River (now known as the Duchesne) within Utah Territory, extending on both sides of the river to the crest of the first range of contiguous mountains on each side, as an Indian reservation. In 1882 the Uncompahgres and White River Indians, who had been unceremoniously removed from their reservations in western Colorado, began to move into the Uintah Reservation. A few cattle and sheepmen continued to use Strawberry Valley for grazing purposes, but the Indians were getting nothing out of it.

In 1893 Nutter and his friends, who had become New York businessmen, acquired a five-year lease on Strawberry from the U.S. Indian Department for $7,100 annually and formed the Strawberry Cattle Company. The lease included all the land that drained into the Duchesne River from the west — 665,000 acres of excellent range country. Nutter owned 50 per cent of the shares and was company president with the power and authority to transact all business in Utah Territory. In turn he agreed to sell all his personal holdings in Utah.

Nutter sold his cattle and Utah property to the Webster City Cattle Company but retained his old "63" brand and continued to use it on his horses. As soon as the sale was completed Nutter's outfit joined with the Webster City crew for one vast roundup. They gathered all the "63" cattle and tally branded some 5,000 head at the end of a rope with the "Bar 63" brand—a job that required only the addition of a bar to the top of the six.

By the first of September 1893, Nutter was ready to stock the Strawberry Cattle Company range. He sent word to cattlemen in Arizona, informing them that he was in the market for 5,000 head of cattle and that he would take delivery on the north side of the Colorado River near Scan- Ion's Ferry, east of the present site of Boulder City, Nevada. He made Hackleberry, Arizona, his headquarters for dealing and contracting. As soon as the cattle were on their way, he wired Bishop Franklin Johnson in Kanab, asking him to send the Nutter outfit to Scanlon's Ferry and have them pick-up eight more good men along the way.

Meanwhile, the Silver Panic was creating havoc in banks across the country. To avoid any last minute confusion when the Arizona cattlemen arrived with their stock, Nutter fortified himself with certified bank drafts from the McCornick Bank in Salt Lake City. He also had Mr. McCornick send telegrams to some of the leading Arizona stockmen, assuring them that the bank drafts would be honored.

The bulk of the Arizona stock came from south of Kingman, some as far south as 300 to 400 miles, along the Bill Williams, the Santa Maria, and the Big Sandy rivers. In all there were 15 Arizona ranchers who agreed to deliver cattle. The various herds ranged from 25 to 900 head.

The ferry at Scanlon's was small and impractical for handling any large number of livestock. The Colorado was wide and the water was swift in the area. As far as Nutter knew no one had tried crossing with such a large herd. However, by the time the cattle arrived Nutter had found a place that was reasonably flat and smooth. When a final tally was taken, it was discovered there were 4,652 head. Some 400 head had been lost in the hot desert crossing from Arizona.

As the cattle converged on the river, Nutter and his cowboys bunched them and commenced the hazardous and unprecedented job of pushing them in to swim to the north side. Time after time Nutter, his riders, and the Arizona men plunged their horses into the silt-laden Colorado to point and wing the swimming steers. It was a three-day operation with men, horses, and cattle fighting to stay alive. Amazingly, neither a man nor an animal was lost in the crossing. Nutter was always proud of this feat, but in recounting it in later years would say, with a twinkle in his eyes, "It is possible we lost a few spectators lined up to watch from the banks. I was too busy to keep an eye on them."

As agreed upon, McCornick Bank drafts were paid to the ranchers on the north side of the river.

For several decades some of the old-timers around St. George have insisted that Nutter lost the bulk of these cattle between Scanlon's and the rocky bed of the Virgin River outside their town. Letters to and from his New York partners during this period fail to substantiate this theory. Due to a water shortage, desert heat, and sudden winter squalls, he did suffer some losses, but the number was small compared to the figures magnified over the years.

For some time Nutter had been considering running cattle on the Arizona Strip country in the northwest corner of Arizona south of St. George. The warm climate made excellent breeding grounds, but water was the prime factor that controlled the country. Several cattle and sheepmen from around St. George were using the Strip, but they were doing so without valid government titles. However, there was still sufficient grass and water for everyone if properly developed.

With winter fast approaching the higher elevations of Strawberry, Nutter decided to take his herd to the Strip in the fall of 1893. He ran into strong opposition from the men who operated there. B. F. Saunders, a large owner and dealer in cattle, claimed a number of springs on the Strip. Anthony Ivins, an apostle in the Mormon Church and owner and manager of the Mohave Cattle Company, claimed several of the springs. Nutter was hard pressed to find water for his cattle. Outsiders were not accepted, and the men who used the Strip backed up their claims with the theory that "might makes right." However, Nutter was not easily discouraged. He developed water holes of his own, and then took necessary steps to acquire legal titles on some of the land and springs, using preferred Indian scrip that he bought in Washington, D.C., at a premium price. This required a lot of time, effort, and money; and since he had no support from local St. George authorities, he was forced to hire Texas cowhands and deputize them to protect his cattle and springs. The Arizona Strip range war against Nutter might have continued on much longer if he had not, after having legally acquired title on all the springs, bought out the opposition.

In the spring of 1896 Nutter bought the cattle, improvements, and all rights and titles claimed by Anthony Ivins. The following year he bought Mr. Saunders' claims and improvements for $3,000, and a small spring called "Wolf Hole" from M. W. Andrus for $500. The next year he bought Mr. Foster's range rights, one-half interest in Big Spring, and 2,000 head of his cattle. At about the same time he bought Andrew Sorenson's cattle, about 500 head, and all his range rights and claims. Before the turn of the century, he had acquired most of the cattle outfits on the Strip. He improved upon the land and springs, but the Strip was lawless, rugged country that continued to plague him to the end.

While Nutter's agreement with the Strawberry Cattle Company excluded his owning personal property in Utah, it did not prevent him from owning property in any other state or territory. Therefore, when he acquired the Arizona Strip property, he did so on his own hook. He used the Strip as an additional breeding ground for company cattle, but the springs and land were his personal holdings.

In 1898, at the end of the first five-year lease on Strawberry, the commissioner of Indian Affairs granted an extension of one year, but the end was in sight. Utah sheepmen began putting pressure on Washington for possession of the land. One of the main reasons the Indians leased to the Strawberry Cattle Company was to keep the sheepmen out, but now the "woolly" owners were appealing to higher government sources. At the end of the year's extension, the Strawberry Company lost its lease.

Some of Nutter's New York partners complained that he had been too liberal with the sheepmen in allowing them to graze their sheep and thereby realize the great value of the range. It was big country and not always a simple matter to keep them out. Too, Nutter strove to avoid range wars whenever possible. He preferred settling disputes legally and spent a fair amount of his life in courts. After he married his wife once inquired why he spent so much of his time in courts. Nutter's answer was simple but to the point, "Because I enjoy winning when I KNOW I'm in the right."

At this time the Territory of Utah was not particularly noted for its justice, especially where outsiders were concerned. Nutter was not a Mormon. He had no conflict with the church. Most of his business dealings were with Mormons, and he respected every individual's right to believe as he pleased. But he felt no urge to join the Mormon Church just for the sake of compatibility.

On January 11, 1901, Nutter bought out his New York partners. They wanted to get out of the cattle business and invest their money closer to home. His major problem now was to find summer range where he could run steers. He owned about 25,000 head of cattle. The Arizona Strip was excellent breeding grounds, but higher elevation was desirable to develop the beef that was shipped in the fall.

When it became apparent that the Strawberry lease was not going to be renewed, Nutter began buying land as it became available in Nine Mile Canyon, between Price and Myton, Utah. Here he found excellent summer range country on the West Tavaputs Plateau. In 1886 the government had built a road through Nine Mile so that supplies could be moved to the garrison at Fort Duchesne. The country was opening up, but as yet there were no roads from Nine Mile up the side of the mountain to the fertile West Tavaputs stretching some 30 to 40 miles southeast of the canyon. From his early days in Utah and Colorado, Nutter had had plenty of experience in road building. He promptly set about hewing a road out of the side of the mountain by way of Cottonwood Canyon.

He also found excellent grazing land available in Range Valley, on Range Creek in the northeastern corner of Emery County where the creek joins the Green River. When old friends heard of Nutter's move into this area, they decided he had finally turned into a hermit. Range Valley was about as isolated as a cattleman could find, but it was ideally situated for Nutter's new plan of operation. The lower elevations of both Range Valley and Nine Mile Canyon made good winter country for steers that were not shipped in the fall. From the West Tavaputs summer range, there were natural drifts into both areas. He kept the Arizona Strip for breeding purposes, but the northeastern section of Utah became his new home base of operations.

Early in 1902 Nutter bought the Brock Place in Nine Mile Canyon and made it his first permanent ranch headquarters. Pete Francis had been operating the Brock homestead as a saloon and hotel. There was also a telegraph relay station maintained by the soldiers from Fort Duchesne. After a barroom brawl in his own saloon abruptly ended Pete Francis' career, his wife sold out to Nutter. The inventory included several barrels of grain alcohol as well as Pete Francis' impotent gun and a peacock that by some devious means had found a home there. Nutter eventually found a mate for the peacock. They multiplied at an alarming rate, and over the years became something of a curiosity flock in Nine Mile Canyon.

With the new operations Nutter discontinued using the various brands used by the Strawberry Company and began using the circle brand on the right shoulder and the right hip on his cattle both in Arizona and Utah. He had never ceased using the "63" brand on his horses, so there was no problem there. It took some years, however, to get rid of the many brands used on the cattle under the Strawberry Valley Company. Meanwhile Nutter had been improving his herd. From 1900 until the late twenties most of his cattle were Durham, but then he switched to Herefords.

Nutter was 58 years old before a woman came along who was clever enough to outmaneuver him. When the Uintah Basin was opened to homesteaders in 1905, Katherine Fenton, the attractive manager of Colorado Springs' Postal Telegraph, as a lark, put her name in the lottery along with several other young ladies. After drawing a winning number she was determined to visit the Basin. Along the way a stagecoach driver, who was new on the job and became lost between Price and Myton, mistook the Brock house for the Rock House stage stop. The stage was forced to remain overnight. Nutter gave the pretty passenger and her companion, a schoolteacher destined for Vernal, his bed for the night. Miss Fenton continued to manage the Postal Telegraph in Colorado Springs for three more years, but at the same time she spent the required amount of time on her homestead in Ioka. In 1908 she gave up her telegraph job and married Nutter.

Mrs. Nutter insists that the only way she was able to catch Preston Nutter was to agree that the honeymoon be incorporated into an eastern cattle buying trip. During the next few years, the Nutters had two daughters, Catharine and Virginia, and settled down on the ranch headquarters in Nine Mile. However, Nutter was continually on the move. He controlled a lot of country, and it was necessary for him to spend a large amount of time on the Arizona Strip. Transportation was slow and not too accessible between Nine Mile and the Strip. Little wonder he was so adept at sleeping in the saddle.

With the death of W. C. Mc­ Coy in 1915, Nutter lost a trusted lieutenant and firm friend. Mc­ Coy, a native New Yorker, had been associated with Nutter for decades and directed many of the time-consuming business details. In the earlier days he had handled the deliveries of beef to the military at Fort Duchesne and the Indian agencies at Whiterocks and Ouray. Often he accompanied shipments of cattle to Omaha and other eastern markets. It seems that he had originally come to Utah convinced of the country's industrial potential. He built and operated the coke ovens at Tucker, the junction for the "Calico Road." McCoy's tally book also shows him shipping cattle for Nutter from PV (Pleasant Valley) Junction in 1891.

Whatever thoughts McCoy entertained regarding Nutter's sudden renouncement of bachelor status, he apparently kept to himself. It must have been quite a change suddenly to accommodate himself to feminine frills, baby buggies, and nurse maids. Undoubtedly, much of the time he found enough to do at the Nine Mile ranch to keep out of the way of the paraphernalia.

This was the great day of freighting. Horses and wagons swirled up great clouds of dust or cut deep ruts in the mud as families loaded with all their earthly belongings moved along the Nine Mile road and upward through Gate Canyon to take up farming in the Uintah Basin. And following them came more wagon trains loaded with provisions to keep the settlers supplied. It was the custom of the teamsters to camp one night under overhanging cliffs just below Nutter's corrals so their teams would be fresh to start the climb. Doubling-up their horses, whips cracking, wagons creaking in the dawn, they started the ascent. Fire-blackened rocks and names inscribed on the cliffs with burnt axle grease confirm the numbers, and the designated name places vouch for the tortuous road—"Seven Mile Twist," "Ded Hors Springs."

There were the inevitable break downs; there were horses too weak to travel. Hundreds of stories are told by the old-timers of the feats of Mr. Nutter's "Big Red Mules" which were sent to the rescue. And over this presided McCoy, an aging, somewhat benign major-domo. Whether his Good Samaratanism was inspired by charity or the more practical desire to keep the transients moving is debatable.

The booming years of World War I gave way to major economic disaster for the western cattle industry after the Armistice. The bottom dropped out, and hundreds of big outfits were going broke. An alarmed Washington sent several delegations to consult with Nutter. It appears that his empire was kept intact by various measures. He owned in fee some of the best grazing land in the west; he was able and energetic; he did not overextend in anticipation of a prolonged war. Instead of putting his profits into cattle to yield yet greater profits, he promised Duchesne County that he would match their subscriptions in the Liberty Bond Drives. This he did.

The depression years of the 1930's were bleaker. With politicians spouting that unless they were elected the western cattlemen would see beef drop to a nickle a pound, the old-timers chortled. Four cents was the top price in those days, but try and get it. As for "grass growing in the roads," that sounded better — the cattle industry was based on grass. But bankers lost faith, and Mrs. Nutter, with her Irish wit showing, said, "Your old time bankers knew the use of an umbrella. Later ones were afraid it might get wet." The situation was critical when the government stepped in and updated a former government loaning agency with the Reconstruction Finance Corporation.

During the decades there had been a steady encroachment of sheep on the grazing lands of the West. Whereas the cattle operators were more or less stabilized and kept their livestock near their holdings, the sheepmen were migratory. Bands of sheep had a way of appearing wherever the feed was good regardless of who held title to the land or who had a priority of use. It was not unusual for Nutter to find a band of sheep in the lush mountain pastures of his fee land on the Tavaputs Plateau. Without exception, the herders would pretend complete ignorance of the English language. They neither knew to whom the sheep belonged, where they came from, where they were going, nor their numbers. After a singularly unintelligible conversation with one herder, the old fellow in a burst of confidence easily overcame the language barrier. "They tell me I be all right if I don't run into old man Nutter." Nutter had to smile. "They told you right." And then he was off to gather the pertinent facts and consult with lawyers concerning trespass action and restraining orders.

Utah sheepmen began overrunning the Arizona Strip. Some with leases on railroad land in their pockets would claim to be merely trailing the sheep through the country. The "trail" encompassed the whole area, and Nutter contended they never got to the leased land. On one occasion he found his own land and a water tank fenced against his own cattle. Crazed cows were pawing the ground where a trickle of water had made a damp spot. Some were already dead, their calves bawling piteously at their side. Inside the fence was a band of sheep.

It is no wonder that he wrote of the lawlessness in the country. "I am plagued by rustlers, bootleggers, and sheepmen." A man would have to have eyes in the back of his head to patrol so vast a country.

While Nutter continued to try to rectify the situation by bringing court action, a number of livestock operators in Montana had banded together to combat a similar situation in their state. They organized the Mizpah-Pumpkin Creek Stock Grazing Reserve. This was a cooperative effort to take state, private, and federal land and administer it under partial state rule. It was hoped that some such orderly process could be made effective in Utah. A paper issued by the General Land Office, Helena, Montana, says that it was understood that "the stockmen of Utah, Idaho, Colorado and Oregon have filed application for the establishment of grazing areas similar to the area established in Montana." It adds, "This undertaking has demonstrated, beyond any question of doubt, that the livestock producers are capable of conducting their own business, and administrating the range allotted to them under long term lease, without intensive supervision." This then was the beginning of a plan for orderly use of the public lands, initiated by the stockmen themselves, and a prelude to the Taylor Grazing Act.

It is generally thought today that the West was antagonistic to the Taylor Grazing Act, however, the experienced, seasoned cattlemen felt regulation of some kind was necessary. Nutter did not look upon the Taylor Act as a panacea, but he was impressed by its terms and felt that its intent "to stabilize the livestock industry" was worthy. He also liked the calibre of the delegation, headed by Oscar Chapman, who came from the Department of the Interior to meet with stockmen in Prescott, Arizona. Attending the meeting with his wife and daughters, Nutter spent some time closeted with the Washington representatives discussing the terms of the bill and the plans for establishing a grazing service. The implementation of the Taylor Act would put to rout the itinerant sheepmen and allow the established, legitimate rancher to manage the feed and forage.

For a man of his years with a lifetime use of public lands in conjunction with the lands he had leased and owned, this might appear to represent radical thinking. However, Nutter was a man who looked to the future. His great passions were grass and grass-fat cattle; the latter dependent upon the continuation of the former. He did not think of conservation in terms of sentiment. He had ridden too many lonely miles to be unaffected by the splendor of the country — he felt a custodial care for it and also for the wildlife it supported which grazed so amicably with his cattle. An expert marksman, it was known that he never hunted except for food, and for years Nutter had protected the game on his private lands.

He had an abhorance of waste of what he considered natural and national resources. He was a builder, a man of wide interests with a practical consideration for reclamation and land improvement. In these respects he had blazed a clear trail.

Harold Ickes was secretary of the Department of the Interior, and J. N. "Ding" Darling, a Des Moines, Iowa, cartoonist, was head of the U.S. Biological Survey. Ding was an enthusiastic wildlife man, and it was his dream to turn the Strip into a big game preserve. Nutter was willing, almost eager for this. Numerous letters passed between the two with Nutter offering his holdings. Unfortunately, the Department of the Interior had no funds allocated for this purpose and the negotiations ended.

During this period of transition, a time that Nutter felt held promise for the livestock industry (the National Advisory Board was meeting in Salt Lake City). Preston Nutter's tired heart ceased to function. It was fitting that the Salt Lake Telegram of Tuesday evening, January 28, 1936, would describe him as "One of the last links between the old west and the new...," continuing with, "over six feet tall, white haired, grey eyed, straight as a lodge pole pine and physically hard as the saddle he rode. From the Masonic temple, Wednesday afternoon will be buried Utah's last great cattle king — Preston Nutter."

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