Name’s Martin. I’m a bull wacker and trail boss — and my living comes one step at a time, right alongside the oxen. We haul what keeps this country running: flour, tools, kegs, nails, harness, stove parts, barrels of anything that won’t grow on prairie grass and once even a train locomotive.
Folks imagine it’s all whip-cracking and yelling. Truth is, it’s patience and rhythm. You learn the sound of a tight wheel, the smell of a hot hub, and the look of a sky that’s about to turn mean. The job is to get there — with freight dry, oxen sound, and nobody hurt — and to do it again tomorrow.
Daily Work
- Walks beside ox teams — sets pace and keeps the line straight
- Checks yokes, bows, chains, and neck-yoke fit before moving
- Loads and balances freight so axles don’t suffer
- Calls the trail: start, stop, gee, haw, back, and hold
Gear & Repairs
- Whip (more for signal than punishment), rope, wedges
- Spare linchpins, bolts, rawhide, leather scraps, nails
- Grease for hubs, water bucket, tool roll
- Fixes wheels, tongues, chains, and broken traces on the move
Trail Realities
- Dust in summer, mud in spring, iron-cold winters
- Storms can turn a road into a trap in minutes
- Broken axle means everyone stops — unless you’re ready
- A slow day beats a wreck every time
Team Care
- Water timing matters — too late and you pay for it
- Watch shoulders for rubs; pad before sores start
- Rotate pairs so the pull stays fair
- Loose harness becomes wrecked harness in a mile
Freight I Haul
- Flour, bacon, coffee, sugar, kegs and barrels
- Hardware, stove parts, glass, tools, nails
- Harness tack, wagon parts, seed, fencing supplies
- Mail and “important” parcels that ride dry and high
How a Bull Wacker Thinks
- Read the sky first — then the ground — then the team
- Prevent trouble instead of wrestling it later
- Steady beats fast; a train arrives by not breaking
- Every sound matters: creak, clack, squeal, grind
- Keep it simple: dry freight, sound oxen, safe men
Wagons Arrive in Town
When a freight train rolls in, a town wakes up. Merchants step out to count barrels and crates, ranchers look for tools and tack, and somebody’s always hunting coffee, nails, or a new singletree.
But getting there is the whole story. Days of dust and ruts, creek crossings, broken spokes, and weather that does not care about schedules. We don’t race the prairie — we outlast it.
When the wagons finally line the street, you’ll see the order behind the chaos: freight stacked by need, teams watered first, and men moving with the practiced calm of folks who’ve learned that panic is just wasted energy.
“Steady, dusty, and stubborn enough to keep those wheels turning.”