The Great Land Run

The Great Land Run

It's a crazy idea, but a beautiful day. The sky is clear blue. New grass shines against the red clay, at least where horses' feet and wagon wheels haven't crushed it. Fifty thousand boomers line up on the border of the Unassigned Territory, two million acres of the American Midwest and what will become the heart of Oklahoma. They all want to claim a bit of land, so folks are nervous. It's almost noon.

Sergeant Henry James finds a place a little ways back from the border. He plans to wait until the dust from the starting horses settles. Then he'll ride around the wagons. Sergeant James was a Buffalo Soldier, one of the black soldiers who fought in the Indian Wars. It's 1889 and that time's done. The tribes are settled onto reservations, the land they were sent to live on.

The problem is, there are a lot more boomers wanting the land that's left than there is land to hand out. Sergeant James sees a girl with wide eyes in a wagon and shakes his head. Wagons aren't made for racing, that's for sure. Ten minutes to go.

That girl in the wagon is Lizzie. Her pa went into the Unassigned Territory last week and looked at 160 acres with water and trees. The family lived in a sod house back in bone-dry Kansas. Now Lizzie is excited about having a log cabin. Pa, sitting up front, says they can start building this afternoon. First, they have to race and stake a claim because the first one there gets the land. Lizzie's heart pounds, and she eyes the men on fast horses. Eight minutes to noon.

Joe is one of those men on a fine horse, and he's not worried. He's lived on this land for years and knows every tree and creek. He leases grassland that still belongs to the Indians. It won't be open to boomers--at least for now. He watches a squirrel leap in a stand of twisted oak trees. It's a shame to see the wild land plowed up for crops. No barbed wire fences for him. He just wants a place for a house. Joe pulls out his watch--six minutes to go-and leans forward in the saddle.