One Tank History: Backroads, Landmarks, and Forgotten Places

Next time you have a couple of hours and feel the urge for a small adventure, take a short drive and visit the grave of a gone but not forgotten local legend, Jimmy Wooten. It is an isolated resting place for a man who lived fast, drove faster, and left behind a story large enough to outlive him.

About 30 miles west of Worland, on a low ridge with a wide, beautiful view, sits a hand-carved gravestone that reads simply:

DIED 1910

JIM WOOTEN

STAGEDRIVER

THERMOPOLIS - ILO - MEETEETSE

Jimmy Wooten was 60 years old when he arrived in the Big Horn Basin around 1905. Born in Missouri in 1844, he wandered west like many men chasing money and adventure, eventually reaching one of the last true outposts of the Wild West.

He was worn down by a lifetime of hard outdoor living, but the Basin felt like home. For a time, he freighted in and out of Billings, Cody, Worland and Bridger, and anywhere else with a road reckless enough to let him pass. His favorite town was Meeteetse, with its seven saloons, all well known to Jimmy. Above or behind some of them were rooms where ladies for hire stayed. It was illegal on paper, but quietly tolerated.

By 1909, Wooten was running the rough but profitable mail and stage route between Meeteetse and Thermopolis. He favored speed, especially on downhill grades. Faster meant getting to town sooner, the bars sooner, and sometimes trouble sooner. When the road tilted down, Jimmy let the team run.

The winter of 1909–1910 was brutal. On the early morning of December 18, 1909 snow fell hard, the wind howled, and temperatures were so far below zero that the thermometers were useless.. Several people in Thermopolis urged Jimmy to wait out the storm. He did not.

With mail sacks loaded and worries pressing, he headed out alone, climbing out of Thermopolis and toward Three Mile Hill in worsening conditions. A man known as Silent Charlie later said Jimmy nearly ran him down in the whiteout. Charlie was the last person to see him alive.

When the stage failed to arrive in Meeteetse by the next morning, search parties rode out from both towns. They found horses, wreckage, mail sacks, wheels, and axles scattered across five miles, but no Jimmy. After days of snow and wind, the search was called off and postponed until spring.

When the thaw came, Buffalo Creek finally helped bring him back.

As massive snow drifts melted under the warm April sun, Wooten’s body was likely lifted by the rushing water and carried downstream.

A ranch hand known as Mikety Mike was herding yearlings and let them water where Buffalo Creek meets Gooseberry Creek. There, just above the waterline, he spotted a badly decomposed body lodged against driftwood.

Mikety Mike ran to the Moon–Hillberry ranch schoolhouse to spread the news.

Years later, student Elmer Carlson recalled what happened next.

“Mrs. Moon let all the kids go to see our first dead man!” Carlson said. “I can still remember the stench of the body. It was fully clothed, but every bit of it was covered with mud. You can be sure every kid hurried home to tell their folks. My sister and I rode the seven miles home on a high lope.”

Nine students saw Jimmy Wooten’s mangled and decaying body that day and never forgot it.

George Hillberry rode into Meeteetse to notify authorities. Positive identification was found in a coat pocket. The post office tried again to locate relatives, but none were ever found. A group of local men handled the final duties. Eric Carlson furnished the pine boards. Grant Murphy Sr. supplied the nails. A simple wooden marker was placed at the grave.

Time erased it.

Years later, friends and neighbors placed the hand-chiseled stone that still stands today. It is rough, simple, and fitting for Jimmy’s life.

Standing there last week, I could not help but think Jimmy Wooten might have had a few laughs, especially after a visit to the saloon, knowing that more than a hundred years later people are still telling his story. For me, it was a trip back that connected me not only to the man, but to the time he lived in. I spent about an hour at his grave thinking about his life and the ways my own story is so very different, and in many ways the same.

To find the gravesite of Jimmy Wooten, from Basin, head south towards Thermopolis for 39 miles and turn right onto Gooseberry Creek (431).  The view is barren with a few ranches mixed in it probably hasn’t changed much in the past 100 years and is often run by the same families.  

Follow Gooseberry Creek Road for roughly 24 miles. The country quickly turns open and spare, broken by a few working ranches.

As you approach Murphy Draw road, watch for a well-kept home set back from the road on your left. Near this point, look for a road sign on the marking Murphy Draw Road and Crow Woman Buttes. This is the key landmark that tells you you’re in the right place.

Head up Murphy Draw Road about 500 feet, roughly 0.1 mile. On your left you will see a very rough two-track road that I would not take without serious four-wheel drive. I chose to park and walk. For the next quarter mile, follow the rough path until you see an even less traveled track heading north directly to the gravestone.

If you get in a jam, plug these coordinates into your map app: 44.00993, -108.51209.

Take a minute there in that beautiful place and remember James Wooten’s story, and how difficult life was just a few generations ago. It is common to place a few coins on the Wooten’s grave and make a wish. I am not sure what Jimmy Wooten plans to do with the money, but I hope he gets one more full-service round in the town’s old bar, the Meeteetse Cowboy Bar, an establishment that has been operating long enough that James Wooten surely knew which benches gave you slivers and those that had been worn smooth like they are today. 

Help Jimmy Wooten’s story live on by taking less than a half tank of gas and pay your respects to a Big Horn Basin legend.