During the early part of the war, Wild Bill came into possession of
a young black mare, having captured her from a bushwhacker during
Price’s invasion of Missouri. The mare was as black as a coal, and at
the proper age to enter upon the course of training Bill put her in.
She was full of fire, and the exquisite symmetry of her head, neck,
limbs and body, showed the pure blooded stock that was in her. Bill
devoted all his leisure time for more than a year teaching the mare
tricks which afterwards he used to so much advantage. The mare at
length acquired such a complete understanding of Bill’s wishes that
her obedience was truly marvelous. First of all, no one could ride or
approach the mare except Bill, and to him she was as gentle as a mother
to her child. He named her Black Nell, presumably suggested by Claude
Duval’s Black Bess, of whose exploits he was so fond of reading.
Black Nell was usually allowed great freedom, because she was so prompt
to answer the whistle of Bill; she would leave her feed and come
galloping to the call with the most astonishing alacrity. While riding
Nell it was only necessary for Bill to wave his hand to set her in a
dead run or stop her instantly. A downward motion of his hand would
cause her to drop as suddenly as if she had been shot dead, and she
would lie perfectly still until the command to rise was given. On one
occasion, while Bill was being pursued by a detachment of bushwackers,
in passing through a prairie where the grass was very high, his
life was saved by the prompt obedience of Nell in dropping down and
remaining so quiet that the pursuers passed by within fifty feet
without discovering him.
In 1867, while he was in Springfield, Missouri, he astonished a crowd
of saloon-loafers by first going into the bar-room and calling his
mare to follow. Nell came in, following her master like a dog, without
the slightest hesitation. There was an old billiard table in the
saloon, too much worn for further service, and upon this he ordered
Nell to place herself. She reared up and placed her fore feet upon the
table, but it was only after repeated effort and great strain that she
succeeded in raising her hind feet to such a height. After getting upon
the table, Bill poured out a pint of whisky into a wash-basin, which
Nell drank with evident relish. At a wave of the hand she leaped from
the table and out into the street, where Bill allowed her to exercise
her freedom for several hours.
One of Nell’s greatest accomplishments was leaping, and in this she
certainly never had an equal. She had frequently leaped ditches twenty
feet in width with apparent ease, and Bill had no hesitancy whatever in
riding her over a six feet fence, which she could clear like a deer.
This wonderful animal died in 1869, of a complication of diseases,
and was buried near Kansas City. Bill mourned her loss as he would
that of his parents, whom he devotedly loved, and Nell’s name was
never mentioned to him afterwards that he did not burst into tears. He
regarded her as the dearest friend he had on earth, and to have her die
almost in her prime was a blow and loss he could scarcely endure.