A few days after returning to Fort Garland I was ordered to report to
Major McClave who commanded a troop of cavalry and was camped near the
top of Sangre De Cristo pass. The nights were cold and the camp was in
every way an unpleasant one. We only remained there a few days when we
broke camp and went down the Veta pass. The Sangre De Cristo and Veta
passes joined just beyond the top of the range on the west side. We
camped near La Veta, a Mexican village, the first night. In coming down
La Veta pass we had a good view of the Spanish peaks, a name I
remembered in connection with my very limited study of geography when a
lad, and which for some reason I expected to be grand and commanding.
After spending a summer in the mountains and seeing them in all their
rugged grandeur, the peaks looked small and their hay-stack tops were
disappointing. We went by easy marches until we reached a point on the
Purgatory river some forty miles above its mouth where we remained in
camp about a month. Our camp here was several thousand feet lower than
the one near Sangre de Cristo pass and was in a fine grove of large
cotton-wood trees and by comparison was a very comfortable place. The
nights were a little cool but the days were delightfully pleasant. The
Purgatory valley was practically unsettled in those days except near
Trinidad, where there were a number of small ranches but I only remember
one ranch between our camp and the mouth of the river. While in this
camp a wind-storm came up one afternoon and grew in volume as the
evening advanced but we felt secure on account of the bluff just across
the river to the windward of us. However, I could hear it among the tree
tops before dropping to sleep, and I wondered if it could do any harm.
When I awoke the next morning the ridge pole of my tent was broken, and
the tent crushed in by some great thing extending obliquely upward, and
only a few inches above my chest. I hurried outside as quickly as I
could and found an immense dead cotton-wood tree lying across my tent
with the top caught in the forks of another tree a few yards away.
I found both Major McClave and Mr. Williams, his lieutenant, very
interesting companions. The major had served in the ranks before the
war, and had been promoted for bravery and efficiency in the service. He
was a thorough soldier, courteous and considerate to everybody, and like
all the officers I met from the ranks, was very devoted to his men. Mr.
Williams was a West Point graduate and an accomplished gentleman, and I
shall always remember my experience with this command with pleasure. Mr.
Williams and I had found a fine bathing pool in the river and had
frequent occasions to enjoy its chilly but invigorating qualities. One
day when in the midst of our bath the bugle call for "boots and saddles"
sounded. We hurried from the water, dressed and got to camp in time to
find everything ready to move. A messenger had arrived in camp bringing
word of an Indian raid and the killing of cattle at some point down the
river toward Las Anamis. We kept going until some time after midnight
when we were within a few miles of Fort Lyon and from there the major
and I took the ambulance and went on into Fort Lyon to report and get
such information as we could, and instructions for any further action
that was considered necessary. We got back to our camp just at good
daylight and found Mr. Williams and the men almost ready for the march.
After a hurried breakfast we were soon on the way up the Arkansas
Valley. We followed this valley to where Wild Horse creek enters the
river, then turned up that creek and marched until near sundown when
some cattlemen and rangers met us and reported that the Indians had
turned east and would probably cross the Arkansas below Fort Lyon. Right
here it is just as well to say that cavalry stand a poor show to
overtake a band of Indians if they have a few miles the start. The
Indian pony does not eat corn; the cavalry horses must have it or at
least some kind of grain. Stop and unsaddle your Indian pony, lariat him
out and give him an hour to rest and graze, and he is ready for another
jaunt of a half day or more. He is a tough, hardy beast and can be
forced to keep going when the cavalry horse will simply quit. We
returned slowly to Fort Lyon and reported to the commanding officer for
instructions, and were ordered back to Fort Union where Major McClave's
troop of cavalry belonged.
There was nothing of special interest on this trip although the night we
camped at Dick Wooton's there was a heavy snow and the major spent a
good part of the night looking after the comfort of his men and horses.
After crossing this spur of the mountains the weather was pleasant and
the country free from snow and we reached Fort Union without further
incident. I returned by stage to Fort Garland and arrived at that post
the forepart of December and was there awaiting orders until the 18th.
The weather was cold, Fort Garland being at an altitude of about seven
thousand feet above sea level, and it was comfortable to be with my wife
and little girl, and in good quarters again.
General Kautz had taken General Alexander's place as post commander, but
Dr. Happersett, the post surgeon, and the other officers were the same
as when we arrived the preceding April. The social features of the post
were charming and I hoped it would be my good fortune to remain there
during the winter, but a few days after my arrival orders came for me to
report to the commanding officer at Fort Stanton, New Mexico, for duty.
We started on December 18th and the thermometer registered eighteen
degrees below zero that morning. We were well equipped for the trip,
having four mules to the ambulance and a six-mule team and wagon for our
baggage. The question may occur to some of my readers how could all your
household goods be carried in one wagon? We did not have much to carry,
particularly in the way of furniture. The quarters at the different
military posts were furnished by the quartermaster with stoves, tables,
bedsteads and all kinds of furniture that would be cumbersome to move.
We carried folding chairs, carpets, bedding and numerous household
necessities and comforts with us, but one wagon was sufficient for this
purpose in addition to carrying grain and hay for the mules from one
government supply station to another. On most of the routes traveled
there were government stations where grain and forage were kept for the
animals used in government transportation. We started early, having
forty miles to make that day to reach Conejos (Jackrabbit) the first
government station on the route. We heated bricks for our feet and by
drawing the curtains around the ambulance, it was made quite
comfortable. We crossed the Rio Grande on the ice and reached Conejos in
the evening and had a very comfortable place for the night. We remained
one day at Conejos for supplies of grain and hay for the mules. For the
next three days and two nights we were in deep snow all the way, and of
course made slow progress, and the escort melted snow for water for
ourselves and the animals during this time. We hoped to reach San Juan
on the Rio Grande by the end of the third day, but were apprehensive,
for we knew we had to cross the Rio Chama, a stream that had acquired an
unenviable reputation because of its quicksand. We reached this stream
just at dusk of the third day and for the first time in three days saw
the friendly lamplights at a Mexican village a short distance above the
ford. This was my first acquaintance with quicksand, and I would know
better now. We should have unfastened the mules from the wagon, and
broken the ice, which was not strong enough to hold them up, and thus
made the way clear so we could cross without stopping. To stop is fatal.
In place of doing this, we expected the mules to break the ice as they
went. About the middle of the stream was a sand-bar only slightly
covered with ice and water and the water had been shallow over to this
bar, but when the mules came into the deep water beyond, the leaders
refused to break the ice, the team stopped, and the wagon gradually
settled down until the running gear and bed rested on the sand-bar. I
ordered the team unhitched and the ice broken so we could get around
with the ambulance, and we made the crossing without difficulty. It was
then quite dark and I decided to ask for a volunteer to remain with the
wagon and the balance of us would go on to San Juan.
I called the men together, and asked if any one of them would volunteer
to stay with the wagon over night. An Irishman stepped out and said,
"Yis Doctor, I will stay with it." It seems to me that in a case like
this, or for that matter in any emergency, one can always depend on the
Irishman. I knew his habits at the post, for he was in the guardhouse
occasionally for drunkenness, so I said to him, "Look here, this is not
an easy job. If those Mexicans up there knew this wagon was in here they
might give you trouble, and if they found you drunk they would probably
kill you and loot the wagon. Now I am going to leave a bottle of whiskey
with you, for it is a very cold night and you will need some before
morning, so be careful and do not take too much of it. Get out and walk
when you get too cold to sleep but don't get drunk for your life may be
in danger if you are not able to take care of yourself." "Yis Sir,
Doctor, I understand that sir, and I will keep sober, sir, and I will
take care of the stuff all right, sir." We left him there and the
balance of the escort with the six mule team, and my wife and baby and I
in the ambulance, started on to San Juan some six miles away. We got off
the road as we neared the station, and our ambulance got into an
irrigation ditch and turned over on one side, but did no harm and we
soon had it right again, and after some trouble in finding a road,
finally reaching San Juan about midnight. We had wandered around a good
deal in trying to find the road again.
The following day the escort returned to the Rio Grande, and found the
Irishman all right and only about half of the whiskey gone. He had fully
merited all my confidence. They unloaded the wagon and slid the contents
across the river on the ice, and by digging and prying with the tools
they had taken from the station, and hitching all ten mules to the
wagon, they drew it out the quick-sand and across the river and arrived
at the station with everything in good shape about dark that evening.
The morning before Christmas my wife and I concluded to ride to Santa Fe
about twenty miles away for breakfast. It was a stinging cold morning,
and we had to go over a little mountain range on the way, but the roads
were hard and smooth as a pavement, and we made the trip at a clipping
gait, but were thoroughly chilled by the time we reached Santa Fe. There
was no fire in our room and I went to the landlord, Alex McDowell and
asked him to send us something to warm us up. In a few minutes a man
came in with a tray and glasses and something he called Tom-and-Jerry
and hoped we would like it. I think I never tasted anything so
delicious, and I believe my wife appreciated it as much as I did, and
the effect was marvelous. We were soon warm and comfortable, and by
comparison with the experience of the past few days, it seemed a
paradise indeed. This was my first acquaintance with Tom-and-Jerry, and
while I became better acquainted with these gentlemen afterwards, we
were never very cordial friends but I never met them under such
favorable conditions as on the morning after that cold ride over the
mountains. We did some shopping on the 24th and remained over Christmas
at the hotel. The morning after Christmas we again started on our way to
Fort Stanton.