Our quarters were just as we had left them but with the added feeling of
desolation, and from that time we frequently discussed the question of
leaving the service. It being then well toward winter we deferred it
until spring, and we spent the time until then performing our duties in
a perfunctory way, and planning and rejecting plans as we made them,
being undecided where to locate. I spent a part of the time in hunting
with more or less success, but more as a recreation than as a matter of
interest. On one of these trips I killed three antelopes with two shots,
being the only ones seen that day. I managed to get in good range and
when the first one fell the other two ran together and stood looking at
the fallen one. They stood so that a shot through the flank of one would
hit the other just back of the shoulder. I dressed the first one and got
it on the horse and found the second some two hundred yards away, but by
the time I had it on the horse it was too dark to track the third. Next
morning I went out and found only the bones and some pieces of the hide,
the wolves having cared for the rest of it. On another occasion I took
an orderly with me to care for my horse in case I found occasion to
stalk any game, but when we got into a valley which was the customary
route for Indians from the White mountains on the east, to the
Magdalenas west of the river, some horsemen came in at the head of the
valley, and set up a yell and at that distance we took them for Indians
and did not wait for a closer acquaintance but made for the post with
all possible speed.
My wife visited that winter at Fort Selden with Mrs. Conrad, wife of
Lieutenant Conrad, who was quartermaster at Fort Stanton when we were
there, and who died at sea on his way back from the Spanish war in Cuba.
We were in the habit at Fort McRae of trading an army ration to which I
was entitled, in addition to my pay, to Mexicans for vegetables, eggs,
etc., or paying cash as the occasion offered. One day a Mexican brought
a grain sack full of onions and we weighed them and found they weighed
a little over forty-one pounds. I agreed to pay him four cents a pound,
but said to him we will call it forty pounds and allow the balance for
the weight of the sack. He could not speak English but I could talk
Spanish enough to make him understand and he would nod his head and say
"Bueno" (Good) but when I counted out the money he did not seem
satisfied. I went over it repeatedly showing it was one dollar and sixty
cents and he would nod his head and say "Bueno" but went away and
brought another Mexican with him who understood and talked English, and
when he heard the transaction repeated he called his fellow countryman a
fool and they walked away together. I counted the onions after they had
gone, and there were just twenty-four of them. I like to tell this story
to my friends, for while they smile their assent, there is an expression
on their faces that is at least suggestive. Two or three of the onions
that I measured were over eighteen inches in circumference. These onions
were raised in the Rio Grande valley and were as crisp as celery, and
comparatively free from the characteristic sting of the ordinary onion.
Eggs were fifty cents per dozen and if one did not need any today, they
would take them back home, and perhaps bring them tomorrow at the same
price, but would not take less. We paid one dollar per pound for butter
to Mrs. Jack Martin who sent it to us by the messenger who went there
for our mail, and it was very choice butter.
At the Sutler's store one day I was introduced to a Mr. Garcia, a young
man of fine appearance, and who could talk English well, who had
returned from the university for his vacation. I found him very
interesting and intelligent, and while we were talking, Mr. Ayers, the
post trader, brought us some native wine which we sipped while in
conversation. He belonged to a wealthy family of Spanish descent and was
quite a different type from the ordinary Mexican, and would compare
favorably with our average university student. After he had gone Mr.
Ayers told me his name in full was "Hasoos Christo Garcia." I spell it
this way to give the Spanish pronunciation, and not the Spanish
spelling. In the middle name the accent is on the first syllable. In
English the name would be Jesus Christ Garcia, and this is not mentioned
in this startling way, in any spirit of irreverence, for a name that is
held sacred over a great part of the world, but is done for the purpose
of showing the difference in the customs of different countries. Jesus
Christ is almost as common a given name among the Mexicans as James or
John is with us.
While at Fort McRae Mr. Fountain had heard of a beautiful place on the
Rio Polomas, a little stream that enters the Rio Grande from the west a
few miles below the post, and that he thought might be worth
investigating. I agreed to join him and we had a few troopers detached
as an escort, and went to see it. On the way we passed through the
little Mexican village of Polomas, where a Jew had established a
business and who had told Mr. Fountain of the proposed place of visit.
He joined us and acted as guide for the trip. On the way while working
our way through a thick undergrowth Mr. Fountain and I became separated
from the men and came out on a pretty open park of a few acres in
extent, about the middle of which was an immense cinnamon bear,
apparently waiting to see what caused the disturbance in the brush. On
our coming into the open he took to his heels and we followed, the men
having joined us, and firing our pistols and shouting, but when my horse
caught the scent of the bear, he just stopped and stood there trembling
with fright, and all my efforts to make him go by spurring and cuffing
him, were unavailing. I could not move him, but sat there and awaited
his pleasure. After a bit he began to move cautiously but was much
frightened, and I did not join the crowd until they had chased the bear
into the rocks at the foot of the canon, and had returned to the place
we intended to visit. It was a beautiful place indeed, and a beautiful
stream of water came out from the side of the bluff some twenty feet
above the valley, and meandered down to the main stream. The valley was
not wide but impressed both Mr. Fountain and myself, as a desirable
place to establish a ranch, which he was desirous of doing for a brother
he wished to set up in business. I agreed to join him in the enterprise,
and we sent for a Studebaker wagon and the necessary implements and
outfit for starting a ranch. I afterwards disposed of my interest to Mr.
Fountain, and have since learned that he had his brother come out, and
fitted him up with stock, etc., sufficient for a start, but that the
Indians took a part in the affair; destroyed his ranch and killed his
cattle. I have since then, often thought of it as a desirable place for
a cattle ranch.
In the spring of 1875, there having been no medical examining board
ordered, and so far as we knew no prospect of one, we fully decided to
try our lives in a different way, and made preparations accordingly. I
ordered a metallic casket for the body of our little daughter, believing
that the post would soon be abandoned, and we could not bear the idea of
leaving her in that wretched place, and the first part of May we packed
such household goods as we thought desirable to take with us, only
leaving such as I might need after my wife should start, it being my
intention to go during the summer or early fall. My wife started about
the middle of May and soon afterwards the casket came, and the captain
gave me a detail of men to take up the body of our little girl and place
it in the quartermaster's storehouse until we should decide where to
have it shipped. This we were to do after I should join my wife and
decided on a location for a home. My wife had gone to her old friend's
home west of Oswego, Kansas, where she had stopped on a previous
occasion when we thought of leaving the service. On application, Doctor
Lyon returned to his old post at Fort McRae and I went to Stanton in
July and about the first of September together with Mr. Clark, who was
going on leave of absence, I proceeded to the end of the railroad at Las
Animas, Colorado, and thence to Leavenworth, Kansas, where I reported to
the medical director of the department and left the service October
30th, 1875.
Upon my return to Fort Stanton from Fort McRae I found Mr. Stanley, the
one who had his finger shot off when a boy, was just able to hobble
about again from an experience he had with a cinnamon bear. He had gone
out to some ranch where they were losing some of their stock,
particularly their pigs, by what they thought to be a bear, and Stanley
went out to kill it. He was an excellent shot, was fearless and
deliberate and found the bear as he expected, but in some unaccountable
way which he could not explain, he failed to stop it, and the result was
most disastrous to himself. It had torn one side of his face away, and
had broken both legs and one arm, before leaving him. They found him the
next day and brought him to a hospital and he was able to get around on
crutches when I saw him, but would be a cripple for life. The ranchmen
went out and finished the bear, but it was found he had nine shots
through his body before giving up the fight.
The military reservation at Fort Stanton was the largest of any post at
which I served, and is located as before mentioned on what was then
known as the Mescalero Apache Indian reservation. These Indians were
considered friendly, and so far as I know have remained so, and they are
the only tribe of Indians of which I have acquaintance who cremate their
dead. I was invited one day to go with the hay contractor, who intended
making the rounds of his various hay camps, and on the way we passed
through an Indian camp not far from the post at which there was a sick
Indian. We stopped to inquire as to his condition. It seems that a day
or so before they had gone to the post for medicine, and had said the
patient was suffering great pain, and asked for some physic. The post
surgeon, a Spaniard by birth, and educated abroad, understood the term
physic in its generic sense and not as it is so universally used by us,
and had sent him opiates, when a cathartic was probably indicated. When
we saw him that day, which we did from our saddles, as we did not
dismount, he was greatly swollen up, and when we passed the same
neighborhood a few days afterwards, the Indian had died and his tent and
all his belongings including a pony to ride, had been burned and the
band had moved across the river and established a new camp.