Meantime much had happened to make that year an eventful one. My
expectation of finding the new, untried world into which I was
ushered a place where all were ready to meet me with open hearts and
hands had been completely shattered. The captain who commanded our
company, and the first lieutenant, had taken a violent dislike to
Mr. Boyd because he was unaccustomed to the lack of discipline they
allowed; and their almost unlimited powers enabled them to deprive us
of much to which we were justly entitled.
They were two of the most illiterate men whom I have ever met; and
shortly after, when the army consolidated, both found more fitting
occupation in a frontier mining-town. I mention this only to account
for the unnecessary hardships to which we were subjected. For
instance, when gardens were planted, and the company was raising fine
vegetables, we were allowed neither to buy nor to use any, and had to
continue to live on rations.
But the most unkind treatment of all was shown when my husband
met with a severe accident. He was returning from a successful
fishing-trip when his horse—and a more unruly mustang cannot well
be imagined—fancied some cause for fright, and began to buck on the
side of a steep hill. Mr. Boyd, deeming discretion the better part
of valor, jumped off, and fell with his entire weight upon one leg,
fracturing it just below the knee. His companion decided to ride into
camp, a distance of six miles, for assistance, and a litter was at
once sent out. My husband lay there alone, helpless and suffering,
until long after dark, the coyotes, or small wolves, coming around in
droves, and it was with the greatest difficulty he kept them off by
the use of both gun and pistol.
When he was brought into camp late at night, my first remark was
that I derived some comfort from the situation, inasmuch as he would
not be compelled to join an expedition which had been for some time
projected. Mr. Boyd was to have been sent with an escort of twenty
men on a surveying party. That would have kept him in the field all
summer, and left me entirely alone.
The officer in command displayed his malevolence by sending with
the expedition the soldier who had volunteered to wait on us, thus
leaving me without the slightest assistance in caring for my husband.
The doctor was exceedingly kind and good, and I could obtain my meals
where we had on my first arrival; but I was obliged to carry Mr.
Boyd’s food quite a long distance, and perform every sort of hard,
menial labor—even chopping wood; for nights, lying unable to move, my
husband would become chilly and need a fire.
Many other hardships were entailed, and I was quite worn out with
working and nursing, when, in a month’s time, Mr. Boyd was able to
walk on crutches. However, the accident had given me his society for
the entire summer, at which I rejoiced exceedingly; for I had often
wondered what I should do if left alone, friendless as I felt myself
to be.
At that time the whole army was in a chaotic state, especially on
the Pacific coast, where California volunteers, though brave and
hardy men, were totally unaccustomed to military discipline, and the
officers not of a character to enforce it. The wild lawlessness which
had made California a place of terror, and that had only been subdued
by the vigilance committee, was still extant, and many occurrences
during our first year of army life showed there were desperadoes
among us.
Had the officers in command been gentlemen, at least a semblance of
respect would have been shown; but the enlisted men, treated by their
officers exactly as they had been while both were volunteers, were
disposed to dislike a man who after four years of rigid training at
West Point had grown accustomed to discipline and was disposed to
exact it.
The first duty which called my husband from home was an expedition
after some horses that had been sent to Camp McDermott, a distance of
about two hundred miles. He took with him ten men, and experienced
very little difficulty in managing them while going; but returning,
with twenty extra horses, the soldiers were in a lawless state,
disposed to be unruly, and would become intoxicated whenever liquor
could be had. Despite the fact that water was obtainable only at
the stations _en route_, Mr. Boyd made a practice of procuring in
casks all that would be needed, and marching a few miles beyond the
stations, so as to prevent liquor being obtained; for in all those
places, although water might be scarce, a barrel of the vilest whisky
could always be found.
The plan worked well for the first hundred miles; but one night the
men stole back to the station and insisted that liquor be given
them. Mr. Boyd always warned station-masters of the extreme danger
of allowing his men to have whisky, as with so many horses the
services of all were required; but that day some had been procured
from an unknown source, and they were determined to have more. The
station-master refused to furnish it, and barricaded his door so that
no one could enter.
The men were infuriated; and just as my husband arrived on the scene
one of them rushed madly against the door and forced it open, only
to be met by a ball from a pistol fired by some one inside the room,
which killed him instantly. That sobered the rest, who obeyed the
order given to carry their dead comrade back to the encampment.
Fearing further disturbance my husband broke camp and traveled till
daylight, when finding the already over-loaded wagon much encumbered
by the dead body, which had repeatedly slipped off, he stopped and
buried it by the roadside. After that he had no trouble, as the men
were completely subdued.
On their return to camp the entire story was related to me; and
knowing how great Mr. Boyd’s anxiety had been, I fully expected he
would be commended, if not rewarded. Instead of that he was actually
called to account, principally for burying the dead soldier by the
roadside, which the commanding officer seemed to consider wrong, when
to have traveled so many days with the body uncoffined would have
been quite impossible.
I was highly diverted by the efforts my husband made to procure
presents for me, and shall never forget the peculiarity of his gifts.
In passing through Austin at one time he endeavored to buy fruit, as
we missed it greatly, and deemed a box of apples at only one dollar a
dozen a marvelous bargain, as three dollars had been paid for those
previously purchased.
On another occasion Mr. Boyd had yielded to the temptation to buy a
sewing-machine, which he thought would please me very much, as indeed
it would had I been able to use it; but the machine was entirely out
of order and represented nothing in the way of usefulness, unless a
month’s pay which it had cost might be so considered.
Another present was of a more noisy sort. Knowing that I had never
seen a “burro,” Mr. Boyd was induced to buy one for me because it was
cheap and so docile a child might ride it. The latter it certainly
proved to be; but living in tents, where every sound penetrated to
our ears, the animal became a perpetual nuisance; consequently, when
one day he strayed away, never to reappear, we were not sorry.
The brute was indeed small, but his voice was a marvel of strength
and volume, and his bray resounded on all sides at the most
inopportune moments. If military orders were being read, “Burro”
kept up an accompaniment which drowned all other sounds; and in his
apparent loneliness, the poor fellow had a way of seeking human
companionship, and would appear at our doorstep and lift up his voice
in a manner that made us feel the roof must rise above our heads in
order to allow the fearful sound to escape. He afforded us a great
deal of amusement, however, and all his antics were laughed at and
condoned.
About that time another troop of the regiment was sent from Idaho,
and we then enjoyed the society of a very charming New York woman,
who accompanied her husband, and the fittings of whose tent amused
us much. This lady had a large private fortune, yet she had not been
with us a month before, resigning herself to the inevitable, she
bent weekly over the wash-tub and ironing-board, as help was not
procurable; nor did this officer’s wife find a treasure of a soldier,
as I had, who would volunteer to relieve her of such unaccustomed
drudgery.
Deciding that her tent would present a more cheerful appearance if
papered, all newspapers received were, immediately after being read,
pasted on the walls. A preference was given to illustrated journals,
and it was very diverting to inspect those pictures which reflected
many scenes of our former lives. How often the wish was expressed
that we could be as well sheltered as were the servants in city
homes, and my friend frequently longed for as good a roof overhead as
had her mother’s barn. A year of such hardships sufficed; at the end
of that time her husband resigned his commission, and for many years
they have been quartered in New York City.
As the second winter of our camp life approached, we prepared in a
measure for it by procuring a larger heating stove; but the stove
took up a great deal of room in our little tent, and so was crowded
into a corner, with the result of constant danger from fire. I
attempted to keep account of the number of times our tent had ignited
and been patched to cover the burned places. Mr. Boyd usually built
a fire very early, before going to his duties, and on one memorable
morning the entire top of our sitting-room tent burned away, leaving
it quite uncovered.
My anxiety to live in a house was so great that I calmly deliberated
whether or not to call for assistance; but second thoughts concerning
the probable destruction of our belongings, and the absurdity of
expecting a house to immediately erect itself for our benefit,
decided me. I had really grown inured to fire, as one would
naturally become who was exempt from all personal danger; for if the
canvas had burned away, open air and sky would have surrounded us.
During all those months work had been actively prosecuted on the
Union Pacific Railroad; and as it was to approach us very closely,
we felt that not only would personal benefit result therefrom, but
it would bring an influx of inhabitants into the country which
must promote its prosperity through opening mines, irrigating and
cultivating arable land, and so forth. The latter, however, became
problematical, as it was found impossible to procure other labor
than Chinese on the railroad. The class of settlers who occasionally
appeared were of a restless, nomadic sort; and if they located on a
plot of land soon tired of the industry required to make of the place
a home.
The chief result of the increased population was most noticeable in
the number of accidents which occurred both on the railroad and in
our neighborhood. The post doctor’s services were in almost daily
requisition; and as our hospital was also a tent, and many of the
injured were carried there, my soul was harrowed by the cries of
wounded men which could not be stifled in that clear atmosphere with
nothing but canvas intervening.
One of the young officers who knew my terror on that score, delighted
in giving me exaggerated accounts of their sufferings, and used to
relate the most remarkable cases, which I fully believed at the time,
though later his deceit and exaggeration were discovered. It seemed
to me that the frontier at best was a place where suffering prevailed
to a degree not commensurate with the number of inhabitants.
We were very near the “white pine region,” where an immense silver
mine created great excitement, the novelty of which pleased us almost
as much as if we were to share in the material benefits thereof.
Mr. Boyd’s promotion to a first lieutenantcy, which had been
expected for many months, was at that time received, and we hoped
the railroad would enable us to make the journey consequent upon
such promotion in greater comfort than had been possible on our
previous one. Alas! how bitterly we deplored the unalterable fact so
common in army life, that after having endured severe hardships, and
watched the advent of brighter days, as promised by the approach of a
railroad and the completion of officers’ quarters, we were compelled
to leave for distant Arizona without sharing in any of the advantages
which would naturally follow.
My husband’s promotion transferred him to a company of the regiment
stationed at Prescott, Arizona Territory. We had first to reach San
Francisco, go from thence by sea to Southern California, and then
across into Arizona. One beautiful morning, just a year from the
time of my arrival, we started for California. We were glad to be
able, instead of having to endure the discomforts of a stage-ride,
to strike the railroad twelve miles from Camp Halleck. The road had
reached that point only a few days before, and the rails having been
newly laid none but construction trains had passed over it.
We were obliged to wait for a car until the next morning, when a
hospitable welcome was given us by the engineer in charge, who with
his wife and family occupied the construction train, and seemed most
comfortable in their movable home. They had every needful arrangement
to make them so, for the cars, two in number, were roomy as possible.
The first car was divided into an admirable kitchen and dining-room,
which were presided over by a Chinese cook; the second into sitting
and bedrooms so arranged that they were cozy and comfortable.
Our only fear was of the possibly infested atmosphere, for we
were told that smallpox had broken out among the Chinese railroad
employees, and was prevailing to an alarming extent. A delightful day
and night were, however, passed with our new friends, who shared with
us their sleeping accommodations, Mr. Boyd rooming with the engineer
and I with his wife. At nine o’clock next morning we left them,
feeling very grateful for the kindness received.
Our gratitude was in no wise lessened, though our fears were
increased, when the following day a telegram overtook us which stated
that our engineer friend had succumbed to smallpox. He recovered from
the disease perhaps sooner than we did from our panic: so great an
exposure was at a most inconvenient time, for, like Joe, we had to
“move on.”
I was astonished to find that the car which was to take us farther
West was only the caboose or freight car of an ordinary train; and
when, having climbed into the huge side opening, the steps were taken
away, leaving us high and dry, the prospect was far from encouraging.
There was no accommodation for comfort of any sort, and only rough
benches for seats. The car, too, was filled with railroad employees,
and the atmosphere soon became intolerable. The roadbed was so new
and the jolting so alarming, I concluded a stage-ride would have
been preferable, as we could at least have seen what was before us.
We stopped frequently, yet were so far above the ground I dared not
descend, and, in fact, there was no special occasion to do so, for
we rode until three the next morning before reaching a place where a
mouthful of food could be obtained. Having anticipated when once on
the railroad to travel so rapidly that we need make no preparations
beforehand, our ride of eighteen hours in covering less than fifty
miles was not only unexpected, but almost unendurable from hunger and
fatigue. When at three o’clock in the morning a stopping-place was at
last reached I was quite exhausted. Food and rest were found there,
and best of all a civilized sleeping-car, in which we went on to
Sacramento.
The journey through Nevada seemed incredibly swift. As we crossed
the Sierra Nevada mountains and passed through twenty-five miles of
snow-sheds, which cut off the view just as one began to enjoy it,
I felt almost glad to have taken what had become so completely a
memory of the past—a stage-ride over those grand old mountains.
It was wonderful to observe the marked difference in vegetation
between Nevada and California. Just as soon as we reached the Pacific
coast exquisite green verdure contrasted so favorably with Nevada’s
arid desolation as to cause one to feel as if in a veritable “land
of promise.” The refreshment to our weary eyes after a year of
absence from such scenery was a source of the greatest imaginable
pleasure. Then to cover in a few short hours the same distance which
had previously required five weary days and nights was not the least
of our many causes for gratitude. When Sacramento was reached, the
exquisite beauty of the country was so great we felt that all the
encomiums California had ever received were fully warranted.
The next day we arrived in San Francisco, and once more felt
civilized.