It was customary for companies of Mr. Boyd’s regiment to be sent for
six months to garrison the forts on the Rio Grande, which were close
by; our turn came when we had been two years at Fort Clark, which we
left reluctantly.
No station immediately on the river was ever considered desirable,
on account of its unfailing sand and heat; and Fort Duncan, to which
we were assigned, had no comfortable houses. It was only forty miles
from Fort Clark, and as but two companies of infantry were stationed
there, the small garrison was inevitably dull.
Our dwelling consisted of one room in a very dilapidated building. It
had been previously used as a store-room, and the barred windows made
it seem prison-like.
The kitchen was so far away that a complete circuit of the house was
necessary in order to reach it, and the dining-room was a part of the
kitchen.
Our sorrows were added to when our beautiful ponies, that had borne
us about the country for miles in every direction during our stay at
Clark, and which I had confidently expected would relieve the tedium
of life at Duncan, were attacked by glanders and ordered shot. In
spite, however, of this caution, the contagion spread; and before
another month Mr. Boyd’s splendid charger, and our other dear little
Mexican pony, had also been condemned. Thus we lost four horses
within one month, and I would have been in despair had we not found a
superb riding-horse in the troop, which proved so safe and reliable
that I was often tempted to go far beyond proper limits.
One day, when riding alone, I espied smoke; ahead, and idly followed
in its direction until I found myself facing a house which I recalled
as having been described to me as a den of horse-thieves. My mount
was superb, but I was nine miles from home and conscious that rest
was imperative. I dismounted, led my horse to the house, and asked
for water. The man who appeared not only gave me that, but also
coffee; and when I related the loss of my ponies, offered to sell me
a fine pair very cheap.
I used my eyes to good advantage, not neglecting to notice a ford,
directly in front of the door, which could be utilized at a moment’s
notice for horses to cross into Mexico. But that was none of my
affairs, and like all rough frontiersmen mine host of the hour was
exceedingly polite. He led up for inspection several pairs of fine
ponies. I did not, however, buy any, as I feared the owners might
meet me some day and claim their property.
After a brief rest I remounted, and on reaching home found that my
absence had been of five hours’ duration, and the entire garrison was
alarmed.
We remained at Duncan all that winter, and aside from daily rides
our only amusement was a trip across the river into Mexico. The
quaint old town of Piedras Negras lay directly opposite Fort Duncan;
and the same style of primitive boats as were used in New Mexico,
and on one of which we came so near to losing our lives, was there
employed to ferry us across. We were able to enjoy everything Piedras
Negras afforded in the way of sight seeing, having arrived just
before the yearly _fiesta_, which is the gala time among Mexicans.
The town, like all I saw in Mexico, was built around squares called
_plazas_. These were occupied during the _fiesta_ as booths for the
sale of curiosities, and also for that sport so dear to Mexican
hearts—gambling. Any game could be indulged in, from three card monte
to roulette; or, if disposed, visitors might partake of Mexican
viands, served by bashful señoritas clad in pretty Spanish costumes.
The climax of festivities was, of course, bullfights, when the large
amphitheater would be crowded by an excited Mexican audience. Having
heard so much of those affairs, we were, of course, eager to see one;
but our curiosity was soon satisfied, for a more tame encounter I
never beheld.
The poor bull absolutely refused to fight, and, after having been
goaded and prodded by the matador with sharp-pointed spears, gayly
ribbon-bedecked, kept turning wistfully toward the door by which he
had entered, and every now and then rushed to it, only to be met by
more spear pricks, which, though causing his blood to flow, served
only to still farther intimidate the poor animal. Finally, amid the
shouts of the people, he would be dispatched and replaced by another,
that invariably showed the same want of spirit.
To American on-lookers it seemed a cruel sport, unworthy its historic
greatness.
The only delightful features connected with that so-called pastime
were the perfect Mexican band and superb drilling of Mexican
soldiers, who marched and countermarched for at least an hour without
a single order being spoken, they responding merely to a tap of the
drum as each new movement was initiated.
The band was superb, and the music so sweet and thrilling we could
have listened for hours without weariness. On account of exchanging
many hospitalities with the Mexican officers, we enjoyed numerous
opportunities of hearing it.
On one occasion the band was brought over to serenade us, and we
listened as in a dream to its rendering of various operas and Mexican
national airs, played with such expression that all the sentiments
they indicated were aroused.
The perfect submission of Mexican soldiers, and the never-ending
drilling they received, made them more thorough than our own, who
never could have been kept in such slavish subjection. The Mexican
soldier is usually born a _peon_, or slave, and never dreams of
resenting the will of his superiors—nor of having one of his own.
Those men were drilled hours before dawn, and that they might be in
good marching order were compelled to walk ten and even twenty miles
a day out in the open country.
We were invited to all balls given by the Mexican officers, and
found them curious affairs. The women’s costumes were tawdry in
the extreme, and their manner of dancing so slow as to seem most
monotonous; yet I have never seen more perfect natural grace anywhere
displayed than in those measured Spanish dances.
The variety those balls afforded was quite enjoyable until one night
a Mexican officer of high rank drew a pistol and fired directly at
a man who moved too slowly out of his path to suit the officer’s
dignity. I never attended another ball, being unwilling to witness
such scenes. We had also experienced much difficulty in crossing the
Rio Grande at night; so I was glad of an excuse to remain our side of
the river after dark, but loved to drive over in broad daylight, when
I felt safe and could avoid all midnight perils.
It always seemed to me as if the suave Spanish politeness of those
Mexican officers concealed smoldering volcanoes. I have known an
officer to shoot a soldier dead at the first hint of insubordination.
We remained at Fort Duncan until early spring, when the mesquite
trees, which beautified the parade grounds, were clothed in a tender,
fresh green whose tint I have never seen equaled. Our recall to Clark
by exchange in March was heartily welcomed.
A cloud, however, loomed on my horizon in the certainty that I
must soon leave our dear army life for the East. It is never
deemed prudent to remain long in so debilitating a climate, and
malarial fever had fastened itself upon both our elder children,
completely reducing their strength. We had, however, great cause for
thankfulness in their being spared; for the disease was unusually
fatal that season, and, indeed, for three long weeks the lives of our
little ones hung in the balance, while fear and anxiety harassed our
souls.
Texas malarial fever burns with an unremitting ardor nothing can
quench until its course has been run. Our good doctor almost lived
with us; and whenever the temperature rose above one hundred and two
degrees he would plunge our little boy into a tub of the coldest
water procurable,—no ice was to be had,—and hold him there until the
child’s body became blue, and his teeth began to chatter, when he
would be wrapped in blankets, and hot bottles placed at his feet.
Heroic treatment that could not fail to wring a mother’s heart! When
our little daughter fought the same hard battle for three long weeks,
and came out from it a perfect shadow, with her head bald as any
infant’s, I realized that our physician was right, and that I must
leave Texas or we should lose our children.
Better educational facilities also seemed imperative. Thus far I
had taught the little ones, and they were well advanced, but no one
expects to find very desirable schools in the wilderness; so we
began our preparations for departure, feeling that years must pass
before we could again settle down, as education had become the most
important need.