busy, both day and night, ever since we got here. The servant for whom
we waited at Dodge City, and who I had hoped would be a great assistance
to me in getting settled, came to us very ill--almost too ill to be
brought over from Granada. But we could not leave her there with no one
to take care of her, and of course I could not remain with her, so there
was nothing else to be done--we had to bring her along. We had accepted
Mrs. Wilder's invitation to stay with them a few days until we could get
settled a little, but all that was changed when we got here, for we were
obliged to come directly to our own house, unpack camp bedding and the
mess chest, and do the best we could for ourselves and the sick girl.
The post surgeon told us as soon as he had examined the girl that she
had tuberculosis in almost its last stage, and that she was threatened
with double pneumonia! So you can imagine what I have been through in
the way of nursing, for there was no one in the garrison who would come
to assist me. The most unpleasant part of it all is, the girl is most
ungrateful for all that is being done for her, and finds fault with
many things. She has admitted to the doctor that she came to us for
her health; that as there are only two in the family, she thought there
would be so little for her to do she could ride horseback and be out of
doors most of the time! What a nice arrangement it would have been--this
fine lady sitting out on our lawn or riding one of our horses, and I
in the kitchen preparing the dinner, and then at the end of the month
humbly begging her to accept a little check for thirty dollars!
We have an excellent soldier cook, but the care of that miserable girl
falls upon me, and the terrible experience we passed through at Dodge
City has wholly unfitted me for anything of the kind. The second night
we were there, about one o'clock, we were awakened by loud talking and
sounds of people running; then shots were fired very near, and instantly
there were screams of agony, "I'm shot! I'm shot!" from some person
who was apparently coming across the street, and who fell directly
underneath our window. We were in a little room on the second floor, and
its one window was raised far up, which made it possible for us to hear
the slightest sound or movement outside.
The shooting was kept up until after the man was dead, many of the
bullets hitting the side of the hotel. It was simply maddening to have
to stay in that room and be compelled to listen to the moans and death
gurgle of that murdered man, and hear him cry, "Oh, my lassie, my poor
lassie!" as he did over and over again, until he could no longer speak.
It seemed as though every time he tried to say one word, there was the
report of a pistol. After he was really dead we could hear the fiends
running off, and then other people came and carried the body away.
The shooting altogether did not last longer than five or ten minutes,
and at almost the first shot we could hear calls all over the wretched
little town of "Vigilante! Vigilante!" and knew that the vigilantes were
gathering, but before they could get together the murderous work had
been finished. All the time there had been perfect silence throughout
the hotel. The proprietor told us that he got up, but that it would have
been certain death if he or anyone else had opened a door.
Hal was on the floor in a corner of our room, and began to growl after
the very first scream, and I was terrified all the time for fear he
would go to the open window and attract the attention of those murderers
below, who would undoubtedly have commenced firing at the window and
perhaps have killed all of us. But the moans of the dying man frightened
the dog awfully, and he crawled under the bed, where he stayed during
the rest of the horrible night. The cause of all the trouble seems to
have been that a colored man undertook to carry in his wagon three or
four men from Dodge City to Fort Dodge, a distance of five miles, but
when he got out on the road a short distance he came to the conclusion,
from their talk, that they were going to the post for evil purposes,
and telling them that he would take them no farther, he turned his team
around to come back home. On the way back the men must have threatened
him, for when he got in town he drove to the house of some colored
people who live on a corner across from the hotel and implored them to
let him in, but they were afraid and refused to open the door, for by
that time the men were shooting at him.
The poor man ran across the street, leaving a trail of blood that
streamed from his wounds, and was brutally killed under our window.
Early the next morning, when we crossed the street to go to the cars,
the darky's mule was lying on the ground, dead, near the corner of the
hotel, and stuck on one long ear was the murdered man's hat. Soon after
we reached Granada a telegram was received giving an account of the
affair, and saying also that in less than one half hour after the train
had passed through, Dodge City was surrounded by troops of United States
cavalry from Fort Dodge, that the entire town was searched for the
murderers, but that not even a trace of one had been discovered.
When I got inside a car the morning after that awful, awful night, it
was with a feeling that I was leaving behind me all such things and that
by evening I would be back once more at our old army home and away
from hostile Indians, and hostile desperadoes too. But when I saw that
servant girl with the pale, emaciated face and flushed cheeks, so ill
she could barely sit up, my heart went down like lead and Indians seemed
small trials in comparison to what I saw ahead of me.
Well, she will go in a few days, and then I can give the house some
attention. The new furniture and china are all here, but nothing has
been done in the way of getting settled. The whole coming back has been
cruelly disappointing, and I am so tired and nervous I am afraid of my
own shadow. So after a while I think I will go East for a few weeks,
which I know you will be glad to hear.
FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, August, 1873.
WE have just come in from a drive to the Purgatoire with Colonel Knight
behind his handsome horses. It makes me sad, always, to go over that
familiar road and to scenes that are so closely associated with my
learning to ride and shoot when we were here before. The small tree that
was my target is dead but still standing, and on it are several little
pieces of the white paper bull's eyes that Faye and Lieutenant Baldwin
tacked on it for me.
We often see poor Tom. The post trader bought him after Lieutenant
Baldwin's death, so the dear horse would always have good care and not
be made to bring and carry for a cruel master. He wanders about as he
chooses and is fat, but the coat that was once so silky and glossy is
now dull and faded, and the horse looks spiritless and dejected. Poor
Tom! The greyhound, Magic, still remembers their many, many hunts
together when the horse would try to outrun the dog, and the hound often
goes out to make him little visits, and the sight is pathetic. That
big dog of the chaplain's is still here, and how the good man can
conscientiously have him about, I cannot understand.
Colonel Knight has two large dogs also, but they are shut in the stable
most of the time to guard his pair of valuable horses. The horses are
not particularly fast or spirited, but they are very beautiful and
perfectly matched in color and gait.
Ever since Hal has been old enough to run with a horse, he has always
gone with me riding or driving. So the first time we drove with Colonel
Knight I called Hal to go with us and he ran out of the house and over
the fence with long joyful bounds, to be instantly pounced upon, and
rolled over into the acequia by the two big dogs of Colonel Knight's
that I had not even heard of! Hal has splendid fighting blood and has
never shown cowardice, but he is still a young dog and inexperienced,
and no match for even one old fighter, and to have two notoriously
savage, bloodthirsty beasts gnawing at him as though he was a bone was
terrible. But Hal apparently never thought of running from them, and
after the one howl of surprise gave his share of vicious growls and
snaps. But the old dogs were protected by their heavy hair, while Hal's
short coat and fine skin were easily torn.
We all rushed to his rescue, for it looked as though he would be torn in
pieces, and when I saw a long cut in his tender skin I was frantic. But
finally the two black dogs were pulled off and Hal was dragged out of
the ditch and back to the house, holding back and growling all the time,
which showed plainly he was not satisfied with the way the affair had
ended. The drive that day I did not enjoy!
Hal was not torn so deeply as to have unsightly scars, for which I was
thankful. From that day on, however, he not only hated those dogs,
but disliked the man who cares for them, and seemed to consider him
responsible for their very existence. And it was wonderful that he
should recognize Cressy's step on the ground as he passed at the side of
our house. Several times when he would be stretched out on the floor,
to all appearances fast asleep, I have seen him open his eyes wide and
growl when the man and dogs were passing, although it was perfectly
impossible for him to have seen them.
One morning about ten days ago when I was on the second floor, I heard
an awful noise downstairs--whines, growls, and howls all so mingled
together one would have thought there were a dozen dogs in the house.
I ran down to see what could possibly be the matter, and found Hal at a
window in the dining room that looked out on the back yard, every hair
on his brindled back standing straight up and each white tooth showing.
Looking out I saw that Turk, the more savage of the two black dogs, was
in the yard and could not get out over the high board fence. Cressy
was probably on guard that day, and sentry over the prisoners who had
brought water. The dog must have followed him in and then managed to get
left.
Hal looked up at me, and for one instant kept perfectly still, waiting
to see what I would do. His big brown eyes were almost human in their
beseeching, and plainly said, "You cannot have forgotten--you will
surely let me out!" And let him out I did. I opened the doors leading
to the yard, and almost pushing me over he rushed to the black dog with
great leaps and the most blood-curdling growls, jumping straight over
him, then around him, then over him again and again, and so like a
whirlwind, the poor black beast was soon crazy, for snap as fast as he
might, it was ever at the clear, beautiful air. Hal was always just out
of reach.
After he had worried the dog all he wanted to Hal proceeded to business.
With a greyhound trick, he swung himself around with great force and
knocked the big dog flat upon the ground, and holding him down with his
two paws he pulled out mouthful after mouthful of long hair, throwing it
out of his mouth right and left. If the dog attempted to raise his big
head Hal was quick to give a wicked snap that made the head fall down
again. When I saw that Hal had actually conquered the dog and had proved
that he-was the splendid hound I had ever considered him to be, I told
West to go out at once and separate them. But for the very first time
West was slow--he went like a snail. It seemed that one of the dogs had
snapped at his leg once, and I believe he would have been delighted if
Hal had gnawed the dog flesh and bone. He pulled Hal in by his collar
and opened the gate for Turk, and soon things were quite once more.
All that day Hal's eyes were like stars, and one could almost see a grin
on his mouth. He was ever on the alert, and would frequently look out on
the yard, wag his tail and growl. The strangest thing about it all is,
that not once since that morning has he paid the slightest attention to
Cressy or the two dogs, except to growl a little when they have happened
to meet. Turk must have told his companion about the fight, for he, too,
finds attractions in another direction when he sees Hal coming.
Some of our friends have found pleasure in teasing me about my sporting
taste, private arena, and so on, but I do not mind so very much, since
the fight brought about peace, and proved that Hal has plenty of pluck.
Those two Knight dogs are looked upon as savage wolves by every mother
in the garrison, and when it is known that they are out, mothers and
nurses run to gather in their small people.
Hal has developed a taste for hunting that has been giving trouble
lately, when he has run off with Magic and the other hounds. So now he
is chained until after guard mounting, by which time the pack has gone.
The signal officer of the department was here the other day when Faye
and men from the company were out signaling, and after luncheon I told
West to go out to him on Powder-Face and lead King, so he could ride
the horse in, instead of coming in the wagon with the men. Late in the
afternoon West came back and reported that he had been unable to find
Faye, and then with much hesitation and choking he told me that he had
lost Hal!
He said that as they had gone up a little hill, they had surprised a
small band of antelope that were grazing rather near on the other side,
and that the hound started after them like a streak, pulling one down
before they had crossed the lowland, and then, not being satisfied,
he had raced on again after the band that had disappeared over a hill
farther on. That was the last he saw of him. West said that he wanted
to bring the dead antelope to the post, but could not, as both horses
objected to it.
My heart was almost broken over the loss of my dog, and I started for my
own room to indulge in a good cry when, as I passed the front door that
was open, I happened to look out, and there, squatted down on the walk
to the gate was Hal! I ran out to pet him, but drew back in horror when
I saw the condition he was in. His long nose and all of his white chest
were covered with a thick coating of coarse antelope hair plastered in
with dried blood. The dog seemed too tired to move, and sat there with
a listless, far-away look that made me wish he could tell all about his
hunt, and if he had lost the second poor little antelope. West almost
danced from joy when he saw him, and lost no time in giving him a bath
and putting him in his warm bed. Greyhounds are often great martyrs to
rheumatism, and Deacon, one of the pack, will sometimes howl from pain
after a hunt. And the howl of a greyhound is far-reaching and something
to be remembered.
Very soon now I will be with you! Faye has decided to close the house
and live with the bachelors while I am away. This will be much more
pleasant for him than staying here all alone.
FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, October, 1873.
THE trip out was tiresome and seemed endless, but nothing worth
mentioning happened until I got to Granada, where Faye met me with an
ambulance and escort wagon. It was after two o'clock in the morning when
the train reached the station, and as it is the terminus of the road,
every passenger left the car. I waited a minute for Faye to come in, but
as he did not I went out also, feeling that something was wrong.
Just as I stepped off the car, Mr. Davis, quartermaster's clerk,
appeared and took my satchel, assuring me that Faye was right there
waiting for me. This was so very unlike Faye's way of doing things, that
at once I suspected that the real truth was not being told. But I went
with him quickly through the little crowd, and on up the platform, and
then I saw Faye. He was standing at one corner of the building--all
alone, and I recognized him instantly by the long light-blue overcoat
and big campaign hat with brim turned up.
And I saw also, standing on the corner of the platform in front of him,
a soldier with rifle in hand, and on the end of it glistening in the
moonlight was a long bayonet! I had lived with troops long enough to
know that the bayonet would not be there unless the soldier was a sentry
guarding somebody or something. I naturally turned toward Faye, but was
held back by Mr. Davis, and that made me indignant, but Faye at once
said quietly and in a voice just loud enough for me to hear, "Get in
the ambulance and ask no questions!" And still he did not move from
the corner. By this time I was terribly frightened and more and more
puzzled. Drawn up close to the farther side of the platform was an
ambulance, also an escort wagon, in which sat several soldiers, and
handing my trunk checks to Mr. Davis, I got, into the ambulance, my
teeth chattering as though I had a chill.
The very instant the trunks were loaded Faye and the sentry came, and
after ordering the corporal to keep his wagon and escort close to us,
and telling me to drop down in the bottom of the ambulance if I heard
a shot, Faye got on the ambulance also, but in front with the driver.
Leaning forward, I saw that one revolver was in his hand and the other
on the seat by his side. In this way, and in perfect silence, we rode
through the town and until we were well out on the open plain, when we
stopped just long enough for Faye to get inside, and a soldier from the
wagon to take his seat by the driver.
Then Faye told me of what had occurred to make necessary all these
precautions. He had come over from Fort Lyon the day before, and had
been with Major Carroll, the depot quartermaster, during the afternoon
and evening. The men had established a little camp just at the edge of
the miserable town where the mules could be guarded and cared for.
About nine o'clock Faye and Mr. Davis started out for a walk, but before
they had gone far Faye remembered that he had left his pistols and
cartridge belt on a desk in the quartermaster's office, and fearing
they might be stolen they went back for them. He put the pistols on
underneath his heavy overcoat, as the belt was quite too short to fasten
outside.
Well, he and Mr. Davis walked along slowly in the bright moonlight past
the many saloons and gambling places, never once thinking of danger,
when suddenly from a dark passageway a voice said, "You are the man I
want," and bang! went a pistol shot close to Faye's head--so close, in
fact, that as he ducked his head down, when he saw the pistol pointed at
him, the rammer slot struck his temple and cut a deep hole that at once
bled profusely. Before Faye could get out one of his own pistols from
underneath the long overcoat, another shot was fired, and then away
skipped Mr. Davis, leaving Faye standing alone in the brilliant
moonlight. As soon as Faye commenced to shoot, his would-be assassin
came out from the dark doorway and went slowly along the walk, taking
good care, however, to keep himself well in the shadow of the buildings.
They went on down the street shooting back and forth at each other, Faye
wondering all the time why he could not hit the man. Once he got him in
front of a restaurant window where there was a bright light back of
him, and, taking careful aim, he thought the affair could be ended right
there, but the ball whizzed past the man and went crashing through
the window and along the tables, sending broken china right and left.
Finally their pistols were empty, and Faye drew out a second, at the
sight of which the man started to run and disappeared in the shadows.
As soon as the shooting ceased men came out from all sorts of places,
and there was soon a little crowd around Faye, asking many questions,
but he and Major Carroll went to a drug store, where his wounds could be
dressed. For some time it was thought there must be a ball in the deep
hole in his temple. When Faye had time to think he understood why he had
done such poor shooting. He is an almost sure shot, but always holds his
pistol in his left hand, and of course aims with his left eye. But that
night his left eye was filled with blood the very first thing from the
wound in his left temple, which forced him unconsciously to aim with his
right eye, which accounts for the wild shots.
The soldiers heard of the affair in camp, and several came up on a run
and stood guard at the drug store. A rumor soon got around that Oliver
had gone off to gather some of his friends, and they would soon be at
the store to finish the work. Very soon, however, a strange man came in,
much excited, and said, "Lieutenant! Oliver's pals are getting ready
to attack you at the depot as the train comes in," and out he went. The
train was due at two o'clock A. M., and this caused Faye four hours of
anxiety. He learned that the man who shot at him was "Billy Oliver," a
horse thief and desperado of the worst type, and that he was the leader
of a band of horse thieves that was then in town. To be threatened by
men like those was bad enough in itself, but Faye knew that I would
arrive on that train. That was the cause of so much caution when the
train came in. There were several rough-looking men at the station, but
if they had intended mischief, the long infantry rifles in the hands of
drilled soldiers probably persuaded them to attend to their own affairs.
A man told the corporal, however, that Oliver's friends had decided not
to kill Faye at the station, but had gone out on horseback to meet him
on the road. This was certainly misery prolonged.
The mules were driven through the town at an ordinary gait, but when we
got on the plain they were put at a run, and for miles we came at that
pace. The little black shaved-tails pulled the ambulance, and I think
that for once they had enough run. The moonlight was wonderfully bright,
and for a long distance objects could be seen, and bunches of sage bush
and Spanish bayonet took the forms of horsemen, and naturally I saw
danger in every little thing we passed.
One thing occurred that night that deserves mentioning. Some one told
the soldiers that Oliver was hidden in a certain house, and one of them,
a private, started off without leave, and all alone for that house. When
he got there the entire building was dark, not a light in it, except
that of the moon which streamed in through two small windows. But the
gritty soldier went boldly in and searched every little room and every
little corner, even the cellar, but not a living thing was found. It may
have been brave, but it was a dreadful thing for the trooper to do, for
he so easily could have been murdered in the darkness, and Faye and
the soldiers never have known what had become of him. Colonel Bissell
declares that the man shall be made a corporal upon the first vacancy.
The man Oliver was in the jail at Las Animas last summer for stealing
horses. The old jail was very shaky, and while it was being made
more secure, he and another man--a wife murderer--were brought to
the guardhouse at this post. They finally took them back, and Oliver
promptly made his escape, and the sheriff had actually been afraid to
re-arrest him. We have all begged Faye to get out a warrant for the man,
but he says it would simply be a farce, that the sheriff would pay no
attention to it. The whole left side of Faye's face is badly swollen and
very painful, and the wound in his ankle compels him to use a cane.
Just how the man managed to shoot Faye in the ankle no one seems to
understand.
Granada must be a terrible place! The very afternoon Faye was there a
Mexican was murdered in the main street, but not the slightest attention
was paid to the shooting--everything went right on as though it was an
everyday occurrence. The few respectable people are afraid even to try
to keep order.
Dodge City used to be that way and there was a reign of terror in the
town, until finally the twelve organized vigilantes became desperate
and took affairs in their own hands. They notified six of the leading
desperadoes that they must be out of the place by a certain day and
hour. Four went, but two were defiant and remained. When the specified
hour had passed, twelve double-barreled shotguns were loaded with
buckshot, and in a body the vigilantes hunted these men down as they
would mad dogs and riddled each one through and through with the big
shot! It was an awful thing to do, but it seems to have been absolutely
necessary and the only way of establishing law and order. Our friends
at Fort Dodge tell us that the place is now quite decent, and that a
man can safely walk in the streets without pistols and a belt full of
cartridges.
FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, October, 1873.
ONE naturally looks for all sorts of thrilling experiences when out
on the frontier, but to have men and things mix themselves up in a
maddening way in one's very own house, as has recently been done in
mine, is something not usually counted upon. To begin with, Mrs. Rae is
with us, and her coming was not only most unlocked for up to two days
ago, but through a wretched mistake in a telegram she got here just
twenty-four hours before we thought she would arrive. Ordinarily this
would have been a delightful surprise, but, unfortunately, things had
begun to "mix!"