Kit Carson, My Friend.
Christopher Carson, known among his friends as simply Kit Carson, was a
Kentuckian by birth, having been born in December, 1809. Kentucky was at
the time of his birth an almost pathless wilderness, rich with game, and
along its river banks the grasses grew so luxuriant that it invited
settlers to settle there and build homes out of the trees which grew in
such profusion. Small gardens were cultivated where corn, beans, onions
and a few other vegetables were raised, but families subsisted, for the
most part, on game with which the forests abound, and the lakes and
rivers were alive with fish. Wild geese, ducks, turkeys, quail and
pigeons swept through the air with perfect freedom. Deer, antelope,
moose, beaver, wolves, catamount and even grizzly bear often visited the
scene of the settler's home, among whom was our friend, Kit Carson.
Kit Carson had no education. There were no schools to attend other than
the school of "trapping," and he became a trapper and Indian guide and
interpreter.
When Kit was a small boy his father moved, on foot, so history relates,
to Missouri. At the time of the move, however, there was no state or
even territory of Missouri. France had ceded to the United States the
unexplored regions which were in 1800 called Upper Louisiana.
Kit's father had a few white friends, trappers and hunters, but the
Indians were numerous. Mr. Carson, together with the other white
families, banded themselves together and built a large log house, so
fashioned as to be both a house and a fort if occasion demanded them to
fortify against a possible foe. The building was one story high, having
port holes through which the muzzles of rifles could be thrust. As
additional precaution they built palisades around the house. This house
was built in what is now Howard County, Missouri, north of the Missouri
river. Christopher Carson at fifteen years of age had never been to
school a day, but he was "one of the Four Hundred" equal to any man in
his district. He was a fine marksman, excellent horseman, of strong
character and sound judgment. His disposition was quiet, amiable and
gentle. One of those boys who did things without boasting and did
everything the best he could.
At about this stage of his life his father put him out as an apprentice
to learn a trade. The trade he was to learn was that of "saddler."
However, the boy languished under the confinement and did not take to
the business. He was a hunter and trapper by training and nothing else
would satisfy his nature.
One night about two years later when Kit was a young man eighteen years
old a man who chanced to pass his father's humble home related his
adventures. He told how much was to be earned by selling buffalo robes,
buckskins, etc., at Santa Fe, New Mexico. He drew beautiful word
pictures of wealth that could be attained in the great Spanish capital
of New Mexico, more than a thousand miles from Missouri.
At last several able-bodied men decided to equip some pack mules and go
to the great bonanza. They intended to live on game which they would
shoot on the way. Kit heard of the party and applied to them to let him
accompany them. They were not only glad of his offer to go, but
considered they had a great need for him because he was so "handy" among
the Indians. It turned out that Kit engineered the whole party. He had a
military demeanor. When the mules were brought up and their packs
fastened upon their backs, which operation required both skill and
labor, it was Kit who ordered the march, which was conducted with more
than ordinary military precision.
Kit Carson was a beloved friend of several tribes of Indians. He learned
from them how to make his clothes, which he considered were of much more
artistic taste and style and more becoming than the tightly fitting
store suits of a "Broadway dude" he had once "gazed upon." This suit
that he was so proud of consisted of a hunting shirt of soft, pliable
deer skin, ornamented with long fringes of buckskin dyed a bright
vermillion or copperas. The trousers were made of the same material and
ornamented with the same kind of fringes and porcupine quills of various
colors. His cap was made of fur which could entirely cover his head,
with "port holes" for his eyes and nose and mouth. The mouth must be
free to hold his clay pipe filled with tobacco. It is needless to say
that he wore moccasins upon his feet, beautified with many
colored beads.
Prior to the year of 1860 I was not personally acquainted with Kit
Carson, but after that year I knew him well. At Fort Union he was the
center of attraction from the first of April, 1865, until April 1st,
1866. Every one wanted to hear Kit tell of exploits he had been in, and
he could tell a story well. Kit loved to play cards and while he was as
honest as the day was long he was usually a winner. He didn't like to
put up much money. If he didn't have a good hand he would lay down.
Early in the spring of 1865 Carson went with Captain Willis to the
border of the Indian country along the lines of Texas and Arizona in
southwestern New Mexico. This massacre is fully explained on another
page of this book.
Kit Carson, like Col. A.G. Boone, dealt honestly with the Indians, and
Kit Carson had on several occasions told me that had Colonel A. G. Boone
remained the Indian agent, if he had not been withdrawn by the
government, the great war with the Indians would never have occurred.
Kit Carson was a born leader of men and was known from Missouri to Santa
Fe--he was one of the most widely known men on the frontier.
Carson was the father of seven children. He was at the time of his
death, his wife having crossed over the river in April, 1868. His
disease was aneurism of the aorta. A tumor pressing on the
pneumo-gastric nerves and trachea caused such frequent spasms of the
bronchial tubes, which were exceedingly distressing. Death took place at
4:25 p. m. May 23, 1868. His last words were addressed to his faithful
doctor, H. R. Tilton, assistant surgeon of the United States army, and
were "Compadre adois" (dear friend, good bye). In his will he left
property to the value of $7,000 to his children. Kit Carson's first wife
was an Indian Cheyenne girl of unusual intelligence and beauty. They had
one girl child. After her birth the mother only lived a short time. This
child was tenderly reared by Kit until she reached eight years, when he
took her to St. Louis and liberally provided for all her wants. She
received as good an education as St. Louis could afford and was
introduced to the refining influences of polished society. She married a
Californian and removed with him to his native state.
The Indians of today are possessed with the same ambitions as the
whites. There are Indian lawyers, Indian doctors, Indian school teachers
and other educators, but in the frontier days when from Leavenworth,
Kansas, to Santa Fe the plains were thronged with Indians they were
looked upon as uncivilized and were uncivilized, but were so badly
abused, run out of their homes and were given no chances to become
civilized or to learn any arts.
The Indians around Maxwell's ranch were mostly a lazy crowd because they
had nothing to do. Maxwell fed them, gave them some work, gave the
squaws considerable work--they wove blankets with a skill that cannot be
surpassed by artists of today. Not only were these Indian women fine
weavers, but they worked unceasingly on fine buckskin (they tanned their
own hides), garments, beading them, embroidering them, working all kinds
of profiles such as the profile of an Indian chief or brave, animals of
all kinds were beaded or embroidered into the clothes they made for the
chiefs of their tribes. These suits were often sold to foreigners to
take east as a souvenir and they would sell them for the small sum of
$200 to $300. Those Indian women would braid fine bridle reins of white,
black and sorrel horse hair for their chiefs and for sale to the white
men. The Indian squaws were always busy but liked to see a horse race as
well as their superior--their chief. A squaw is an excellent mother.
While she cannot be classed as indulgent she certainly desires to train
her child to endure hardships if they are called upon to endure them.
She trains the little papoose to take to the cold water, not for the
cleansing qualities, but for the "hardiness" she thinks it gives him.
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