WRESTLING WITH A DOSE OF SMALL POX ON THE LLANO ESTICADO.
After leaving Toyah I followed the railroad east cross the Reo Pecos,
out onto the Llano Esticado and through the sixty mile stretch of Sand
Hills.
At Sand Hill Station, about midway through the sand hills, I left the
railroad and branched off in a north-easterly direction in search of
buffalo-hunter's camps. Knowing buffalo were getting scarce, and having
heard of a great many hunters being in the vicinity of Ceader Lake, I
thought it a good idea to go out there and see what kind of game they
were killing. Being nearly south of the Canadian River country, I
thought maybe they were killing cattle which had drifted down in there
during the winters. But I was mistaken. I found their camps black with
genuine buffalo hides. There being no ranches in that wild scope of
country the buffalo, what few there were left, had nearly all
congregated in there.
I played a single-handed game of freeze-out the first two nights after
leaving the railroad, for there came a terrible snow storm, which
covered up the buffalo-chips, there being no wood in that whole country,
so that I couldn't make a fire to warm by.
After striking the first buffalo-camp, then I was all right, for I could
get directions how to find the next one, etc.
I finally, by circling around to the east, and then south, struck the
railroad again, and landed in the town of Big Springs; where I was
mistaken for a horse-thief, whom I answered the description of, and told
to "skip" by one of my friends, a stranger who recognized me as the
turkey shooter from Toyah. I didn't skip; and the thing was finally
straightened up to their entire satisfaction.
I was out of money by this time, but found a draft in the express office
awaiting me. Not having any particular use for the draft I swapped it
off for a hundred dollars in money, to the express manager.
After looking through a few herds around the Springs I pulled north-east
for the head of Colorado River, to take a look over the Lum Slaughter
range, which extended from the head of Colorado River down to Colorado
City on the railroad, a distance of about sixty miles. I went to all the
sign camps, and also the head-quarter ranch, but didn't let my business,
residence or name be known, which caused the boys to believe I was "on
the dodge."
I rode into the lively little town of Colorado City one afternoon about
four o'clock, and imagine my surprise at meeting Miss Bulah Newell on
her way home from school. She and Mrs. Newell had left Toyah shortly
after I did. They had left Mr. Newell at home to run the Hotel. And Mrs.
Newell had accompanied Bulah to Colorado City, the nearest place where
there was a school, so as to keep "the wild rattled-brain girl," as she
called her, under her wing. They had rented a little cottage and were
keeping house.
I ran out of money shortly after striking Colorado City, my expenses
being high, having to pay three dollars a day to keep my two horses at a
feed stable, and one dollar and a half per day for my own board,
lodging, etc., but found a good friend, Mr. Snyder, a merchant, who let
me have all I wanted on my good looks until I could write to the ranch
for some.
While waiting for an answer to my letter I would put in my spare time
taking little spins out into the country, looking through herds of
cattle, etc. The longest trip I made was three days, down on the Concho
River, and that was just two days and a half longer than I cared to be
away from Miss Bulah.
The mail finally brought two hundred dollars worth of "L. X." drafts,
wrapped up in a letter from Mr. Erskine Clement, reminding me of the
fact that his company wasn't a First National Bank. This of course was a
hint for me to be more economical.
Having to be in Mesilla, New Mexico, a distance of five hundred and
fifty miles, by the last of March, and wanting to look over some small
cattle ranges on the route, I struck out. I hated to leave Colorado City
on account of Bulah, but was anxious to leave on account of the
small-pox beginning to spread there.
A forty-mile ride brought me to Big Springs, where I lay two days with a
burning fever. The morning of the third day I pulled out, across the
Staked Plains for the Reo Pecos, still feeling sick.
That night I stopped at one of the section houses, which were located
every ten miles along the railroad. And the next morning after riding
about five miles I became so sick that I had to dismount and lie down
in the grass. After groaning and tumbling around about two hours I fell
asleep.
About sundown an east bound freight train came along, which scared my
ponies and awakened me. I felt terribly; my lips were parched, my bones
ached and my tongue felt as though it was swollen out of shape. I
started to lie down again, after the noise from the passing train had
died out, but there being an ugly looking black cloud in the north,
which indicated a norther, I concluded to brace up and ride to the next
section house, a distance of about five miles.
Arriving there, just as a cold norther was springing up, and riding up
to the fence I called: "Hello!" in a feeble voice. A gentleman came out,
and on informing him that I was sick, he told me to go in the house,
that he would unsaddle and take care of my horses.
I walked into a large room where a nice blazing fire greeted my eyes.
There was a lady sitting by the fire sewing. On looking up at me, as I
stepped into the door, she gave a scream, which brought her husband in
on the double quick. "Small-pox, small-pox," was all she could say. The
gentleman looked at me and asked: "Are you from Colorado City?" "Yes,"
was my answer. "Well, you have got it, and I am sorry we can't keep you
here to-night. I hate to turn a sick man out such a night as this, but I
have got a wife and three little children here whose lives are at
stake."
I had never thought of small-pox since leaving Colorado City, until the
good lady put me in mind of it.
Oh, how my heart did ache at the thoughts of that dreadful disease, and
having to go out into the cold night air. It was pitch dark and
beginning to sleet when I mounted and struck out, west, aiming to go on
to the next section house, ten miles, and try my luck there.
About half an hour after the light over my shoulder had disappeared I
began to grow weaker, so much so that I could hardly sit on my saddle.
So finally, dismounting, I unsaddled and staking the two hungry ponies
out to a telegraph pole, rolled myself up in my blankets, my saddle for
a pillow, and went to sleep.
I awakened just as day was breaking. The ground was covered with snow,
and I was almost frozen. I felt as though I had been sent for and
couldn't go. My mouth, I could tell by feeling it, was covered with
sores, in fact it was one solid scab, and so were my shoulders and back.
Strange to say there wasn't a sore on any other part of my body. Those
sores on my mouth was what attracted the lady's attention the evening
before, although they had just began to show themselves then.
With great difficulty I saddled up and continued on towards the section
house. This time I made up my mind not to let the folks know where I was
from, and if they had cheek enough to ask I intended to say Ft. Concho.
To avoid the sores on my mouth being seen I tied a silk handkerchief
around it. And should they ask any questions about that, I intended
telling them I had some fever blisters on my mouth, etc.
I found only one man, the cook, at the Section house this time, the
section hands having gone to work. I was treated like a white head by
the cook, who no doubt took me for a desperado or horse-thief, by my
looks. He thought no doubt the handkerchief was tied over my face to
keep from being recognized.
I informed him that I was feeling bad and would like to lie down a few
moments, etc. He led the way up stairs where the section hands slept
and told me to occupy any of the dirty looking beds there. I laid down
and told him to bring me up a cup of coffee. He brought up a good
breakfast and after he left I undone the handkerchief and tried to eat,
but couldn't, on account of my tongue being so badly swollen.
I found a looking glass in the room and took a squint at myself, and
must say that I was indeed a frightful looking aspect, my face from nose
to chin being a solid scab and terribly swollen. No wonder I frightened
the lady so badly, I thought.
After drinking the hot cup of coffee I went down stairs, gave the cook a
silver dollar for his kindness and pulled out. I was very anxious to get
to a doctor, and Toyah was the nearest place to find one unless I turned
back to Colorado City, which I hated to do on account of having to
attend court in Mesilla, soon.
I arrived in Toyah about noon of the sixth day out from Big Springs. I
headed straight for the Alverado House and who do you suppose was
standing in the door when I rode up? Miss Bulah. The small pox had
scared her and her mother away from Colorado City. The first thing she
said was: "Hello, what's the matter with your face?" "Nothing but fever
blisters." was my answer.
I didn't dismount, for fear of giving the pretty little miss the small
pox, but rode a few blocks to Doctor Roberson's office, telling her that
I was going after some fever medicine and would be back in a few
minutes, etc.
The Doctor informed me that the danger was all over with, and that, if I
hadn't been made of good stuff, I would have surely died, being exposed
to bad weather, etc. He gave me some salve to dry up the sores, that
being all there was to do at that stage of the disease, he said, and
advised me to leave town, for said he: "If the citizens discover that
you have had the small pox, they will have you taken to the pest house,
where there are already three occupants, although the danger of it being
catching from you is past." I assured him that I would fix it so they
wouldn't find it out.
On arriving back to the Alverado House, my face still tied up, I hired a
boy to take care of my ponies and then telling Miss Bulah that I wanted
a room to myself, I went to bed.
Bulah would bring my meals into the room and sometimes sit down to wait
until I got through eating, but I would never commence until she left.
I would generally let her stay until she got ready to go, telling her
that I wasn't hungry just then, but would try and eat it after awhile,
etc. She would finally get tired and go, then I would lock the door and
undo the handkerchief from my face. I kept this up a week, before eating
my meals at the table with the rest of the boarders.
I finally struck out for El Paso, two hundred miles over a dry,
waterless plain, and another hundred up the Rio Grande valley, making
three hundred miles in all.
I hove in sight of the Rio Grande River one morning, but never got there
until sundown.
When I arrived within a few miles of the river I noticed a covered wagon
and what I supposed to be a camp, down the valley, about three miles out
of my way. I finally concluded to turn off and go and stop with whoever
they were for the night.
I found it to be a mexican camp, an old man, two boys and a grown girl.
They had come from Larado and were on their way to El Paso. They gave me
a hearty welcome.
Next morning about daylight I got up and went out to change Croppy, he
having been staked and Buckshot hobbled the evening before, in a fresh
place, but lo, and behold! there was nothing there but the stake.
I circled around and found both of the ponies tracks leading towards the
river, a few hundred yards west, I followed, and found they had crossed
over. After standing on the bank a few seconds, dreading to get wet, I
went over too. The water was only about waist deep.
Near the water's edge on the other side I found some mocassin tracks in
the soft sand. I could see through the whole thing then, from
indications, etc: two footmen, who wore mocassins, had stolen my horses
and pulled into Old Mexico for safety. Where the tracks were visible in
the sand, there was no doubt, they had dismounted and taken a farewell
drink, or maybe filled a canteen, before leaving the river.
After following the trail, there being just the tracks of two horses, a
few hundred yards out from the river I turned and went back to camp, to
try and hire the old mexican's horse to follow them on.
The old fellow only had one pony, his team being oxen and I had to talk
like a Dutch uncle to get it, as he argued that I was liable to get
killed and he lose the pony by the operation. I finally though put up
the price of the horse as security and promised the old fellow ten
dollars a day for the use of him, when I returned. This seemed to give
satisfaction, even with the two boys who would have to hoof it after the
oxen every morning, in case the pony never returned.
Just about sundown as I turned a sharp curve, near the top of the long
chain of high mountains which run parallel with the river, I came in
sight of both of my ponies staked to a pinyon tree, grazing.
I immediately rode out of sight, dismounted, tied my tired pony to a
tree and crawled to the top of a knoll, where I could see the
surrounding country for half a mile around. But I couldn't see a living
thing except the two horses, and the one I had just left.
Finally, bang! went a shot, which sounded to be at least half a mile
away, on the opposite side of the mountains.
Thinks I now there's either a ranch over there and the two thieves have
walked to it, to keep from being seen with the horses, or else they have
gone out hunting to kill something for supper. At any rate I took
advantage of their absence and stole my ponies back. Near where they
were tied was a small spring of cool water; the first water I had seen
since leaving the river.
After taking a hasty drink myself, and letting the pony I was on, fill
up, the other two not being dry, I took a straight shoot down grade, for
the "eastern shores of the Rio Grande," a distance of about thirty-five
miles. It was then nearly dark.
I arrived in camp next morning just as the big yellow sun was peeping
over the top of the Sierra Blanco mountains; and the old mexican, who
was awaiting my return, was glad to see me back.
That night I stopped with an old fat fellow by the name of Chas.
Willson, in the little town of Camp Rice, and the next night I put up in
the beautiful town of San Elizario, which is situated in the centre of
the garden spot of the whole Rio Grande valley.
The next morning I crossed the river into Old Mexico and took a three
day's hunt through the mountains in search of a herd which had come from
the north, and had crossed the river at San Elizario about a week
before. I found it, but was unacquainted with any of the brands that the
cattle wore. The herd had been stolen though, I think, from the way the
men acted.
I finally landed in El Paso and found a letter in the Post Office from
John Poe, written at Lincoln, New Mexico, advising me not to go to
Mesilla until the day that Court set, as Cohglin, who was out on bond,
was there and might have my light blown out, I being one of the main
witnesses against him. Also, it had been reported that he had said he
would give five thousand dollars to get me out of the way. He
furthermore advised me in the letter to take the train from El Paso, as
the old fellow might have some mexicans watching along the road for me.