Overland Tales

Night crept on apace; and though I have forgotten (if I ever knew) what the cause of delay happened to be, I know that we did not reach Houston till some five or six hours later than the train was due. I was agreeably surprised to find vehicles at the depot, waiting to carry passengers to the different hotels. Our hotel-carriage was an old omnibus, with every pane of glass broken out; and the opposition hotel was represented by a calash, with the top torn off and the dashboard left out. Still more agreeable was the surprise I met with in the hotel itself – a large, handsome, well-furnished house, giving evidence in every department of what it had been in former days. Before the war, the step of the legislator had resounded in the lofty corridor, and the planter and statesman had met in the wide halls, bringing with them life, and wealth, and social enjoyment to the proud little city. Now, alas! the corridors were cheerless in their desolation, and the grand parlors looked down coldly on the few people gathered there. The proprietor had years ago lived in California; and of this he seemed unreasonably proud, as something that everybody could not accomplish. His wife was a Southern woman, and had not yet learned to look with equanimity upon the undeniable fact that her husband was keeping a hotel. I am sure that she had no reason to deplore the loss of her husband's wealth and slaves on that account; for both she and her husband were people who would have been respected in any part of the world, even if they had not kept hotel.

In the midst of a hot, sultry day, a fierce norther sprang up, chilling us to the bone, and causing us to change our original intention of remaining here for some time. The bride, too, and her husband, were willing to return to a more civilized country at an early day. Together we went back, and were greeted at the hotel we had stopped in, and by people on the steamer, as pleasantly as though we were in the habit of passing that way at least once a month. At New Orleans we parted, the new husband and wife returning to St. Louis, while I retraced my steps to Louisville, en route to New York.

In the cars I was soon attracted by the appearance of a lady and gentleman – evidently brother and sister – accompanied by an elderly negro woman. The gentleman seemed in great distress of mind, and the lady was trying to speak comfort to his troubled spirits. The negro woman would gaze longingly out of the window, shading her eyes with her hand, and then stealthily draw her apron over her cheeks, as though the heat annoyed her. But I knew she was crying, and the sobs she tried to repress would sometimes almost choke the honest old negro. The train went so slow – so slow; and the gentleman paced nervously up and down, whenever the cars stopped on the way.

Great sorrow, like great joy, always seeks for sympathy; and in a short time I knew the agony of the father, who was counting every second that must pass before he could reach the bedside of his dying child. A young, strong maiden, she had been sent by the widowed father to a convent, in the neighborhood of Louisville, there to receive the excellent training of the sisters of the school. Stricken down suddenly with some disease, they had immediately informed the father by telegraph; and he, with his sister, and Phrony, the old nurse of the girl, had taken the next train that left New Orleans. Both he and his father had been prominent secessionists, had been wellnigh ruined by the war, and had hoarded what little they could save from the common wreck, only for this daughter – and now she was dying. So slowly moved the train! Hour after hour the brother paced up and down the narrow space in the cars, while the sister poured into my ears the tale of his hopes and fears, their wretchedness and their perseverance during the war, and how, in all they had done and left undone, the best interests of Eugenia had been consulted and considered. The negro woman had crouched down at our feet, and was swaying back and forth with the slow motion of the cars, giving vent to her long pent up grief, and sobbing in bitterness of heart: "Oh, Miss Anne! Miss Anne! why didn't you let me go with my chile?"

To make full the cup of misery, we were informed next morning that our train would stop just where it was till six o'clock in the evening, when some other train would come along and carry us on. I don't think that the colonel (the father) did any swearing, but I fear that some of the Californians who were of our party did more than their share. Going to the nearest station, he telegraphed the cause of his delay to the sisters of the convent, and then waited through the intolerably long day. At nightfall the train moved on, slowly, slowly, creeping into Louisville at last, in the dull, cold, dismal day. Snow-flakes were falling in the gray atmosphere, settling for a moment on the ragged, shivering trees, ere they fluttered, half dissolved, to the muddy ground. The wind rose in angry gusts now and again, whirling about the flakes, and trying to rend the murky clouds asunder, as though jealous of the drizzling fog that attempted to take possession of the earth.

Breathlessly the colonel inquired for dispatches at the hotel. Yes; his child still lived! A buggy was ready, awaiting them at the door, and the brother and sister drove off, leaving Phrony to take possession of their rooms. I can never forget the heart-broken look of Phrony when the buggy vanished from sight.

"You see," said I, "there was no room in the buggy for you. If they had waited to engage a carriage, they might have been too late."

"Yes, Miss," said Phrony, absently, and turned away.

Toward the close of the day, when already hooded and cloaked for the onward journey, I was informed that Eugenia was dead: her father had received but her parting breath. The dispatch was sent for the information of those who had shown such sympathy for the grief-stricken father. I stepped over to the colonel's rooms, where I knew Phrony was. She was sitting on a little trunk by the fire, with her apron over her head, and her body bent forward.

"Then you know it, Phrony?" I asked.

"Yes, yes; knowed it all along, Miss. Hadn't never no one to take care of her but her old mammy! Oh, my chile! my chile! my little chile! And she's done gone died, without her mammy! Oh, my chile! my chile!"

I tried to speak kindly to her, but my sobs choked me. I looked out of the window, but there was no light there. The snow was falling to the ground in dogged, sullen silence, and the wind, as though tired out with long, useless resistance, only moaned fitfully at times, when clamoring vainly for admission at the closed windows.

Was it not well with the soul just gone to rest? Was it not better with her than with us – with me – who must still wander forth again, out into the snow, and the cold, and the night?

"Oh, my chile! my chile!" sobbed the woman, so black of face, but true of heart; "if I could only have died, and gone to heaven, and left you with Massa Harry! Oh, Miss Anne! Miss Anne! what made you take my chile away from me?"

"It is only for a little while that you will be parted from her, Phrony," I said.

"Bress de Lord! Yes, I'll soon be with my little chile again. But she's dead now, and I can't never see her no more. Oh, my chile! my chile!"

I closed the door softly, for I heard the warning cry of the coachman who was to take us to the outgoing train.

MY FIRST EXPERIENCE IN NEW MEXICO

On a warm, pleasant afternoon in the latter part of August, 1866, our command reached the post to which it had been assigned – Fort Bayard, New Mexico. Our ambulance was driven to the top of a little hill, where I had leisure to admire the singular beauty of the surrounding country, while my husband was superintending the pitching of the tent.

The command to which we belonged was the first body of Regulars that had been sent across the Plains since the close of the war. Fort Bayard had been garrisoned by a company of colored troops, who were now under marching orders, and our soldiers were to build the fort, which, as yet, existed only in the general's active brain. The Pinos Altos gold mines were only twelve miles distant from here, and all the other mines – copper and gold – lying within a range of fifteen miles, had been prosperously and profitably worked, by Mexicans and Americans; but after the breaking out of the war, when the troops had been withdrawn from the Territory, bands of roving, hostile Indians had visited one mine after another, leaving in their wake mutilated corpses and blackened ruins. The news of the soldiery coming to this rich mining country was drawing miners and adventurers from far and near, and Pinos Altos promised to become a mining district once more.

Looking around me, I saw a number of officers approaching from where the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Infantry was camped. They came to welcome us to the camp, and I should have liked to receive them "in style;" but all I could do was to smooth my hair with my hand. The tent was not yet pitched, and I certainly should not leave the ambulance, for I had observed hosts of centipedes crawling out from under the rocks that had been removed to make room for the tent-poles. The officers grouped themselves around the ambulance, and after congratulating us on our safe arrival, wondered how I had ever found courage to come to this place. "Did it not seem an age since I had parted with the last lady, at Fort Selden?" and "How would I like living here – the only lady in this wilderness – without quarters, without comforts of any kind?"

"Oh, I shall do nicely," I said. "I have not slept under a roof since leaving Fort Leavenworth, five months ago, and all the comforts we are in want of are commissaries; which of you, gentlemen, is quarter-master, by the way? I should like to send to the commissary to-day, though it is after issuing hours."

"Yes, certainly," said the quarter-master; "but our supply is limited just now. What do you wish for?"

"Sugar, coffee, tea," I enumerated; "canned fruit, rice – "

"Stop! stop!" hurriedly exclaimed the quarter-master; "all in the world we have in the commissary is soap, salt, and beans. We have taken our coffee without sugar since the Apaches captured the last train, and we rather hoped to get commissaries from your train."

Accustomed as I had become to live on "hard tack" and bacon occasionally, when it was dangerous to light fires, on account of "drawing" the Indians, this piece of information did not dampen my spirits in the least; but at night, while the cook was preparing our supper of coffee, bacon, and soda-biscuits, the orderly sergeant of the company made his appearance at the entrance of our tent, and, after the usual military salute, presented a large tin-pan filled with sugar, and a bag with coffee. "The men," he said, "had requested that their rations of coffee and sugar be delivered to the lieutenant's wife, till the next train should bring fresh supplies." The men had styled me "the mother of the company;" and this was only one of the many proofs of good-will and devotion I was constantly receiving, in return for some little trifling kindnesses I had shown one or the other, while crossing the plains and deserts of Kansas and New Mexico. A little piece of linen, to tie up a bruised finger; a cup of vinegar, a lump of white sugar, to change the taste of the wretched drinking-water, to some poor invalid, were held in sacred remembrance by these men; and some of them had risked their lives, in turn, to procure for me a drink of fresh water, when sick and faint, crossing Jornada del Muerto, that terrible Journey of Death.

Our tent looked cozy enough, when finished and furnished. A piece of brilliant red carpeting was spread on the ground; the bedding was laid on planks, resting on trestles; the coverlet was a red blanket; the camp-chairs were covered with bright cloth, and the supper – served on the lid of the mess-chest – looked clean and inviting. The kitchen, just back of the tent, was rather a primitive institution: a hole dug into the ground, two feet long, a foot wide, with two flat, iron bars laid over it, was all there was to be seen. Two or three mess-pans, a spider, and a Dutch-oven constituted our kitchen furniture; and with these limited means, an old soldier will accomplish wonders in the way of cooking. Before enlisting, one of our servants had been a baker; the other, a waiter at a hotel; and, between them, they managed the task of waiting on us very creditably. To be sure, my husband's rank entitled him to but one servant from the company; but then I was the only lady with the command, and our company commander was considerate of my comfort.

Reveille always comes early; but that first morning in Fort Bayard it came very early. The knowledge that we had reached "our haven of rest," after a five months' journey, made me want to sleep. I wished to feel sure that our tent was not to be struck directly after breakfast – that the bed would not be rolled up and tumbled into the army-wagon – that I should not have to creep into the ambulance, and ride, ride, ride, all that day again. But we had agreed to visit the great Santa Rita copper mines that day, in company with all the officers; and Charley was rapping at the tent, to say that breakfast was almost ready. We started directly after guard-mount: five officers, six men – who had been detailed as escort – and myself. We were all well mounted. My own horse, Toby – the swiftest and strongest of them all – was snow-white, with delicate, slender limbs, and tall, even for a cavalry horse. The camp was located in a valley, some four miles square; gently rising hills inclosed it on every side; beyond these, on one side, rose the San José Mountains, and, in an almost opposite direction, the Pinos Altos Range. All these hills and mountains were said to contain metal; copper and gold, and even cinnabar, could be found. And we were now making our way to the foot-hills, where the officers had promised to show us some rich leads they had discovered. We dismounted when we had reached the place; and some of the escort acting as guard against Indian "surprises," the rest were set to work, with picks and hatchets, to dig up specimens. They had not long to dig, for every rock they struck contained copper; and frequently the little specks of gold in it could be seen with the naked eye.

But it must not be supposed that these hills were barren, or destitute of verdure. On the contrary, as far as the eye could reach, even the highest mountains were covered with grass, scrub-oaks, and cedars; while in the valley, and on the hills, there was one bright carpet of grass and wild flowers. The white tents in the valley, with the flag-staff in the centre, and the flag just moving in the morning breeze, the dark-green trees shading the tents, the stream of water (called by the captain Minne-ha-ha) running around the camp – all this looked so refreshing, so beautiful, after those long day's marches among the sand-hills of the Rio Grande, and the weary tramps over the burning deserts we had lately left behind us, that my enthusiasm rose to the highest pitch.

"Why don't somebody claim this delightful country? – why don't people in the army resign, and own mines, and settle down here to live?" I asked – very irrationally, I am afraid.

"My dear madam," said the captain, leading me to the edge of the hill, and pointing downward, where, amid the long, waving grass and bright, laughing flowers, I discovered the charred logs of what had once been a miner's cabin, "neither the beauty of the country, nor the wealth of its minerals, has been overlooked; and hundreds of men have lost their lives, in trying to wrest from the Indian's grasp what would be a benefit and blessing to civilization."

I wanted to go near enough to touch with my hand two graves that were close by the burnt logs, but the captain refused to let me go. It was about fifty yards from where the guard was placed; and that, he said, was almost certain death. He promised, that as soon as the Mexican guide should return from Fort Craig, he would place him, with a sufficiently large escort, at my command, to visit the whole of the surrounding country. The guide – old Cecilio – had lived in this country before it had come into Uncle Sam's possession; had had many a narrow escape from the Indians, and knew the history of every mine and shaft in all that region. Pointing to the San José Mountain Range, the captain said there was a wagon-road leading along its foot to the Santa Rita mines, but that he knew of an Indian trail, which would take us there much quicker. Remounting, we resumed our journey.

New beauty surprised us every little while: sometimes it was a little silver rivulet, running over the most beautiful ferns; then a group of trees and red-berried shrubs; and again, a clump of rare flowers. But one thing weighed down the spirit like lead, in these wild regions: it was the death-like, uninterrupted silence that reigned over all. There was nothing of life to be seen or heard – no bird, no butterfly. The lizard slipped noiselessly over the rocks at your feet, and the tarantula gaped at you with wide-open eyes, before retreating to the shelter of her nest in the ground. But even the carrion-crow, following wherever human beings lead the way, never left the limits of the camp.

We had now reached a deep ravine. A shallow creek was running at our feet; dark, frowning mountains seemed to hem us in on every side; our horses looked tired, and the captain very unexpectedly announced that he had lost his way! He said he felt sure that this creek was to be crossed somewhere, but not here where our horses were drinking now. Old Cecilio had always accompanied him before this, and – and – in short, we were lost! Just then one of the men rode up to the lieutenant's side, and said something to him in a low tone. "Where?" asked he. The man pointed down the creek. The officers dismounted to examine the ground, and found the fresh tracks of eight or nine Apache Indians. To be sure, there were eleven men and officers on our side; but our horses were pretty well worn, and the camp twenty miles away, for aught we knew. The men looked to their fire-arms, while the officers consulted. If we were attacked here, the Indians, even if they could not take us, could starve us out before any party sent out from the fort could find us. Therefore, to proceed was our only chance. Perhaps, if we could succeed in reaching the top of the next mountain, we might discover some landmark showing us our way back to camp. Some one proposed to search again for the trail to the copper-mine; but the captain told us it was one of the favorite haunts of the Indians when in this part of the country, and this party had probably gone there now. At last we moved on, the escort so disposed that I was covered on every side. The mountain was steep, and covered with sharp rocks, cactus, and chaparral, which appeared to me moving and peopled with hideous forms. Every moment I expected to hear a savage yell, and see a shower of arrows flying around our devoted heads. Many a time a finger was raised and pointed silently, so as not to frighten me, to some suspicious-looking object; but all remained quiet, and we reached the summit at last, only to see that we were surrounded by mountains still higher and steeper than the one we had climbed. Giving our horses but short breathing-time, we made the next ascent, hoping then to see our way clear; but again we were disappointed. Never before, perhaps, had the foot of the white man left its impress on these solitary heights. There was untold wealth hidden under these sharp rocks, and in the crevices and clefts that looked so dark and treacherous in the afternoon sun; but even the mines of Golconda would have had but little interest for us just then.

We had now come to a mountain that we must descend some five hundred feet before we could make the ascent of the next. With trembling legs, the horses began the steep descent; the first horse stumbled and fell, and then the men were ordered to dismount and lead their horses. I wanted to do the same, but was told to remain in the saddle, as I could not mount quick enough, should the Indians attack us. When the horses found foothold at last, it was almost impossible to urge them on; so some of the men volunteered to reconnoitre in different directions, while the officers remained with me. At last, one of the men, having reached the summit, telegraphed to us that he had discovered some friendly post, and made signs how we were to travel round the mountain. Sundown saw us in camp again, worn out and hungry, but by no means daunted or discouraged. Santa Rita was to be abandoned until the old guide returned; but Pinos Altos was to be visited without him, in a day or two.

Poor Toby was tired and jaded after this exploit, so he was allowed to roam through camp, at his "own sweet will," without lariat or picket-rope; he could always pick out our tent from the rest, and he came to look into it, one morning, just as the cook had laid a freshly-baked loaf of bread on the mess-chest to cool. I had been in the habit of giving Toby a bite of our lunch whenever the command halted, and I could reach the lunch-basket; he was satisfied with anything I gave him – a bit of bacon, a piece of "hard-tack," a lump of sugar – and thinking now, I suppose, that he was being neglected, when I did not look up from my sewing, he quietly withdrew. The next moment I heard the men outside shouting, "Thief! you thief!" Stepping to the entrance of the tent, I saw Toby, the loaf of bread firmly between his teeth, making his way, at a two-forty gait, across the parade-ground. This made our bill of fare rather meagre for that day – "slap-jacks" taking the place of the bread. But, then, we would soon have eggs, the cook said; and he could do so many things with eggs. Now, these eggs were some that we expected certain chickens, then en route from Fort Cummings, to lay for us. An officer there had had some chickens brought up from El Paso, at great expense and greater trouble; of these, he had promised us three dozen, and they were now coming to Fort Bayard under escort of ten cavalrymen. I had made Charley promise, on honor, never to ask to kill one of these for the table, but to content himself with using the eggs they would, should, and ought to lay. Toward evening the escort with the wagon came in sight; all the men rushed down the road to meet it; and when the box containing the chickens was opened and the flock let loose, the whole company gave three cheers, and, for days afterward, the men could be heard, all over camp, crowing like roosters. They never seemed to get tired of feeding the chickens extra handfuls of corn, religiously bringing to our kitchen any stray egg a gadding hen had laid in the company hay.

The morning was cool and bright, when Copp and Toby, capering and dancing, as though we had never been lost in the mountains, were led up to the tent. The escort was already mounted, and every man of the twelve looked upon this as a holiday. They all had their curiosity to see Pinos Altos; but the clean gauntlets and white shirts had been donned in honor of this – to them – great event: escorting the first white lady, an officer's wife, into Pinos Altos. I can never tire of speaking of the magnificent scenery in this part of New Mexico. It was not New Mexico – it was a small piece of the Garden of Eden, thrown in by Providence, from above, in sheer pity for the Americans, when Uncle Sam made that Ten Million Purchase, known as the Gadsden. We galloped along a smooth road, made by the men for hauling fire-wood over, for a mile or two, till we crossed the Minne-ha-ha, and shortly after struck the Pinos Altos road. It had been a well travelled road at one time, though the Indian only had crossed it, in his wanderings, these three or four years past. Scrub-oak, and shrubs for which I knew no name, by the wayside; the aloe plant and cactus, grama grass and wild flowers, peeping out from under fragments of moss-covered rock; here and there a cedar, or pine, made the impression that we were inspecting extensive pleasure-grounds; the little stream – Whiskey Creek – that found its winding way down from Pinos Altos, was bordered by willows, and, though shallow, afforded us all a cool drink. The road rises almost from the time of leaving the fort, but so gently at first as to be hardly noticed. Part of the escort rode before us, for those romantic-looking hills, springing up here and there on our way, had many a time served as ambush for the savage hordes that infest all this country; and more than one grave by the road-side spoke of sudden attack, of sharp contest, and final defeat.