by Fifteen Years on the Hurricane Deck of a Spanish Pony A Texas Cowboy or
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 tonight. 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 folk’s 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.
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.
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 sinc
e 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.
CHAPTER XXIX.
In love with a Mexican girl.
I FOUND EL PASO, to be a red-hot town of about three thousand inhabitants. There were also about that number of people in Paso Del Norte, across the river in Old Mexico. I spent several days in each place.
I finally, after leaving my ponies in good hands, boarded one of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe trains for Las Cruces, two and a half miles from Mesilla, the county seat.
There being better accommodations, in the way of Hotels, in “Cruces,” nearly every one who was attending court would stop there and ride to the county seat in one of the “hacks” which made hourly trips between the two places. Consequently I put up at the Montezuma House, in Las Cruces.
There were several Lincoln County boys there when I arrived. Poe and Garrett came down next day. Mr. and Mrs. Nesbeth also came as witnesses against Cohglin. Mrs. Nesbeth had heard Mr. Cohglin make the contract with, “Billy the Kid,” to buy all the stolen cattle he would bring to his ranch. But the good lady didn’t live long afterwards, for she, her husband, a stranger, who was going from “Cruces” to Tulerosa with them, and a little girl whom they had adopted were all murdered by unknown parties. Cohglin was accused of having the crime committed, but after fighting the case through the courts, he finally came clear.
A few days after my arrival in Las Cruces I went back to El Paso after my ponies. I ate dinner there and rode into Las Cruces about sundown. A pretty quick fifty-five mile ride, considering part of it being over a rough mountain road. The cause of my hurry was, we couldn’t tell what minute the Cohglin case would be called up for trial.
I had a little love scrape while loafing in Las Cruces. I don’t mention it because my love scrapes were so scarce, but because it was with a Mexican girl, and under curious circumstances, that is, the circumstances were curious from the fact that we became personally acquainted and never spoke to one another, except by signs, and through letters.
Her name was Magdalena Ochoa, niece to the rich Bankers Ochoa’s in El Paso, Tucson, Arizona, and Chihuahua, Old Mexico, and she was sweet sixteen. She lived with her grandmother, whose residence was right straight across the street from the Montezuma Hotel, and who wouldn’t let a young man, unless he was a Peon, come inside of her house. And she wouldn’t let Magdalena go out of her sight, for fear she would let some of the young “Gringoes” make love to her.
I first saw her one Sunday morning when she and her grandmother were going to church. I was standing out in front of the Hotel hugging an awning post, and wishing that I had something more human-like to hug, when they passed within a few feet of me. The girl looked up, our eyes met, and such a pair of eyes I had never seen. They sparkled like diamonds, and were imbedded in as pretty a face as was ever moulded. Her form was perfection itself; she had only one drawback that I didn’t like and that was her grandmother. I immediately unwound my arms from around the post and started to church too.
The church house was a very large building, and the altar was in one end. The couple I was following walked up near the altar and took a seat on the right hand side—on the dirt floor, there being no such thing as seats in the building—which was reserved for ladies, while the left hand side, of the narrow passage way, was for the men. I squatted myself down opposite the two, and every now and then the pretty little miss would cast sparks from her coal black eyes over towards me which would chill my very soul with delight.
When church was over I followed, to find out where she lived. I was exceedingly happy when I found she was a near neighbor to me, being only a few steps across the street.
I spent the rest of that day setting out under the awning in front of the Hotel, straining my eyes in hopes of getting a glimpse of her beautiful form through the large bay window which opened out from the nicely furnished parlor onto the street. But not a glimpse did I get. I retired that night with the vision of a lovely sunburnt angel floating before my eyes.
The next morning I went to Mesilla and answered to my name when it was called, by the Judge, and then told Poe that I had some very important business to attend to in “Cruces” and for him, in case the Cohglin case was called, to hire a man at my expense and send him after me.
On arriving back to the Hotel I took a seat in an old armchair under the awning. I was all alone, nearly every one being in Mesilla.
Finally Magdalena brought her sewing and sat down among the flowers in the bay window. It was indeed a lovely picture, and would have been a case of “love among the roses” if it hadn’t been for her old grandparent, who every now and then appeared in the parlor.
At last I, having a good chance, no one being in sight but her and I, threw a kiss, to see how I stood in her estimation. She immediately darted out of sight, but soon re-appeared and peeping around a cluster of roses, returned the compliment. She then left the room and I never seen her again till after dinner.
I then started into the Hotel, but was detained by a voice calling, through the closed blinds of a window near by: “Me ketch you! Me ketch you!” Come to find out it was the proprietor’s wife, Mrs. Duper, an old mexican lady, who had been watching our maneuvers. She then opened the blinds and asked me in broken English, what I was trying to do?
“Oh, nothing, much, just trying to catch on, is all;” was my answer.
The old lady then broke out in one of her jovial fits and said: “You ketch on? Me bet you ten thousand dollars you no ketch him!” She then went on and told me how closely the old lady “Grandma Ochoa” watched her young niece. In fact, she gave me the girl’s history from the time of her birth: Her father and mother were both dead and she, being the only child, was worth over a million dollars, all in her own name. This of course was good news to me, as it gave my love a solid foundation, and spread a kind of gold-like lining over the young lady’s beauty.
Finally, after court had been in session two weeks the Cohglin case was called up. His lawyers were Col. Rynerson and Thorn-ton, while the Territory was represented by Newcomb, District Attorney, and A. J. Fountain whose services Poe had secured.
Mr. Cohglin began to grow restless, for the “Pen” stared him in the face. There were eight indictments against him, but the worst one was where he had butchered the cattle after being notified by me not to.
His only hopes now was to “sugar” the prosecuting Attorney, and that no doubt was easily done, or at least it would have looked easy to a man up a tree. You see Cohglin was worth at least a h
undred thousand dollars, and therefore could well afford to do a little sugaring, especially to keep out of the Penitentiary. At any rate whether the Attorney was bought off or not, the trial was put off, on account of illness on said Attorney’s part, until the last days of court.
When the case came up again Mr. Prosecuting Attorney was confined to his room on account of a severe attack of cramp-colic. Judge Bristol was mad, and so was Poe. They could see through the whole thing now.
That night Cohglin made a proposition that he would plead guilty to buying stolen cattle knowing they were stolen, if the one case in which he had killed cattle after being notified not to, would be dismissed, or thrown entirely out of court.
It was finally decided to do that, as then he could be sued for damages, so the next day he plead guilty to the above charge, and was fined one hundred and fifty dollars besides costs.
Fountain, our lawyer then entered suit against him for ten thousand dollars damage.
I was then relieved. My mileage and witness fees amounted to something over a hundred dollars, this time. Of course that was appreciated as it was my own, over and above my wages. It came handy too as I was almost broke and needed it to take me home. I had spent all of my own money, besides nearly one hundred and fifty dollars borrowed from Poe.
It was the first day of May, I think, when I mounted Croppy in front of the Hotel, threw a farewell kiss at Miss Magdalena, who was standing in the bay-window, and started east, in company with Chas. Wall—the young man I mentioned as being a prisoner in Lincoln at the time of “Kid’s” escape. I hated to part with the pleasant smiles of my little mexican sweetheart, but then it had to be done. I still hold a rose and a bundle of beautifully written letters to remember her by.
