New Mexican officials grew wary, as the number of hostile actions and raids increased down the intermountain corridor, right up to the gates of New Mexico settlements. As long as the Americans supplied the Utes and asked no questions, the raids continued. A major problem for the Indians involved the medium of exchange, the pelts and skins that they used to acquire the white man's trade goods. The supply of furs and skins had nearly dried up and prices in eastern markets had fallen precipitously. That meant traders offered less, and Indians felt cheated and much less hospitable. Many other factors contributed to the growing Indian hostilities toward New Mexico, and the Utes did not act alone. Other tribes, such as the Apache, complained about Mexican treatment and saw an ally, if only temporarily, in the American traders. “One New Mexico officer described the American traders as ‘protectors’ of the Utes.”49 The general encroachment of other tribes, and multiple abuses by whites, Anglo or Mexican, forced Indian cultures to adjust or yield. The historian Ned Blackhawk stated succinctly the Ute position when he wrote, “the early 1840s witnessed, in short, rapid economic transformations throughout the West. For Utes, such turbulent economics combined with the incursions from their rivals and their tensions with New Mexicans made the years before the U.S. conquest an especially trying time.”50
The Indian problems in New Mexico acerbated the distrust of foreigners in the region. Even those hyphenated foreigners, Franco-American, Anglo-American, even Spanish-Americans who had become Mexican citizens, like Louis and Antoine Robidoux, became suspect. The suspicions and the difficulty of continuing business in a growing hostile environment no doubt contributed to the decision by Louis to abandon Santa Fe for California in early 1844. In partnership with Benjamin Wilson, an old business associate from New Mexico, Louis purchased the Rancho Jurupa, originally granted to Juan Bandini by the Mexican government in 1838, on the Santa Ana River near present-day Riverside, California, and moved there with his wife, Guadalupe, and their children. From James Johnson, an Anglo-Californian, he purchased the San Timoteo rancho two years later. It and other smaller holdings including a San Jacinto rancho created the large single holding that became Rancho Robidoux. Wilson moved to Los Angeles in 1847 and sold his share of Jurupa to Louis. With that purchase Louis gained the title of alcalde or justice of the peace for the San Bernardino District of Los Angeles County, no doubt due to the huge landholdings and wealth he accumulated. Removed from the economic uncertainties of the Santa Fe trade, Louis turned to farming and raising livestock on his Rancho Robidoux, combining all his holdings, said to have been 11,189 acres in size. One local history estimated that he also had $30,000 in gold when he arrived, which explains his ability to buy so much property. Among his early accomplishments, he fenced the land, planted large tracts of wheat, and built a gristmill, possibly the first in southern California, powered by a water turbine and operating with two sets of stones.51
A few years after moving to California, Louis wrote two letters to his longtime friend and business associate, Manuel Alvarez, with whom he had first traveled out to Taos and Santa Fe with in 1824. In the letters we see the best descriptions of his life in California in his own words. “I like the country very much. The temperature is mild and beneficent. It is neither cold nor very hot. The nights are fresh. One is able to sleep to his contentment and always covered. This part that I live in is not as good, they say, as the northern part. That is to say, from Monterey north. It is the land of promise where the arroyos run with virgin honey and milk. Another Texas.” Regarding his life on the ranch, he wrote, “I am not very rich nor very poor either. I have sufficient animals of all kinds. I count 600 cattle now, about 100 head of horses, and 600 lambs. My rancho measures two leagues long, and one league wide on each side of the [Santa Ana] River. The river is rather large and very wooded. There is much pasture for the animals in any season and always green. The fields and farm land are abundant and fertile, paying well man's work. It is not ungrateful like the land of New Mexico. It produces seeds abundantly, and with little work. I compare the people of New Mexico to the ants, who shut themselves in during the winter to eat what they have worked so hard for all summer—but here we are able to work all year around.”52
As he had done in Santa Fe, Louis actively participated in local politics and became an alcalde as early as August 1846.53 As wonderful as Louis found life in California, his wife saw it a bit differently. “Guadalupe says she does not like California, even though at every moment I make her see that never has she had in her land (New Mexico) as many squashes, as many water melons, as many melons, as much corn, as much wheat, as many beans. Not either has she eaten such fat and good meat. In short, she has a better home here than she had in Santa Fe. She also has a mill to grind the household grain, and for other when it is offered. She agrees that all is true, but here there is not any diversion. The dances (fandangos) are rare because the people are scattered. The churches are very far. Since we live fifteen leagues from the Pueblo of Los Angeles we have no other diversions than our work.”54
Louis provides us with one of the few personal insights about family and life provided by any of the Brothers Robidoux. It is also a marvelous comment on the faith and church practices of Louis. “Since we left, the family has grown. Two little girls were born. The first is called Carmelita and the other is three months old today, but does not yet have a name, is a heathen, and is not baptized. Catalina is big now, a good and mature woman. Lucito helps me a good deal. He is a good vaquero and rides a horse better than I myself. Pascaul Baillon is a reliable man in his work. [Baillon may have migrated to California with Louis from Santa Fe.] He watches the lambs from time to time, this is to say, when he is not lazy. My friend, I believe that California will be the land from which I will leave for the eternal journey. I have no intention of going to any other place. Indeed, where can the ox go that he does not plough? I live contently.” One thing did bother Louis about his newfound life in California, “that is the education of my children. I know the lack of it, but I live far from the Pueblo where there is a school and the inconvenience of having them so distant is the reason that I have had up to the present for keeping them without education.”55
Back in Utah, Antoine reached the nadir of his operation there. Why the Utes turned against Antoine in 1844 can generally be blamed on the difficult, declining trade situation, but it may have been specifically related to the visit of six Ute chiefs and over one hundred warriors to Santa Fe in early September 1844. The chiefs wanted compensation for the lives of tribal members killed by trappers. The governor offered presents, which did not appease the chiefs, and a fight ensued with eight Indians killed in the exchange. The Utes left Santa Fe much enraged.56 Other contributing factors were the treachery of the Indian slave trade, which Williams described Robidoux and so many other whites participating in, and the demon of Taos lightning, liberally distributed to the Indians. Williams may have been overzealous in his account, but as we have seen, he had others to corroborate the incidents.57
When the Utes attacked the outpost on the Unitah is a bit more certain, thanks to a letter sent between the Sublette brothers in October 1844. “The Youteau Indians are at ware with the Spaniards and whites a Spaniard come in a few days Since who was trapping with one other his companions was killed he escaped went to the Fort of Rubadoux where he found them all killed five or six Spaniards and one American from there he came to this place without shies coat or no provisions which took him 14 days the Spaniards have a new governor in office he has raised the duty on the traders—it was at Five hundred dollars pr wagon he had got it to six.”58 The letter was sent from A. W. Sublette in Taos to his brother W. L. Sublette in St. Louis. Based on the timing in the letter, the attack took place in the first few days of October.
The fall of the fort on the Gunnison may have happened within a matter of days after the destruction of the Unitah base. According to a story that appeared in some Missouri newspapers during the late summer of 1845, and which must have come from the mout
h of Antoine himself, events surrounding the fall of his post on the Uncompaghre can be gleaned. “Antonia [sic] Robidoux, who it was some time since understood had been killed by the Indians in the Mountains, returned a few days ago to St. Joseph. He has kindly furnished us with some information which we give to our readers. The facts in relation to the destruction of the Tampaparha [Indian variation of Uncompaghre] Fort, are these: Some Eutaw Indians had been killed by the Spaniards in Santa Fe, from which the Fort was about 300 miles; the Indians were incensed at this, and attacked the Fort for the purpose of killing the Mexicans who were there; there were three Mexicans in the Fort, all of whom were massacred; but one American was there, who was spared and sent to let Mr. Robidoux [who was 120 miles distant] know that his peltries were unharmed. Mr. R. states that the Indians manifested no desire to injure him, and that they are generally friendly to the Americans. Mr. R. met the dragoons within four days travel of the South Pass, to which place they designed going, and would return to Fort Laramier [sic]”59
Antoine gave no indication where he was at the time of the attack, possibly 125 miles away at Bent's Fort, or that he returned to the site of his fort that later observers indicated had been burned out. As the story stated, and probably because his party of men consisted mostly of Mexicans, he only skirted by the Uncompaghre base and headed north where he encountered the dragoon patrol. On July 4, 1845, Antoine reached Fort Laramie in Wyoming and transacted some business with the Sublette family. The document, an authorization and receipt for delivery, appears to signal the liquidation of his outfit. He identifies several members of the team of hunters and a list of assets. “Manual Ruis, Manuel Pais, Miguel Rinbali, Jose, my Payuty Boy [possibly an Indian name], and Felipe Ardiuleta, will pleased to deliver to Mr. [H. or W.] Sublet, my mules, seven in number, three rifles, riding saddles, pack saddles, ropes and powder hors, one tomahawk. Mr. Sublette is fully authorized by me, and in my name to purchase or receive any part or all the above mention property, as the said property has been stolen from me on [Snake?] River October last. Signed, ‘A. Robidoux.’”60 After leaving Fort Laramie, he must have proceeded down the Platte River Road, arriving in St. Joseph within a few weeks to share his story.
The departure of brothers Louis and Antoine from New Mexico and the intermountain region seemed rather abrupt after twenty years. Antoine's posts, and Louis's business enterprises, as well as their civic leadership were gone, but their names would be long remembered in Santa Fe and Taos. What they left behind proved to be an enduring legacy for the region. The Robidoux brothers boosted the development of Anglo-Mexican business, promoted an understanding of how diverse and often competing cultures could be brought together, politically and socially, and opened new trails into the interior of the great intermountain West. While in New Mexico they contributed their business savvy, knowledge of the language, their desire to be leaders, the drive to get rich, and even their natural ability to charm, or behave like a scoundrel when that was the only route to advancement. The Robidouxs left an impression, good or bad, on all they encountered, whether they were Indian, Mexican, French Creole, or Anglo-Americans. Though the Robidouxs departed the region, it was not an ending, simply their moving on to other horizons, with the possibility they might return one day not entirely out of the question.
CHAPTER 10
War and Finding Home
In 1846, as hostilities commenced with Mexico over the ultimate control of the Southwest, Colonel Stephen Watts Kearny, making preparations for his campaign at Fort Leavenworth, wrote to Antoine Robidoux in St. Joseph, Missouri, offering him the job of interpreter for his impending expedition against Santa Fe and points beyond. He knew Antoine had been to California so his service as a guide would also be welcome. Refreshed from his recent exploits in Utah, and likely short of money, Antoine accepted the position. Toward the end of June, the Army of the West, consisting of six troops of the First Dragoon Regiment, the First Missouri Volunteers, mostly young, fair-skinned farm boys, 856 men, formed into eight companies of foot and mounted infantry companies, departed Fort Leavenworth. The force also included the Laclede Rangers, mounted riflemen from the St. Louis area and a small artillery detachment, all striking off across the Great Plains, over the route to Santa Fe that Antoine had traversed many times before.1
Kearny's force did not travel as a single unit across the Great Plains and not until they reached Bent's Fort on the upper Arkansas River did all the troops, companies, and supply wagons converge on a single place. Some units left as early as June 16, others not until July 6, some marched on foot, twenty to thirty miles a day, while cavalry troops rode, but hardly made more than the infantry, due to sick, hungry, or thirsty animals. Tom Fitzpatrick, a mountain man of immense reputation and skill, served as the chief scout for Kearny's army. The road was well known and heavily traveled by freight wagons and herds of horses, mules, and cattle. Its dangers were also well known by then. Hostile Indians like the Comanche crisscrossed the region raiding, plundering, and taking captives at will unless the traveler's firepower was enough to deter them. Other obstacles particularly in the summer months included a lack of grass and trees, swirling dust, nearly impenetrable swarms of mosquitoes and gnats, and lots of rattlesnakes. The worst of the march was the frequent lack of good water, or the presence of alkali water, which they drank because they did not know otherwise, and the relentless sun that parched their mouths and burned their skin until it was brown and leathery.2
On the trek across the Plains, Antoine fraternized with officers and soldiers alike, sharing their toil and long marches. One of Kearny's soldiers, George Rutledge Gibson, mentioned Antoine in his diary. Camped for the night on July 2, 1846, he recalled, “Mr. Robidou, who goes out as interpreter, guide, etc., for the general, paid us a visit and we spent the evening very pleasantly.” But the next mention of Antoine, two days later after a grueling march, confirmed the respect of the soldiers for the opinion for the frontiersman. “Mr. Robidoux estimated our day's march at thirty-two miles, which most probably is not over the mark. Coffee and water made us feel better, and the men were soon wrapped in their blankets and the camp quiet, all needing repose after one of the longest and hardest day's marches we were destined to make.”3
As the march proceeded at a grueling pace, many men became ill, some with dysentery, some with measles. Falling out, they had to be put in the wagons or sent hiking back toward Missouri. For some, their final rest came between Missouri and their intended goal, Santa Fe, with burials becoming a regular duty halfway down the trail. The troops saw large herds of buffalo and killed some for the meat. More often than not the acquaintance with the animal came from the soldiers harvesting the chips so they could build a campfire. On reaching the Arkansas River in western Kansas, most assumed the line of march would be easier because of an abundant supply of fresh water. But the river was frequently brackish, even dry in places, and the situation worsened the higher the trail climbed. Officers had to impose strict discipline to keep the marching infantry from wandering off to forage and the dragoons spent most of their day on foot because the horses were too weak to carry a rider. When they reached Chouteau's Island on the upper Arkansas River, the Army of the West temporarily crossed into Mexico, assumed to be hostile territory, but with no sign of the enemy.4
On July 28, 1846, the van of Kearny's disjointed army reached Bent's Fort, also called Fort William, in what is now eastern Colorado. From there, the trail branched, part going west and north, with the southern parts leading to Taos and Santa Fe. Bent's was one of the largest posts in the West, with high adobe walls and warehouses full of everything needed for the Indian trade or refitting the mountain man. As each unit arrived they had a short respite, a chance to take in the odd human collection that populated the fort, have a drink of whiskey, which was sold at greatly inflated prices, and make the necessary repairs and resupply their wagons before pushing on. Kearny had heard that Santa Fe would likely not be defended, from a number of sources, ranging from local traders all
the way up to President James Polk. But if it was, some worrisome issues confronted the general. Many of his cavalry and artillery horses had died, supplies and rations were short, his supply and communication line reached back six hundred miles, and the rugged landscape in front of him held innumerable opportunities for a Mexican ambush. Kearny decided to send a message to the Mexican governor Armijo, with James Magoffin, an American trader with much experience in New Mexico. Essentially, Armijo was told that Kearny was coming regardless, and he could make the occupation of Santa Fe difficult or peaceful, but it was going to happen.5
Kearny's army left Bent's Fort on August 1 with a tremendous caravan of nearly fifteen hundred wagons in tow. The weather proved terribly hot and the breakdown and death of men and animals continued as the army plodded through the desert of northern New Mexico. Kearny began to receive reports that Armijo had several thousand men to oppose him, stories that changed with every new person brought to the general for interrogation, which Antoine translated. The governor did propose a meeting between the two commanders at Las Vegas, north and east of Santa Fe, but Armijo did not appear. Another rumor circulated that the Mexican army had fortified a key pass, Apache Canyon, on the approach to the city. Armijo did assemble a ragtag militia and cut some trees for fortifications at the site. Kearny actually deployed his troops for battle to take the pass, but found it deserted when they arrived. Armijo's defense of Santa Fe never materialized, and though the landscape did lend itself for a spirited defense of the city, the governor failed to take advantage of it. By August 18, Kearny reached Santa Fe and rode in without firing a shot. Antoine translated all of Kearny's speeches to the Mexican inhabitants of the city.6
The Brothers Robidoux and the Opening of the American West Page 25
