A few days after returning to Fort Garland I was ordered to report to Major McClave who commanded a troop of cavalry and was camped near the top of Sangre De Cristo pass. The nights were cold and the camp was in every way an unpleasant one. We only remained there a few days when we broke camp and went down the Veta pass. The Sangre De Cristo and Veta passes joined just beyond the top of the range on the west side. We camped near La Veta, a Mexican village, the first night. In coming down La Veta pass we had a good view of the Spanish peaks, a name I remembered in connection with my very limited study of geography when a lad, and which for some reason I expected to be grand and commanding. After spending a summer in the mountains and seeing them in all their rugged grandeur, the peaks looked small and their hay-stack tops were disappointing. We went by easy marches until we reached a point on the Purgatory river some forty miles above its mouth where we remained in camp about a month. Our camp here was several thousand feet lower than the one near Sangre de Cristo pass and was in a fine grove of large cotton-wood trees and by comparison was a very comfortable place. The nights were a little cool but the days were delightfully pleasant. The Purgatory valley was practically unsettled in those days except near Trinidad, where there were a number of small ranches but I only remember one ranch between our camp and the mouth of the river. While in this camp a wind-storm came up one afternoon and grew in volume as the evening advanced but we felt secure on account of the bluff just across the river to the windward of us. However, I could hear it among the tree tops before dropping to sleep, and I wondered if it could do any harm. When I awoke the next morning the ridge pole of my tent was broken, and the tent crushed in by some great thing extending obliquely upward, and only a few inches above my chest. I hurried outside as quickly as I could and found an immense dead I found both Major McClave and Mr. Williams, his lieutenant, very interesting companions. The major had served in the ranks before the war, and had been promoted for bravery and efficiency in the service. He was a thorough soldier, courteous and considerate to everybody, and like all the officers I met from the ranks, was very devoted to his men. Mr. Williams was a West Point graduate and an accomplished gentleman, and I shall always remember my experience with this command with pleasure. Mr. Williams and I had found a fine bathing pool in the river and had frequent occasions to enjoy its chilly but invigorating qualities. One day when in the midst of our bath the bugle call for "boots and saddles" sounded. We hurried from the water, dressed and got to camp in time to find everything ready to move. A messenger had arrived in camp bringing word of an Indian raid and the killing of cattle at some point down the river toward Las Anamis. We kept going until some time after midnight when we were within a few miles of Fort Lyon and from there the major and I took the ambulance and went on into Fort Lyon to report and get such information as we could, and instructions for any further action that was considered necessary. We got back to our camp just at good daylight and found Mr. Williams and the men almost ready for the march. After a hurried breakfast we were soon on the way up the Arkansas Valley. We followed this valley to where Wild Horse creek enters the river, then turned up that creek and marched until near sundown when some cattlemen and rangers met us and reported that the Indians had turned east and would probably cross the Arkansas below Fort Lyon. Right here it is just as well to say that cavalry stand a poor show to overtake a band of Indians if they have a few miles the start. The Indian pony does not eat corn; the cavalry horses must have it or at least some kind of grain. Stop and unsaddle your Indian pony, lariat him out and give him an hour to rest and graze, and he is ready for another jaunt of a half day or more. He is a tough, hardy beast and can be forced to keep going when the cavalry horse will There was nothing of special interest on this trip although the night we camped at Dick Wooton's there was a heavy snow and the major spent a good part of the night looking after the comfort of his men and horses. After crossing this spur of the mountains the weather was pleasant and the country free from snow and we reached Fort Union without further incident. I returned by stage to Fort Garland and arrived at that post the forepart of December and was there awaiting orders until the 18th. The weather was cold, Fort Garland being at an altitude of about seven thousand feet above sea level, and it was comfortable to be with my wife and little girl, and in good quarters again. General Kautz had taken General Alexander's place as post commander, but Dr. Happersett, the post surgeon, and the other officers were the same as when we arrived the preceding April. The social features of the post were charming and I hoped it would be my good fortune to remain there during the winter, but a few days after my arrival orders came for me to report to the commanding officer at Fort Stanton, New Mexico, for duty. We started on December 18th and the thermometer registered eighteen degrees below zero that morning. We were well equipped for the trip, having four mules to the ambulance and a six-mule team and wagon for our baggage. The question may occur to some of my readers how could all your household goods be carried in one wagon? We did not have much to carry, particularly in the way of furniture. The quarters at the different military posts were furnished by the quartermaster with stoves, tables, bedsteads and all kinds of furniture that would be cumbersome to move. We carried folding chairs, carpets, bedding and numerous household necessities and comforts with us, but one wagon was sufficient for this purpose in addition to carrying grain and hay for the mules from one government supply station to another. On most of the routes traveled there were I called the men together, and asked if any one of them would volunteer to stay with the wagon over night. An Irishman stepped out and said, "Yis Doctor, I will stay with it." It The following day the escort returned to the Rio Grande, and found the Irishman all right and only about half of the whiskey gone. He had fully merited all my confidence. They unloaded the wagon and slid the contents across the river on the ice, and by digging and prying with the tools they had taken from the station, and hitching all ten mules to the wagon, they drew it out the quick-sand and across the river and arrived at the station with everything in good shape about dark that evening. The morning before Christmas my wife and I concluded to ride to Santa Fe about twenty miles away for breakfast. It was a stinging cold morning, and we had to go over a little mountain range on the way, but the roads were hard and smooth as a pavement, and we made the trip at a clipping gait, but were thoroughly chilled by the time we reached Santa Fe. There was no fire in our room and I went to the landlord, Alex McDowell |