Racing With the Indians

Racing With the Indians Experiences of a Pony Express Rider By Joseph Hickman William Cody has done more than any other one man to ad- vertise the romantic life of the drivers of the stage and the riders of the pony over the plains. Uncle Elijah H. Maxfield rode on the same route that Buffalo Bill did. He is said to have been the driver who brought the first library across the plains to Utah. In 1921 when he attended the reunion of Utah's Indian war \eterans at Richfield, he was in his 90th year, and took the opportunity of riding over the city of Richfield in an aeroplane. He i9 said to have assured the reporter of the paper in which the incident was chronicled that the experience was very tame com- pared with the many exper- iences of his youthful days in Utah seventy years ago. He came across the plains in 1851, and drove stage coach for the Young Express Company, rode the pony express, was in the Echo Canyon war, and practically all the In- dian wars of Utah, helped build the first railroad into Utah, and assisted in the first mining which was done here. He re- sided at Lyman, Utah. Day af- ter day as I visited him he sat by my side and told me of the varied life he had lived. This is one of the chapters from his experience. He drove a stage coach for the Y. X. Company from its organization in January, 1856, to the time it was disbanded in July, 1858. He helped along the organization of the pony express, agreeing to ride for the company and take stock certificates for his pay. In view of this, his accounts of these two early modes of travel and mail transportation become very interesting and reliable. The Y. X. Company was organized by Brigham Young E. H. MAXFIEI.D

896 IMPROVEMENT ERA in January, 1856, for the purpose of carrying passengers and mail from the Missouri River to Salt Lake City by quick and reliable means, which, up to that time, had in no way been the case. A station was first erected at about every twenty- five miles of the distance at such places as water could be most nearly provided and feed secured.) These places were prop- erly equipped for taking care of the horses and men neces- sary to make the change of teams every day as the coach would dash up. From sixty to eighty miles were to be driven by each driver.* Many miles of the road over which the stage rumbled and rocked lay along beautiful valleys. Many miles of the road wound its tiresome way over steep hills and down deep gorges. For miles the traveler would swelter and pant in the dust of the desert. Then he would dash into a wooded area with the fear of death about him. It was in this latter kind of locality that the Indians would lie in wait with murderous intentions. Ash Hollow was a small ravine, wooded on either side and quite rough. Twice this place became the scene of an exciting experience of Uncle Lige's stage driving life. One day while the team jogged along as fast as possible, a volley of shots rang out and the "off" leader of the four dropped dead in his tracks. There was no time to wait for further de- Aelopments. This was a favorite manner the Indians had of attack. By killing one of the team, they could approach close enough to do murderous work with the driver and passengers. It is well to remember here that according to the stories of most mountaineers the Indian of that day was not a good shot with a gun. He knew little about the proper use of firearms and could not do very good shooting at a distance. This is why they would first kill one of the team and then probably not fire again, but in the delay, rush upon the travelers and do their work with more primitive weapons. As the savages might rush down upon the driver and his passengers at any moment, Maxfield did not delay. The mes- senger who sat beside him rushed to the horse, as was his duty, to unhitch the dead animal and arrange the remaining leader so that he could work as "spike." Uncle Lige leaped to the ground with his trusty rifle in hand. The Indians fired one more volley ; then they ran. Evidently they considered *It is related in Whitney's History of Utah that John R. Murdock in the summer, of 1857, traveled from Salt Lake City to Independence, Mis- souri, in fifteen days. This was at the surprising rate of eighty miles per day — the distance between those points being twelve hundred miles. It was accomplished with but three changes of animals, grass fed; four twenty-mile drives being made every day. — Editors.

RACING WITH THE INDIANS 897 safety first. Uncle Lige gave them the best of his aim. They leaped behind a clump of trees, then two of them appeared further on, running as fast as they could. The third Indian did not appear. "So far as I know," says Uncle Lige in his dry way, "that Indian never did appear on this earth again, unless his folks saw him in a dream." **I was afraid I was going to see some blood shed one day at Laramie, one of our stations. Just before we reached there we saw a man and a woman standing by the side of the road. They signaled us to stop and rode to the station with us. We wondered where they had come from and did not learn until we got to the station. Here, just as I was unhitch- ing the horses, a couple of fellows rode up and asked me if I had picked up any passengers along the road. I told them of the man and the woman. They looked excited, so I followed them into the station house. The leader of the two drew his revolver as he entered and pointed it at the woman, saying, 'The money you stole or your life!' Shefainted right there, and he had an awful time to bring her to. When the woman finally came to, she pointed at a suitcase in the corner, and the man went to it and said that it contained $10,000 that had been stolen from him. The fellow who was with the woman could not be found. He seemed to have suspected an en- counter. Fellows who do wrong seem to have a wonderful faculty of knowing when to get out of the way." After Uncle Lige had made four trips (1856-1858) across the plains as a driver of the stage coach, news reached the people along the way that Johnston's Army was coining to Utah. The stage stations were all broken up, and that was the end of the Y. X. Company. As to some of his experiences while in the service of the "Pony Express," inaugurated in the spring of 1860, he relates that one had to be more than an ordinary horseman to be able to hold down the job as rider. Uncle Lige relates that one especially mean horse was kept at Salt Lake, and when one would apply for a job as rider he was given this horse to ride. Many, hav- ing heard of the animal before, did not go farther, but, saying they would be around later, made their way from the station in the best mood possible under the circumstances. A test of this kind was very necessary, for one must be able to ride well if he were to protect himself and the mail which he carried in those days. This mail was very valuable, being paid for at the high rate of $10 per ounce, for postage. In \iew of this, most of the letters were written upon thin paper. These letters were carefully packed in watertight packages before being placed in the mail pouch which was «o constructed that it would fit directly under the rider's leg.

898 IMPROVEMENT ERA As the rider neared a station he loosened the pouch so that he could leap from his horse as soon as the change became necessary, and carrying the pouch with him, immediately mounted the next horse and was off. Just a few seconds were needed for this change, which was repeated every ten miles. Just what the new horse would do was always a question, until the rider was on his back. Sometimes he would start off on a high run, at other times he performed his little bucking spree first. When first the Indians learned of these regular trips of the Pony Express they took much interest in it, thinking the whites were wonderful riders. Sometimes they would ride along in a friendly manner and make offers of trying the mettle of their own ponies against that of the express rider's. One day Old Ponche, an old chief, rode alongside Uncle Lige. The Indian was accompanied by his daughter, a charming Indian maid. Uncle Lige knew what they desired; they wished to try their ponies with his. He took the challenge. Old Ponche stopped at the next station, but the daughter continued on the distance of two changes, about twenty miles. In this distance Uucle Lige had tired two horses, and he said, "Hers seemed quite as fresh as my second one, although I had rid- den mine but ten miles while hers had come twenty." One day while going down Ash Hollow, the same hollow where the horse of the coach team was killed, in 1857, as already related, an Indian rode alongside of Uncle Lige as in friendly company. But, the latter did not wish to show his concern, though he kept his eyes open and relates: I noticed that the end of his lasso rope was tied to the hoin of his saddle, and that he held the noose open ready to throw. Although he kept this by his side, I got an idea of his inten- tions, so when the rope flew through the air with a deadly aim to ensnare me, I dodged, and, instead of catching me, the rope fell over the horn of my saddle. At the same moment I drove my spurs into my horse's side, causing him to make a grand lunge. So unexpected was that that the Indian's* saddle girths gave way and he was thrown with force to the ground. I did not look back, but l«t my frightened pony have the reins as he dashed over the hills dragging the saddle after him." The next rider who came over the route told the station keeper, when he changed horses: "Say, there's a dead Indian back there on the trail near Ash Hollow!" Bicknell, Utah

Moses Monroe Curtis, Pioneer A Tale Characteristic of That of Hundreds of other Western Settlers By S. C. Richardson Moses Monroe Curtis was born in Nauvoo, Oct. 28, 1840. For two years his father, Moses Curtis, worked on the Mississ- ippi getting out timber for the temple, making shingles for it, etc., and floating them down the river. A raft was made of the logs, put together with wooden pins and hickory withes; shingles, household goods, and family, etc., were piled on, and the work- men would float down to the landing. Necessities for the family were furnished, such as corn-meal, though often this was so bitter that they could hardly use it. Besides being a soldier in the Echo Canyon war, his father had been with the militia at Nauvoo; and often testified that he was with them when the mob started for them, swearing they would kill ©very "Mormon" there. Their captain told them he guessed they were "in for it.'* It looked as if they must fight. As they stood in fear, but determined, the mob suddenly turned and went off under whip and spur. Later they asked our "boys" who was the great company that came up. When told that none had come, they said they knew better, that there were almost a thousand of them, all mounted on white horses ; that they could plainly see their glittering sabers and bayonets. No argument could convince them that an immense crowd had not ridden up. Monroe was but four years old when the prophet was mar- tyred, but he was so deeply impressed, that he remembers as if it were yesterday, how the dead bodies were laid out, and the people going through to look at them. He also remembers plainly the people being driven from Nau- voo, and was especially impressed with the singing of songs and hymns about going to the mountains, the crystal fountains, etc. He never remembers having a flour biscuit till after the pio- neers were in Utah. For a week of two before they started on the journey, in order not to have bitter corn meal, they were parch- ing corn; then it was ground, some in coffee mills, and eaten with milk. Or the corn-meal was baked into bread, then crumbed up, put into an oven and dried. It was then called "rusk." Enough rusk was cooked to last to Winter Quarters, where his father built a log house, banked it up with dirt; then went down to Missouri to work for corn to last through the winter.

900 IMPROVEMENT ERA Next spring he well remembers clearing off ground to plant corn. When it was big enough to eat as roasting ears, they felt they had a fine living, and when it got a little harder they grated it on a tin, for bread. When too hard to grate, his father dug a hole in a stump, put up a spring pole with a hard-wood pestle to pound it into meal. This, with hominy, a few pumpkins, and quail, and they were Irving well. In the spring of 1850 they were ready to start to Zion; and had the addition of buckwheat to aid their bread. The stay there had been lengthened through an agreement with his brother Lyman that Moses should stay and provide for the fami- lies, while Lyman was to take the best of the teams with the load, to Utah, and return for them. Before starting on the journey, they sold corn for 10c a bushel, or at the same price per hundred picked ears, to get sugar to take on the road; and for cloth- ing, a wagon cover and necessities for the journey. When ready they went across the river and stopped to organize for the trip, and while waiting, his Aunt Sophronia died, also her daughter, Melissa. They were buried just across the river from Winter Quarters. Traveling up the Platte, they frequently had to stop for herds of buffalo to pass to the river. The guards who rode ahead would come back to warn the company, when they would form the wagons into a corral, chain the cattle, to avoid a stampede, and wait for thousands to go by on a run. Wood was very scarce here, and buffalo chips was the only fuel. This, however, was very good unless the fuel was green. Rusk was now changed for fresh baked bread; a hole being dug in the ground, irons put across to keep the dough from the coals, and the bread baked fine. When they were away from the trails of the buffalo, the company frequently stopped for the hunters to get meat to "jerk" or dry, over a fire. If they were killed on the "runs" the smell was liable to cause the males to fight, or to stampede. Several times there were scares from Indians. At one time, an Indian wanted to buy a squaw, a white woman; and one of the boys, in jest, offered to take seven ponies for one of the young women, not thinking it would be taken in earnest. The Indian, however, went in a hurry and brought the horses. With a crowd of braves around, it soon became a serious jest, to settle which the company had to give a couple of beeves and provisions that they seriously needed themselves, but the lesson was not forgotten. This was the company of which Stephen Markham was cap- tain, and though 15 or 16 died from cholera on the way, the company arrived in Salt Lake City in October. On their arrival they were sent to Provo, where the next year they, with others*

MOSES MONROE CURTIS, PIONEER 901 cleared ground and planted wheat, going through the trials with grasshoppers, etc. Here his father went up Provo river, and cut and floated down logs and timber for joists, etc., for the first big adobe meetinghouse in Provo. The old house still stood when he was in Provo last. At the time of the "Move" Monroe went to Salt Lake City and brought one of the families of George A. Smith (Bathsheba) to Provo. She and his mother were great cronies. They camped on a forty-acre piece of land which Moses let the Church have, now in the principal part of Provo. Monroe relates that a barrel of kraut they had loaded had settled, and whenx he called atten- tion to it, and said they had eaten some of it, Bro. George A. replied, "Well, a man would be foolish to starve to death in a cook-shop." When they left Kanesville they had about a fourth of a sack of brown sugar, the only kind they knew at that time. Immediate- ly after landing in Provo there was a famine for sweets. The service berries, choke-cherries, etc., were so much nicer with a little cooked into them, the people were almost wild for it. Then, in 1852, a strange thing happened that he has never seen repeated. The cottonwood trees looked as if there had been a snow storm which had turned the leaves white with a coating of sugar. People came from far and near, and gathered the limbs, some of which would break with the weight of it. It was rinsed off, boiled down and carefully stored for use. One piece that his mother had made into a cake, he kept and brought to Arizona in 1877. After leaving the Order at Brigham City, he took the cake to Eden, where is was lost track of. There were many impressive things in this line ; as fish com- ing up the streams from the lake in such quatities that the people could put up and dry enough to live upon; or the pitched battles they would have with the Indian children with slings or bows and arrows ; quarrels and rows with them that came very near being serious over the stealing of the cow-herd-boy's din- ner, or melons, or something prized — such gave innumerable, real, live adventures. Once an Indian boy, one of a crowd on the other side of Provo river, who was throwing with slings at the boys on this side, was struck on the head, and it was thought would die. A price had already been put upon him that would have been a great hardship to meet; but he refused to die, so it ended all right as did one after another of their troubles in about the same way. Soon after the Echo canyon war they moved to what is now Salem. They called it Pondtown. When they wanted to move out of the fort to higher ground, Monroe brought James Snow, a

902 IMPROVEMENT ERA surveyor, from Provo to lay out the townsite. The house he built near where the first stake was driven, he afterwards gave to his father. It was for a long time the nicest house in town. The nails in it cost 60c a pound. They were made from scraps of iron from the refuse left by Johnston's Army. In 1862 he was called to go to Winter Quarters for a load of immigrants. Taking two yoke of his own cattle and two of a neighbor's he went; though so early in the spring that it was almost winter. Nothing daunted by hardships, mountain streams without bridges, snow, blizzards, scarcity of provisions; each of those drivers who were with him proved a monument of manhood, will, and bravery. At the crossing of Wood river they were eight days in getting over, having to take the wagons apart, calking up the best wagon box till it was as nearly water tight as possible, to float the flour, etc., over in. Only a slight idea of what was done, can eher be given, but June found them at old Winter Quarters. After a much needed rest, they were loaded and ready for the return. Some of the leaders of the immigrants, taking ex- ception to some of their pranks, began to warn their followers against the crowd of "toughs" who had come to lead them to the mountains. So well was the "off-scourings-of-Utah," idea carried out in the buckskin dress, the rabbit-skin cap, or easily no cap at all; or in the fearlessness and hardihood of the drivers that a feeling was quickly roused which, for a while, threatened to create lasting trouble. But through the influence of some of the apostles who were opportunely there, confidence was restored; and soon in the wholeheartedness of those rough mountain boys, the immigrants found a real haven of peace and strength, which in many cases was never forgotten. One night, at Wood river, they stopped in a low place, and unfortunately formed their camp in the lowest part of it. In the night a terrific rain came, with wind, which blew down the tents, and left the immigrants, some praying, some crying, wading in water and mud, in all the horrors of a storm on the plains. The wind was so fierce that the boys had to hold some of the lighter wagons down; and their jokes and chaffing was a boon to those unaccustomed to such hardships. It was in such crises as these that the immigrants found these sturdy lads were made of the right kind of stuff to be leaders, men to look up to, to admire; and one of them, Martha Simms, born in Chelten- ham, England, in 1844, had so far overcome all fear of the "ruffians" that, a few months after their arrival in the valley, she allowed Bishop Duke to perform a ceremony that tied her for life to the subject of this sketch, and afterwards for all time to come. Nor could they fail in those long stretches, and weary marches to feel that there was strength, and power, and

MOSES MONROE CtJRTIS, PIONEER 903 real inspiration with those on whom they had to depend for their journey. Monroe had sixteen persons with his wagon, and when the road was such that they might ride, and he would give out that yell for the "Pondtown Ten," there was joy and scuffle and chaff- ing that lightened the dreariness of that long road. And really the rejoicing of arrival in the valley was clouded by sorrow at the breaking up of that merry group as they separated for their dif- ferent homes. To improve the benches and alkali flats around Pondtown, Mioses and his brother Lyman tried to get the people interested in a canal from Spanish Fork canyon, but they were indifferent, and the two got a surveyor from Sanpete to come and lay out the work, then the two went and worked alone all winter, having Monroe and the other sons as helpers part of the time. The next season the interest became general, and Spanish Fork, Payson and Pondtown, joined and completed seven miles of it with picks and short-handled, square pointed shovels. The land around was laid off in five and ten acre lots, and each man drew a piece according to the work done on the canal. If a Pondtown man drew a piece near Spanish Fork, he would trade till he got what he wanted. And this was all the title held till the govern- ment survey was made just before 1880. Land was valued as high as five and even ten dollars an acre. For years, Monroe was water-master and instead of paying him a salary they allowed him to draw a five or ten acre piece now and then. All through the Indian troubles he took part in standing guard, following for stolen stock or trailing Indians. In 1876 he married Josephine Higgins who was so go)cd a mother to Martha's children after the death of the latter. In the same year his brother Frank died in Salem, and later, in 1879, he added the widow Malina and her children to his family, insuring their being provided for. In 1877, Monroe was called to Arizona to work in the United Order in what at that time seemed a forsaken country. He was a member of the first high council in the then Territory. He had been ordained a high priest by Brigham Young, Jr., Jan. 27, 1878, and sustained in the quorum, Bro. Games of Sunset, President, and Fritjoff G. Nielson, Secretary. He had been, ordained an elder by Bishop Sheets, in Salt Lake City, in October, 1865. The mineral in the water of the little Colorado made farm- ing a hardship. It was not thought as later proved that water could be gotten from Clear Creek, without using the brackish slough. Doing so has made the country around Winslow a farming spot. At that time, however, it was deemed impossible, and in 1881 President Erastus Snow came to look over the situa- tion. He felt the settlement of the upper valleys had been made

904 IMPROVEMENT ERA permanent, beautiful places located in Snowflake, Taylor, St. Johns, Springerville, Eagerville, Concho, and in all that, the Order towns had aided greatly. He praised the work they had done and released them; urged them to go to San Juan, or the Gila, rather favoring the San Juan; giving as a reason after- wards that the Gila would build itself up, but they would have to call people to the other. In accordance with the wishes expressed, Monroe accompan- ied Brother George Lake through the San Juan country without finding what interested them. A visit to the Gila gave better results, and the Order company moved over, and bought a piece of land in Graham on the north side of the Gila river. Monroe stayed there only a week or two, then went and took up a homestead about six miles northwest from Pima, across the river, renting land from a Mr. Humphrey to raise a crop while getting his own ready for cultivation. Three times they were driven into town by Indian raids. Once when the river was very high one of the men swam the stream and went to Pima for aid. In answer, a party came, built a boat and ferried them across to safety. Another time Geronimo, with about fifty Indians, who had killed a Mexican sheep herder and family, above San Jose, also others in the vicinity, came down the ridge. Six of them left the band and with their guns in their hands, came to the tent where he was. "I guess we are in for it," he told his wife, "give them anything they ask for," and he lay on the bed with his hands under his head, where his revolt er could be out of sight, with his finger on the trigger ready for instant action in case of need. When they came up, his wife asked if they were hungry, to which they replied with a grunt, and she divided a sack of flour and some shorts among them. While one of the older girls had taken the younger children to pray in the room where they slept, the Indians stood and talked two or three minutes, then, to the great relief of all, walked away. When they reached the band on the hill, Geronimo gave a whoop, and all started away, taking a team of horses belonging to William Hawkins, that had been staked near. Mr. Hawkins came up, and the two walked out on the ridge where the Indians had started from ; when Mon- roe was prompted to give a yell; which he did, waving his hat as though to someone behind. The Indians supposedly thinking it must be soldiers from Ft. Thomas, began to whip their horses, and left on a big run, and to lighten their load began to throw away blankets, pans, etc., which were continually found for two or three years after. Other settlers soon came in, and they built a canal, soon well known as the "Curtis Ditch," one of the best in the valley,

MOSES MONROE CURTIS, PIONEER 905 though not a long one. It was widened to twelve feet and all the earth dug with a pick and shovel. A little town soon grew, called after his father and him, Curtis ward; later Eden; where he was chosen first bishop, May 10, 1883, with William Ballard first and S. J. Sinims, as second counselor. His wife Malina taught the first school in the place. March 8, 1884, his wife, Martha Simms died, leaving her younger chidren for Josephine to be a mother to, which she faithfully did till her death in Thatcher, January 11, 1916. Till after Monroe was seventy, he never lived in a place that he did not help to start, by helping to build a fort, as in Provo, Salem, Brigham City, Arizona and Eden, then finally building on the townsite. About ten years ago he moved from the old homestead in Eden, to Thatcher, where Josephine died. His home is now in Pima, Arizona, where he lives hale and hearty at the age of 83. Tlwteher, Arizona. A Little Too Much is Just Enough By Frank Herbert Sweet "The wind is in the east tonight," said Ria significantly, as her brother Hector entered the hall, shut the front door with a bang and marched straight upstairs without his usual cheery hail, "Hello, Folks. Dinner 'most ready?" Uncle Joe, who had dropped in on the way to his rooms farther up the street, nodded assent. "Looks like it," he said. "But maybe it'll change pretty soon. Your dinner smells good." "Stay and taste it," urged his sister, hospitably, though her eyes had an anxious look. "You used to like boiled dinners when you were a boy; and if nothing is the matter with Hector — " "Oh, he's all right, mother," laughed Ria. "But do stay, Uncle Joe. I want you to taste my apple dumplings." Mr. Joseph Landis threw up both hands. "I surrender," he said helplessly. "Maybe I could have resisted the boiled dinner alone, but apple dumplings coming up as reinforcements — that settles it." The dinner was as good as it smelled, and passed off pleas- antly enough in spite of Hector's clouded brow. It was only when uncle and nephew were left alone, while mother and daughter cleared the table and washed the dishes, that the old man saw fit to notice it.

906 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Well, Hecky, what's on your mind?" he asked genially. "You don't seem to be finding life 'one grand, sweet song' for some reason. Anything gone wrong at the works?" "Everything," was the short answer. "I've about made up my mind to quit the works. I've had all I can stand of Dave Lafferts. Lafferts is in charge c£ my division. But he's a shirk, all the same. The last three months he's just been piling more and more responsibilities onto me." "Responsibility won't hurt you, boy," put in Uncle Joe. "But go on and tell me about it." "He gets the pay and I do the work," said Hector. "I'm going to quit." "I wouldn't do that," protested Uncle Joe. "No, Hecky, I wouldn't do that." "What would you do?" "I'd do more work." "But I tell you I'm doing two men's work already — Laffert's and my own. The minute I'm through in the shop he calls me into the office — and skips. That's the last of him until after lunch. This afternoon he tried the same trick." "Well, do more work." "That's a little too much, Uncle Joe," Hector answered huf- fily. The older man chuckled. "Sometimes a little too much is just enough," he said, lay- ing a broad, comfortable hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Fight it out on that line for three months, Hecky, and see what hap- pens. A shirk may get by for a while, but he can't last. And it's the work which no one compels you to do — the things not set down in the contract — which pay the best in the long run." Hector drew a long breath, but he kept dilent. A little later, however, having made preparations to go upstairs, he paused beside the table and said with a smile, as he looked at his uncle reading on the other side: "I've decided to take your advice, Uncle Joe, much as I dislike it. I'll try it out for what it is worth.'* And in less than the three months he had mentioned, Uncle Joe was invited to another dinner at his sister's — this time a holiday affair and the wind "due south," and one of Ria's lemon pies for dessert. Hector had been promoted to the position formerly held by Da\e Lafferts and Lafferts was dropped from the payroll. "A little too much is just enough, eh, Hecky?" asked Mr. Joseph Landis as he gave his nephew's shoulder a congratulat- ory thump, and the young man answered heartily: "Just enough, Uncle Joe — and thank you." Waynesboro, Va.