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Family History Stories Paraphrased
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Nellie B. Reily Mrs. E. V. Gardener Pigeon Ranch Well Incidents of the Early 1880's  Mrs. Mary E. Burleson

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Edith L. Crawford
Nellie B. Reily
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Lincoln
Surnames mentioned: Reily, Gray, Lowery, Pruitt, Manning, Ricker, Garrett

I was born in Grapevine Texas, in 1877. I was six years years old when we left Grapevine in April 1883. My father, Seaborn T. Gray, mother, four children, two boys and two girls, my father's two sisters and their husbands, Mr. and Mrs. John Lowery and Mr. and Mrs. Henry Manning and three cowboys, Henry Pruitt, Jim Carliale and Johnnie Ricker were in our party.

Pat Garrett was a cousin of my father. He came to Grapevine Texas to visit us in the early spring of 1888. He had a cattle ranch on Little Creek, which is now part of the old V ranch, near Ruidoso, in Lincoln County, New Mexico. He persuaded my father to move to New Mexico and bring his cattle where there was lots of good food and water and open range. Cousin Pat mapped out the trail we were to travel as he had hunted Buffalo out on the plains and had made the trip several times and knew all the watering places. We traveled in four covered wagons, drawn by two horses to each wagon. One wagon was a chuck wagon and carried the provisions and the cow boys bedding. There was a chuck box in the back of this wagon. The three women did all the cooking. The chuck wagon would stop at each town and load up with provisions to last until we got to the next town. The rest of the wagons did not go through the towns as we had two hundred head of cattle and twenty-five head of horses with us. We could only travel about fifteen miles a day on account of the horses and cattle having to feed on the way. We camped out in the open each night. The men would take turns standing guard over the camp and the stock each night as the Indians were bad in those days and father was afraid they would come by some night and steal all of our horses and cattle. The families slept in the wagons and the cowboys made their beds on the ground. We used the lanterns for lighting and cooked over a camp fire in Dutch ovens. The only fresh meat we had were Antelope and Buffalo. They were very plentiful. I remember when we would sight a herd of Buffalo we would drive until they could see us, then the wagons would stop and father would hang a red blanket on the side of one of the wagons. The buffalo would become curious and keep edging up and when they got in shooting range father would get his Winchester and pick out a nice fat yearling and kill it. They would skin him and all we took was the hind quarters and the hide. After we reached the plains the only fuel we had was buffalo and cow chips. Every day when we stopped for dinner and at night my oldest brother and I had to take tow sacks and gather the chips. Mother made sour dough biscuits twice a day and corn bread for our noon meal. She baked it in Dutch ovens and my brother and I would watch to see if she dropped any of the chip ashes in the bread while baking it, for we thought it was awful to have to use the buffalo and cow chips to cook with. We never saw any Indians or any traces of any on the whole trip out here and we were on the road five months. It was awful dry and hot crossing the plains. We ran out of water one day and the stock suffered terribly from thirst. The cattle would not let us stop to eat dinner or supper. They put their heads down and traveled in a trot most all day. It was after dark when the cattle smelled water and they all struck out in a run for this watering place. It was just about dry when we reached it and we had to drink water from cow tracks that night. When we got up the next morning and saw the kind of water we had been drinking we children all tried to get sick. There was not enough water left in the holes for us to make coffee the next morning so we started on our way looking for fresh water. We drove about two miles when we got to the Canadian river with the nicest clearest water, so we camped on the bank of this river for three days and rested ourselves and the stock. Mother and my two aunts did the family washing and the men folks caught lots of nice fish.

One day while mother was driving along my two brothers and I were playing in the back of the wagon and I fell out. My oldest brother called to mother and said Mama, Nellie is out. Mother stopped the wagon and looked back and there I lay in the middle of the road screaming to the top of my lungs. She thought that I was half killed but I was not hurt at all, just scared half to death.

When we reached Fort Sumner new Mexico the Pecos river was running bank full of the muddiest water. We had to dip it up in barrels and tubs and let it settle before we could use it. We had to lay over there ten days waiting for the river to go down. We camped in an old adobe hut for it was raining when we got there. We got so tired of waiting to cross the river that one morning father decided that we could make it so the cowboys rounded up the cattle and horses and jumped them off in the Pecos river. They swam across with only horns and faces showing but we lost only one cow in crossing. When it came time for the wagons to cross the women folks and we children were awfully scared. The wagons crossed one at a time. One of the cowboys tied a rope to the horn of his saddle and to the tongue of the wagon and guided us across. The water came up to the bed of the wagon and some ran into our wagon.

While we were in Fort Sumner waiting to cross the river we visited Billy the Kid's grave. I remember it had a board at the head with his name, age and the date he was killed. He had only been dead two years then.

After leaving Fort Sumner we found wonderful grass and water for the stock. It was about the middle of August and was the rainy season in New Mexico. We were on the road a month from Fort Sumner to Little Creek New Mexico. We traveled by way of the Jicarilla and Capitan Mountains and crossed the Salado flat which is about eleven miles west of Capitan, New Mexico. We arrived at Pat Garrett's ranch at Little Creek, New Mexico in September 1888. We had been on the road for five months. Mother was so homesick when we first came for we had to sleep in a tent in Pat Garrett's back yard and we ate with the Garrett family until we found a place to live in. When we did find a place to live in it was a log shack and leaked. Mother had an awful time trying to keep our bedding dry when it rained or snowed. It was awfully cold the first winter we spent at Little Creek as it is situated at the foot of the White Mountains. We lived there about a year and in 1884 father filed on a homestead on the Salado flat and he raised cattle and fine horses until 1900. That year he sold all his cattle and horses and laid out the town of Capitan, New Mexico.

Father was born in Alabama, October 31, 1851 and died in Capitan New Mexico, July 23, 1915. Mother was born in Arkansas April 26, 1855 and died in Carrizozo New Mexico, October 16, 1933. Father's two sisters did not stay very long in New Mexico, they did not like it here so they moved back to Texas and I do not know what ever became of them. The three cowboys staid with us for a while and then drifted away and I do not know where they went. I was married to William M. Reily October 31, 1894, seven children were born to this union, five girls and two boys. Mr. Reily died in Carrizozo, New Mexico, March 9, 1931. Nellie B. Reily, Aged 61 years, Carrizozo, New Mexico

Mrs. E. V. Gardener
By Marie Carter
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Dona Ana
Surnames mentioned: Gardner, Fleck, Harkey, Gardner, Marshall, Casad, Carson

I was on my way home from Las Cruces, or the crosses, to Anthony, New Mexico, driving over U.S. Highway 80. Upon arriving at the town of Berino I decided to stop and call on a friend whom I had not seen for some time. When I drove up she was standing on the front porch of her charming little ranch house.  Won't you come in and visit awhile, she asked, in her low cultured voice. That is my intention, I assured her, to visit and to chat. As soon as we were comfortably seated in her sunny living room, I said: Won't you tell me something about the early days of the Rio Grande valley?

Certainly, was the gracious reply. For I love to talk about the early days. Also to recall how thrilled I was when I first saw this Great Southwest. But, then, I was only thirteen The world looks pretty rosy at that age. Indeed it does, I agreed. What year was that?

The year of 1885, she replied. We lived in El Paso for a few months then we came up the valley. My father was a cattleman. And my little mother, who was considered quite a beauty at that time, was the first school teacher between El Paso and Las Cruces. Had your mother ever taught school before? I Inquired. Oh, no! she said. Mr. Fleck, who was one of the school directors; asked little mother to teach. Mrs. Harkey he said, I wish you'd take that school up there at Herrin's Station. But Mr. Fleck, I have never taught school, little mother said.

That don't make no difference, he drawled. According to rules an regulations, of you teach for three months without pay, the school's yours. You're so darn pretty though that I'm afraid them boys will spend most of their time looking at you instead of their books.

 Mother accepted the school, but when Mr. Fleck offered to drive her up the valley in his buckboard, she declined. The buckboard was all right, but she was afraid of his broncos. They reared and pitched so much that he could hardly control them. So little mother decided to ride on the train. 

The present town of Barlino, where Mrs. E. V. Gardner lives, used to be identified as Linden. And the place where her little mother had the honor of being the first school teacher was known as Herrin's Station. Not only grade school but Sunday school and church were held in one of the rooms of Mr. Herrin's home. I think Dona Ana County has some very interesting history, I said, by way of proceeding with our conversation.

It has, my friend replied. The old West is a never forgotten epoch in my life. To be absolutely frank I don't want to forget it, for I was very happy. The old West was spectacular, but picturesque. My early impressions of cowboys with  jingling spurs, and Mexicans with gay sarapes are still very vivid.

And how about horse-back riding? I said. Oh, we all rode in the old days, but I rarely ever rode the range ponies, she replied. I had my own horse, a blue roan from Kentucky stock. My father had him shipped out from our old home in Missouri. We brought our grand piano along too. Mother thought it quite amusing for us to have a piano and to live in a jacal, or Mexican shack. We all enjoyed music. Mother and I played the piano, sister the guitar and father the flute. Sometimes he played the flat cornet. I suppose you know quite a bit about Anthony, also, I ventured. Oh, yes, was the quick response. I have been to many a pioneer party in your community.

Good! I exclaimed, you're the very person I've been looking for. How many houses did Anthony boast of in 1885? Three, she said. Exactly three. One was an express office, the second was a store owned by the Marshall's, and the third was the Hagan House, a place where people stopped, ate and danced. One of the parties I attended, and which I enjoy recalling, was given by Charley Miller.

Oh, yes, I said, Mrs. Story has told me about him. He was her neighbor, and ran the Valley Mercantile store. Yes, that was Charley, she said. In those days he was considered wealthy--he had twenty thousand dollars. The Chief diversion of our parties was dancing. That evening our Christmas party was interrupted by a loud explosion. The girls were frightened, but the men rushed outside to see what it was. Some of the boys had found some powder and set it off as a practical joke. A friend of yours told me that you knew Kit Carson, is that true? I asked.

True! It must be, for Kit was my second cousin. We were very proud of him until he got married, Oh, you know how it is, he married the wrong person. Col. Christopher Carson, famous Indian scout was sent, to Fort Stanton October 12, 1862, to pacify the Mescalero Apache. In 1863 he invaded the Navaho country. He continued campaign till 1864, and finally forced the Navajo tribe to surrender by destroying their food supply and starving them out. Many of the old Timers knew Kit Carson and honored him for the part he played in conquering the Indians and placing them on reservations. 

Mrs. Gardner, I said, What you have told me about the early settlers of the Rio Grande valley is very interesting, but I'm afraid that I am going to impose upon your generosity a wee bit more. Do you happen to know any Indian stories associated with this locality?

Yes. The horse skull mine Horse skull Mine . It is a story that was told to me by an old-timer, long dead, a member of the Casad family of Canutillo. The Casad's are fine people. Humboldt Casad can tell you more about the Brazito grant than any one else in the valley. For at one time his family owned a large part of it, she said.

Thanks a lot. That's the very information I've been seeking. But now about the horse skull mine? I inquired. Oh, yes. Well, a certain old timer by name Frank Birch, was alone in his cabin. It was night, and rather late, when two Indians knocked at his door. Birch knew the Indians so invited them in and gave them some wine. Shortly the wine influenced the Indians to talk, and I suppose they felt that they owed the white man something for his hospitality, so they told him that I suppose you know quite a bit about Anthony, also, I ventured. 

Oh, yes, was the quick response. I have been to many a pioneer party in your community. Good! I exclaimed, you're the very person I've been looking for. How many houses did Anthony boast of in 1885? Three, she said. Exactly three. One was an express office, the second was a store owned by the Marshall, and the third was the Hagan House, a place where people stopped, ate and danced. One of the parties I attended, and which I enjoy recalling, was given by Charley Miller. 

Yes, I said, Mrs. Story has told me about him. He was her neighbor, and ran the Valley Merqantile store. Yes, that was Charley, she said. In those days he was considered wealthy, he had twenty thousand dollars. The Chief diversion of our parties was dancing. That evening our Christmas party was interrupted by a loud explosion. The girls were frightened, but the men rushed outside to see what it was. Some of the boys had found some powder and set it off as a practical joke.

A friend of yours told me that you knew Kit Carson, is that true? I asked. True! It must be, for Kit was my second cousin. We were very proud of him until he got married, Oh, you know how it is, he married the wrong person.

Col. Christopher Carson, famous Indian scout was sent, to Fort Stanton October 12, 1862, to pacify the Mescalero Apache. In 1863 he invaded the Navaho country. He continued campaign till 1864, and finally forced the Navajo tribe to surrender by destroying their food supply and starving them out. Many of the old Timers knew Kit Carson and honored him for the part he played in conquering the Indians and placing them on reservations.  

Mrs. Gardner, I said, What you have told me about the early settlers of the Rio Grande valley is very interesting, but I'm afraid that I am going to impose upon your generosity a wee bit more. Do you happen to know any Indian stories associated with this locality? Yes. The Horse skull Mine. It is a story that was told to me by an old timer, long dead, a member of the Casad family of Canutillo. The Casads are fine people. Humboldt Casad can tell you more about the Brazito grant than any one else in the valley. For at one time his family owned a large part of it." she said.

Thanks a lot. That's the very information I've been seeking. But now about the Horse skull Mine? I inquired. Oh, yes. Well, a certain old timer by name Frank Birch, was alone in his cabin. It was night, and rather late, when two Indians knocked at his door. Birch knew the Indians so invited them in and gave them some wine. Shortly the wine influenced the Indians to talk, and I suppose they felt that they owed the white man something for his hospitality, so they told him that they would repay him by leading him to the Horse skull Mine. Concealing his eagerness to be gone at once, Birch, gave the Indians all the wine they could drink, telling them that he would be packed and ready to start by daybreak.

The snores of the two drunken Indians, wrapped in their blankets on the cabin floor, was the only sound that broke the midnight stillness of the room. Birch was still up, but sitting quietly in a chair, thinking of the Horse skull Mine, whose location no white man know. The Indians had guarded their secret well. True to his word, birch had his mules packed, and ready to leave by daybreak. The Indians, however, were not quite so drunk, and not overly-anxious to go. For during the night it had rained, and the morning was dark and misty.

 Which way did they go? I inquired. Due south, then west; they were headed toward Mt. Riley, north of El Paso. Their progress was slow, for the roads were rough, and the weather had changed. In fact it was so cold that they thought they would freeze before reaching their destination. And the Indians, although still in the lead, had grown sullen and reticent, and by the time they reached the mine had changed their minds, deciding not to betray their tribe by divulging their secret of the Horse skull to the white man.

Then what happened? I asked. Well, to begin, they camped for the night, but suffered from the extreme cold weather. And the following morning, when Birch awoke, he made a dreadful discovery. The pack mules with all of their provisions were gone. Also one of the Indians, whom he had grave reasons to suspect had cut the ropes, released the mules, then made a hasty retreat back to town. Taking the other Indian with him, Birch went in search of the mules, and brought them back to camp. But exposure and lack of food had weakened him to such an extent that the Indian grew alarmed, and offered to return to town for help. Of course he succeeded, I observed.

Yes. The Indian found Birch's partner, who took a party of men and set out to rescue his friend. Upon arriving in camp, however, they found Birch almost beyond the help of man; and the mules, rebelling, had gnawed their own ropes and strayed away again. Was Birch revived? I inquired. Yes, to such an extent that he took all of the men, except his partner, and went in search of the run away mules.

Did they find them? was my next question. Yes. But upon returning to camp they found something else. The Horse skull Mine! I exclaimed. No! The dead body of the man they had left in camp. Since time unknown, men have lost their lives, searching for gold. From birth the Indian was a ferret, ever looking and finding, treasures overlooked by the white man. Some of the old-timers in this vicinity, firmly believe, that there is many a buried treasure in the caves of our mountains, waiting to be unearthed by men. There are current stories about hidden by the early Spanish Explorers, gold hidden by outlaws, and by Indians. We all know that the story of a find is much like a chain letter. The more it circulates the larger it grows, until finally we begin to question its verity.

Take El Picacho, or Picacho Peak for instance. I see it this moment from my north window, clearly etched against the blue of the sky. Not so very long ago, two young men while exploring Picacho, unearthed a brass pot filled with coins. By the time the discovery had been relayed from one person to another, the money found, had become a fortune. When I asked one old-timer if the cache, or treasure was very large, he exclaimed:
Large! I'll say it was. The sheriff had to protect it with an armed guard till the truck arrived. 

Mrs. E. V. Gardener: Born in Columbia, Missouri, March 15, 1872; moved with parents to El Paso Texas.; remained in El Paso eighteen months; moved up the Rio Grande valley in 1885; located at Linden, New Mexico, now Berino, New Mexico. Father was L.C. Harkey, cattleman; mother was Eleanor Vergina Harkey, first school teacher between El Paso and Las Cruces. 

Pigeon Ranch Well
By B. A. Reuter
Teodosio Ortiz of Pecos, New Mexico 
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties:  San Miguel
Surnames mentioned: Greer, Ortiz, Teodosio, Valle, Gabaldon, Moya, Cebolles, Lucero

Corrections to my manuscript on the Pigeon Ranch Well, now owned and claimed by Mr. Tom Greer as the oldest well in the U.S.A.:
In my first interviews with Mr. Ortiz, I was served with an interpreter who failed to give me the full value of all that Mr. Ortiz had to say on the subject. In my past experiences with old Spanish Americans and Indians I have found it profitable to go over a subject matter several times and thrash out all angles of the subject carefully, however, since my interpreter translated the story of Mr. Ortiz in such precise details, with such an easy flow of competent English, I accepted the work of the interpreter at face value, not realizing that he was omitting some important details as well as making some dates too positive.

Some days ago, when I went over the subject of the Glorieta War with Mr. Ortiz, the subject of the Pigeon Ranch Well came up for comment, and I discovered that my notes were not complete enough, and partially in error. My interpreter on this occasion was not so gifted with a beautiful flow of English as the one I had in my first interview with Mr. Ortiz but he was faithful in translating the full text of what Mr. Ortiz had to tell.

In my statement in the manuscript that the Valley Ranch was Mr. Alexander Valle's headquarters ranch and that the Pigeon Ranch was one of his outlying ranches. I was misled by the interpreter as well as in my previous information on the subject, for I had been so informed by several people in and around Pecos. That the Valley Ranch was for along period Mr. Valle's home ranch is quite correct, and it is also natural that many people who did not know all the facts came to believe it. Mr. Ortiz says that, the Valley Ranch did not become Valle's home ranch until after he sold the Pigeon Ranch, shortly after the Glorieta Battle, of 1862. That from what Mr. Valle told Mr. Ortiz later, he came to the Glorieta country in about 1844 or 1845, and that the Pigeon Ranch was his home ranch until a year or two after the War when he sold it to a Frenchman.

Mr. Ortiz says that he did not intend to make it emphatic, as the interpreter gave it to me, that the first digging on the well by men working for Mr. Valle was done in 1851 but that from what he was told it was about that time or at any rate just a few years after Valle had established himself in the country and was beginning to accumulate a bunch of cattle and sheep. The little streamlet that flowed by the ranch and still flows there was being polluted by cattle and sheep and was often made muddy over long periods when the rains were copious in the summer season. It was this condition that caused Mr. Valle to start the digging of a well in front of his ranch which he had developed into a sort of Inn for travelers on the Santa Fe Trail. The story of Mr. Valle's early in this section, Mr. Ortiz got from Mr. Valle himself and from neighbors who worked for Mr. Valle over a long period.

The first knowledge that Mr. Ortiz can remember of the well was when he was about five years of age, when he happened to be at Mr. Valle's Ranch and was playing out in front of the house near the little stream. He remembers the hole which was the starting of the well some years previous. The hole was not very deep for one could jump in and climb out of it, however it was soon after that event of his playing around this hole that Mr. Valle undertook the completion of the well. In my first talk with him he did not go into all the details and the interpreter evidently got the wrong impression and got his first memory of the well, mixed up with the completion of it. Mr. Ortiz says that he can not be certain of the exact year when Mr. Valle had his men complete the well, but he is sure that it was finished before the war of 1862. The finishing of the Well was done by four men one of the names of whom he could not recall in his first conversation with me. This work of finishing the well was done sometime between his fifth and eighth year, and of this final work by Valle's men he has personal memory and knowledge. The first digging and completion of the well was evidently a square hole for when the hole itself was completed it was walled out, log-house fashion, with a pole cribbing, on top of which was mounted a boxed frame with posts, cross-piece and well pulley. The four men who finished the work on the well were: Rafael Lucero, Luis Moya, Antonio Gabaldon, and Crus Cebolles.

In about the year 1866 when Teodosio Ortiz was a boy of thirteen the new owner of the Pigeon Ranch for some reason, decided to remove the pole curbing, somewhat enlarge the well, and wall it out with rock. For this job of enlarging and curbing out with rock, the owner of the ranch hired the two older brothers of Teodosio Ortiz and he as a boy of thirteen assisted his brothers in the work. The final enlarging of the well to its present unusually large dimension was done in 1904 as I have set forth in my manuscript on the well. 

Incidents of the Early 1880's 
By Maurice Ceates
As told by W. Weatherby
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties:  San Miguel
Surnames mentioned: Ceates, Weatherberby, Geronimo, Cook, Orwig, Sheridan, Luse, Ranch, Coony, Goodell, Clark, Dickinsen, John, Lauderbaugh, Cabel, Kinney, Pryer, Lillian, McKinney, Siggins

Many of the things I am telling you are not first hand experience but were told to me by older settlers and I have saved notes and can be able to tell you as they were told to me I have intended for years to write these out, but have not ever taken the time, and I also have data that I have saved about the district that will help verify my stories.

After the raids and derogation of Victorio everything was quiet for several years then to the horror of the country, in May 1885, Geronimo was heard of in the country. Captain Cook foreman for the W.S. Ranch first saw them rounding up a herd of horses on the ranch. On the eighteenth of May word was brought in that Nat Luse and Cal. Orwig had been killed I, Maurice Ceates was the foreman at the Cooney mine the owner, Joe E. Sheridan called me, and we organized a rescue party. We went out after the bodies and as we came to where the vicinity of the bodies were known to be we saw a detachment of soldiers camped by the river we asked them about the Indians and they didn't know anything about them and didn't seem to care if they carried off the country, the soldiers sure didn't do us any good. When we got to the place that the badly mutilated bodies of the two men were we were all so aroused that I think we wanted to go back and whip the soldiers for the bodies had laid out in the sun until, they were pitiful. The soldiers had loitered by the side of the river and they the bodies of two men were less than a mile of them and they would not go out and bring them into town, or camp either. We took the bodies into Alma for burial. On May 22, we found the body of Lyons, an Englishman, badly mutilated and decomposed, this body was buried on the W. S. Ranch and the grave can still be seen from the highway, also the graves of two of the W. S. Ranch foreman killed by the Indians.

The Apaches soon stopped their raids for a few months and weren't seen n any more of until October when they were heard of in the Cliff country, some soldiers were sent under Overton, from Port Bayard, to stop the driving off of the cattle and horses, and as always before there wasn't anything done but loafing. Overton said it was only the word of children and old women that the cattle were being driven off and would not move from camp. Clark, an old timer, cussed out Overton and A. S. Goodell, living in Silver City now, and the following deceased Mike Fleming, William Bates, Arthur and Billie Clark, Jesse Dickinsen, and an Englishman, followed the Indians to the red Rock district, but got there to late as they had already killed Dutch John, on Blue Creek.

The stage coach traveled by night as it was unsafe to go by day, and as the Apaches were superstitious about fighting at night it was fairly safe to make the run after sundown. A Mr. Lauderbaugh carried the mail and drove the stage, on one run he lost the mail pouch which he missed when he got to Pleasanton at 1A.M., he had with him a Sheeshone Indian whom the Mormons had raised called Indian Jack. He was told he would be well paid if he would return for the pouch, he hesitated, and pointed to the Magellens and said they'll fix me if they catch me; if I get one of them, God how I will roast him. I'll go. At the break of day he returned with the lost pouch, when asked if he stayed with the road he replied only one way, but coming back I took the ridges and all of the short cuts that I knew or could find.

The women of the district were all as brave as the men they took the Indians as something to be expected. There was one woman that was a woman from the mountain country that met the sage stage and said to Al Lauderbaugh on one morning I reckon that you are going into town, Al, and handed him a ten dollar bill. She told him to buy he her three little children a hat a piece. The Indian signs and post offices were all around, but Mrs. Bush didn't seem to be the least worried, her husband was up in the hill hunting the cattle.

Mr. Lauderbaugh was fired upon his return trip with the hats, but luckily he escaped uninjured. The Indians fired upon him at Little Dry and all the way across the mesa, he for many years wore as a watch charm a bullet he took out of the stage after the fight was ever.

It wasn't uncommon then to hear each day of some one being killed that their cattle driven off , and their cabin burned, but the end came with the brutal killing at Soldier Hill, about one mile south of the Old Meadow Ranch on Big Dry. J. McKinney was serving as guide for Lt. Cabel told how they were ambushed there. When they were crossing Catons Plato, so called from the many cartons, they found the bodies, being Clark and Kinney. These men had been hauling ore concentrates. The men were killed and their ore sacks ripped open and the contents scattered all over the ground. They followed the Indians on and at the eight miles from the head of Megellan Creek where two men named Lillian and Pryer had started a ranch they found their bodies and also the Indians which they fired upon, killing nine of the Apache. The soldiers were low on supplies and decided to return to Alma for supplies.

While at Alma a courier came through with a message and we started on going south with ten additional Navajo scouts and camped at the Siggins ranch the first night out. The next morning when start starting out met a Navajo, was in sight. The courier went on back to Fort Bayard and the men started around Soldier Hill the men singing "Good-by My Lover Good-by" when we were fired upon. My horse was killed. A doctor was killed and several others, and several injured. Every since this kill has been called Soldiers Hill. The Navajo scouts appeared seen after the fight was over. This fight seemed to be all the Indian were waiting for to return to the San Carlos reservation. They returned to the reservation to be fed by the people and rest after causing the settlers so much trouble.

Mrs. Mary E. Burleson
Indian Story
By Edith L. Crawford
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Lincoln, Colfax
Surnames mentioned: Burleson, Shafer, Crocker, Hill, 

I had to take some money to my Uncle Shafer, who lived on a ranch about thirty miles from Cimarron, New Mexico. My brother who was younger than I, and my girl chum Annie Crocker went with me. In those days we rode side saddles. We stayed all night at my Uncle's ranch. The next morning when we were getting ready to leave we found my brother's horse was lame and he couldn't go back with us. So my girl chum and I started out alone for home. When we got on top of Riado Hill we looked back and saw Indians riding fast towards us, and it frightened us nearly to death. So we started out to gallop our horses, and the Indian would ride faster. So we ran our horses just an fast as they could go the rest of the way home.

Mother came to the door when we arrived, and said girls, what on earth is the matter, just look at your horses? The horses were covered with sweat and lather from riding them so hard. But we out rode the Indian. When my mother helped me down from my horse, I could not stand on my right leg. I had gripped the horn of my side saddle so hard in my ride for my life, so I thought at the time, that in some way I injured my leg and have been a cripple since that day. I had to give up dancing and I did love to dance.

Mrs. Mary E. Burleson, aged 78, Carrizozo, New Mexico.