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Family History Stories Paraphrased
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Trick Saddle Albert Blake William H. Eeisle Buried Treasure Royal Jackman Rufus M. Dunnahoo Rufus M. Dunnahoo II Rumaldo Aguilar Duran

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Trick Saddle
By Katherine Ragsdale
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: General
Surnames mentioned: Gage

Back in the good old days they played tricks on one another the same as people do today: When Sunday came, people for miles around would go to some one home and a traveling preacher would come to this home and preach, both morning and evening services. While at these services many tricks were played. One in particular happened when Reverand George Gage was preaching: One Sunday night he and one of the cowhands from a neighboring ranch rode horseback to a neighbors for preaching, they got there about dark and getting off their horses they threw the reins over the horses head and over a limb of a small tree.

The service lasted some little time, and after shaking hands with everyone Reverend Gage and the cowhand left the house, got on their horses leaned over to take the reins, and all of a sudden the cowhand cried out They've cut my horses head off Oh no, replied Reverend Gage, why do you thing that your horses head had been cut off, isn't he still standing? Oh yes he is still standing, but I reached over to take the reins and they aren't there and his head is missing ,this was said almost in tears. At that Reverend Gage got off his horse, walked over to the horse on which the cowhand was sitting and sure enough just as he expected, the saddle had been turned around by some prankster, and the cowhand was facing north on a south bound horse.

William H. Eeisle
Indian Relic Collection
By Frances E. Totty
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Socorro
Surnames mentioned: Eeisle, 

William H. Eeisle was born at Shawnee Mission, Kansas in 1842, the first white child to be born in Kansas. Mr. Eeisle is now the oldest Odd Fellow in the world. In 1862 he first entered Las Vegas driving a yoke of oxen. Mr. Eeisle had dealt with the Indians ever since, and can give some remarkable facts. He has never had been in any conflicts with the Indians either in a party or alone, which he attributes to the fact he had red hair which was held sacred by the Indian tribes. He has smoked the peace pipe with different tribes of Indians among them the Rappajo and Crow Indians.

Once he was without water and the Rappajo's were camped by the only water near him when his water supply gave out. Mr. Eeisle say's I thought I'd just as well give my scalp to the Indians as my body to the coyotes and desert. I grabbed my canteen and went to the water. A large brave walked up and motioned me to follow. I followed him trembling thinking my day's were past. The brave went in his tent got out his pipe took three puffs and gave it to me. I now knew I was safe because he was offering me the peace pipe. I made signs to the brave that the pipe would make me sick but would accept their sacred fruit the plum, which he gave me. I met different tribes of the Rappajo Indians after that which I was never afraid of but looked on them as friends.

Mr. Eeisle was a friend of Scout Bridgier's who raised him about his Indian friend's as he was a great alley of all Indians. Mr. Eeisle started the collection of his treasures dear to his Indian friend's many years ago and he claims is unsurpassed by no private concern.  His son Richard is a close companion in his collection. At present the Eeisles are touring California with their Interesting collection.

The most valuable of the collection for historic age is a piece of material, resembling burlap, and a moccasin of the same material and weave, but much coarser. These two pieces were gotten from a cave which authorities say is a prehistoric cave and material. Mr. Eeisle, I asked, Did you collection cost you much? Not much in dollars and cents, was the answer, but year's of patient searching. You think thing's are high now, but I remember in Ohama I sold a ton of coal for one-hundred sixty-five dollar's. In Denver I paid fifteen dollar's for two sack's of flour and one dollar a pound for salt at Prives Virginia, Montana, and twenty dollar's to ride from Helena to Virginia City a distance of one-hundred miles.

Won't you tell me about your relics? I asked. Well, I could talk all day about them. We have over seven-hundred pieces alike, all designs having a meaning. In all of this pottery not two are alike. You will notice many resemble our modern art the lines are very simple, but clearly signify their meaning. Many of these pieces are of prehistoric value, others aren't very old. We have collected them from caves, old digging's, and graves.

See this piece that resembles a pig with his mouth open, when sitting on its leg's now turn it up we have a jug which came from the Tonto Basin. There is only one other piece in history known like this. It is also from the Tonto Basin.

This string of shells look the smallest the size of a pin head, the largest size of a bean. There are over three-thousand shells on this string. To those who can read them they fell a story, probably We have a great number os skulls, notice the formation of the bones, we surely can't say from these formations that the Indians weren't smart alert tribes of people. Some were more ambitious than others just as we find today in the Caucasian race. They were ramblers, but neither the less some made their crops, and it took smart swift people to hunt and succeed by their method. We aren't capable of succeeding in their art.

This is a basin of human bones. The Indians have had a form of cremation not like ours but the building of a funeral pyre, and after the fire burned down they collected the bones which they put in the basin, and either buried or closed up in a cave. This basin contains something like one hundred bone bracelets some well preserved others nearly decayed or worn out.

These are moccasins, But some look like roots or twisted tobacco, I remarked. Yes, they are queer, aren't they? They represent different ages, and tribes, look at these made of cloth, other's were made of skins, and other's we can hardly say what they are made off. What do you think of the corn? I was asked.

The ears are so small, I remarked. Yes but look they become larger, look at these older one's now at the one's of later years even the Indians improved in their agriculture. This is their protection, and weapon to obtain meat, arrows and Tommy Hawks. There is over one-hundred arrows some are small others large. How would like to handle that rude instrument resembling our axe?

It looks very heavy and clumsy to me, I quickly replied. These are to sew and mend with, bone needles, they would be useless to us, but think some of the beautiful Indian rugs you have seen and imagine them being made with suck crude equipment in this modern day of quick machinery.

This statue probably resembled a god. Pay close attention to the lines in his face maybe he is the medicine man. How do you like this snake which forms the handle for this basin. This is the high lights of my collection. I could talk for day's telling stories of the Indians and their deeds and I'm thankful to say all of them good.

One could not spend a more delightful day than listening to grandpa Eeisle if you can get him to talk, I spent three day's getting acquainted but then I went into his house car and storage room and was shown his relics and told about them, it was time well spent.

Buried Treasure
By Georgia B. Redfield
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Chaves, Lincoln
Surnames mentioned: Wilson, Garcia

Interest in New Mexico traditions of buried treasure has been greatly revived in the past few months, especially so in the southeast part of the state since the death of a very old Mexican woman of the Chihuahua,  Spanish American settlement, in she city of Roswell. It was generally known in that district, that the woman was in possession of a secret of fabulous riches buried by her ancestors during the Indians Indian uprisings and stealing. There was excitement and hurrying of many neighbors to the bedside of the old woman who finally died without divulging her secret to any of the eager ones waiting around her, only a few words came at the last with her frantic pointing toward the mountains, west, Gold! she said, with her last struggling breath, much gold, jewels, silver.  That was all but enough to renew frantic searching for the treasure.

Of all legends of the Spanish American people of this district the ones of buried treasure will always be the most thrilling. It is said some of these stories, have resulted in hunting and digging to such an extent that many rich fertile fields of the lazy ones, which have long lain waste have been well prepared for planting by constant spading and are now truly yielding treasure in golden grain, hay, and garden foods.

However there is no doubt about there being buried treasure, in various localities in the state of New Mexico. Some of these will never be found. Money, gold and silver, was often buried in the early days, during the establishment of cattle camps and ranches in this state. There were no banks in those early days, no strongholds, not even locks on flimsy doors of adobe huts or dugout camps, on the barren prairies. Life was always uncertain, with marauding Indians everywhere, and so there are legends handed down through the years of vast treasures buried, some by the Pale Face and others by the Red Skin.

The Comanches and Apaches spent days and weeks trailing and watching herds of cattle brought over the waterless dry plains by the first cattle trail blazers. When the herds were sold they were ready to pounce down and take the hard earned gold the stockmen had broken their nerves, their health and lost their lives in the end to gain. Scouts were sent ahead of herds, always, and they often rode back to report Indian raiders waiting on the trail. There was then a mad scramble to bury all valuables, even food and water, and the cow men rode on to meet death in combats, and those treasures still lie safely hidden, useless through long lean years of hardships, depressions, and even famine among the Indians who still hunt treasure buried by their people after looting in New Mexico. There is buried treasure in Caballo Mountains, Horse Mountains, thirty-five miles northwest of Las Cruces, said Gorgonio Wilson, I know this most certainly, for have I not the map on paper, and the directions all written down, where to go to find the place. There are more gold bars, and heaped up silver, and jewels than can be carted out by truck loads , he said.

The treasure was buried by a spring under the big rocks of Caballo Canyon. It was brought there at different times, by the looting Indians, on loaded mules and horses on many, many trips, after their murdering raids. Gorgonio's mother was a Mexican woman from Mexico, his father an American from West Point, Missouri, the two met and married in Albuquerque immediately after the Civil War. Gorgonio their son, is truthful. He has inherited this good trait of character from both parents. He has lived a good and useful life and, now in his late years he is firm in the belief of reward for the last days of his life. Reward with those riches of buried treasure, which will give him and one he loves, comforts to use in sickness and during helpless old age.

I am going to find that treasure if the Lord pleases, said Gorgonio, and He will let me, for I now have only three dollars to live on every month, for my old age pension, and I need it for my brother's girl, Enis Garcia. Since her little muchacho came, she is not right, she wanders in her mind. She stands at her window and gazes out all the time, but she never harms anybody. She is good and kind. She now has three sets of twins, and, God help her I need the buried treasure bad for her.

The map comes to me honest. There will always be lying and stealing and murdering to get secrets of treasures buried in different places, in New Mexico and all over the world. It was stealing that got this secret to me, but it is clean now. I got it honest from a Spanish lady. A Mexican man from New Mexico stayed at her house in old Mexico. He told to her the secret of the buried treasure and showed her the map and the writing which told all about where to find this treasure in New Mexico. He displeased her one day, she was bitter with him, and she stole his map and his writing and his instrument made to find the treasure, and she fled with it one night and made her way to New Mexico. She was helpless and didn't know what to do to find her treasure after she was here. I found her in Carrizozo. She seemed to be lost and I was a good friend to her. She said to me, the secret brings to me only bad luck that was because she stole it so she gave it to me. A thief crept to my house and stole part of my instrument, but he didn't find the map, so it can do him no good. When I have the money and can have my instrument fixed up and can go to Caballo Mountain then everything will be all right and the poor Enis, who wanders in her mind will have new dresses and good fires to warm herself by, and good food to make her strong. When we find that treasure, said Gorgonio, we will do much good for everybody, whenever we can.

Royal Jackman
By Marie Carter
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Doan Ana
Surnames mentioned: Jackman, Miller, Bailey, McKamey

Regarding the early days of Anthony and the Mesilla Valley Royal Jackman said: I located in this valley when I was a young man. Funny, too, I thought I knew it all. That was in 1892. I was sent here from Nevada by the Santa Fe Railroad company as station agent and telegraph operator. Prior to leaving Nevada I had heard that the settlers down here got the Mexicans indebted to them then took their land. Consequently, I was surprised, to find the settlers to be honest hard working folks with no inclination to be outstanding as land sharks in the history of the Southwest. Mr. Jackman paused then resumed: One day I saw Charley Miller walking up and down in front of his store on the old business street of Anthony, west of the Santa Fe Tracks. He was worried and told me that if some of the Mexicans didn't pay up he wasn't going to carry them on his books any longer. Then I looked at him and said: Judging from what I have heard you fellows down here get all that's coming to you and a great deal more!

Well, Charley chuckled, maybe we're not as bad as we're reputed to be. When it comes to trading land for merchandise, if that's what you mean, well the natives are more than willing to settle their accounts that way. But most of the merchants prefer cash.

But, I suggested, land is better than nothing and some day it will bring a good price. You're right, he agreed, I guess I've been two kinds of a numb skull after all. Prior to his death, Mr. Jackman asserted, Charley Miller was one of the biggest land holders in the Mesilla Valley.

In recalling the past Mr. Jackman commented: The greatest epoch in my life was the day I met May Bailey. After seeing the young lady a number of times I became obsessed with a desire to make her acquaintance. The river, incidentally, gave me that opportunity. The Rio Grande was unusually high and there was no way to cross it, for we didn't have any bridges. Consequently people either forded the stream or were ferried across. May was standing on the river bank waiting for someone to come along with a boat, unaware that I stood at one of the windows of the Santa Fe station trying to get up nerve to approach her. Finally I made a start for the door, swung it open, hurried to the lady's side, removed my hat and introduced myself. After telling her who I was I offered to launch my boat and ferry her across the big bad river. And the moment she accepted me as a ferryman, I decided, to ferry that young lady the rest of my life.

Following a short interval Mr. Jackman resumed: May Bailey lived on a ranch at Chamberino, and her father, Dr. C. A. Bailey, brought his family to the Mesilla Valley from Cherokee, Kansas in 1884. I met May in 1892. For five years, on an average of twice a year, I asked her to marry me, but she didn't consent to be my wife until 1897. Then when the day was all set, and our railroad tickets had arrived for our weeding trip to San Francisco, the Rio Grande began to rise. On the morning of our wedding day I was in Anthony on the eastern bank of the river impatiently walking up and down, with a preacher at my heels, and my bride to be was on the western bank waiting for her brother, R. C. Bailey, to launch his new boat and row her across. May must have been awfully excited, for when I asked her for her suitcase she handed me a shoe box. Then the preacher shouted:

 Make haste or you'll miss that train!  We joined hands and were married in a jiffy. Then the train signaled its approach, and simultaneously an old Irish Woman opened her door and called to us: Why don't you come into the house an' be married like decent folks?

Regarding the natives Mr. Jackman observed, The Mexicans were wise. They'd farm a little and rest a little, for they knew the destroying power of the Rio Grande. They had learned by experience that it was a lost of time and money to farm on a large scale. When I first came to Anthony I homesteaded 172 acres, hired six Mexicans and put them to work. I told them that they could have the wood for clearing the place. Then I sold the wood, which amounted to several car loads, at a dollar fifty a cord and gave them the money. Finally I rented them the land for three years, but I paid for the water, seed and fencing. I also built them an adobe house. One day I found them all taking their noonday siesta, or after dinner nap and said: Why don't you fellows work like us Americans. One old fellow smiled, finished rolling his cigarette, sealed it with a lick of his tongue and explained:

Yacky, the more you have the more you lose.  He referred to the Rio Grande.  I didn't understand the full meaning of his sage remark until the flood of 1905, when I lost everything I had. My hundred and fifty acre crop was ruined. My house swept away, twenty-five head of stock and a head of horses. During that same flood there was a Mexican family marooned on top of a pole house. I rowed out and rescued them just as the poles began to give way. In the course of his conversation Mr. Jackman mentioned the house where Mrs. Blevins lives, southeast of the Santa Fe office. That house belonged to Professor Carrea, but he sold it to me. It was our home for several years. I laid out the town site of La Tuna, just across the line from Anthony. I bought that whole section for one thousand dollars. Most of it lay east of the tracks. My west line ran to the Andreas ranch. I still own 250 feet on the highway in the business section. I used to own the Dairy Farm Ranch west of Anthony, also the McKamey Ranch northwest of town. The ranch I owned back on the desert northeast of Anthony was sold to me by an old Mexican who claimed that the Indians buried a treasure there in the early days, and he was always digging around trying to find it.

In recalling old limes Mr. Jackman said:  One of the funniest things that ever happened to me was the time I borrowed my brother-in-law's horse. My wife had asked her brother if Dick could swim. He told her yes, 'just like a log.' She knew that a log would float so took it for granted that Dick could perform the same feat. When I asked her if Dick could swim she answered in the affirmative, so I decided to borrow the horse and ford the Rio Grande. My wife had crossed to the west side by boat earlier in the day to see her mother, and I was to join her later. Well the moment Dick slid into the water I realized what I was up against. For instead of swimming like a log he sank like a rock, and left me floundering. Then I grasped his tail, an action that must have frightened him, for he turned upside-down and began kicking his feet. The moment I released him he floated down stream , just like a log. In the me lay I lost my Mexican sombrero and found myself in a whirlpool going around and around. Realizing that I was going to have to battle to save my life I discarded every bit of clothing but my shirt, and just as I managed to escape the pool, my hat came floating back to me. My old dog was still with me and barked joyfully as I crept up the western bank of the Rio Grande. My wife told me later that she never saw anything so comical in all her life as the picture I made when I appeared at the ranch. I didn't have a thing on but my shirt and sombrero. In the meantime, Dick must have learned to swim, for he escaped from the Rio Grande, entered a Mexican's corn field, and destroyed so much corn that we had to pay damages.

Royal Jackman was born at Woodstock, New Hampshire August 6, 1863. Mr. Jackman came to the Mesilla Valley in 1892. He married May Bailey of Chamberino, New Mexico June 30, 1897. Mr. Jackman is the father of Winifred Dearborn Jackman, wife of A. T. Aldro Hibbard, prominent artist of Rockport, Mass. Alice Aldrich Jackman, wife of A. E. Nelson of El Paso, Texas, and Royal Bailey Jackman, Mining Engineer, employed by the Serro Pasco Copper Corporation of Peru. With headquarters at New York. 

Rufus M. Dunnahoo
By Georgia B. Redfield
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Lincoln, Chaves
Surnames mentioned: Dunnahoo, Garratt, Kid, James, Chewning, Roberts, Danner, Lea, Guice, Lumbley, Chisum

My parents were B. P. and Katherine Atkinson Dunnahoo. I am eighty-eight years old, was born in Mississippi on Washington's birthday, February 22, 1849. Old Home of Captain Jason W. James Yes this is the old home of Captain Jason W. James and family. They lived here in 1893 to 1894. That is Pat Garretts' old home up the road a couple hundred yards east. We have a picture of Pat Garrett and John W. Poe, taken about the time Pat Garrett killed Billy the Kid in 1881.

I live here with my daughter Sally Chewning and her husband Henry Chewning, Arrived in New Mexico 1880. I left San Antonio, Texas in a two horse covered wagon and arrived in New Mexico in July, 1880.

Judge Asbury C. Rogers the first school teacher in this district was one of the men who came in our outfit. At Pecos, Texas we struck a Caravan of immigrants, with sixteen covered wagons and a bunch of cattle. My brother-in-law George Danner and I went over from our camp near them and talked with them. They were quarreling and complaining. They were discouraged because the grazing for the cattle was all burned up because of long drought. The cattle had gotten weak and poor from lack of water and food. They wanted to turn back.

Brought Cattle to New Mexico:
I made them a proposition, and they took me up on it to bring their stock through to Seven Rivers for them. I got through with them all right. Geronimo's Band Indians Stole Teams Horses. We hadn't been at Seven Rivers long when Geronimo's Apaches came and stole all the teams, thirty-two head of their horses. I bought the old Beckwith ranch and had my horses in a five foot high and two foot thick, adobe corral, near the house so the Indians didn't get mine. Indians Disappeared in Cave Another time Geronimo and sixteen other Indians broke out of the Mescalero Reservation one day, and the soldiers after them thought they had them safe in a cave about two and a half miles east, a little north of Fort Stanton, two hundred yards from the Bonito River. The soldiers thought to starve the Indians out, but the Indians never came back, so the soldiers tracked them through the cave down a river about 14 miles.

The Indians went through the cave to south side of Capitan Mountains and stole a bunch of horses and drove them on down this far. They camped right where the New Mexico Military Institute is located now. I think Pat Garrett and a posse captured the Indians over in the Portales country. The cave those Indians and soldiers went in is not as large or as beautiful as Carlsbad Caverns. There is one big room. An underground river flows through all of the cave. Blacksmith Shop in Seven Rivers

I opened a blacksmith shop in Seven Rivers. While we were living there, seven wagons of us were going over to Las Vegas. When we got to the Hondo River, right at the entrance of Roswell we found the river was up and there wasn't any bridge. Helped by Captain Joseph C. Lea

Captain Joseph C. Lea and Buck Guice came to us on horseback. Captain Lea said he had some vigas, large beans, and he would give us some to make a crossing with. He brought us three. We cut some little underbrush and put across the river and managed to cross. When we came back from Las Vegas the river was down but our bridge was still there. Captain Leas strengthened it and kept it up three years for there was lots of traveling through here then to Silver City and to White Oaks during the gold seekers rush during the seventies and early eighties. Opened Blacksmith Shop Roswell 1881 In 1881 I opened a blacksmith shop in Roswell right where the Green Lantern is located now on the corner of Fourth and Main streets.

When I moved to Roswell Captain and Mrs. Lea has a boy and girl, Wildy and Elinor. My wife and I had three children a boy, George Dunnahoo and two girls Ruth and Maude. Named for Mrs. Joseph C. Lea, My daughter, Mrs. Henry Chewning, the one I live here with was born after we moved to Roswell. We named her Sally for Captain Lea's wife Sally Wildy Lea.

Played Violin, John Chisum Home Christmas Night 1880 I was a musician and played for all the first dances and parties given in this part of the country. In 1880 I played Violin and Will Lumbley played the banjo, for the Christmas party at the John Chisum ranch at South Spring, six miles south of Roswell.

Miss Sallie Chisum and John Chisum liked to have young people come for parties on holidays. Their house was a big eight or nine room adobe built around a patio. There was a fine dining room and a table long enough to seat all the settlers that lived in this district, at that time. Every body was welcome at the Chisum ranch and they had good times there. Round dances, the old time waltz and quadrilles, or square dances were danced in those days. Hunted Buffalo Antelope and Deer.

I was considered a good buffalo hunter, I like hunting. When we sighted a bunch of buffalo we tried to get so the wind blew from them so they couldn't scent us, they were awful wild and quick getting away. I guess I killed more antelope and deer then any man in New Mexico. Since Jim Miller died two years ago I am the oldest old timer here. He was two years older than I. We were good friends, sorta like brothers. I don't think either of us had an enemy. I miss him. He was a good man. Source: Rufus H. Dunnahoo.

Rufus M. Dunnahoo
By Georgia B. Redfield
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Chaves, Lincoln
Surnames mentioned: Dunnahoo, Beckwood, Chisum, Garrett, Lumbley

Rufus H. Dunnahoo, Roswell's oldest living pioneer, came from San Antonio, Texas to New Mexico in July 1880, and settled at Seven Rivers, eighteen miles north of the site on which building of the present City of Carlsbad was started nine years later, in 1889. At the time of the coming of Mr. Dunnahoo, Seven Rivers, then in Lincoln County, and the town of Lincoln and White Oaks were the only towns of any consequence in Southeast New Mexico. Roswell, sixty-five miles north of Seven Rivers, was only a cattle trading Post, having one store and a post office. Roswell today, in a modern city of 12,500 population, while all that remains of Seven Rivers are remnants of adobe walls and what is known as Boot Cemetery, where most of the men were buried with boots on, after numerous shooting escapades.

At that time all the land from Seven Rivers, on both sides of the Pecos River, as far north as the Bosque Grande country thirty-five miles northeast of Roswell, a distance of nearly one hundred and twenty miles was used as cattle grazing land by John S. Chisum who brought the first herd of cattle to the Pecos Valley in 1867. The town site of Seven Rivers in Eddy County and Roswell in Chaves County were in Lincoln County until Eddy and Chaves County were created by Act of the Territorial Legislature in 1889, going into effect January 1, 1891.

When coming to New Mexico, Mr. Dunnahoo ran across a bunch of immigrants at Pecos, Texas, who were traveling in a caravan of sixteen covered wagons. They had become discouraged, because of drought conditions, and were ready to turn back with their herd of cattle that had become tired out and weak from lack of food. Mr. Dunnahoo contracted to assume all responsibility in driving the herd, if they would continue the journey with him. The immigrants gladly gave their consent and Mr. Dunnahoo brought the cattle safely through to Seven Rivers. Soon after their arrival a band of Geronimo's Indians came at night and stole the teams,  thirty-two head, all of the caravan horses, excepting the ones belonging Mr. Dunnahoo, who had bought the old Beckwood ranch and placed his horses in a five foot high adobe corral on his ranch.

Besides his ranching interests he established a blacksmith shop in Seven Rivers, but he soon became dissatisfied with the lawless conditions of the Wild and Wooly town and decided to seek a more peaceful place to live. Accompanied by some of his men companions of the caravan, he headed for Las Vegas. Traveling a dim trail via Roswell at that place they found the Hondo River up, and no bridge on which to cross into the town. Captain Joseph C. Lea and Buck Guice, a friend of his, came down on horseback and gave them advice and assistance. He sent them three large beams these they laid across the river and covered them with small under brush they cut from the river banks. Over this hazardous crossing the seven wagons, of the caravan, crossed safely into the town of Roswell owned by Captain Lea and his wife, Sally Lea.

Remembering the beautiful country around the promising town and the kindness of Captain Lea, and Mr. Guice, he returned a few months later, in 1881 to make Roswell his permanent home. On this second trip he found the make shift bridge, he helped build, had been strengthened by Captain Lea, who kept it up, for over three years, for a crossing for travelers many of them being gold seekers, going to Silver City or White Oaks during the gold rush days of the seventies and early eighties.

During the year of Mr. Dunnahoo's coming to Roswell, in 1881, he opened a much needed blacksmith shop on the corner now occupied by the Green Lantern on North Main and Fourth Streets. He was one of Roswell's first musicians. He played the violin and Will Lumbley the banjo for a Christmas party in 1890? given at the nine room adobe ranch house at South Spring, six miles south of Roswell, which was owned by John Chisum. Antelope and deer, quail, and rabbits were plentiful in those days. Buffalo still roamed the country on the plains east of Roswell, coming as far west as the Pacos River.

Mr. Dunnahoo was a good buffalo hunter, and it is said, by old timers, that he has undoubtedly killed more antelope and deer than any other man that has lived in New Mexico. After Mr. Dunnahoo came to Roswell a band of Indians broke out of the Mescalero Indian Reservation and eluding the Government officers who thought they had the Indians trapped in a big cave three miles east of Fort Stanton they escaped by coming out on the opposite side of El Capitan Mountain where they stole a bunch of horses and bringing them through this region of the country, camped on wild waste land, which is now the campus of the New Mexico Military Institute.

Mr. Dunnahoo and his wife Ann Dunnahoo, who were married in 1869, had three children when they came to Roswell to make their home, a boy named George, and two girls, Ruth and Maude. Another daughter born after they came to Roswell was named Sallie for Wildy Lea, wife of Captain Lea. Only two other white children lived in Roswell at that time, they were children of Captain and Mrs. Lea, Wildy, a boy, and Elinor, a baby girl, who was the first one born within the town of Roswell.

Mr. Dunnahoo makes his home with his daughter, Mrs. Sallie Dunnahoo, and her husband Mr. Henry  who lives about three miles east of Roswell, where Mr. Dunnahoo can see from his front porch the old home of his friend Pat Garrett. One of his most cherished possessions is a photograph of Mr. Garrett taken about the time he killed the famous New Mexico outlaw, Billy the Kid, in July 1881.

Mr. Dunnahoo is the son of R. P. and Katherine Atkinson Dunnahoo. He was born in the State of Mississippi on George Washington's birthday on February 22, 1849. At the advanced age of eighty-nine years, he is still active, and as strong and enjoys as good health as numerous other men many years younger. He is highly respected and honored in the community where he lives and stands high in the affections of the early settlers of Roswell, among whom he has lived continuously for nearly sixty years.

Rumaldo Aguilar Duran
Edith L. Crawford
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Lincoln
Surnames mentioned: Duran, Aguilar, Mirabal, Martinez, Greigo

I came to Lincoln County, New Mexico, in 1887, from Franklin Texas, now El Paso, Texas, and have lived in Lincoln County for fifty-one years. They moved to the Upper Nimbres Valley in Grant County New Mexico. My father, Jose Aguilar, married my mother, Salome Duran, at Old Mesilla, New Mexico, They moved to the Upper Nimbres Valley in Grant County New Mexico, where my father worked in the mines. There were both silver and copper mines there. 

I was born February 7, 1880, at a mining camp in the Upper Nimbres Valley. After my father's death my mother went to live with her father and mother, Nestor and Santos Duran, who lived in the Upper Nimbres Valley, not far from us. After a few years my grand parents andmy mother moved to Franklin, Texas. The sand was so deep between Franklin, Texas and Tularosa, New Mexico.  From Fort Stanton we traveled southeast down the Rio Bonito and arrived at Lincoln, New Mexico. In 1915 my wife and I moved from Lincoln, New Mexico to Encinoso, New Mexico.

After my father's death my mother went to live with her father and mother, Nestor and Santos Duran, who lived in the Upper Nimbres Valley, not far from us. After a few years my grandparents and my mother moved to Franklin Texas, now El Paso Texas, where they lived for several years. My grandfather worked at his trade as a carpenter and mill worker. While we were living in Franklin my mother married a man by the name of Amado Montero. They had one child, a girl named Nestora.

In September 1887 we left Franklin Texas for Lincoln, New Mexico. We traveled in a covered wagon drawn by two small ponies. In the crowd were my grandfather and grandmother Duran, my step father Amado Montero, my mother, my step sister Nestora, and myself. It took us about a month to make the trip. The sand was so deep between Franklin Texas and Tularosa New Mexico, that we had to travel very slowly. While we were traveling through the sand we broke an axle on the wagon and had to lay over for a week while the men went up in the mountains and got a piece of timber to make a new axle for the wagon.

We came by way of Tularosa, the Mescalero Indian Agency, through Dark Canyon to the Ruidoso River and up Gavilan Canyon to Alto New Mexico. From there we traveled almost due north, down Cedar Creek Canyon, by the V Ranch, and on toward Fort Stanton Army Post. Just before we reached Fort Stanton we heard shooting. We were all very much afraid of the Indians and my grandfather, who was driving the wagon, drove off to one side of the road in the brush. Leaving the rest of us hidden in the brush, my grandfather and step father took their guns and sneaked up the side of the mountain to see what was going on. When they got to where they could see they found that it was the soldiers from Fort Stanton at target practice. That was the only scare we got on our trip but the men always kept their guns where they could reach them, as the Indians had been giving a lot of trouble in this part of the country in the early eighties. From Fort Stanton we traveled southeast down the Rio Bonito and arrived at Lincoln New Mexico, about the middle of October, 1887.

We first lived in a house belonging to the Catholic Priest just south of the old Catholic Church. My grandfather worked at his trade as carpenter. Sometime later, I do not know the exact date, my grandfather bought a small farm about a mile south of Lincoln, where we raised corn and vegetables.

On July 20, 1900, I was married to Honorata Mirabal. There were seven children born to us, six boys and one girl. Aurra, Juan, Simon, Romundo, Isidor, Enrique and Manuel. All of these children died in infancy. Not a one lived to be over three months old. When our last child Manuel, died we adopted by wife's brother's little boy who was the same age as our Manuel. We called him Teodoro Duran. We have three adopted children now. Teodoro, who is married and lives here in Carrizozo, a girl named Emma Lucero, who was fourteen months old when we adopted her, and who is now eighteen and lives with us here in Carrizozo, and we adopted a baby boy named Isidor Martinez, who was two months old when we got him. He is eleven now and lives with us here in Carrizozo.

In 1915 my wife and I moved from Lincoln New Mexico, to Encinoso, New Mexico. A man named Sam Farmer and I put in a general merchandise store and had the post office too. In November, 1918, I was elected sheriff of Lincoln County and served for two years. In December 1918, I moved to Carrizozo, New Mexico, and have lived here ever since. I served as County Commissioner for Lincoln County from 1906 to 1916. I was Assessor for two years, 1925 and 1926. I was Treasurer for two years, 1931 and 1932.

When I was a small child my step father left my mother and my grandparents raised me and I took their name of Duran. My grandfather and grandmother both died while we were living in Lincoln New Mexico. I do not remember the dates of their death. I do not know what ever became of my step father. My mother is still living and lives with me here in Carrizozo. My half sister is now Mrs. Nestora Greigo and lives here in Carrizozo New Mexico.