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Family History Stories Paraphrased
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|Mrs. Lorencita Miranda
Mrs. Mabel Luke Madison
Mrs. Mary Burleson
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Mrs. Lorencita Miranda
By Edith L. Crawford
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Surnames mentioned: Miranda, Herrera, Torres, Tafoya, Gonzales, Miranda, Salis, McSween
I was born August 10, 1861, in the town of Las Placitas, New Mexico, in Socorro County, New Mexico. Las Placitas is now the town of Lincoln, and is in Lincoln County, New Mexico. My father Gregorio Herrera married my mother Gerelda Torres in Manzano, New Mexico, about the year 1860. They moved to Las Placitas New Mexico, and I was born there. On August 18th, 1861, about ten days after I was born, my father was killed in a drunken row, in Las Placitas. Anther man was killed at the same time and we never were sure who did kill my father. After Father's death my mother went back to Manzano to live with her people. My mother gave me to one of my aunts, Trinidad Herrera, who was nick named Chinita and who, with my mother moved back to Las Placitas when I was about two years old. I have lived the rest of my life in Lincoln County. I will soon be 78 years old.
In the year 1869, when I was eight years old, all of the territory lying east of the Mal Pais, was created into Lincoln County, and the county seat was established at Las Placitas and the name was changed to Lincoln. I was married to Jose Delbros Miranda in January 1877. We were married in the Catholic Church at the Torres Ranch, by Father Sambrano Tafoya of Manzano, New Mexico. This church is about six miles west of Lincoln, New Mexico. I remember that we had to walk about five miles to the church to get married.
My husband had a two roomed adobe house built for us to live in. It had a dirt floor. We had no stove and I had to cook on the fireplace. All eight of my children were born in Lincoln. Seven of them are dead and buried there. My youngest son, Emelio Miranda, is married and has twelve children. He lives in Lincoln and is the postmaster there. One of my grandsons lives with me on my little farm, a half mile west of the town of Lincoln. I raise a few chickens and a small garden which helps to keep me busy.
The house where I was born in Las Placitas stood on the site of the old Laws Sanitarium. The place then belonged to Sabino Gonzales, who was one of the men that helped build the old Torreon in 1855. My father-in-law Felipe Miranda also helped to build the Torreos. This old Torreon was rebuilt and dedicated in 1935, by the Chaves County Archaeological and Historical Society.
My husband and I were living on our farm just above Lincoln, New Mexico, all during the Lincoln County War. We liked both factions so we never took any part in the war. I remember the day the McSween home was burned. We could see the flames and smoke from our house but we stayed at home for we were scared to death to stick our heads out of the house. We could also hear some of the shooting. Billy the Kid came to our house several times and drank coffee with us. We liked him for he was always nice to the Spanish people and they all liked him.
My Aunt, Chinits Herrera, started to walk to Socorro, New Mexico, to see her brother. She was seen on the road to Socorro by Mrs. Susan McSween Barber who gave her a drink of water and some food. She was not far from a ranch house and Mrs. Barber thought she would got along all right, but my aunt was never seen or heard of again. We never did know what become of her. My mother married a man by the name of Octaviano Salas, and lived in Lincoln New Mexico, until her death in September 1926. My husband Jose Deloros Miranda died October 28, 1928 in Lincoln and was buried here.
By Carrie L. Hodges
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Surnames mentioned: Klinger, William, Niemann
In the beautiful city of Hansa Castle on the River Mine, in southern Germany near France, was born, in the year 1859, Louise Klinge, American pronunciation, Klinger, one of Union Counties Pioneer women, who had the fortitude, forbearance and courage to weather the difficulties and hardships of a lone claim-holder. It was in this city of Hansa Castle on the Mine, overshadowed by the vineyard clad hills of France, where grapes of the best varieties were grown and made into our finest of imported wines, that Louise Klinge grew to young womanhood. She, as well as her entire family, were very highly educated, her father being, among his varied talents, a writer of verse, and at one time an employee of the Kaiser William.
At the age of sixteen years, and in the year 1859, upon being left fatherless, she made the long and tedious voyage to the United States of America to make her home with an uncle, her fathers brother, at Herman, Missouri, who was postmaster at that place. Her voyage across the waters extended over a period of some four weeks.
For one year she made her home with his uncle, and it was here that John Niemann wooed and won her as his bride in the year 1860. They decided on the city of St. Louis, Mo. as their future home, and for forty years Mrs. Niemann resided there and reared her family of four boys and three girls.
St. Louis at this time was a very small city indeed, only extending five blocks west of the Mississippi river. What was then 5th street is now Broadway. Mrs. Niemann, being a professional in the culinary art, held the position of chef in various prominent clubs of the city for a number of years. This same art has been handed down by her through inheritance, for two generations, to her son, Andrew Niemann, and grandsons, Newton and John Niemann, all residents of Clayton, New Mexico, who are noted both far and near for their delicious culinary concoctions, and who are, at the present time, in active business in Clayton.
For fourteen years Mrs. Niemann served in the capacity of president of the Knights and Ladies of Honor, Municipal Lodge No. 529, of St. Louis, Mo. In the year of 1907, she came to New Mexico and filed on a claim twenty two miles due south of Clayton located on what is known at the present time as Highway No. 38.
Pioneer life had no horror for this courageous woman. Howling storms of winter months, with the coyotes accompanying scream in the darkness of a lonely night, neighbors miles away, were braved year after year. After proving up her claim, Mrs. Nieman, Grandma Niemann as she was affectionately called by both old and young alike, moved to Clayton, New Mexico in 1913, and located at 615 Cedar St., at which place she was still living when called to the Great Beyond.
After Moving to Clayton, she again found her talent of useful service. During the years of 1909, 1910 and 1911 she served in the capacity of cook on the Pitchfork Ranch, three miles west of Clayton, then operated by Mr. Blackwell and Lawrence. After leaving this position she served in the same capacity in the home of Christian Otto for two years, 1912 and1913. She served numerous homes in Clayton in the capacity of culinary service for many years, as no one was considered quite her equal in those early days in preparing the delicacies for private home use as well as for social events.
As time wore on, and Grandma was unequal to full time service, she was called for special occasions. Then at last came the time when she no longer could serve even on these occasions. Her feeble strength was limited; her three-score and ten reached and passed. Her service to humanity ended, but the scores of friends made during her life of service were ever loyal, and ministered to her needs until the end which came on April 28, 1934, calling her to her great reward.
Mrs. Mabel Luke Madison
By Mrs. Louise Niemann Marie Carter
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Otero, Lincoln
Surnames mentioned: Madison, Garrett
In speaking of old times Mrs. Mabel Madison said: When mother and I left Montgomery, Alabama and moved to Temple, Texas, we didn't know much about New Mexico. That was in 1880. Six years later I met and married James Madison, a Texas cattleman, and went to live in Marlan, Texas. We moved from Marlan to Rotan, but Jim couldn't get anything to do in that town so we pushed on up to Alamogordo, New Mexico where he landed a job on the Oliver Lee cattle ranch. Lee paid Jim some money and the rest in calves. After awhile we had a well stocked ranch of our own about fourteen miles out from Alamogordo.
Following a pause Mrs. Madison continued: I liked ranch life right from the start, for I rode the range with Jim, learned to cook and eat chuck wagon food and to ride and rope with the best of them. Our cowpunchers were a jolly bunch and always ready for a good time. We got lots of fun out of rodeos, chuck suppers, roping contests and dances. Our ranch was the J Bar M ranch, and our cattle was branded with the J on the shoulder, the bar on the side, and the M on the hip.
Regarding the cook's culinary efforts Mrs. Madison declared: Our ranch cook was famous for his sour dough biscuits. The cowboys called them dough gods. And I just wish you could have seen the boys decked out for a round-up; they were as eager to get started as a bunch of school kids. To see them on their prancing ponies with their faces wreathed in smiles was something worthwhile. The cowboys always took the lead. Then came the noisy old mess wagon with the cook perched on the driver's seat as proud as a peacock because he had a chance to show off his skill in managing a four hand team of dancing ponies. And last came the wrangler with the reserve horses, called the saddle bunch. Each ranch had its own mess and bed wagon, and its own set of men. The cattle companies from miles around met at a given point and pitched camp. At mess they usually had bacon, beans, black coffee and warm bread, or as it was called, hunk. After they'd leave I could hear them singing in the distance: Oh, I want to be a cowboy and with the cowboys stand, Big spurs upon my boot's heels, A lasso in my hand. They had good voices too and just seemed to put their hearts and souls into music.
In recalling her life on the range Mrs. Madison observed: We worked hard in the old days and didn't think anything of it. In fact we enjoyed it. My chief amusement was a rodeo. Once I went to one where some of our cowboys were going to ride. I was proud and yet afraid that some of them would get killed, for the ponies they rode were untamed devils. One of our boys was called
Cinnamon because his hair was the shade of cinnamon bark. Cinnamon was all decked out for the rodeo in real cowboy fashion, high heeled boots with spurs, a red and black flannel shirt and a polka dot neckerchief. I almost forgot to mention his high crowned hat and chaps. As for the ponies I won't try to describe all of them. The one I remember most was the one Cinnamon rode, as mean a piebald little critter as I'd ever seen a cowboy ride. First they roped and blindfolded her. Then some of the cowboys held her, and the moment the saddle was cinched on and the blinds pulled away, Cinnamon leaped onto her back.
Regarding the pony's antics Mrs. Madison declared: I never saw a bronco show so much spirit in all my life; she simply went mad, and the wilder she acted the louder the audience shouted and cheered. First her back curved into a half circle. Then her legs stiffened like she was paralyzed, but no such luck, she was just bracing herself for what followed. With her head lowered until it almost met her hind feet, she shot straight up and came down with a jolt that would have unseated anybody but Cinnamon. And on top of that, with her legs still as stiff as ramrods and her head almost touching the ground the little devil began to rock her rider back and forth with her hind legs doing a kick step between rocks. Finally she gave that up too, and going into a frenzy, tore around and around the ring with the laughing cowboy waving his hat and never budging an inch. Then as suddenly as she started she stopped, her little body shaking like a leaf; she'd met her master and knew it. And after two or three quivering sighs she dropped her head and trotted out of the ring with the meekness of a lamb. In recalling the cowboy dances Mrs. Madison said: Dancing in the old days was a family affair.
We all piled into a wagon and took the children along, and while the grownups danced they played outside. And when they were ready to go to sleep we found a corner, made them a shake down on the floor and let them tumble in. We always brought plenty of blankets and plenty of food along, danced all night, and got home on time for breakfast. A Calico dress was considered to be good enough for any occasion. When we had a barbecue the men cooked the meat. Sometimes they'd be up all night, turning, basting and keeping the beef from burning. The women baked all the good things they knew how to bake and took them to the barbecue. They usually arrived driving a team of horses and some kind of a wagon, wearing their sunbonnets and old calicos. Of course they brought the children along; it was a regular picnic for them. The cowboys always brought a fiddle and a guitar along and ended up with a shindig. We mostly waltzed, two stepped or square danced.
Mrs. Madison related an exciting episode in her life on the range: It happened early one morning while we were still in bed, she said. We heard horses moving around outside, and heard men talking in low but excited voices. Jim got up and went outside. I stayed in bed, straining my ears to hear what the strange men were talking about. Then someone came into my room and by the dim morning light I thought it was my husband. I started to speak when suddenly I felt the cold steel of a gun pressed against my forehead. I started to cry out but ended with a feeble moan. When the man, whoever he was, heard my voice he backed toward the door saying: Oh my, I thought you were Tucker. Just why he said that I don't know. But I think he was so excited that he didn't know just what he was saying.
Mrs. Madison paused, then continued: I was so scared I didn't know what to do, but finally decided to get up and dress, which I did. Then the door opened, admitting a small figure. It was my son who had been sneaking around outside to see what the men were doing in our corral. He put his finger to his lips and cautioned me to be quiet because Oliver Lee, our old boss, and some of his henchmen were hiding on top of the house. That the sheriff was after them because he heard that they had killed Albert Fountain over at the White Sands. The quick thud of horses hoofs sent me flying to the window. I looked out, sure enough, the sheriff and his deputies had arrived. The sheriff was Pat Garrett, the same man who had caught and killed Billy the Kid in 1881. Pat and his deputies were starting toward the corral when they saw a red saddle blanket drying on the fence.
The sheriff paused, pointed at the blanket, than motioned, his men to follow him. My husband, who was outside, told me that they went straight to the corral where Lee's horse was nosing about with several other white horses. The sheriff had no trouble in picking out the horse he wanted, for the saddle blanket, while wet, had faded, leaving great red streaks on the animal's back.
Shortly after finding Oliver Lee's horse in our corral, Mrs. Madison said, Pat Garrett, Lincoln County Sheriff, caught sight of the fugitives on top of our house and opened fire. The charge was returned with a volley from the guns on the roof, and we could hear the bullets falling like hail all around us. Just as I grabbed my son and pulled him down beside me on the floor, a bullet crashed through the window, whistled through the room, and buried itself in the wall above the bed. My husband told me that the sheriff went up to bring Lee and his men down, but just as he reached the top of the ladder one of his deputies who had climbed up an the other side, was shot and rolled off the roof into a wagon just outside the kitchen door. The accident brought the shooting to a sudden stop, for Garrett and his men went back down to look after their companion. Finding him still alive they decided to take him to the station and when the train came in send him to Alamogordo. So they called my husband and told him to get out a team of horses and hitch up the old wagon. He told them that he hadn't used that wagon for years and didn't have any way to hitch them. Then they did the next best thing; they tied a rope to the tongue of the wagon, rode along in front and dragged it after them. As they started toward the station they called back to the men on the roof, We'll be back to get you fellows by eleven.
Be sure ye don't get here before that time, or we might get ye first. Lee answered. The injured man died on his way to Alamogordo, and the sheriff and his deputy were back by eleven o'clock, but Lee and his henchmen were gone. M. C. Book rights reserved. Mrs. Mabel Madison was born in Montgomery, Alabama, 1870; moved to Temple, Texas with her mother, Sofia Luke, 1880; Married James Madison in 1886; moved with husband to Marlin, Texas; moved to Rotan Texas, then to Alamogordo, New Mexico; worked for Oliver Lee three years; moved from Lee's ranch to own ranch, fourteen miles out from Alamogordo.
Mrs. Madison has lived in La Mesa, New Mexico for twenty years, where she lives on the family ranch. She is the mother of six children, Sara Madison, Rotan, Texas; Mary Iris Madison, wife of R. F. Hymen; Willie Reece Madison whose wife was the former Opal Chalk of El Paso; Robert Lee Madison, El Paso, Texas; Charley Madison of La Mesa, John James Madison, El Paso, Texas.
Mrs. Mary Burleson
By Edith L. Crawford
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Surnames mentioned: Burleson, Boggs, Tipton
Our family left West Port Mo., which is Kansas City, Missouri, now, in April 1865, and arrived in Mora, New Mexico, in September 1865, we came over the Santa Fe, trail in a prairie schooner drawn by six oxen and our milk cow for this was the only way we had of bringing our milk cow with us, we were in a Government Train guarded by soldiers, as the Indians were on the warpath at that time and were always on the look out for settlers that were moving out to the west.
Mr. Boggs, the Foreman of the Government train told us that there was a band of Indians just ahead of us and that they had attacked a wagon train, killed all the people, stole the horses and food and burned the wagons. The Government train that we were with was hauling supplies to Fort Union and Fort Craig. In those days the Indians used to hold up the stage coaches kill the drivers and all the people and take the horses. Sometimes they would burn the coaches and mail and then again they would leave everything and just take the horses.
We came by way of the Raton Pass and left the Government train there. Mr. Tipton and some friends met us there and escorted us to Mora, New Mexico, for the Indians were bad in New Mexico in those days. We saw many large herds of buffalo on our trip. It rained a lot that summer and we had no hardships as to feed and water. It took us from April to September. I remember the great event in our home was the arrival of the St. Louis Globe Democrat and when it came all the neighbors would come to our house and my father would read the paper to them by a candle's light. We made all our own candles in those days. Sometimes it happened that we would not get the paper on time and then we would hear that the Indians had held up a stage coach and burned the mail. How we would miss the paper. My father took this same paper for 50 years. There were no schools much in those days. Sometimes a teacher was hired by private subscription and all the children in a neighborhood would go to school and often the children would know as much as the teacher.
I was married to Mr. Pete Burleson July 21, 1878. My husband was sheriff in Colfax County for four years. He hanged the first man by law in New Mexico in the year of 1878, at Cimarron Colfax County, New Mexico. He had the chaplain come from Fort Union and offer a prayer for the prisoner. He was a Negro and was sentenced to be hung for killing a white man and his son 12 years old.
We came to Lincoln County in 1890. We lived at the V Ranch where Mr. Burleson was foreman for several years. Then we moved to Lincoln, New Mexico, where my husband was deputy sheriff for years. He drove the second spike on the Santa Fe Railroad when it crossed the line from Colorado into New Mexico.
Mrs. Mary E. Burleson
By Edith L. Crawford
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Surnames mentioned: Burleson, Chittenden, Allison, Maxwell, Hollbrook, Morley, Wallace, Emzy, Ftitz, Morley, Garrett
My husband Pete Burleson, came to Cimarron, New Mexico in Colfax County in the year of 1876, from the Big Bend country in Texas, which is located in the Davis Mountains, he arrived in Colfax county with about fifteen-hundred head of cattle, he settled on a place on the Red River, built a two room log cabin and settled down to raising cattle.
In 1877, my father O. K. Chittenden and Clay Allison brought Mr. Burleson, down to our house to try and persuade him to run for sheriff of Colfax County, is how I first met him. He first said he would not consider making the race at all as he had his cattle and place to look after, and how much better off he would of been if he had only staid with his first decision as he realized very little out of his ranch and cattle.
They kept after him until he made the race and was elected by a large majority, this was in November, 1877, he took office January 1, 1878, one of the first things he did after taking office, was to run down a Negro man by the name of Jack, the only name I ever heard him called, he had killed Mr. Maxwell and his twelve year old boy, they had just come to Colfax county from Iowa, and had bought a ranch and were living in a tent they had this Negro Jack hired to cut post for fencing the place, he killed Mr. Maxwell in the tent, took one of his saddle horses and rode down the road and met the boy coming in with a load of posts, he spoke to the boy and rode on by the wagon turned and shot the boy in the back watched him until he saw him fall from the wagon. The horses with the wagon went on down the road until they came to the gate entering the Maxwell ranch on passing through the gate one of the front wheels caught on the gate post, and held the wagon fast, the team stood there two days without food or water, one of the neighboring ranchers was passing by and saw the team standing at the gate, he stopped by to see what was the matter as the horses seemed to be so restless, he went on up to the tent where he found Mr. Maxwell, dead shot through the head.
He went back to the horses unhitched them fed and watered them, and then started out for help, he had only gone a short distance from the gate when he found the boy face down in the middle of the road. He summoned help and started looking for the Negro but he was no where around the ranch, so they knew this Negro would know something about the killing, so the hunt for the Negro started and they found him at his home in Trinidad, Colorado, where his wife lived.
Mr. Burleson, brought him back to Cimarron, New Mexico, to wait trial, but the feeling was so bitter against the Negro he was taken to Taco, New Mexico, for trial and was sentenced to be hanged at Cimarron, New Mexico, Colfax County citizens still wanted to take the Negro out and hang him, but Mr. Burleson, appealed to those men as citizens of Colfax County to let the law take its course and hang the Negro, and this was the first hanging by law in the Territory of New Mexico. It was in the month of May, 1878. My aunt and I went to see the Negro hang but upon seeing him on the gallows and hearing his confession that he did not know why he killed Mr. Maxwell and his son we did not stay to see him hung, but lots of people did as it was a public hanging and the first one in that part of the country.
Mr. Burleson and I were married in Trinidad, Colorado, July 21, 1878, I was going with Mr. Burleson when he ran for sheriff the first time, and did not want to marry him until his term expired, he begged and promised me if I would marry him that year he would not run for the second term, but there was so much pressure brought to bear that he did run the second time and was elected by the largest majority that any sheriff had ever been elected by, at that time, he ran against a man by the name of Joe Hollbrook.
It was either the 9th, or 13th, of November 1879, that the Santa Fe Railroad crossed the line into New Mexico. W. R. Morley one of the engineers who helped survey the right of way drove the first spike and Mr. Burleson, then sheriff of Colfax County drove the second spike, in the first Railroad to enter New Mexico. I went to Trinidad, Colorado, on the last stage coach that run for the next day the mail came in on the train.
In July, 1881, Governor Lew Wallace, asked Mr. Burleson to organize a posse, and go to Lincoln County and help catch Billy the kid, about the time they were ready to leave for Lincoln County, Pat Garrett, killed the Kid at Fort Sumner, New Mexico. When Mr. Burleson's time expired December 31, 1881, we moved to Springer, New Mexico, and went into the cattle business again but did not do so well, so Mr. Burleson went to work for wages and we moved to Magadelena, New Mexico, we did not stay there very long as the VV Cattle Company sent for him to come to Lincoln County and take charge of their cattle we staid there a couple of years and then moved to Lincoln, New Mexico, where he was deputy sheriff under Dan W. Roberts for two terms, and deputy sheriff under Emzy Fritz, for two years.
While Mr. Burleson was sheriff and also deputy sheriff he never went after a man but what he got him. There was five children born to this union, our oldest a boy was born in 1879, at Cimarron, New Mexico, the second a girl at Springer, New Mexico, and the next a girl in Socorro County and the last two boys in Lincoln, New Mexico. Source: Mrs. Mary E. Burleson.
Mrs. Mary E. Burleson
By Edith L. Crawford
Paraphrased by C. W. Barnum
Counties: Colfax, Mora
Surnames mentioned: Burleson, Chittenden, Searcy, Boggs
The Government train we came to New Mexico in had about one hundred prairie schooners in it. Of this number four belonged to my family. My grandfather and grandmother Searcy, with six girls and one boy and my father, O. K. Chittenden, with my mother brother Tom and myself. I was five years old and my brother was about one year old. My grandfather and my father sold their farms in West Fort, Missouri. We brought all our supplies along with us. We had our flour in barrels, our own meat, lard and sugar. We were not allowed to stop and hunt buffalo on the way out here on account of the Indians. The women made the bread out of sour dough and used Soda. There was no such thing as baking powder in those days.
The men baked the bread in Dutch ovens over the camp fires. When we stopped at night the schooners with families were put into a circle and the Government schooners would form a circle around the family wagons. In between the two circles they put the oxen and horses, to keep the Indians from getting them. Every night the men took turns standing guard. All the soldiers rode horses. Every few days the train would stop and everybody would get rested. The feet of the oxen would get so sore that they could not go without resting them every few days. When the train stopped it was nearly always at water and the women would do their washing. The train used cow and buffalo chips and anything they could find to burn.
The men did all this as the women and children were never allowed far from the schooners on account of Indians. We did not milk our cow as she had to be worked along with the oxen. Our schooners had cow hides fastened underneath and our cooking utensils were packed in them. Our drinking water was carried in barrels tied to the sides of the schooners. We had no trouble of any kind on our trip but we were always in fear of the Indians as other trains had been attacked by them. Mr. Tom Boggs, the foreman of the Government train, told us that there was a band of Indians just ahead of our train. The Indians had attacked a train not long before we came along and had killed the people, stolen the horses and cattle and burned the wagons. We saw what was left of the wagons as we passed by.
We left the wagon train on Raton Pass. Enoch Tipton who was a relative of my grandmother, and who had persuaded my grandfather and father to come out to this country, met us on Raton Pass. We stopped at his place at Tiptonville, New Mexico. Enoch Tipton had come out here sometime before from West Port, Missouri. I do not remember just when he came or how he happened to settle here. Tiptonville is the same place as Mora, New Mexico is now. My father and grandfather farmed a year at Tiptonville. When we found our new home hard dirt floors and a dirt roof my mother was so very homesick to go back to Missouri where we had a nice farm home. My mother had brought her spinning wheel with her. She spun all the yarn for our clothes and knitted all our socks and stockings. My father and grandfather made a loom for her and she made us two carpets for our floors to keep the baby from getting so awful dirty on the floor. We had brought some seed cane with us and my father and grandfather made a homemade syrup mill and made syrup, the first ever made in that country. The mill was a crude affair made of logs and drawn by a horse. The juice was pressed out with the logs and put in a vat and cooked into syrup. People came from miles around to see this mill.
We always saved all our beef and mutton tallow to make our candles. We brought our moulds from Missouri with us. We made our wicks out of cotton strings. We tied a large knot in the end of the wick, slipped the mould over the wick and poured the hot tallow into the mould. When the tallow got cold we cut the knot off and slipped the candle out of the mould. Our candle moulds were the first ones brought into that part of the country, and all the neighbors borrowed them to mould their candles. My father moved to Ute Creek, New Mexico, in 1867, when they struck placer gold there, and he put in a country store to supply the needs of the miners and the people who were rushing to the gold strike.
A man by the name of Stevens, I can't remember any other name as everyone called him Steve, wheeled a wheelbarrow all the way from the State of Maine to Colorado. In this wheelbarrow he had his bed, his clothes and his provisions. He did not stay long in Colorado. He came on to Tiptonville and put in a toll road to Ute Creek and my father took care of the toll gate for him. They charged $1.00 for a wagon, fifty cents for a horse and rider and twenty-five cents for a person on foot. Mr. Stevens made a lot of money as there were lots of miners rushing to Ute Creek looking for gold.
When my brother and I were old enough to go to school we had to walk three miles. My mother was always so afraid of wild animals and Indians. We had a big bull dog who used to go with us to school. When he got tired waiting for us he would go home and when it was time for us to get home he would come to meet us. We lived down in a valley and had to go over a big hill and he would wait for us on top of this hill. We went to school at Ute Creek. The Indians were not so hostile as when we first came to New Mexico. It was the Apache and Ute Indians who gave so much trouble and sometimes the Kiowas and Cheyennes would slip in and make raids on the settlers.
My father was from Connecticut originally and came to West Port, Missouri, and married my mother there. She was Elizabeth Searcy. I am the last one left of the Searcy and Chittenden families. My brother Jap who was born after we came to New Mexico died in Gallup, New Mexico, in 1926.