“Their leader grabbed my horse’s rein.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN THE PONY EXPRESS
About the time I had decided to go back to my Indian friends, word came that the Pony Express was to be started, and Mr. Faust induced me to stay and be one of the pony riders. I sold my roan pony to a sergeant in Camp Floyd for seventy-five dollars and my little black mare for a hundred dollars. Part of this money I gave to mother, and the rest I used to buy some clothes.
A great “powwow” was going on about the Pony Express coming through the country. The company had begun to build its roads and stations. These stations were about ten miles apart. They were placed as near to a spring, or other watering place, as possible. There were two kinds of them, the “home station” and the “way station.” At the way stations, the riders changed horses; at the home stations, which were about fifty miles from each other, the riders were changed; and there they ate their meals and slept.
Finally the time came for the express horses to be distributed along the line, and the station keepers and riders were sent to the various stations. Mr. Faust and Major Howard Egan went on my bond, and I was sent out west into Nevada to a station called Ruby Valley. This was a “home station.” It was kept by William Smith. Samuel Lee was his hostler.
When we were hired to ride the express, we had to go before a justice of the peace and swear we would be at our post at all times, and not go farther than one hundred yards from the station except when carrying the mail. When we started out we were not to turn back, no matter what happened, until we had delivered the mail at the next station. We must be ready to start back at a half minute’s notice, day or night, rain or shine, Indians or no Indians.
Our saddles, which were all provided by the company, had nothing to them but the bare tree, stirrups, and cinch. Two large pieces of leather about sixteen inches wide by twenty-four long were laced together with a strong leather string thrown over the saddle. Fastened to these were four pockets, two in front and two behind; these hung on each side of the saddle. The two hind ones were the largest. The one in front on the left side was called the “way pocket.” All of these pockets were locked with small padlocks and each home station keeper had a key to the “way pocket.” When the express arrived at the home station, the keeper would unlock the “way pocket” and if there were any letters for the boys between the home stations, the rider would distribute them as he went along. There was also a card in the way pocket that the station keeper would take out and write on it the time the express arrived and left his station. If the express was behind time, he would tell the rider how much time he had to make up.
Well, the time came that we had to start. On the afternoon of April 3, 1860, at a signal cannon shot, a pony rider left St. Joseph, Missouri; and the same moment another left Sacramento, California—one speeding west, the other east over plains and mountains and desert. Night and day the race was kept up by the different riders and their swift horses until the mail was carried through. Then they turned and dashed back over the same trail again. Each man would make about fifty miles a day, changing horses four or five times to do it.
Not many riders could stand the long, fast riding at first, but after about two weeks they would get hardened to it.
At first the rider would be charged up with the saddle he was riding, and his first wages were kept back for it. If he had no revolver, and had to get one from the company, that would add another heavy expense to be deducted from his wages. Some of the boys were killed by the Indians before they had paid for these things. Our pay was too small for the hard work and the dangers we went through.