Army Letters from an Officer's Wife, 1871-1888

by Frances Marie Antoinette Mack Roe

THIS post is far over in the Belt Mountains and quite cut off from the outside world, and there are very few of us here, nevertheless the days pass wonderfully fast, and they are pleasant days, also. And then we have our own little excitements that are of intense interest to us, even if they are never heard of in the world across the snow and ice.

The Rae family was very much upset two days ago by the bad behavior of my horse Bettie, when she managed to throw Faye for the very first time in his life! You know that both of our horses, although raised near this place, were really range animals, and were brought in and broken for us. The black horse has never been very satisfactory, and Faye has a battle with him almost every time he takes him out, but Bettie had been lovely and behaved wonderfully well for so young a horse, and I have been so pleased with her and her delightful gaits—a little single foot and easy canter.

The other morning Faye was in a hurry to get out to a lumber camp and, as I did not care to go, he decided to ride my horse rather than waste time by arguing with the black as to which road they should go. Ben always thinks he knows more about such things than his rider. Well, Kelly led Bettie up from the corral and saddled and bridled her, and when Faye was ready to start I went out with him to give the horse a few lumps of sugar. She is a beautiful animal—a bright bay in color—with perfect head and dainty, expressive ears, and remarkably slender legs.

Faye immediately prepared to mount; in fact, bridle in hand, had his left foot in the stirrup and the right was over the horse, when up went Miss Bet's back, arched precisely like a mad cat's, and down in between her fore legs went her pretty nose, and high up in the air went everything—man and beast—the horse coming down on legs as rigid and unbending as bars of steel, and then—something happened to Faye! Nothing could have been more unexpected, and it was all over in a second.

Kelly caught the bridle reins in time to prevent the horse from running away, and Faye got up on his feet, and throwing back his best West Point shoulders, faced the excited horse, and for two long seconds he and Miss Bet looked each other square in the eye. Just what the horse thought no one knows, but Kelly and I remember what Faye said! All desire to laugh, however, was quickly crushed when I heard Kelly ordered to lead the horse to the sutler's store, and fit a Spanish bit to her mouth, and to take the saddle off and strap a blanket on tight with a surcingle, for I knew that a hard and dangerous fight between man and horse was about to commence. Faye told Cagey to chain Hal and then went in the house, soon returning, however, without a blouse, and with moccasins on his feet and with leggings.

When Kelly returned he looked most unhappy, for he loves horses and has been so proud of Bettie. But Faye was not thinking of Kelly and proceeded at once to mount, having as much fire in his eyes as the horse had in hers, for she had already discovered that the bit was not to her liking. As soon as she felt Faye's weight, up went her back again, but down she could not get her head, and the more she pushed down, the harder the spoon of the bit pressed against the roof of her mouth. This made her furious, and as wild as when first brought from the range.

She lunged and lunged—forward and sideways—reared, and of course tried to run away, but with all the vicious things her little brain could think of, she could not get the bit from her mouth or Faye from her back. So she started to rub him off—doing it with thought and in the most scientific way. She first went to the corner of our house, then tried the other corner of that end, and so she went on, rubbing up against every object she saw—house, tree, and fence—even going up the steps at the post trader's. That I thought very smart, for the bit was put in her mouth there, and she might have hoped to find some kind friend who would take it out.

It required almost two hours of the hardest kind of riding to conquer the horse, and to teach her that just as long as she held her head up and behaved herself generally, the bit would not hurt her. She finally gave in, and is once more a tractable beast, and I have ridden her twice, but with the Spanish bit. She is a nervous animal and will always be frisky. It has leaked out that the morning she bucked so viciously, a cat had been thrown upon her back at the corral by a playful soldier, just before she had been led up. Kelly did not like to tell this of a comrade. It was most fortunate that I had decided not to ride at that time, for a pitch over a horse's head with a skirt to catch on the pommel is a performance I am not seeking. And Bettie had been such a dear horse all the time, her single foot and run both so swift and easy. Kelly says, "Yer cawn't feel yerse'f on her, mum." Faye is quartermaster, adjutant, commissary, signal officer, and has other positions that I cannot remember just now, that compel him to be at his own office for an hour every morning before breakfast, in addition to the regular office hours during the day. The post commander is up and out at half past six every workday, and Sundays I am sure he is a most unhappy man. But Faye gets away for a hunt now and then, and the other day he started off, much to my regret, all alone and with only a rifle. I worry when he goes alone up in these dense forests, and when an officer goes with him I am so afraid of an accident, that one may shoot the other. It is impossible to take a wagon, or even ride a horse among the rocks and big boulders. There are panthers and wild cats and wolves and all sorts of fearful things up there. The coyotes often come down to the post at night, and their terrible, unearthly howls drive the dogs almost crazy—and some of the people, too.

I worried about Faye the other morning as usual, and thought of all the dreadful things that could so easily happen. And then I tried to forget my anxiety by taking a brisk ride on Bettie, but when I returned I found that Faye had not come, so I worried all the more. The hours passed and still he was away, and I was becoming really alarmed. At last there was a shout at a side door, and running out I found Faye standing up very tall and with a broad smile on his face, and on the ground at his feet was an immense white-tail deer! He said that he had walked miles on the mountain but had failed to find one living thing, and had finally come down and was just starting to cross the valley on his way home, when he saw the deer, which he fortunately killed with one shot at very long range. He did not want to leave it to be devoured by wolves while he came to the corral for a wagon, so he dragged the heavy thing all the way in. And that was why he was gone so long, for of course he was obliged to rest every now and then. I was immensely proud of the splendid deer, but it did not convince me in the least that it was safe for Faye to go up in that forest alone. Of course Faye has shot other deer, and mountain sheep also, since we have been here, but this was the first he had killed when alone.

Of all the large game we have ever had—buffalo, antelope, black-tail deer, white-tail deer—the mountain sheep is the most delicious. The meat is very tender and juicy and exceedingly rich in flavor. It is very "gamey," of course, and is better after having been frozen or hung for a few days. These wary animals are most difficult to get, for they are seldom found except on the peaks of high mountains, where the many big rocks screen them, so when one is brought in, it is always with great pride and rejoicing. There are antelope in the lowlands about here, but none have been brought in since we came to the post. The ruffed grouse and the tule hens are plentiful, and of course nothing can be more delicious.