Hey everyone, my name is JD Wicks. I am the host of Mysterious West podcast and the sole author/editor of the Mysterious West substack. My goal is to highlight strange history and unsolved mysteries regarding the West. Sometimes that bleeds into archeology as well. I have a new episode out today. The links are below. Hope you enjoy!

'In the waning days of the Wild West, the Dalton-Doolin gang kept the spirit of lawlessness alive in the misguided memory of their fallen comrades. Among the criminals was a young man named Oliver Yantis who would go on to harbor a less than notable criminal career. After a prolonged bout of dogged pursuit, he would be gunned down by three simultaneous gunshots. But who pulled the trigger that took his life?"

https://open.spotify.com/episode/5PRiNHxwSJFnQ9uwOolwLa?si=480fb021ed5140a6

https://mysteriouswest.substack.com/p/who-killed-oliver-yantis-565 (full transcript, photos, and selected references available here)

https://youtu.be/9wcNzOjmJKY

My cousin is writing a book set in the Wild West. He sent me the beggining book and asked me to review it and gave me permission to post it on Reddit. Since i am not the biggest fan of the western genre i want to see your opinion. Btw the translation is not the best since it was auto translated

I Dodge City Colton Kane was a man of few words but many actions. His eyes spoke louder than any words. Behind the charming gaze and relaxed posture hid a man who had seen too much death and survived too much evil. He was a wanderer, a man without roots, who sought peace in a restless world. He was a retired gunslinger and outlaw who had enough of a life on the run. But people don't forgive some deeds. In whatever city he came to, they would look at him with fear and nervousness. They prayed that the day would come soon when he would leave town. As much as he tried to forget, the past caught up with him. He would always remember his mentor, Jebediah Stone, who often said that one mistake can forever be marked. He was right. As soon as he entered Dodge, the sheriff asked him not to stay. Dodge was a cattle town with heavy traffic. Problems were frequent, and Kane would only add to that. He promised the sheriff that he would leave if he thought there was a chance things would go wrong. The sheriff looked like an honest man and Colt had no intention of causing him trouble. He never wanted to live the life of an outlaw, but he had no other choice. He entered the saloon and rented a room. The owner was kind and treated him with great respect. Colt knew that the reason for this was fear, not politeness. "One whiskey, bartender," Colt muttered, sliding a coin across the wooden counter, "And watch out for trouble. This town isn't known for its hospitality." Looking into the glass, he remembered the words of his mentor. "Forgetting is a luxury we can rarely afford, Colt. The past shapes us, whether we like it or not." Jebediah was a wise man most of the time, but he ran away from his problems through alcohol. It cost him his life. He stood at the counter for a while and saw various faces entering the saloon. He recognized Wyatt Earp, with whom he exchanged a glance, after which they both continued their business. He saw a blackjack table, so he decided to join. He wasn't a gambler. He thought it was a waste of money. But people are engrossed while gambling, so he hoped to distract his mind a little from his past. As soon as he sat down at the table, two men got up. They said they had lost too much, but he knew the real reason. Only he, an older man named Jerome, and the dealer played. In the first round, his card total was 20, Jerome had 19, and the dealer had 25. Colt won. The two of them praised him, but he knew that the only goal of this game was to have more luck than your opponent. He played a few more rounds and then decided to withdraw. In the end, he lost 14 cents, but he earned something more valuable. He earned the trust of several people in the saloon. They looked at him like everyone else, not like a beast capable only of killing. He ordered soup and sat down at a table in the corner. Jerome sat next to him. "Why did you come to this town?" he asked him. "I'm looking for an answer myself." "I know you used to be..." Colt interrupted him, "You don't have to remind me of that, but I assure you I didn't come to cause trouble." "Have you been here before?" "Just passing through, but it seems like a decent place." "Looks can be deceiving." "Why?" "The city has everything you need, but because of that it attracts many people, of different characters, who end up fighting. Too much traffic." "I hope things get better." "Me too. Enjoy the rest of the evening." Jerome got up and returned to the blackjack table. Colt continued to sit at the table and think about his past. He remembered one pre-war incident when he chased Will O'Rubenford in the town of St. Anabel in Arizona. A large reward was promised for his head, so Colt decided to try. He followed them from Colorado to St. Anabel where they camped and hid the loot. Will wanted to retire, but he had to do one more job before that. Robbing the Hutchingson bank in New Orleans. But things went south. Bruce and Mike, 2 brothers from the gang, were moles. Will blew up. He killed all the members except Mike and Bruce, who escaped, and Navajo John and the black man Bob, who survived. He was told about these events by Navajo John, a few years later. He was born in a small town in Montana. His mother was half Navajo, and his father was a sheriff. When his father disappeared, John ran away with the gang. Colt wondered where John was now, but something startled him. He ordered another drink. He sat for a long time observing the atmosphere, then used the only thing Jebediah left him. His memoirs. He randomly opened the page where there was an Indian proverb "You can't wake a man who pretends to be asleep." "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" a woman asked him. Colt shook his head, "Feel free." The woman sat down and ordered a drink, "My name is Sarah," she said. "Colton," he replied briefly. "Beautiful name. Where are you from?" Colt hesitated, as he didn't like to reveal too much to strangers, "I'm just passing through." "Nice place, isn't it?" she said, looking around, "Although it can be dangerous." "I believe it." "Are you new here?" "Yes." "Don't worry, most of them are friendly. If you need anything, I have a shop across the street." "I'll keep that in mind." He smiled. Sarah smiled too, "I hope to see you again, Colton." "Me too." Soon after, Colt retired to his room and slept until dawn. When he woke up, he went downstairs to the saloon for breakfast. Only the bartender, Jerome, and the sheriff were there. The sheriff came only to check if there had been any problems last night, then left. "Are you up for a game, Kane?" Jerome asked him. "Why not." "Do you plan to stay longer?" "Anything is possible," Colt replied with a slight smile, "But how come you're here already?" "I like to get up early." "How long have you been in Dodge?" Jerome sighed, "Since I was born." "What did the sheriff want?" "He was checking if everything was okay last night," Jerome replied, "He asked about you too." "What did you tell him?" "That you seem like a decent young man." Colt smiled, "Thank you, although I wouldn't exactly call myself a young man." Jerome smiled, "We all age, but some things never change." Colt looked into his coffee cup, "What do you mean?" "People. Their desires and fears. The longing for freedom, peace, and a happy life. We all want more or less the same thing - peace, freedom, and family. But fate often deals us differently." Colt nodded, "I agree." And at that moment the sheriff entered the saloon, with a serious expression on his face. "Colt, I need to talk to you." "Excuse me for a moment," Colt said to Jerome. "No problem," Jerome replied. Colt and the sheriff went outside, while Jerome continued to drink coffee. "Where's the fire, friend?" Colt jokingly asked. "Before the war you met Navajo John in Arizona, didn't you?" the sheriff asked. "Yes, why?" "Do you know where John might be now?" "I heard he became a Texas Ranger. But why again?" "If you ever meet him, tell him I have a few things to tell him." "He's not involved in robberies anymore, as far as I know." "Not because of that. It's something personal between the two of us." "Alright." "Also, if you ever need money, O'Rubenford has a barbershop in New Orleans. I think he'll easily sing where the loot is." "I'll keep that in mind. Goodbye, sheriff." "So long." Colt returned to the saloon and played a few more rounds of poker, then returned to his room. He lay on the bed and thought long about the sheriff's request. After a few hours he returned to the saloon, which was now full. He went to the counter and ordered a drink. He watched the atmosphere in the saloon. A blond young man entered the saloon. "I've been looking for you, Kane," he said arrogantly. "I don't give autographs, kid," Colt let him know that he wasn't taking him seriously. "I challenge you to a duel." "I refuse." The young man reached for his revolver, but Colt was faster. "I'll walk out of the saloon, and you won't follow me. Clear?" Colt said, holding the young man at gunpoint. Colt walked out of the saloon and headed towards the stables. He decided he would leave town. The young man followed Colt, but Jerome stood in front of him. "Where do you think you're going

II Fire Baptism Colt wandered the prairies of Kansas, thinking about his past. His parents, Karen and Sam Kane, were robbers who operated from California to Missouri. When Colt was born, they decided to retire, but they couldn't. When he turned 6, they left him in Missouri and returned to the west. Father Joseph, who was a priest in the city church, occasionally brought food to Colt. However, neither Joseph nor Colt's neighbors, the Andersons, wanted to constantly care for him. He survived by begging and stealing from wealthy strangers who passed through the city. On Sundays, he always went to church, because he would get a free meal. Colt lived this way until the age of thirteen, when he got a job in a local store. This was a new opportunity for a normal life for him. The salary in the store was not enough for a normal life, so he still had to beg. When Colt was 16, a famous outlaw named Jebediah Stone came to town. Jebediah was tall and frowning, with a gaze that could penetrate the soul. Due to an unhealthy lifestyle, he was also extremely thin. He wore a wide hat and a leather vest, and he had 2 revolvers at his waist. Colt admired him, but at the same time he felt fear when he was near him. However, he was eager for his attention. He often went to the saloon hoping to see Jebediah, but he was as cold as ice. One night Jebediah ordered a drink in the saloon when Colt sat down near him. "I heard you're a hard worker," Jebediah said, "But I think you're capable of much more." Colt blushed, "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered. Jebediah laughed, "I'm not playing with you, boy. I see potential in you. I can teach you everything I know. Tomorrow, when you're done with work, come to the saloon." He was startled from his thoughts. He came to a small town near the border with Oklahoma. He didn't plan to stay long. He entered the half-empty saloon. He approached the counter when he felt a revolver at the back of his head. "Hands up, cowpoke," the attacker said. "You've mistaken me for someone else," Colt said, trying to remain calm. "Nobody has a face as ugly as yours, Colt 45," the attacker said. "I'm just passing through and..." "Calm down. I thought you'd recognize my voice," the attacker said, then lowered his revolver. Colt turned around, "I've seen funnier jokes. But how come you're in Kansas, John?" the attacker said, then lowered his revolver. Colt turned around, "I've seen funnier jokes. But how come you're in Kansas, John?"

Hi everyone! I’ve been moderating r/WildWest for a while, but I’ll admit I’m not entirely sure how to spark more engagement here. With almost 10,000 members, I feel like this subreddit has a lot of potential—it just needs someone who has more patience than me and maybe some fresh ideas to breathe new life into it.

I’m looking to step back, so if anyone’s interested in taking over, feel free to comment or message me.

I’m brand new to this sub, so if this question has been asked and answered, I apologize. When, let’s say a soldier, was being chased by hostiles, why didn’t the soldier not simply shoot the hostiles horse? I completely understand that guns weren’t what they are today AND I have no doubt that fleeing on horseback while trying to shoot accurately is very tough. But if I was being chased across a field by 2-3 hostiles and I was able to drop their horses then game over. I’ve escaped. Like in modern times, if you’re being chased in a car and you manage to cause the pursuit car to wreck, you’re home free. **** Note, I realize Hollywood has fictionalized most of how things really were back then, but I was watching a movie the other night and this settler was being chased by 2 Sioux. The settler had a pretty good jump on the Sioux and would turn and fire at them occasionally. Eventually tho, the 2 Sioux caught up with the guy. Well, you can imagine the outcome. But I couldn’t understand why the settler didn’t just shoot their horses out from under them and make a clean getaway. Obviously a horse is a much larger and hit-able target than a man sitting on top of it. Did they really not do this back then? P. S. Sorry for my inaugural post being so long.

It could be based on mythology or some kind of mystical being, or it could be just a human that wants to kill players.

I wanted to post this in the game making subreddit but it won’t let me so I’m putting it here.

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I'm delighted to say that I've been featured in a shout out with Readers Magnet! I was told that both novels - Alias Jeannie Delaney Book 1- Go West, Girl! and Book 2 - The Outlaw's Return - would be featured on a video clip today, and it was! Here's the link:

https://www.thefestivalofstorytellers.com/main-stage/author-of-the-hour-russell-j-rucker/

#cowgirl #western #oldwest

I've just had responses from potential readers regarding AI illustrations. Not very positive responses actually! Still, it has given me pause for thought. I am an artist, so in future I'll point out when I've used AI (only for promotional purposes - I could use my own art for that but authors need to push promotions pretty quickly and don't really have time to produce original art, which takes time and effort). Here I'm posting my original artwork of Jeannie, my protagonist.

These images have been created over the years, but in recent times I made a graphic to showcase them. I hope they meet approval!

http://jo-b-creative.blogspot.com/2025/01/a-shot-at-facebook-advertising.html?m=1 #cowgirl #western oldwest

Hi all-

I'm working on a Playing Card game that takes place during the American frontier. I'd like to reference different print media as inspiration for the graphic design. Of course, the "WANTED" poster has a big influence, but I'm on the hunt for other types of print, books, magazines, etc. that feature some unique elements. Anyone have any suggestions I can pull from?

Basically what the title says. I know people smoked in the wild west, but what kind of lightners did they use? Especially working class people?

I know about the more famous ones like Albert Jennings Fountain, but looking for some of the more obscure ones. Thanks in advance.

Hi all, over the past few years my interest in the “Wild West” has grown a lot. However, I don’t actually know much about it.

I was wondering if anyone could recommend some documentary or movies to start looking in to? Not sure where I should start, but I know I want to learn more about the Wild West :)

I’m from Scotland so it’s not often I hear of anyone sharing the same interest. (There is interest here, however I’m 24 and my social circles aren’t interested lol) So I don’t have anyone I could ask.

Thanks in advance

I’m a male trying to find a western style holster and belt like what “cowboys” wore. My budget is about 200$ and the belt size should be 30. The revolver its self is a colt peacemaker .45 caliber with a 4 3/4 inch barrel. Please help!!!!

I intentionally left out Lawman, Sheriff, Gunslinger, Outlaw, Cowboy and Rancher as I figured they’d be the obvious winners of this poll if they were here

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http://jo-b-creative.blogspot.com/2025/01/alias-jeannie-delaney-book-1-go-west.html?m=1

#cowgirl #western #oldwest

I remember reading somewhere that the west acted as a somewhat safe haven for queer and gender non-conforming people of the time. Does anyone know of any resources (history books, memoirs, journal articles etc.) related to this? I’ve done a quick search and can’t seem to find any more academic and historical sources.

It's not exactly thrilling stuff but might be of interest to y'all. He was a mule packer under General Crook's command.

Reminiscences of James B. Glover

As told to Mrs.Geo F Kitt 1928

I came to Arizona with General George Crook in 1973 and was in his employ as a Government packer. The packers were not Army men but civilians. I was stationed around Bowie and San Carlos. I was not with Crook when he was supposed to be a captive of the apaches in Mexico but was sent to his relief and met him coming out. He had really been captured but just plain talked the Indians out of it. He had more influence with the Indians than any man I ever saw. Cool, considerate, wise, he was respected by every one of them. 

When he was transferred to the Department of the Platte, I went with him and was with him through all that dreadful winter of 1876 when he was campaigning against the Sioux. Once in Wyoming our mules pulled up the stake to which they were tied and got away. I was sent to find them, got lost and was out three days and two nights with the weather below zero. My legs were black and my hands and face frozen. They wanted to amputate my feet but I would not let them. I am glad I did not. 

I was with him when he was reassigned to the Department of Arizona and went with him when he went down into Mexico to parley with Geronimo. Geronimo had sent word that he would meet Crook in Canon de los Embudos about twenty miles across the line in Mexico from the San Bernardino Ranch. The Indians had been killed and pushed so hard by both Mexican and American troops that they were tired and wanted to come in. 

Crook started from Bowie. We packers went ahead and had things ready for him at the San Bernardino Ranch. Geronimo was suspicious of the soldiers and would not consent to Crook bringing any with him. He did not want us packers but Crook said he had to have provisions, etc. so thirteen of us and three officers were all there were in the party. We went in under a white flag and could see signal fires all around in the mountains for various chiefs were off scouting with their bands. One of the officers in the party was Borke. We found the Indians in a pretty little canyon, some 350 feet deep and filled with cottonwood and sycamore trees but their camp was on the steep mesa above. We unloaded our trappings on the rim of the mesa and then packed the cook outfit down to the water. The Indians were scattered all up and down the canyon. Just as we seated ourselves around on the ground to eat, Natches, one of the chiefs, came riding into the camp and right across our table. With that all the Indians lying around the water hole jumped to their feet and ran to the top of the hill for their guns. 

Crook turned pale at this sign of impudence but was perfectly calm. There were sixteen of us and from 400 to 500 Indians, and no troops within miles. Crook said, “Boys, you had better take your dinner and get to the top of the hill and fortify yourselves as best you can. No telling what these Indians intend doing.” We needed no second invitation but we ate little dinner. We piled up the sacks of grain for a barricade and brought in our horses. We ran up a flag as a signal we wanted the horses and the herders brought them in. Crook stayed down in the canyon to help the cook pack up his outfit. That afternoon he took his gun and went up the canyon hunting as if nothing had happened. 

The Indians were very restless. They were afraid that the soldiers would come. All day we could hear their war songs and see them dancing. We lay behind our barricade but we had no need of a watch for none of us slept. We camped on the top of the hill after that, and packed the water up from down below. 

At nine o’clock the next morning the conference began. Crook stood out from the first for unconditional surrender, but said he would not punish the Indians for what they had already done. For a while Geronimo wanted all sorts of things. The conference lasted three days. Finally Geronimo said that if Crook would send for provisions to feed the Indians on the return would wait until he could get all his people together he would surrender. Crook consented to this. 

General Crook sent me out to the San Bernardino Ranch where some soldiers were stationed for provisions. On the way back I was captured by some of the Indians who had been in another part of the country and thought I had gone after the soldiers. They had me tied to a tree and were about to shoot me when Dutchy, an Indian I had known at San Carlos, came along. He could talk good English and asked me many questions, then he told the rest of the Indians to turn me loose, that I was taking food to their people. 

As soon as the provisions arrived we started toward San Bernardino with the Indians under escort. It took us three days to go thirty miles, for we had to stop every now and then and wait for a new band to join us. The Indians were well outfitted and had lots of money. One Indian had a fine bridle ornamented with Mexican silver coins, one size on the head-stall and a larger denomination on the reins. I wanted to buy it from him but he did not want to sell. Finally I pulled out of my pocket several silver dollars, all I had, and offered them to him. He just grinned and reaching into his belt pulled out a whole wad of greenbacks. 

When we reached this side of the line at the San Bernardino Ranch we camped, the Indians about a hundred yards to one side of the escort. The Indians were very restless. They feared the soldiers stationed at that place. Crook ordered us to stay close to camp. He told a man named Tribollet, who had a saloon about four hundred yards on the Mexican side of the line, not to sell them whiskey if he valued his life. But Tribollet did sell them whiskey and the Indians who had been drinking probably afraid of the consequences, broke for the Sierra Madre again. We had less than half of them left with us but these we took on into Bowie. It was only two or three days after that, that General Crook was relieved of his command. 

I was attended to the 4th Cavalry as Scout, courier, and packer when the Apache Kid was having his day. The soldiers hunted him pretty close but never caught up. It was impossible for them to catch one man. When the Kid was pressed too closely he would kill his horse at the foot of some steep mountain and then go afoot where it was absolutely impossible for a white man to follow. He was located several times and we made it warm for him. The heliograph helped us a great deal. 

I was stationed in the Dragoons for awhile with the 2nd Cavalry and then to Ft. Lowell and stayed there as forage master until that Fort was abandoned, part of the time with the 2nd and part with the 4th Cavalry. 

I knew every inch of the old Fort, where each officer lived, what every building was used for and could locate the site of each, right now, even though they are razed to the ground. 

The Fort was built in the shape of a hollow rectangle. The parade grounds were in the center and were as clean as a swept floor. There were a few big, well trimmed mesquites scattered about, and around the edge ran a little aseque bordered by huge cottonwoods. There was lots of shade all around. 

The buildings were all made of good adobe. You entered on Northwest corner, on the East side of the square was one building for the Company quarters and another for the hospital, continuing around to the left (or on the north side of the square) you came to two more Company quarters, the band quarters and the commissary building. To the West were the guard house and jail, the quartermaster’s building and that of the adjutant. On the South beginning at the far of west end as you walk on around, you come first to the Doctor’s quarters, then the home of one of the higher officers, then two different houses used for officers quarters, then the home of the commanding officer (a large cool building with great double walls and beautifully fitted up inside), and then last were two more buildings used for officers’ quarters. This completed the square. To the West of the Fort proper, was the post trader’s building which was of good size.

I quit the Army in 1886 or 1887 and have lived in and around Tucson ever since, with the exception of a year and a half spent in California. In 1887, I married Juanita Gonzales, who was born in San Francisco and came from an old Spanish family. One of her sister married Alcala, and General Obregon’s wife and she are own cousins. 

I have three children. Harry B. Glover, the oldest, lives in Tucson and is radio man for the Electric Equipment Co. During the War he taught mechanics in the University Training Camp. The next is Lillian, who for some years worked in the post office, but is now married to JW Case and lives in San Diego. The youngest of the three is James E, who was overseas during the war and who now lives on the ranch. 

Six years ago I homesteaded 640 acres out on the desert between Tucson and Ajo about 28 miles from here. I sunk a 230 foot well but the water comes up within 100 feet from the surface. We have a hundred head of dairy cattle. I ran the ranch for a time but it got to be too hard work and now James is doing it for me. 

I have often been in tight places but I still have my scalp. It was a red letter day when General Crook chose me as Captain of the pack train when he went down into Mexico to interview Geronimo. Geronimo had agreed to parley with him if he would not bring the soldiers, so he went down with a pack train and three officers. 

Geronimo at the parley agreed to go back onto the reservation if his men were supplied with rations.

Once near Stein’s Pass when I was carrying dispatches from Lang’s Ranch in New Mexico to Gen. Crook at Bowie, the Indians fired on me and killed the mule I was riding. I pulled my gun out of its scabbard, grabbed a small canteen and took “to the rocks”. There were ten or twelve Indians and I was alone. I had two cartridge belts full of cartridges so I could held out but those blamed Indians kept me there from ten o’clock one morning until ten o’clock the next. I was in a bluff with big boulders on all sides. Every time an Indian showed up, I shot. I saw six or seven fall. How many I killed I have no way of knowing, as their companions took them away. They first tried to rush me but could not come in a body and could not come fast enough, as it was the wildest country I ever saw. Then they tried to get back of me and last succeeded but I was well hidden. 

Indians are poor shots while not a good shot myself I could beat them. However, several bullets went through my clothes but they were only split bullets, which had first hit the rocks. I also had several holes in my hat but that was because the hat was hoisted above the rocks on the point of my gun. 

About ten o’clock the Cavalry came along and the Indians faded away. I was sure glad to see those soldiers. I had been sitting in one position for hours and was stiff and sleepy - had to rub tobacco in my eyes to keep awake. The water had all gone from my canteen and I was hungry - no whiskey. They certainly were welcome. 

A hunting trip with General Crook in the spring of 1883 was somewhat of an adventure. I had just brought a pack train into Fort Bowie that had been shipped from Cheyenne and had laid around for about a week when Crook, who was a great hunter, wanted to take Harvey Carlyle, master of transportation and go down to the San Simon Cienega to hunt. There was not much in the camp in the way of transportation, so he asked me if I would not take them down. I said, “Well, I have a lot of young mules only two of which have ever been worked at all, but I’ll pick out four of the best and we will try it.” I was young and strong and a pretty good driver and I thought I could handle them. “Alright, we will start tomorrow morning as early as we can get away.” 

As we hitched up the next morning, the packers told Crook that he was going to have some ride. The wagon was a very light buckboard with two seats and only an iron guard rail running around the floor boards. Crook and Carlyle sat in the back seat with their guns and cartridges beside them. A man held each mule until we were all set. Then I said, “let them go”, and we started on a dead run. I headed for the road which was winding down grade, only twelve or fourteen feet wide with a sheer drop of from 150 to 200 feet off the side. The buckboard bounded like a spring board. Sometimes I had my foot on the brake, sometimes off. I said to Crook, “you hold me and I’ll hold the reins.” Once I looked around and Carlyle’s face was as bloody as a stuck pig, from going into the air and coming down on his shotgun which he held between his knees. He was scared to Death. Crook was as cool as a cucumber. 

When we reached the bottom of the grade I swung the team off the road into a sand wash and stopped them. Crook climbed out with the dry remark, “well, that is about the fastest ride I ever took.” I asked if every thing was safe. “Oh yes, all but the lunch and the bedding and the feed for the mules,” Carlyle said sarcastically. Crook said, “Never mind we can sit around the campfire all night and if I am not a good enough hunter to kill our own meat I don’t amount to much.” “Well, we got plenty of game and we found a Mexican ranch were they supplied us with provisions, so our only discomfort was huddling around the fire all night.”

General Crook was one of the finest men, soldier or civilian - I ever knew. He was brave, fearless, cool headed under all circumstances and always showed good judgment. I was with him in Montana after the big massacre. I have been with him when we had nothing to eat but parched corn and house meat but he never grumbled. 

It is too bad the government did not let him stay in Arizona until he captured Geronimo. He was entitled to the praise and after all it was Lt. Maus, one of his men, and not Gen. Miles who made the final surrender possible. Very few people know that at the time Miles was presented with the sword for having captured Geronimo, there was a big row in the San Xavier Hotel over the matter. Maus and Gatewood had been under Crook and when Miles told Capt. Lawton to go after Geronimo, he sent these two, then instead of giving them credit, he took it himself. Well, that night they were all a little ginned up and feeling ran high. It even got to the point that pistols were drawn and I thought there would be a shooting. I am sure they would all have been court martialed if circumstances had been different. 

When Major Wham was a paymaster in Wyoming, I use to drive for him. Was in two holdups with him, but not in the Arizona one. In fact, after the Arizona holdup, he accused me of the crime. He had me arrested and held in surveillance for two days, until I could prove I was elsewhere. Even then he accused me, saying “That’s nothing. He might be here today and somewhere else tomorrow.”

Major Wham and I never did get along. He was a \_\_\_\_ on animals and you know how an old packer and driver likes to take care of his animals. Wham always was late starting and then he was in a hurry to get to his destination and would take it out on his animals. Once we had given our animals a hard ride and had come to water. I wanted to stop and rest the mules before giving them a drink but he wanted to go on. I said we had gone far enough but he insisted. So I gave the mules a little water but not much - they were too warm. He wanted me to give them more. I said, “No, if I give these mules more they will die.” He answered, “I am in charge do as I say.” “All right.” Well, we went about a mile and one mule dropped dead. A few miles further and the other dropped. I was made and said so. He ordered me to get down off the box. I kicked my bed roll off then climbed down myself. He said, “Leave that whip.” I said, “No, that whip is my private property.” “Well,” he swore, “Leave it anyway.” I was sitting on my blankets with the whip in my hand and I pulled my pistol. Wham was a natural coward - I have seen him cry many times - so he gathered up the reins and with but two mules drove on, without me. I waited for the stage and rode back to San Carlos. When Wham arrived after his trip, he saw me working around the post and went to the Quartermaster with a complaint about me. As a result I told all my story and Wham was made to pay for the mules and pay for my fare on the stage. For about two years he was on half pay while the rest of his salary went to settling up just such things as this. 

No, he never robbed nor was implicated in robbing the stage in Arizona. He was too much of a coward. He ran as soon as robbers appeared. 

I was born in Wheeling, W. Virginia, Feb. 10 1842. Started West from Independence, Mo. in the spring of 1867. Joined a party on its way to Santa Fe but I had no objective. Went as a bull whacker driving my own team. There were forty teams in the outfit each drawn by six yoke of oxen. He plodded along about five miles a day - plod and carry a whip. Sometimes it was forty miles between water and slow, slow. That settled me ever driving any more ox-teams. 

We were attacked by Indians nearly every day. Often there white men leading the Indians. 

In the train was a woman and her daughter. Of course they had a wagon alone and, while there were many rough characters in the outfit, they were never molested. 

Before reaching Santa Fe we came upon thousands and thousands of buffalo and had to kill many before we could get through. 

I've stumbled upon this documentary but I can't find it anywhere online other than IMBD.

The first episode is on Youtube under the title America's Wild West: Discovery of a Land, but the rest are neither on Youtube or National Geographic.

Does anyone have any idea? I really liked the first episode and I want to see the rest :(