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My years spent in the West...
2003-12-10 |
Story by John Hawkins
email: FrntierWst@aol.com
Date: Thursday, 4 December 2003, at 8:34 a.m.
As I lay here in my solitude, in the distance I can hear the muffled sounds of people laughing, children playing, and strange mechanical sounds that I have never heard before. Nearby I can hear the sounds of cattle and the whinnying of horses, and the Meadowlarks and Robins. I can feel the warmth of the reflecting sunlight, the wetness of the rain, and the freezing cold of winter and the dryness of summer.
For me I have given up all hope. Why has thee forsaken me? I am unable to free myself from this dark entombment.
What?s that? I hear digging sounds. I have heard them before, but this is different. Years before a ground squirrel kept me company for a summer. What?s that? Something just poked me and flipped me skyward. I can see the sun, oh how bright the light is in my eyes!!! Something wiped the dirt from my eyes and nose, I can now see and smell the grass. I can hear the people and see the children. I also can see the smiling face of the person who just released me from my prison. How long have I been here? What has happened in the world? I have all kinds of answers for you so sit back and let me tell you my story.
I came to this world in the territory of Nevada, where gold and silver drove the economy, and cowboys and Indians ruled the west. I made my journey in the spring of 1879 to the Montana Territory. I first rode the Iron Horse to Corrine, Utah where I was met by the Montana coach, a horse drawn stage that would take me to my new home in Montana. I rode the stage with many of my friends.
One of the most exciting parts of the journey I can remember was when we neared the little villages, the stage driver would yell at his horses and 'whoop em up,' so to speak, and get them into a frenzy and tear through the town at a full gallop as he neared every town.
The road was a dusty one, and the country uninviting, but to smell the wildflowers of the Montana mountains was something I have missed for a long time. We finally made it to my destination where I was to be 'given' to some soldier.
The day came when my friends and I were introduced to our new companions. Fortunately for me, twelve of my long time friends were selected to go along with me to meet one handsome young private of the 7th Infantry.
A few weeks went by and my new companion had traded some of my other friends, and before long there were only a few of us remaining. We enjoyed listening to the sounds of the local band and the Sunday guard mounts. The sight of the polished uniforms and the sounds of the bugle playing taps is indelible on my memory.
About a month had gone by and my private was called for detached service to help protect the newly established telegraph and stage station. Normally one officer, a sergeant, and ten privates were picked on a rotating detail to perform this duty.
One dark evening after an evening of playing 'rush Reuben' with his friends, my companion was headed back to his bunk at the back of the station and tripped and fell against the steps leading into the building, causing me and a few friends to fall down also.
I struck the top rung of the step and hit my side against the brick foundation and slid down the back of the steps. I could hear my friends clatter as they fell also, but they mostly fell on the floor of the building. I screamed so someone would come and get me, but no one could hear me.
I lay there in the darkness hoping with the daylight my handsome private would rescue me from my predicament.
The next morning I heard the bugler sound 'Fatigue,' and I could hear the foot steps of my private running down the steps above me. I yelled as loud as I could for him to get me, but he still could not hear me. Eventually I gave up trying and my private was finished with his service and I never heard him again.
As time went on, the light of day became dusty and dingy, and as I sank into my earthen grave, I began to lose hope that I would be rescued from this trap. Eventually I heard the sounds of the stage building being torn down and yelled for the workers to find me. No one could hear me.
I laid here focusing on the sounds that I could hear as my sight was growing ever dimmer. I had to resort to my memory to keep me sane from the loneliness. How I longed for the warmth from the freezing winters, the laughter of the people playing games, the sounds of the bugles and the whinnying of the horse drawn teams.
One day as I was basking in the sun, some sort of machine came along and pushed me into the ground covering me, ending all hopes of someone finding me. I eventually lost all concept of time, except for the changing of seasons. I lost all hopes and dreams of ever being found. I was stuck in my earthen grave.
What?s that? I hear digging sounds. Something just poked me and flipped me skyward. I can see the sun!!! I can smell the grass. I can hear the people and see the children. I also can see the smiling face of the person who just released me from my prison. How long have I been here?
I was picked up by a new person and from the smile on his face I can see we will be fast companions. He was thrilled with me even though I do not look my best. He slowly brushed some of the dirt from my face to reveal my date?1878. On my backside he discovered where I had journeyed from.
I heard him exclaim 'A Carson City!!!'
I wish I could tell him my story, I am sure he has already guessed some of it. I have been placed in a position of honor with 'others' like me. My next door neighbor shares much the same story as I as we were only a hundred feet from each other for one hundred and five years, long time friends. I laid in my entombment for over one hundred and twenty three years!!! I am excited to be back. I wonder what is in store for me? I have so much to catch up on.
John Hawkins
FrntierWst@aol.com
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