TRANSPORTATION AFTER THE WAR
PACK-TRAINS,
STAGES AND 16-MuLE
FREIGHTERS
Until well into the '80s the horse,
the mule and the burro were basic factors in all Arizona
transportation. The burro was
the faithful friend of the
Mexican laborer or the prospector.
He required little care, any kind of food would do, including kitchen scraps or
desert browse; from birth to
death he would never know curry-comb
and he would carry on his back anything from firewood from the hills to dried
grasses from the mesas. Often
the size of his load, especially
if it were hay, would so eclipse him that naught could be seen but a pair of long
ears before and a tip of a
tail behind.
On account of their larger size and greater strength, the mules naturally made
better pack animals than the
burros. They were
used by the army in
transporting camp equipment
and supplies over the
mountains; by traders in the
early days between Tucson and
Guaymas; by
miners to carry supplies to
their lonely shafts
situated far up some
apparently inaccessible
canyon; and again to bring
ore down to mill or smelter.
In fact, they were used anywhere and everywhere to transport goods in countries impassable for
wagons.
Among the best pack trains ever seen
in Arizona were those
organized by General Crook
in his campaign against the
Apaches. Bony giants and undersized
rats were discarded and
every animal chosen was in
accordance with a
regular standard as to
weight, height and age.
A pack train had a nomenclature all
its own, the suadera was the sweat cloth, the
aparejo was the pack cushion, the burden to be
carried was called the cargo, the train itself
was the atajo, the packer was the arriero, the pack
master the patron, and the head loader the cargador.
Leading the mules, which, of course,
followed the trail in single
file, would be
the white, bell- mare, which
the mules would follow
with unswerving fidelity.
As for loads, it is said that a small
billiard table was carried to
Tiger Camp in the
heart of the Bradshaws by one
mule, and an organ for
the wife of a superintendent,
at almost any mine,
would offer no insurmountable
difficulty to a
mule with musical ear and a
strong back.
A trail broken mule, when traveling
in the mountains, always
walks on the
outside edge of the narrow
path, for the reason that
if he fails to do so his pack
is apt to collide with
an overhanging cliff. The
story is told of a
tenderfoot mule who was
carrying a cylindrical section of
a heavy sheet iron chimney,
resembling in size and
appearance a large drum. The
mule, poor soul,
knew no better than to walk on the inside of the trail, which followed a narrow shelf jutting out from a
precipitous canyon wall. So,
jogging
unsuspectingly along, abruptly
the cylinder came in contact
with an overhanging rock. The
mule toppled dizzily, tried
vainly to restore his
equilibrium and
went over the brink down a
deep, sliding
incline. As the cylinder
struck the ground it
bounded, and the mule bounded
with it, the two
together turning a half-summersault;
for a brief instant
the mule's hoofs touched the
treacherous slope,
then over he went again, and
for a second time the
resilient cylinder struck the
ground and once
more the mule described a
graceful parabola through
the atmosphere. A dozen times
this touching scene was
repeated before the mule
reached the
bottom. The arriero watched
the poor animal in
horror, and when the final
bump at the bottom was
made listened for the
crunching of bones;
but what he heard was
something different. The
last bound landed the animal
feet downward in a
sandy wash; automatically the
legs stiffened, the
neck outstretched, and a bray
that shook the hill came
from the mule's undaunted
throat. But
thereafter he walked on the
outside of the trail.
As late as the '70s that ancient
vehicle of Mexico, the
careta, still plied up and down
the Santa Cruz Valley between
Hermosillo and Tucson.
No iron entered into the
construction of
these primitive two wheeled
carts, the various parts
being fastened together with
wooden pins and strips
of rawhide, while the wheels
were formed of
sections of tree trunks. To them were usually hitched two oxen with the bow tied to their horns. One
always knew when a careta was
approaching, even
before it came in sight. So
outrageous was the
squeak of the ungreased axles
that it is said
the sound of one could be
heard in Tubac as the
vehicle crossed the border
twenty miles below. In vast
contrast to these was the
great Concord stage-coach
which has been mentioned
before. The body of the coach
was hung on
thorough- braces, which were
stout leather
straps attached to C-springs,
front and rear, and
which made a wonderfully easy
riding carriage.
In the mid-'70s a stage line running
coaches like these carried
travelers from Dos
Palmas, California, the end
of the Southern
Pacific, through Ehrenberg to
Wickenburg,
where one line branched
through Antelope Valley to
Prescott, while the main line
went via the Agua
Fria to Phoenix and then on
to Florence and
Tucson. In the '80s, when
roads of one kind
or another had been opened up
pretty well
throughout the Territory, all
of the principal towns
were connected by stage
service, though on some
lines buck- boards or covered
spring wagons would
be used. Where the country
did not permit
roads, a pony express would
be established, when
the rider, if his trail lay
in the Indian country,
would take his letters in his
saddlebag and his life
in his hands.
One early express was established in
June, 1864, by Robertson and
Parish, which went
from Prescott via La Paz to
California. Another
line carrying mail from
Prescott to California was
operated by Duke and Company,
and went via
Mojave. In those days the
mail came through once
in two weeks, providing the
carriers were
not stopped by Apache arrows.
Letters could be sent
to the East from Prescott by
military express
with military escort, though
both soldiers and
express riders
would sometimes be killed.
After 1878, when the Southern Pacific
reached Yuma, passage
eastward was made over
the Kearns and Mitchell Stage
Line, which would
carry a passenger via Tucson
to Austin, Texas, for
$240. Even as late as 1880,
mail was carried via
buckboard stage from San
Bernardino, through
Mojave and Prescott on to
Santa Fe. In the '70s
two stage lines operated
between Tucson and Sonora,
and in the early '80s a
thriving business was
done on the Tucson-Tombstone
Line.
Drivers, of course, were chosen for
their bravery and
marksmanship as well as for their
skill in handling horses.
When valuable
expressage was to be carried
there would be a
messenger aboard who, besides
carrying the
usual six- shooter, would be
armed with a
sawed-off, double- barreled
shotgun. Often enough
occasion was found to use it
against road agents
or Indians.
The babbling brook does not
enter
prominently into Arizona
desert scenery. On these
long, hot, sandy jornadas the
only water for
travelers or teams would be
obtained at desert
wells, at which the stage
stations were located.
Water would be hauled up one
or two hundred feet in
a barrel, and the windlass
which raised it
would be operated by a plodding, blindfolded mule. Besides the well and the corral there would be a
building or two where
supplies both liquid and
otherwise could be obtained,
and while it was all right
for the horse to take his
water straight, it was
usually expected that the
human traveler would precede
his water with something
stronger.
All freight was carried in high-sided
wagons. A first-class outfit
carrying freight
from Ehrenberg to Prescott
would consist of a lead
wagon and two or three
trailers, and would be
drawn by from sixteen to
twenty four mules, driven
by some Overland Jack from
his place on the saddle of
the "nigh" wheeler. Instead of
a handful
of lines used by the jehu in
the circus parades,
Overland Jack used but a
single one the jerk line.
One long steady pull and the
leaders would
turn with the pull to the
right, a succession of
jerks and the little mules in
front would turn in
the opposite direction.
In freighting in a mountain country,
bells would be fastened to
the beasts' harness so
that in going up and down
long, narrow, winding grades
a driver would be apprised
when a team was
coming toward him, and so
could sidetrack
his train at a passable
place.
Every freight outfit, besides the
driver, had a swamper who
rode on the wagons,
looked after the load, and
shared the
responsibility of guarding the
cargo in case of attack. Every
freighter, at all times, kept
a rifle handy, and in
Apache country prudent
drivers would go in as large
companies as possible.
