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He was known as “El Gato,” the cat who lived nine lives. He was sheriff Elfego Baca whose legend today survives. When Elfego was but a teen his lawman father was attacked. He shot two in the unruly mob but was convicted contrary to fact. Elfego sprang his dad from jail and spirited him out of state “I will fight for truth!” he said, “even if death will be my fate.” Then he heard in tiny Frisco cowboys were shooting up the bar – the deputy even tossed his star. Elfego said, “This is going too far!” He declared himself a deputy and arrested a drunken carouser then missed a man but shot his horse whose fall killed its rider. Fifty cowboys howled revenge as they crouched behind a wall by the people’s church while Elfego into a cabin crawled. Bullets to the left of him bullets to the right of him how they splintered and whined! His pistol got hotter and hotter as many more shots he made but still he kept on firing even as hope began to fade. But El Gato had yet more lives. The cabin’s sunken floor put him below the volleys – They say 4,000 rounds or more. On the second day of shooting a lawman rode into view. “I’m taking you to Socorro where they’ll try to hang you.” The jury saw the splintered wood that once was the cabin door. They awarded Elfego another life and he was a people’s hero once more. © 2021 Larry Kilham Author’s notes: There are various versions of this story. It takes place when Elfego Baca (1865-1945) lived in Socorro in central New Mexico. Frisco, scene of the great shootout, was 130 miles to the west and is now named Reserve. This story takes place over 1883-1884. After the battle of Frisco, Baca became a U.S. Marshal and later practiced law in New Mexico and Texas. He was also active in politics and ran unsuccessfully for Congress.
Who’s that rider crossing the plain his horse kicking up a cloud of dust? He seeks to knock on fortune’s door - this rider will do what he must. There is a lonely cabin on the plain where he thinks his lady waits She’s called Louisa May and is known to tempt the fates. Knock, knock he goes, “Open up or I’ll shoot out the lock.” The rider breaks in and stomps around but finds only a turquoise rock. What happened to his lady fair? He searches for the slightest trace and listens for her beckoning voice but there’s no sign of her pretty face. The rider looks in the stable and finds a horse munching hay It’s saddled and ready to ride but there is no mistress May. The horse must have bolted to the barn as horses like to do. So the rider mounts the horse and, on a whim, lets the pawing, snorting steed run where it suits him. The horse stops in a rocky gulch where a lady lies shovel in hand. She lays silent and dying waiting for her man. “Oh, my precious Louisa May! Why are you here alone? We should have worked together finding turquoise stone by stone!” He brings her to a cooling stream with barely moments to spare. She struggles and recovers under the rider’s loving care. At last she says: “Turquoise and copper lie together much like you and me. When we mine these riches together we shall be.” “Look for bright green stone in the cliff by the snaggly pine. It will process to the very best copper and there we will build our mine.” From this small beginning they build a regal mansion and furnish it with furniture and art and china of all the latest fashion. One day there’s a knock on the door and they admit an elegant stranger with silk suit and gold watch chain, cane, and ten-gallon hat. “I’m here to save y’all from a real and present danger.” “The railroad’s coming through and they’re fixin’ to take your house. It’s for their ruthless boss known as Big Tony the Louse.” “Let me buy your house and mine right now for gold or cash. I’ll deal with the railroad folks and you’ll be gone in a flash.” This story lives on as legend about this lucky and loving pair living here and there and everywhere - seems they vanished into thin air. But I saw the rider and Louisa May just the other day snuggling under the snaggly pine. I swear I could hear them making plans for a great new mine. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham I wrote this for my friends Wendy and Bonsall Johnson, owners of the Parlor Car B&B in Chama, New Mexico, the southern terminus of the steam train line to Antonito, Colorado.
Chugging through echoing tunnels and over the awesome trestles the proud old steam engine bound for Chama chugs and whistles. Hardy folk stand in the gondola happy families cluster in the coaches but today the parlor car has but one fare - the tall stranger from Nacogdoches. The stranger strides past the waiting crowd at Chama’s old-time station. He sports a perfectly cut suit and a ten-gallon hat but avoids casual conversation. The stranger saunters into the Boxcar saloon and he asks for the best place to stay. Everyone all agrees, “Go to the Parlor Car B&B, located just a stone’s throw away.” There’s a rap rap on the door as Wendy peers through the glass “Bonsall, dear, we have a visitor and he’s certainly a man of class.” The stranger doffs his hat and smoothly says, “Evening, Ma’am, what luck I’ve found your place! Do you have a room for a traveling man?” “We do. Please enjoy our finest suite.” The stranger notes the elegant interior with furnishings by cultured hosts. “Looks mighty fine. Sure wish I could stay longer.” The train whistle wakes Wendy and Bonsall announcing a glorious new dawn. They’re planning a fabulous breakfast but the mysterious stranger is gone! A letter arrived for Wendy and Bonsall signed by the governor of Texas saying in part, "Your B&b is the best lil ol’ hotel west of the Pecos.” © 2019 Larry Kilham |
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