Part 4

The commission, with its escort of two companies of the Seventh Infantry, Lieutenant Lazelle commanding, was a very pleasant organization aside from the quarrel between the commissioners. Major Scurry was a most genial companion. Mr. Clark was ambitious in his assumption of highly scientific attainments and overbearing to those he deemed not his equal in such acquirements.

Major Scurry, like Judge Waddell, took quite an interest in me. The three army officers and one or two members of the commission often played poker for stakes. The bets were not large, but Major Scurry, observing that I generally lost, said to me one day: "Mr. Mills, you ought never to play poker. You are not qualified for it. A poker player has to be a cold-blooded man. I can look into your face every time you draw a hand and tell just about what you have drawn. I advise you never to play another game, for you will never succeed in it." And I never did.

The disagreements between the United States and Texas commissioners became acute. As I thought Mr. Clark was mostly to blame, when Major Scurry finally resigned, I did also.

I never saw Major Scurry again, but learned that he raised a Confederate regiment and was killed at the head of his troops in a battle with Banks' Expedition on the upper Red River.

On returning to El Paso, I wrote to my brother, W. W., whose school term had expired, that I had secured him a position as clerk in the sutler's store at Fort Fillmore. He held this position a year, and then joined me in El Paso. He had enough money to buy a lot, on which I built him a house, costing about a thousand dollars.

W. W. and I then sent for our brother Emmett, and we three built a ranch eighteen miles above El Paso, called "Los Tres Hermanos." Emmett occupied this ranch, which was made into a Santa Fe mail station.

Previously I lived on lot No. 116 in a tent, doing my own cooking. I built myself a nice adobe house, doing much of the work myself. Mexican peons made the bricks from a mixture of adobe soil and straw. They were two feet by one foot, four inches thick, and dried in the sun. These were very substantial, withstood the rain and made a house cool in the daytime and warm at night. The house was on the bank of a ditch supplying running water to the farm and under many cottonwood trees. In summer I often slept on the adobe earth roof. Strange to say, even in the hardest rains the water would seldom go through the roof, which was about eight inches thick.

At the same time I built my house, I superintended building houses for many others.

I early learned the ways of the roaming Indians, and in my surveying expeditions took only a burro for my pack and two Mexicans for chain carriers. I wore a buckskin suit made by myself, and carried a single change of underclothing. We moved from tract to tract, camping without a tent under the mesquite trees, our provisions consisting only of coffee, hard bread and bacon, and occasionally some fresh meat we could kill. Although Indians undoubtedly saw us, they never attacked us during the three years in which I did surveying. The risk of being killed to secure only one animal and a small amount of provisions was not worth while.

My principal employer was Mr. Samuel A. Maverick, of San Antonio, formerly from South Carolina. A run-away boy, he had joined an expedition of about twenty men, which invaded Mexico at the town of Mier prior to the Mexican war. The party was captured. The Mexicans put ten white beans in a bag with ten black ones, ordering them to draw a bean each. Those who got the black beans were immediately shot. Maverick began locating land soon after the war and became the largest land-holder in Texas, if not in the United States.

He owned more cattle on the free public range than any other man in Texas. In 1861 nearly all the people went into the war. Maverick's cattle ran wild on the range, and, when the war closed there were tens of thousands of cattle bred during the four years. Maverick was the greatest claimant to these wild cattle, and marked them with his brand wherever caught. Other owners, and even men who had never owned cattle, would brand with their own marks such cattle as they caught unbranded. It thus became the custom among cattle owners using the free range to stamp as their own any unbranded cattle they found during the "round up," and to this day these stray cattle are known as "Mavericks."

Maverick accompanied me on every surveying expedition I made, following my tracings and examining my notes. He expressed the greatest patriotism as a Unionist, was bitterly opposed to the then proposed secession, as were most Texans, including Governor Houston.

When placer and quartz gold was discovered in the Penos Altos range of mountains in Arizona, near the present Silver City, Maverick requested me to find how valuable these mines were. With a gambler (Conklin) I bought a good two-horse team and traveled the hundred and fifty miles to reach these mines.

At Penos Altos I met James R. Sipes, a clerk for Postmaster Dowell. I said, "Hello, Sipes, how is it; is there plenty of gold here?"

He laughed and answered, "Mills, there is the greatest quantity of gold here, but there is too damned much dirt mixed with it!" which I found to be true.

Locating a claim, I worked a month, 8,000 feet above sea level, where in the day it was scorching hot and at night freezing cold, and discovered that by hard work I could make about three dollars a day. Fortunately, I had brought my surveying instruments, so I abandoned mining and laid out the town of Penos Altos. I also surveyed many claims, about which there were constant disputes. But I soon returned to El Paso, reporting to Maverick that the mines were not of sufficient importance to interest him.

At this time slavery agitation became very violent, creating unrest in Texas, especially among the New England emigrants, who became the most rabid secessionists of all. Some of my friends in the North wrote me what would today be called treasonable literature, sending me the New York Tribune with the most violent abolition articles marked. Postmaster Ben Dowell was induced to open my mail, and later refused to deliver any to me, forming a committee to burn it publicly!

When my term as district surveyor expired, I was the only candidate for election, being the only person in the county competent to survey land. But several political enemies publicly stated that I was an abolitionist, and that it would be unpatriotic to vote for me. As I had always been a Democrat, voting for Sam Houston and Stephen A. Douglas, and never sympathized at all with the abolition movement, I posted the following notice on a tree:

_Notice_

I have just been informed that J. S. Gillett, W. J. Morton, and J. R. Sipes stated last night to R. Doane and F. Remy that I was an abolitionist, for the purpose of injuring my character. As I never cast any other than a Democratic vote or expressed other than Democratic sentiments, I denounce these three above-named persons as wilful and malicious lying scoundrels. Sipes and Morton owe me borrowed money for the last two years. I would like to have a settlement. I never asked any one to vote for me as surveyor and I now withdraw my name as a candidate, and will not serve if elected.

A. MILLS. EL PASO, TEXAS. 2 O'Clock, P.M., August 6, 1860.

The men I denounced tacked their reply on the same tree, as follows:

_Notice_

A certain contemptible "pup," signing himself A. Mills, having publicly published the undersigned as scoundrels, we have only to say that he is so notoriously known throughout the entire county as a damned black Republican scoundrel, we deem him unworthy of further notice.

However, we hereby notify this fellow that his insignificance shall not protect him in future.

W. J. MORTON, J. R. SIPES, JOHN S. GILLETT.

Then, I received this letter:

EL PASO, TEXAS, August 7, 1860. MR. MILLS:

SIR: I have noticed my name in connection with two others denouncing us publicly as malicious, lying scoundrels.

For my part, I now ask of you an immediate retraction of the same, and as publicly as your accusation.

JOHN S. GILLETT.

Gillett, a wealthy wholesale merchant, had fought a duel with an army officer. As I paid no attention to his implied challenge, he sent word he would attack me on sight. I always went armed, and though we often met, he never carried out his threat. After the war he became a common drunkard, very poor, living with a Mexican woman. I often met him, and he frequently asked me for a quarter (which I gave him), stating that he was hungry. What horrible miseries war brings about. He wanted to be an honorable man.

In my address before the Society of the Army of the Cumberland (Appendix 390) will be found a statement of some of the reasons which led to political unrest in Texas, and particularly why vigilance committees were formed in many counties. Many people were lynched; principally Germans--especially at New Braunfels and vicinity--who voted against secession or denounced the principle.

I was ordered before the vigilance committee of El Paso County by the sheriff, John Watts. I told him no one man could take me, and I knew that he was not coward enough to bring a posse. He said: "Mills, I'll never come for you." And he never did.

I was notified by this same committee that the vote of the county must be unanimous for secession, and that I would imperil my life if I voted against it.

Phil Herbert, a violent secessionist and a personal friend of mine, came to my house on election day and said, "Mills, are you going to vote?" I said that I was. "Well," he said, "I know how you are going to vote. I am going to vote for secession, but I would like to go with you. If there is trouble, I will defend you." He had a pistol and advised me to carry one, and we went together to the polling place. This was in a large gambling house, in which was Ben Dowell's post office. The judge of the election was Judge Gillock, recently from Connecticut, a violent secessionist.

Herbert and I entered, arm in arm, and Herbert first presented his ballot, which Gillock received and cast into the ballot box near the door. I drew from my pocket a sheet of foolscap paper on which was written, "No separation--Anson Mills," in large letters, and, unfolding it, I held it up to the sight of half a dozen army officers and others playing billiards, faro and other gambling games, saying, "Gentlemen, some of you may be curious to know how I am going to vote. This is my ballot." Gillock refused to receive it, but Herbert said, peremptorily, "That is a legal vote. Place it in the box." And Gillock did so. We left the room unmolested.

My vote was one of the two cast against secession in El Paso County, when there were over nine hundred cast for secession. Some were legal, but the majority, cast by Mexican citizens from the other side of the river, were not.

My friends, particularly Herbert, felt it would be foolhardy to remain longer. Herbert went to Richmond, joined the Confederacy, and was killed in the Battle of Mansfield, La., at the head of his regiment.

I decided to go to Washington and join the Federal forces. The evening before I left, Colonel Reeve, commanding Fort Bliss, invited me to dinner with his adjutant, my classmate, Will Jones. During the dinner, Colonel Reeve remarked that he did not want to obey Twiggs' order to surrender to the Texans (text, 71) because he had large government stores, which would be of great value in case of war to either the government or the Confederates. Therefore, he wanted me to see the Secretary of War, and explain the circumstances, and get him verbal or written authority to take his command and this property into New Mexico.

When I finally arrived in Washington, I explained the situation to Judge Watts, who went with me to Secretary Cameron and delivered Reeves's message. I agreed to take back to El Paso any verbal message that the Secretary would entrust to me, but Mr. Cameron was so uncertain as to what might happen that he refused, saying that Colonel Reeve must act on his own judgment.

I had been prosperous and was well-to-do. But now men who owed me refused to pay, and all I owed demanded immediate payment. It was all I could do to raise money enough to take me to Washington. The baggage allowance was but forty pounds, so I left everything I had to the mercy of my political enemies. I did not dream that it would be twenty years before I again saw El Paso.

IN WASHINGTON

We left in the coach on the 9th of March, 1861. I was one of eight passengers. Some were going to Richmond and some to Washington, but we agreed, as this was expected to be the last coach to go through, to stand by each other and declare we were all going on business.

The secessionists had organized several companies of State troops commanded by the McCullough brothers and others, with instructions from the bogus legislature commission to take over the military posts and property according to General Twiggs' treaty (text, 71). We met part of this force, under the younger McCullough, near Fort Chadbourne, and we were all excitement to know what they would do, as it was rumored they would seize the mail company horses for cavalry. Marching in columns of two, they separated, one column to the right and the other to the left of the stage coach.

We told the driver to drive fast and to say he was carrying United States mail. The soldiers laughed at this, and four of them, taking hold of the right-hand wheels and four of the left, the driver could not, with the greatest whipping, induce the horses to proceed. They laughed again, and called out: "Is Horace Greeley aboard?"

Horace Greeley had been lecturing in California, and had announced his return by the Butterfield route. The soldiers were familiar with his picture and, after examining us, allowed us to proceed.

When we reached Denton, the county seat of Denton County, my old friend Judge Waddell was holding court, and while the rest of the party ate breakfast, I went to the courthouse. Judge Waddell recognized me, adjourned the court and, taking my arm, walked out in the courtyard. We were in full sympathy. He was a thorough Union man and knew I would be glad to know the flag was still flying over the McKinney courthouse. This was about the 13th of March. He was proud that I was to join the Union Army, and said that if he was without a family he would also go.

We arrived at the town of California, terminus of the Missouri & Pacific Railroad, in a snowstorm. We had had but little sleep and little to eat for several days. While waiting for the train for St. Louis, I went to sleep in a chair so soundly my companions could not waken me in time to catch the train. The hotel proprietor had me put to bed. I did not waken until the next morning. I arrived at St. Louis Sunday, found that there was no train out and, having a classmate stationed at the arsenal, Lieutenant Borland, I decided to visit him.

I did not know that General Lyon had just captured General Frost and the Missouri troops forming for the Confederacy in a camp outside the city. There was a great crowd standing around the arsenal with a sentinel outside the gate. I pressed my way through the crowd and told the sentinel I desired to visit Lieutenant Borland. The sentinel would not let me pass, but called the sergeant. The sergeant asked me where I was from. When I answered, "From Texas," he said I could not enter. Just then Captain Lyon, later General Lyon, came out. In a rough manner he asked me where I was from and what I wanted. When I told him I was simply passing through the city, he said, "Well, you had better go back to your hotel, or I will put you in the guard house." I took his advice.

Monday, I left for Washington _via_ Thorntown and Cincinnati. Telling my father of my purpose, he called a neighbor, Harvey G. Hazelrigg. "Well, Anson," said Hazelrigg, "my brother-in-law, Caleb B. Smith, is Secretary of the Interior. I will give you a letter to him."

At Cincinnati I saw Lieutenant Jones' father and mother and gave them the messages he did not want to pass through the mail; in effect, that he would be loyal to his country, and that if ordered to fire on Cincinnati by the Federal Government, under his oath he would execute the order.

In Washington I found two captains in the Adjutant General's office, Fry and Baird, one of whom had been adjutant at the military academy, and the other my instructor when I was a cadet. I told them of my desire for a commission, and asked them from what State I should apply. They advised me not to apply from Texas, nor from Pennsylvania, which would have several times its quota, as the Secretary of War was from that State. Eventually, I applied from New Mexico.

Charlie Hazlett, of my class, from Zanesville, Ohio, later killed while commanding a battery at Gettysburg, had been turned back to the class below. I wrote him, asking if he could help me. Calling a meeting of the class, he read my letter, and every member signed the following recommendation, except four, who were to join the Confederacy, and who sent an apology to me, stating that they did not think it would be proper for them to sign:

UNITED STATES MILITARY ACADEMY, WEST POINT, N. Y., April 30, 1861.

LORENZO THOMAS, Adjutant General, Washington, D. C.

DEAR SIR: We, the undersigned, members of the First Class at the United States Military Academy, respectfully recommend to your favorable consideration the claims of Mr. Anson Mills, an applicant for a commission as Second Lieutenant in the United States Army.

Mr. Mills was formerly a member, for nearly two years, of the class preceding ours, when he resigned.

During that time his habits and character conformed to the strictest military propriety and discipline, and we feel assured that he would be an honor to the service and that its interests would be promoted by his appointment.

Respectfully submitted.

Hazlett suggested I see General Scott and prevent the four cadets above mentioned from getting their diplomas. Captain Townsend introduced me to the General. When he read Hazlett's letter, he said those four cadets should not receive their diplomas until they had taken the oath. They never did graduate, and all four joined the rebellion.

A few days afterward, this class was prematurely graduated and ordered to report to General Scott. They started in their cadet uniforms, wearing their swords. In New York the police took them for Confederates, and in Philadelphia the whole class was arrested and detained all night, until the police got authority from Washington to let them proceed.

Upon arrival at Washington, they reported to General Scott, who asked them if they had all recently taken the oath. They replied that they had and he, in the vernacular of the bibulous, said, "Well, gentlemen, it is a good thing to take. I don't mind taking it every morning before breakfast." He invited one of them to administer it to him, and then, asking them in a body to raise their right hands, he administered the oath to the whole class.

MY BROTHERS IN TEXAS

One of my first acts in Washington was to call on Secretary of the Interior Smith. There were three or four gentlemen present, two being members of the Cabinet, one of whom was Montgomery Blair, a graduate of the academy.

I presented my letter. Mr. Smith read it, and in a violent rage, said: "Well, so you are from Texas? Do you know what I wish? I wish the Indians would come down on the people of Texas and murder the men, women and children. They have received more consideration from this government than any other State in the Union, and now they have betrayed it."

I left the room, indignant, after addressing some plain remarks to Mr. Smith.

The next day I met Mr. Blair, while walking.

"Mr. Mills," he said, "for heaven's sake don't repeat what happened at Mr. Smith's last night, lest it get into the papers. Don't be discouraged. Your experience at West Point will doubtless enable you to get into the army."

I had heard nothing from my brothers, W. W. in El Paso, and Emmett on the ranch, but some time after I received my commission and had left Washington I saw in a New Orleans paper that W. W. had been taken prisoner at Lynde's surrender, and that Emmett, in trying to escape to California, had been murdered by the Indians, July 21st, at Cook Springs, Arizona. All the passengers and the stage driver were killed after a two days' siege in the rocks above the springs, and their bodies had been found by the California column of troops going to El Paso. Immediately I wrote to Mr. Smith, as follows:

TOLEDO, OHIO, Oct. 7, 1861. CALEB B. SMITH, Secretary Interior.

SIR: I am sorry to acknowledge that your "hope and prayer," as expressed to me at your residence in April last--"that the Mexicans and Indians would come down on the Texans and murder the men and children and ravish the women," has been partially heard. One of my two brothers (whom I left in Texas last March and who, not being able to procure means to carry them to the States, were compelled to go to Southern New Mexico for Union sentiments, where they joined the 1st Regt. N. M. Vols.), was brutally murdered by the Apache Indians, on the 21st of July at Cook Springs. The other was taken prisoner at Lynde's surrender. I think too much of our cause to speak publicly of these matters at present, and only write you this note to remind you that I shall one day hold you personally responsible for the above language.

Very respectfully, ANSON MILLS, 1st Lt., 18th Inf.

To this I received the following answer:

WASHINGTON, D. C., October 14, 1861. LT. ANSON MILLS,

SIR: I am in receipt of your letter of the 7th inst., referring to a conversation which you allege occurred at my house in April last. I have no distinct recollection of the conversation to which you refer, but I know that I felt much indignation toward the rebels and traitors of Texas, who not only repudiated the authority of the Federal Government, but expelled from the State the friends of the Union. I thought there was less excuse for them than the rebels of the other States, because they were indebted to the Federal Government for protection against the Mexicans and Indians. In expressing my indignation against their conduct I may have expressed the hope that the Mexicans and Indians would attack them. I intended to express only the wish that they might be made to feel the value of the protection they had forfeited. I certainly did not suppose that my language could be construed to imply a wish that the Union men who had been expelled from their homes by these rebels should suffer from such agencies.