I remember when I was little listening to my Great-grandfathers, and my Grandparents talking about times when they were little. And telling about things that happened during their lives, and how it affected their lives and the lives around them. My Great-grandfather told a story about how the Yankees came to their small community there in middle Tennessee. Pony Williams (my Great-grandfather) was a small boy at the time. One of the locals told the soldiers how the Williams had a lot of gold left over from a trading trip made to New Orleans. The soldiers came to the house looking for the Gold. Pony was not going to let the soldiers have his Papa's gold. Pony took the gold coins out of the chest and placed them in smaller bags that he could handle. He then started hauling them out to a hiding spot. Pony had made several trips when the soldiers arrived at the house. He got caught in the house when the soldiers came in the front door. Pony ducked under his big sisters skirts and hid there. When his sister distracted the soldier, Pony slipped out. The family cematary was located on the hill above the house. Pony then dug a hole in a freshly filled grave and buried the gold, where it stayed till after the War, and his Papa came home. My Great-grandpa Simpson had been a preacher, and raised 14 kids. He had outlived four wives, and was married to his fifth when I was born. His fifth wife was younger than several of his children. I remember how confussed I was when I found out that my Grandma's Stepmother was younger than she was.
One of my Grandmothers cousens had been in WWI, no one ever mentioned it to him, and he never told any stories either. Things were always whispered about him and the war, but it was never discussed openly. But he did tell some good stories about when he went out West to be a telegrapher. I remember his stories about the wolves there in Wyoming, and how the dogs would get quite and hid when the wolves went to howling outside of town. He also told about the hanging of a horse thief by the towns folk.
I also remember how other relatives that had been in WWII openly told about their experiences during the war. Most had all been in the Navy, and were stationed abord ships in the Pacific. Dusty was one that had been in the Pacific, he told stories about the Kamakasi pilots, and about battles with ships. One named Estel had been in the Army, and had seen action in Europe. Estel would not talk about it at all. I guess the experiences were a lot differant for him, more up close and personel.
But some of the best stories were told by my Grandmothers. My Grandma Williams had come from a rather well to do family. She had been a rather wild young woman in her younger days. She rode horses like a man she would say. She could shoot good too, and I have seen examples of her shooting skills. She told how a man had insulted her one Sunday morning, when she was a young woman. She pulled her pistol and shot his hat off. She went and sat down for a while but the longer she sat there the madder she got. So she went to her horse and climbed abord. By now she was seeing red, so she spurred her horse into a full gallop, rode down the road past the store. As she passed the store where the man was sitting playing dominoes she stood in the sturrips and shot his hat off again. She did that from the back of a running horse. She would often tell me about her many horses. She had been a breeder of Tennessee Walkers, and had several good ones during her life. My Grandma Hunter had been half Cherokee, and my Grandfather Hunter had been a sort of Junival delinquete. He had gotten into a lot of trouble during his youth. They met while he was hiding out for something. They got married and she straightened him out. She told me about how it was during her childhood. Moving around, living in a wagon, or tent. Eating what they killed or gathered, till she got married. Then settling down to be a farmers wife.
I remember listening to the talk of the older men at the old general store, where they would gather on Saturday. How they teased each other about things. Some of them from way back during their youth. Fights they had over differant girls when they were boys. Slipping over the hills with a mule loaded with shine. Hiding out to avoid revanures while they were running shine, they did not like the term bootlegging. These old men had growen up togeather, and known each other all their lives. They often told on one another if the women wern't around. How they had chased women in their younger days, and sometimes one would admit to having caught one or two. Horses and Mules thou, that was the main topic of their conversations.
Then there was the old Cowboys that I met when living in New Mexico. Man could them old guys tell stories. They were in their 60s, 70s, and one was in his 80s. Their Grandfathers and fathers had fought Indians to settle there. They could tell some stories. One that I liked in particuler was about how group of the Mescalaros would lead the Calvery around in the White Sands for a while. Meantime another group would go up the trail in Dog Canyon. The second group would gather large stones and move to a location directly above the trail in the canyon wall. Then the first group would lead the Calvery up the narrow trail. As the troopers approched the top the Indians would drop large stones down on them knocking them off the trail. The Mescaleros would then hide all the bodies so that no one knew what happened. Aperantly they were able to do this several times before the Army caught on. Then they would talk about the trail drives. These guys lived it, they were there. They also had known the people that took part in the Lincoln County Wars. Pat Garrett was not one of their favorite charectors, and William Bonny was spoken of as both good and bad.
It's too bad they and we never took the time to put all this information down in writing. Just think what our kids are missing. My son is especially fond of my stories about my being a real Cowboy for the US Air Force. Rounding up cattle and horses off the White Sands Ranges around Holloman AFB. on horseback while jets zoomed overhead.
