fourteen young Sam had enough of his brother’s bad treatment. He told his Ma, “I’m gonna go west, I want-a be my own man.” His Ma understood how he felt. She told him, if that’s what he really wanted, he should go. He told his Ma how much he loved her and his Pa too but he had to go on his own. He was a big strapping boy. Almost six feet tall and weighing a hundred and sixty pounds. He told his Ma, “Don’t be a fret-en. I can take care of myself.” She wanted to stop him but she knew in her heart it would be best for him to go find what he was looking for.
After midnight, on a spring morning, Sam took his leave. With only a burlap sack of food his Ma had fixed, a blanket, a knife and the clothes on his back, he started walking west. By walking and hitching rides, he reached the town of Memphis, a port town on the Mississippi River.
There he found a job on the docks as a roustabout. He met lots of people that travel the river. He heard of places up north and of men going west to find their fortunes. He soon had an itch to see the places he was hearing about. Somehow the feeling he had, had to be answered. He quit the docks and got a job on a flat boat going north up the Mississippi River.
At the town of St. Louis, he looked for work and found a job with Hawkin the gun maker. Jake Hawkin was a man who had just started to make flint fired rifles, the first gun makers in St. Louis. The Hawkin gun shop was less then a year old when Sam went to work. Jake Hawkin found that Sam had a good way with wood. He was so good he was put to work making gun stocks, he was given a bed in a room in back of the shop. He was also the night watchman of the shop.
Sam made friends easily, the trappers and mountain men that purchased guns talked of the wonders of the western mountains and how trapping was a great way to make money. Sam got the itch to go take a look.
After a year of stock making Sam told Jake he just had to go and see the mountains. Jake Hawkin knew how he felt. He told Sam, “Boy, if I was younger, I’d go with you, I hate to lose you but I understand. As a bonus I’m giving you the best rifle that we have ever made.”
It was a Hawkin fifty caliber Kentucky long rifle. With it, he was given a patch box, a ball pouch, extra flints and a powder horn. Sam was told a man by the name of Daniels, a packer who traveled west as a freighter with a pack mule train, needed help. He was in Franklin, Missouri a small town by the Missouri River west of St. Louis.
Sam packed his belongings in a sack and he walked the miles to Franklin. There he found the packer Daniels. He hired on as a pack saddle packer of mules. Daniels was known as the mule man, a rather cantankerous individual who got his disposition from his mules.
When there were enough customers for supplies to make a trip, the outfit would be on the trail for Taos, in the New Mexico Territory. In less than a month a train was made up and ready to go west.
Sam was on his way to Taos with his plans to go on to the town of Santa Fe the jumping off place for mountain men.
On the way to Taos, Sam’s duty was to saddle, pack, feed and take care of 10 mules. He had to unpack and unsaddle every night, gather wood for the camp fires and tend the same. Some times he was asked to cook and help the other drovers. All the time he had to walk and see that his charges stayed in line with the train. Not a very easy job most of the time.
Sam and the train reached Taos after weeks on the trail. He was so tired and worn out it took several days for him to be feeling himself again. He had packed and unpacked 10 mules every morning and every evening for almost two months.
As soon as the train arrived at Taos, he went to the mule man and asked for his pay. He was told, “As soon as I’m paid, you’ll gets yours.” The man seemed angry that this boy wanted to be paid. It took several days of asking before Sam was paid. One hundred and ten dollars in gold coins.
The mule man told him, “We start for Franklin in two days, be ready.” Sam tells him, “I’m gonna quit. I ain’t gonna go back with you.” “Ha” says the mule man, “You kin’t stays here. These Mex’s ain’t gonna like you’s stay-n here. You best come back with us. I’ll give you’s a mule to ride all the way back to Franklin.”
Sam told him, “As soon as I get rested, I Gotta go west, I want-a be a trapper and mountain man.” The mule man started laughing and tells him that all he’s gonna get is his hair lifted by some young Indian buck. “He’ll hang your scalp on his belt. The young ones have to kill to become a warrior. You’s is just the ticket for one of them bucks to make himself a big warrior.” Sam said he had to try. “If that’s the way it’s gonna be, so be it.”
His mind was made up. He camped out in the hills north of Taos and rested until he felt strong enough to go on. Then he started asking people if they knew where he could find some mountain men. Finally a friendly Mexican told him in his broken English, “Go see Kit Carson. He’s a mountain man, he would know.”
Sam was shown the house where Kit Carson lived. He knocked on the door early on a Sunday morning. A very handsome young lady answered and asked, “Can I help you young man?”
“I’m looking fer Mr. Kit Carson. I understand he lives here?”
“Kit isn’t here. He’s back east at this time. Can I help? I’m his wife.”
“Ma’am.” As he spoke to her, he removed his hat. “I’m looking, fer some mountain men. I’d shore like to join with some going west. Would you know where I can find some?”
“Young man, do you know the Mexican Government don’t want you people here. Now you be careful who you talk to. You talk to the wrong people, you might end up in jail. I understand there’s some mountain men down Santa Fe way. That’s where you will find them. If you go, go quietly and be careful who you talk to.” Sam thanked her for her information and concern. He started within the hour walking down the trail toward Santa Fe. It was sixty miles to the southwest, A very long walk by any ones standard.
Sam walked steady for ten hours. He stopped well after midnight and slept four hours then back on the trail. On the second night he stopped on a high hill and in the distance he could see lights. Thinking it was Santa Fe, he took time to sleep again.
Early the next morning he met some Mexican sheep herders who told him the lights were from the town of Santa Fe. Walking hard, he entered the town just before noon. After securing some food from a friendly Mexican vendor, he asked a friendly Padre if he knew where he could find some mountain men. The Padre informed him a group was camping a few miles southwest of town. Sam headed that way as fast as he could walk. Soon he smelled burning oak wood. In a few minutes he could make out a group of men by a camp fire.
He called, “Can I come in?” They returned an invitation. Walking in, he saw ten men dressed in buckskin clothing with coon skin caps setting and laying around a fire. Most had a jug of whisky in hand and were trying to kill it.
A tall older man got up and asked his name and what he wanted. “I’m Sam Duncan and I wanta be a mountain man and trapper. I would like to join men on the way west to trap. Are you people trappers?”
The tall man told him his name was John Colter. “You might say I’m the head man of this here outfit. We call our selves trappers.” He laughs, “Or any thing else you’s might want to call us.” He slapped his leg and laughed harder. “How come ya think you’s is good enough to be a trapper and be one of us? You’s is just a little shaver.”
All this time the other men there were laughing and making fun of this young boy. Sam told him he had looked at the hind end of ten mules all the way from Franklin and after watching their back side, “I can do anything.”
John
