The ghost
stallion
Julie Carter
Ghost stories
in October are like Christmas carols in December, rodeo cowboy tales in July and
the ever popular fishing story any time of year. The good ones get repeated
forever.
This story in its original telling appears in Frank Collinson's
"Life in the Saddle." I have shared it before but it is worthy of a
seasonal repeat.
It is a story that
has been told around campfires for more than a century. It began about 1879
when some cowpunchers rode into the camp of a buffalo hunter known to be a
spinner of tales.
That night
around the campfire, the grizzled hunter pointed a roughened finger in the
direction of a wagon load of buffalo hides he was taking to market. "I
would gladly give every hide for the young white stallion I have seen running
these plains,” he said. “I've been trying to catch him for two years without
any luck. I first saw him when he was a yearling running with his mother.”
A year later,
he had another failed to attempt to capture them and the stallion disappeared,
"as if a mirage." He never saw him again.
The cowboys
were spellbound with the tale and knew they’d like nothing more than to hunt
the white mirage. They traveled to Fort Sumner to meet with the Trujillo
brothers, Pedro and Soledad. The brothers had seen the white stallion often.
"He is too fast to catch; we have all tried and failed," they said.
“When we get close to him, he vanishes, so we have named him The Ghost.”
Agreeing to
help hunt the “ghost” stallion, the brothers told the cowboys to meet them at
Gato Montes Spring in the Blackwater Draw in March. "We'll find him if
he's still alive."
When the cowboys
arrived, the brothers were waiting and had learned where the white stallion was
watering with his band of heavy-bred mares. The next morning they saw the
horses out ahead of them feeding on lush grass but the band quickly scattered
as the men approached.
Pedro pursued
them while Soledad marked the grazing spot with a long pole and red flag. In
the distance, The Ghost dashed over the plains, his white mane and tail blowing
in the breeze.
Pedro was away
all day. He said he chased the horses 70 miles as they made a huge circle,
eventually returning to their home range. The following day, one of the cowboys
trailed them, returning late to say the
band was now near Spring Lake.
The third day
the cowboys, Trujillo brothers, two other vaqueros and a half-blood Apache with
a reputation for his roping ability headed out. When they spotted the horses
they struck a long lope and followed at a distance.
They ran by
the old buffalo hunter's camp near Running Water and headed north. By noon,
they had reached Tule Draw, the south prong of the Red River, and turned west.
Sometimes they'd slow to a trot, later returning to a lope or a run. The mares
began to fall out as they grew tired, but The Ghost never weakened.
By sundown,
all but 10 mares had dropped out, soon to be only three and then none.
The Ghost was headed south to Yellow House Lake.
Yellow House
Lake is a big alkali sink on the Llano Estacado. Its water, only a few inches
deep and not fit for man or beast, covered a bottomless bog. A large animal
could never conquer the horror that loomed below the deceivingly tranquil
surface.
For four days,
The Ghost had been leading the chase, but when he headed down the backbone of
the ridge to the lake, cold chills ran up the spines of his pursuers. They turned
back hoping the stallion would do the same.
In his
intelligence, The Ghost preferred death to capture. The stallion knew as well
as the men there was no way out of Yellow House Lake.
He was
sky-lighted on the ridge top, his proud head held high. Poised, his beautiful
body stood still for a fleeting moment before he took one mighty jump and
landed fully 25 feet away in the alkali bog that would become his grave.
He floundered briefly
as the quagmire sucked him under. The bitter water filled his nostrils and
oozed into his mouth. Quickly a few bubbles were all that was left on the
surface and The Ghost of Llano Estacado became a legend.
A tragic end
to a magnificent noble spirit who surely runs free in another world.
Julie can be reached for comment at jcarternm@gmail.com.
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