Historical Potpourri: Franklin Mountains ahead on way to El Paso, Texas

My uncle Reynaldo’s adventures leaving Glencoe, New Mexico in Lincoln County and traveling to Texas were noted in 2018 in the Dec. 26 Historical Potpourri column.

I continue the story now as the Sanchez family find themselves stranded past Alamogordo due to wagon wheel repairs. This is what uncle Reynaldo had to say:

On the third of our journey the wheel on one of the wagons broke and dad had to go back to Alamogordo to get it replaced because it couldn’t be fixed there. It took him two days to go and come back so we stayed in the same place all that time. Luckily, we were close to a ranch windmill and there was plenty of water for us and the stock to drink.

Another thing happened the following day. The chicken trailer came loose and was left about a mile behind before anyone noticed it missing. Dad had to go back and get it. Mother was getting tired, in fact, we all were.

I felt sorry for Cornelia, she as only a teenager but with the sunbonnet she was wearing she looked real old. I remember the evening mother asked Dad, “Felipe, que tanto mas tiempo tenemos que caminar?” (Felipe, how much more time do we have to travel?)

With a smile on his face, dad replied, “Mujer, poco a poco se anda lejos. (Woman, little by little you can travel far.) Those are the Franklin Mountains…El Paso is right there.

One afternoon we were on the outskirts of El Paso near Fort Bliss when Dad stopped the caravan to talk to us. He told the boys to ride the horses until we were out of the city.

He told us to tie our horses behind one of the wagons and to drive the cattle close to the last wagon. He said that El Paso was a big city but not to be afraid, that is we were good boys he would buy us a new pair of boots. He also instructed the wagon drivers to be careful and not to get excited, to hold the reins steady and keep their foot on the brake.

We were parked just about where the V-2 German rocket now stands on Dyer Street. There were few buildings but lot of tents and since this was a cavalry post, we saw many beautiful horses. From this point on we walked or drove the stock on cemented streets.

The bull and one of the cows were kind of lame from the long trip. Lots of people came to the streets to see us go by. Soldiers were everywhere taking pictures. My sister Cornelia was so embarrassed; she couldn’t face the cameras. Sometimes I wonder if someone, somewhere still has those pictures.

I remember going downhill and under an overpass on Dyer Street where one of burros fell. I guess it lost it’s footing because it was not used to walking on cement or pavement.

We were soon on Pershing Drive, turned left on Copia Street, which led to Alameda Avenue. There we drove the stock inside a big corral and rented a place to stay the night. We had a pretty nice bunkhouse with a kitchen where my mother and sisters could cook. Mother looked happy for the first time in many days.

Father kept his word; he took us to a store and bought us each a pair of boots. But the next day about five or ten miles out of El Paso I was limping. Mother asked me what the problem was, and I told her my boots were hurting me. That night in camp my dad cut them down close to the ankle so that they looked like low shoes with high heels. I can still hear my sister making fun of my new high heel shoes.

Next column: Reynaldo tells of crossing a divided branch of the Rio Grande River, but that this was not the border line between the United States and Mexico. He notes that they arrived in San Elizario, the final stretch of their destination.