In the year 1890, I was nine years old and I was staying with my Grandparents, the well known Fairchilds Family, in Ashley Valley three miles from Vernal, Utah. They lived on a ranch and had cattle, horses, pigs and chickens. I was helping to do the chores and went to school.

My Mother, Mrs. Rene Jones, was left a widow with nine children, five boys and four girls. I was the youngest boy. Mother and all the rest of her family had moved to Rangely, Colorado on the White River, 100 miles away.

Ashley Valley and the surrounding country was really a wild and tough place at that time. There was many miles of open range and many cattle were graising on it. Our nearest Railroad Town was Price, Utah 130 miles away. Everything was freighted in from there with horses. The Ute Indians would break out now and then and kill some of the setters, before the soldiers could get them rounded up again.

I grew up in this wild country and although I was very young then, I had learned to tough it with the rest of them. I had slept out in the open many times in the winter when sometimes it was from 30 to 40 below zero. In the summer we boys slept out every night, except when it rained. So I was stout and healthy and had so much energy sometimes that I did not know what to do with all of it.

I would work hard all day, then at night after supper I would go outside to play. If I couldn't find anything else to play with, I would take the old wheelbarrow and see how fast I could make it run around and around the house, for an hour or so. Grandpa would say, how can you do that after working hard all day? A few miles from us was a boy whose name was Clide Seshings. He would come to see me quite often. Clide was two years older than me, I was nine and he was eleven, but he was quite large for his age. I liked him real well. Then every time he came to see me I would neglect my work for awhile and we would play, then after he left Grandfather would say, one boy is a boy, two boys is a half a boy and three boys is no boy at all.

Then in July I began to get home sick. I wanted to see my Mother and be with my brothers and sisters. I knew if I told my Grandfather that I wanted to go home, that he wouldn't take me or let me go, so I decided to run away. So every time Clide came to see me, I would coax to run away and go with me. But I couldn't get him to say he would go. He was afraid of the Indians, wild bulls and animals. I was determined to go, even if I had to go alone. For I was awfully home sick. So the next time Clide came I told him, if you will go with me will sure have alot of fun when we get there. We will go in swimming every day in the river and we can fish and hunt rabbits and just have lots of fun. I ain't afraid of the Indians, they won't bother us because we are just boys and I know how to sneak around the wild bulls so they won't see us and we can learn to be tough like the cowboys. Well he said alright, I'll go. So we planned to hide our clothes out in a sack each and meet at a certain place early the next morning. Everything worked out alright so we met and slung our sacks over our shoulders and were on our way. We had seven or eight pounds of clothes in each sack.

At the lower end of Ashely Valley about 20 or 25 miles, was a ferry on Greenriver and my greatest worry was how we could get across the river for neither of us had a cent. The ferry was owned by a man whose real name was Jensen, but everybody called him old Mabee. He was a tough man to deal with if you didn't have any money. I told Clide we might have to make a raft if we could borrow an axe and find some wire, I know how to make one. Well we got to the ferry about 4 or 5 o'clock in the afternoon. It was about the middle of July and it was awfully hot and our shirts were wet with sweat. Old Mabee said where in the world are you boys going. I told him we were going to Rangely, Colorado to my home and asked him if he would take us across the river, but we haven't any money to pay you, but some of my brothers will pay you the next time you ferry them across. He asked me what their names were. After I told him he said oh yes, I know them, well alright but I don't think I should. You boys are too young to hike through this wild country. but he took us across in a little row boat.

Now from there on there was only two places where anyone lived. The first was Rolstons cattle ranch, 7 miles from the ferry and we got there just before dark. I wasn't tired, but Clide was about all in. They were very nice to us and the lady got us a fine supper and of course asked us where we were going and where we had come from. But we did not tell her that we had run away. then the cowboys began to come in from out on the range and they had a great time joking with us. One cowboy told us we were the youngest desperados he had ever seen and the bravest, for you ain't even got a shooting iron. What sha gonado if ya meet up with some Ingins? Well I told him we would talk nice to them and maybe they would let us go. He said we cowpokes ride fast horses so we can outrun Ingins and wild bulls.

Well the lady got us an early breakfast and gave us a lunch to take with us and two beer bottles of water and warned us to be very careful with our water and make it last, for we wouldn't find any water until we got to the K Ranch about 15 miles. This was another cattle ranch. They told us we would have to walk through about eight miles of fine sand and it is so hot that it will burn your feet. So we left there just at the break of day. After we had gone a few miles we struck the sand and now the Sun was really pouring down on us and our feet felt like they were burning up. Every step the sand would give away under our feet and we would slip back a little. Clide had drank almost all of his water. I kept telling him to take just a tiney swallow only when he thought he had to, for we had got to make it last or we will perish, and it is getting hotter. Then Clide began to complain and said if I had known it was it going to be like this, I sure wouldn't of come. I tried to encourage him and told him we will soon get through this sand and then we will be o.k. But before we had got through that hot sand, Clide had drank all of his water and part of mine. He laid down and said he was give out and couldn't go any farther and would die if he did not have water. So I gave him the last I had, which was only a tiney swallow and I said, Clide you are two years older than me and you have drank a lot more water than I have, you have to learn to be tough. We can only go without water just so long and we have got to keep going. Now get up and I will pack your clothes and that will make it easier for you, for I am not tired. I wasn't tired but I sure was suffering for water and from the heat, but I wouldn't admit it. So we moved on and soon were out of the sand and what a relief it was to walk on firm ground.

Off to the right we could see a little clump of Box Elder Trees. they looked so healthy, pretty and green and I told Clide surely there must be water there. So we started to go over to them. I said, Clide you stay here and rest and if there is water there, I will fill the bottles and will soon be back. But I had to come back with empty bottles, there was no water. Now our tongues were swelling and we could hardly talk. But we mozied on. Clide would lay down every few hundred yards and I would have a hard time to get him up. I could see he couldn't go much further and I knew that I couldn't either, without water. I told Clide to take hold of my arm and maybe that will help you some.

Just then we came to the top of a little hill and what we saw just a little way beyond was sure a delight to us, for it was the K ranch, a big cattle ranch. We could hardly talk our tongues were swollen and our feet also, and they hurt so bad that we could hardly walk. Well now we had got to the spring just a little ways from the house and that water looked more precious than gold or any thing that we had ever seen before. I told Clide we will have to be careful and only drink just a few swallows, then wait awhile and then drink a little more. For if we drink too much all at once, it might kill us or make us sick. We stayed at the spring quite awhile and washed our feet, hands and faces. Then we went to the house. We were about starved, so they got us a lunch, but they didn't treat us very good there, which was very unusual at that time, especially on a cattle ranch. I looked at the time and it was 3 o'clock in the afternoon. There were three women and one man at the house, the cowboys were all out on the range. They didn't even give us a lunch to take with us and there was not another place where anyone lived until we got home at Rangely. Well anyway we thanked them for our lunch and went out in the shade to rest. I told Clide that we would take a good long rest and start out again when it got cooler and we will try to get to Willow Creek 12 miles from here, then tomorrow night we will be home.

At Willow Creek there was just an old deserted house and the creek was dry in the summer. There was no more water, except some poison water until we got to Rangely. I had been over the trail once before in a wagon and I knew the way. There wasn't ant road, just wagon tracks through the sage brush. Sometimes you wouldn't see a wagon traveling through for two or three months time. Well we had a good long rest now and we found two more bottles and filled them all with water and were on our way again. We were almost sure that we wouldn't have another bite to eat until we got to my home. We were in Colorado now and about half way of our journey.

We saw some Indians quite a distance from us. Gosh Clide said, do you think they see us? Well, I said, if they do they won't harm us, but I wasn't too sure about it. We had to sneak around wild steers and bulls several times. Then in the distance we seen a team and wagon coming toward us and when we met, he said, for the love of mike, where in the world did you young scouts come from and where do you think you are going. I told him I was going home to Rangely on the White River. He said, don't you know that a man isn't safe going through this wild country on a horse or in a wagon, let alone little boys on foot, with these Ingins on the war path and wild bulls and steers and wild animals everywhere, I am going to put you right in this wagon and take you back. Well, I said, if you do I will only come right back again, for I am not afraid. Indians won't bother us for we are just boys and I know how to sneak around cattle so they won't see us, I am used to them for I have been raised among them. So when he saw that I was so determined to go on, he said, well I just don't feel right about letting you go, you had better change your mind and go back with me. I could see that Clide sure did want to go with him, but I didn't give him a chance to talk. Well anyway he let us go on.

Now it was getting dark and Clide would sit down every few minutes to rest. I had to keep urging him on and told him we will soon be to Willow Creek. But pretty soon he laid down and said he couldn't go any farther, so I said, well lets get out of the road for someone might come along and run over us. But there wasn't a spot anywhere around that was free from rocks, we spread our clothes on them and laid down for the night. Just at the break of day, I got up and went a little ways and looked down over the hill and there was the old deserted house. We had gotten to Willow Creek. So I went back and woke up Clide and told him we had gotten there and now we can make it to my home sometime today.

We didn't have a thing to eat, but we had water, so we hiked on and saw some Indians at a distance. Then we went down a long steep hill to the bottom of a deep gulch, they called it Stinking Water gulch. It had a little seepage of poison water here and there, and now and then an old sign which read, "Do not drink this water, it will kill you." The road followed in the bottom of this gulch for miles. Then we heard a scream just a little way behind us and it sounded just like a woman in distress. Then we heard it again and we sure thought it was a woman. So we started to go and see, then we heard it again. this time I knew what it was, so I said to Clide, that's a panther and he is following us. Well, that was one animal that I was really scared of for I knew what they would do. Sometimes they would lay for you and then spring onto you. So we sure got in high gear for several miles and that thing followed us for at least ten miles, for we could hear him scream now and then. Sometimes close to us and then farther away, then finally we didn't hear him any more.

We were getting weak now and we were awfully hungry. I had packed Clides clothes all the way from the hot sand and also my own. So we would sit down and rest quite often. Then after we had gone a few more miles, Clide began to complain again, and I said, don't you know these kinds of hardships are what makes us tough? Tough he says, you are always talking about how to get tough. Well, I said, wouldn't you like to be real tough like, well like some fellows we hear about? He said not, if I have to keep walking through 8 miles of sand so hot that you could fry eggs on it, and have to go without water until your tongue hangs out, and you have to pant like a dog and can't talk and then expectin some old bull to gore you or some Indian to get your scalp, that at night lay down on sharp rocks and try to sleep, get up at the break of day and start hiking without my breakfast. Then have an old cougar follow you for about 10 miles and you thinking any minute now you will make him a nice meal, Then on top of all that, you have to go more than a whole day and night without a bite to eat and keep hiking. If you have to keep doing all of those things to get tough, I don't want to be tough.

Well, we hiked on and soon we could see the old White River winding it's way down through that baren country. I said, it won't be long now and my Mother is a fine cook and we can soon eat now and then eat some more. That man we met in the wagon that wanted to take us back, was the only person that we met on our journey, that is from the ferry. Well we got to my home just a little before sun down and my Mother sure was surprised to see us and she said, if I had known that you boys were on the road coming afoot and alone, I would have worried myself sick, but I would have sent some of your brothers to meet you.

Well we got fed up and rested up in about two days. Then I was making my promise good to Clide and we were having a swell time. But it did not last very long. Early one morning a man on a horse and leading another horse, rode up to the house and he was tired, hungry and mad. It was Clide's Father, he had rode all day and all night and had to leave his tired horses at the K Ranch and take fresh ones and come on. He said, if I had more time I would make Clide walk all the way back. So I said, Mr. Seshings, it wasn't Clide's fault, it was all my fault, for I had to coax Clide for a whole week before I could persuade him to come. Well he stayed with us that day and night and rested up, then early the next morning my pal was on his way back.

Written by:
Earl A. Linderman

This story was probably written about 1954, by my Grandfather, Earl A. Linderman.
Compiled Dec.10,1996, by Forrest D. Linderman