Like to collect that reward myself. Reports are that the Espinosas have killed near thirty people in the valley during the past few months.

September 11, 1863. Tom Tobin did it. I guess Tobin had heard enough about the Espinosas, so when Colonel Tappan asked him if he’d head a party to go find the murderers and bring them in, he accepted. Tobin and Lieutenant Baldwin and fifteen soldiers from the fort set out on September 7th. Tobin trailed Espinosa like he’d trail a deer or an Indian and after several days found him along La Veta Creek. Espinosa was with his cousin and fellow maniac in thick brush when Tobin came on them. Tobin fired and wounded one, while three soldiers fired at once and brought down the other. Tobin then beheaded the two and took the heads to Colonel Tappan. He rolled the heads from the sack and said, “Here Colonel, I have accomplished what you wished. This head is Espinosa’s. This other is his companion’s head and there’s no mistake made.”[3] Since the other Espinosa brother was killed some weeks ago, I guess that ends that little fracas. Tobin didn’t even know about the reward, he says. Some of the local citizens are thinking of giving Tom a Hawkins rifle, like he’s wanted for a long time now, in appreciation for what he’s done.

Chief Ouray
Painting by Robert Lindneux

May 4, 1864. Transferred last month to the 1st Colorado Cavalry, which means I’ll be hitting the dust trail for summer encampment in a few days. Well, it’ll beat pushing a pen around in that stuffy orderly room or being stable nurse to a bunch of horses.

May 6, 1864. Bunch of the boys went over to Posthoff’s last evening for a last blow before leaving the post for the summer. The sutler’s store may have about all a soldier needs in the way of underwear, boots, saddle soap, and the rest, but it stocks no whiskey. Posthoff’s store, being off the reservation proper, takes care of this shortage for us. Posthoff stocks about everything needed in these parts by the civilians too, of course. But last night we tried to drink old Posthoff out of liquor—and almost did. About every man in the 1st Cavalry was there, with pretty Mexican and Indian girls bringing in food and filling our cups. All day long a company of horse soldiers have been sorry they kept such late hours. The smell of dust and saddle leather has done a lot for our thirst, but little for our appetites. It’s days like this that make me wonder if the $17 a sergeant gets each month is worth it.

Sunday Morning Barrack’s Inspection.

In Camp, June 2, 1864. Spending a little time now camped in Antelope Park. Camp life isn’t bad; just as many bugles blown during the day as at the fort and just as much work, but a tent’s easier to keep clean than a barrack. Indians here about seem restless. Patrols sent out regularly to keep a check on them.

Cavalry Troops Preparing for March.

A Scouting Detail Returning to the Fort.

Fort Garland, November 21, 1864. Back at the fort life goes on about as before. Nights are getting cold. We sit inside evenings now next to fires of piñon logs. Some spend the hours playing cards, others read or study, and some form small groups and sing. The inside of the quarters look good after months in the open. The white walls and blue furniture and woodwork have come to mean home to me. The wooden beds, designed to sleep two, may be covered only with a straw tick, but it’s a lot softer than the ground. The food is better at the fort than in the field, of course. The hardtack and provisions carried on march leave something to be desired. The hardtack we’re getting must have been made by the Rebs. Even the hot coffee won’t soften it. Corporal White said the other night that once he found something soft inside a hardtack biscuit and when he looked to see what it was, he found that it was an old rifle ball. “Looked like the kind used during the War of 1812,” cracked White.

December 5, 1864. Just heard the news of Colonel Chivington wiping out a whole tribe of Indians at Sand Creek. If word gets back to any friends of those poor devils I’m thinking we’d better all start cleaning our carbines and looking for a hole to crawl into.

News from the East is that Lincoln has been re-elected. War seems about won by the Union forces. Things been going bad for Lee since Gettysburg.

May 4, 1865. Lee gives up at a place called Appomattox. Even the Texans have decided to quit. The boys here are looking to be sent home, since most are volunteers. Only a handfull of regulars like myself have been at the fort during these war years. Might take a leave myself or just give up being a soldier.

April 2, 1866. Back from leave. Brought a wife with me. Never thought of getting married, but while in Denver last winter I met Molly and first thing I knew she had me. We moved into the married quarters for non-coms over northeast of the general inclosure. Molly don’t seem to mind life at the fort, in spite of the fact that she, like all the other non-com wives, has to spend considerable time every week washing shirts and socks in the post laundry.

Being married throws a new light on life in the fort. People get together for parties and talk. The wives are more ambitious for the men than the men are for themselves. “When are you going to be promoted?” they all ask their husbands. What’s the difference if you’re making $13 as a private or $17 as a sergeant?

Ground Plan of Fort Garland.
Copy of the ground plan of Fort Garland, Colo., by 1st. Lt. J. W. Bean, 15th. Infantry, A.A.GM., November 17, 1877.