Part Two: Underground Tunnels and Wolf Caves by Elizabeth Clements

 

Part Two: Underground Tunnels and Wolf Caves by Elizabeth Clements

Isn’t it interesting  what a chance encounter can lead to? Back in the 1990’s, a giant poster in a booth at the Medicine Hat Exhibition & Stampede drew my attention and the lonely-looking author seated at the table with a stack of her book. Most Stampede attendees are more interested in buying cowboy hats or candy floss than a book to carry around on the midway or while watching rodeo events. Being a writer myself, I had empathy for her, stopped to chat, and bought her book—One Hundred Years of Grasslands. It remains my favorite book of all my dozens of research books of Canadian history.

Marjorie Rohde Mason was born and raised on a ranch in the Grasslands region of southern Saskatchewan. The ranch has been in her family for over a hundred years and thus she had heard lots of stories passed down about the lawless days of horse-thieves and cattle rustlers in the Big Muddy badlands. The book is full of history and reminisces by pioneers of the area. One quote speaks volumes: “Most of the time, you could not tell the colour of the horses for mosquitos.” One chapter heading and photograph particularly intrigued me: wolf caves. I had to visit them.

Nineteen years ago we made that trip to celebrate the new millennium. The day following our tour of the Chinese tunnels in Moose Jaw (Part 1), we drove approximately 160 kilometers south to the hamlet of Coronach. As luck would have it, we were the only ones who’d booked a tour that day, so instead of being crammed in a passenger van with a dozen  tourists, we had the guide all to ourselves in the comfort of our van with her giving my husband directions. What a stroke of luck that was having her undivided attention! I took lots of pictures and notes, which I can’t find right now,  so I’m writing from nineteen-year-old memories, Marjorie’s book, and a little help from Google for pictures.

Many of the places our guide took us to were located on private land, under lock and key, accessible only through her. We wandered around a one-room schoolhouse where we saw old school desks,  a pot-bellied stove, lessons  written on the blackboard and breathed in the dusty air of the old building.  In my mind I heard the children’s voices reciting their lessons, imagined the teacher walking down the aisles checking their arithmetic, and glanced out the tall fly-specked windows at the two outhouses near the play area.

We visited an Indian burial site and ceremonial circles that were fenced off.  Two particularly interesting sites  displayed effigies of a large turtle and also a buffalo, each a pattern of carefully placed stones that have rested undisturbed for decades. “Dakota Siksika legends use turtles to represent wise and highly respected people. Buffalo were the “staff of life” for Indigenous people and this (buffalo) effigy is believed to be the only one in Canada if not North America.”

Then at last we left the main road and traveled along a gravel trail on private land to the old Giles ranch. I still remember the lonely, deserted feel of the weathered fence rails with no cattle or horses in sight, the heat blasting on my shoulders, and the stillness of the prairie with only the breeze whispering stories too low to hear. Our guide had keys to unlock the gate. I don’t recall a sign on the gate then, but apparently one exists now that warns “All trespassers will be given a fair trial and then hung.”  Friendly, eh?

We drove a little further, disembarked, and at last I gazed at the entrance to Sam Kelly’s caves. One cave was used by the outlaws and the other held their horses to keep them hidden from sight. The caves were originally occupied by wolves; outlaws enlarged them. (For the safety of modern-day tourists, the caves have been reinforced with wooden beams.) 

I ducked inside the bigger one used by the men and just stood there, eyes closed, and breathed in the cloying smell of dirt walls all around me. Imagined two outlaws hunched over a tiny fire, heating their coffee and beans while another outlaw kept watch above on the high bluff for any sign of the red-coated North West Mounted Police approaching. If so, he’d warn the others and they’d rush their stolen horses across the narrow gully and up the slope of Peake's Butte  and cross the International Boundary (49^th parallel) just a few yards away. There was also an escape tunnel in case the "Redcoats" were to close.

This memory was used in the third book of my trilogy: Beneath A Desperado Moon which will be published sometime next year by Prairie Rose Publications. Reliving these memories, I may just want to go back and revisit that cave <grin>.

This area of the Big Muddy was the first point of the Outlaw Trail, which was carefully organized well over a century ago by Butch Cassidy and  Kid Curry (whose real name was Harvey Logan). Patterned after the successful efficiency of the Pony Express before railroads made the Express obsolete, Butch had set up relay stations all along the route from Canada to New Mexico for the convenience of The Wild Bunch. Butch arranged to always have stations equipped with fresh horses, food, and protection. There were “friendly” American ranchers all along the border and down through the western states who willingly helped the outlaws by keeping fresh horses at the ready. For more information about the Outlaw Trail in the Big Muddy area, check out this link: https://www.coronach.ca/outlaw-trail.html

The discovery of gold in Montana enticed not only the gold-seekers but also the building of railroads to transport the ore—and ruthless outlaws who were happy to relieve them of their gold and money. The drought of 1883 caused tremendous cattle losses; the price of beef went down and many cowhands were let go accordingly. Unable to find work, many of them drifted into robbing banks and horse-stealing to survive. If you can buy or rent the movie, Monte Walsh played by Tom Selleck, here’s the trailer to give you a good idea of a cowboy’s life herding cattle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0r0fBbTjEo8 .

The Wild Bunch outlaws were excellent horsemen and accomplished horse thieves. Although they were most noted for their bank and train robberies, one branch of the gang concentrated on stealing as many as 200 horses and driving them across the border, selling them, stealing them back and fleeing into Montana and North Dakota where they’d resell them again. The Nelson-Jones Gang, reportedly a part of The Wild Bunch, and Dutch Henry were known to do this quite successfully. 

In my book, Beneath A Horse-Thief Moon, the Billy Cranston Gang was inspired by the Nelson-Jones Gang that raided the border ranches, causing a lot of grief and hardship. Nelson was a tall, skinny red-haired, red-bearded man described as having sharp eyes as “cold as fish”.

In Montana, Nelson was known as a rustler and a killer and was never without a gun. One of the stories about him involved him boldly breaking a gang member, Trotter, and another prisoner out of a Montana jail in 1894. Seffick promptly joined the outlaws. Nelson’s gang created so much trouble that ranchers banded together and posted a $1500 reward each for Nelson and Carlyle, an ex-mountie turned outlaw, and lesser amounts for several other outlaws.

Charles "Red" Nelson (also known as Sam Kelly) eventually gave himself up in Plentywood, Montana, but due to insufficient evidence and because most shootings were considered self-defense, he was released. He (ironically) bought a ranch in the Big Muddy area and it was rumored he was periodically visited by former gang members. I love this little tidbit: “If the rain barrel was tipped a certain way it was a signal to visitors that it was not safe to be in the area.” He supposedly died in 1954.

Another outlaw in my novel is French Henri, whom I mentioned in my author’s notes as being patterned after Dutch Henry, an excellent horseman and bronc buster, but best known for being a horse thief in the Big Muddy area. After being kicked out of Dodge by Wyatt Earp, Dutch hooked up with a trail drive to Montana and proceeded to swindle his boss, eventually causing the man to go bankrupt. Dutch and his men would haze as many as 400 horses across the border, selling, re-stealing and reselling just like certain members of the Wild Bunch. His gang had some interesting names: Bloody Knife, Pigeon-Toed Kid, James McNab, Duffy, and Birch. With names like the first two, no wonder they were feared by the border ranchers.

There are conflicting accounts of Dutch Henry’s death. One story is that he was killed in Canada by the North West Mounted Police—twice! Another account says he was found dead in the Minnesota brush, yet a third report claims he was hanged in Mexico. Or did he marry and live peacefully in Minnesota until he died of a gunshot wound? This has stimulated some history buffs to play detective to solve the mystery. Check out this link for a little more history on Dutch Henry: https://www.coronach.ca/dutch-henry.html

The Big Muddy Badlands is an amazing narrow valley about a two hours’ drive south-west from Regina, Saskatchewan. It has amazing scenery, created by the Ice Age traveling through the area  millions of years ago and melt water creating all kinds of formations. Wind and rain also play a part in erosion of the cliffs and buttes. They also provide great hiding places for outlaw activity. On our last day we did some exploring on our own.

We traveled off the main roads onto a trail across the prairie to see Castle Butte, an amazing large sandstone and clay hill pockmarked with caves—perhaps wolf caves in the past?

It stands 200 feet high and is a one-quarter of a mile around the base. We didn’t climb it, but I saw all kinds of possibilities for this in a book. Apparently, some of the caves are narrow and deep so you take a risk exploring them. Years ago, when lost, people used the landmark to get their bearings again. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Muddy_Badlands

On our way home to Alberta, we headed west toward Eastend, south of the Cypress Hills to visit a friend. Along the way near Wood Mountain, we came across a small North West Mounted Police Museum but sadly after the Labor Day weekend, it was open only on weekends so we couldn’t go inside. Perhaps we’ll see it on our next trip. The mounted police had a base at Wood Mountain and had their hands full with whiskey smugglers and outlaws whipping in from Montana, stealing cattle and horses and escaping across the border again and avoid prosecution. All they could hope was to catch them in the act in Canada and incarcerate them.

There are lots of interesting, historic places to visit in western Canada that give you glimpses of our pioneer days, the difficult task the police force had to control the whiskey trade, horse-stealing and cattle rustling. I could only touch on a bit of that history. I’m glad you came along for the brief outing.

Note: My computer was down because of a glitch since Wednesday, so my son came to my rescue tonight...thus because of this and not feeling well, I have re-posted a blog from a couple of years ago.

 
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What's In A Name? by Elizabeth Clements

 

What’s In A Name? by Elizabeth Clements

FYI: Due to unexpected circumstances this weekend, I could not finish my blog and instead stayed curled up under two blankets and a space heater. It truly made me appreciate the pioneers who left their comfortable homes in the East to travel for weeks across unfamiliar lands and establish new settlements on the prairies. My city started as a tent city when the Canadian Pacific Railroad was being built to connect the country from ocean to ocean. Thus I'm reposting one of my very first blogs from October 2018 in which I describe some places out west with unusual names.

Have you ever looked at a map and been amazed by the plethora of interesting names for places, provinces and states? It’s interesting to see  the influence of native history in the naming of many places because they were the first inhabitants of the Plains. This is probably one of several reasons why I used the beautiful Cypress Hills as the setting for my book, Beneath A Horse-Thief Moon, because it was referred to as The Thunder-Breeding-Hills by the tribes that roamed the plains leading up to this vast forest. When the Métis fur traders arrived, they called the forest les montagnes des Cypres, which was mistakenly translated into English as Cypress Hills. There are no cypress trees here, mainly pines and aspens.

For the purpose of length, I shall restrict my blog to a few places in Alberta and Saskatchewan that derived their names from translations from the numerous First Nations people that roamed the western prairie provinces and American northern western states. Firstly, though, I thought I’d mention that my country’s name, Canada, was given by the French explorer, Jacques Cartier. The Huron-Iroquois word “kanata” means a village or settlement.

In 1535, two Aboriginal youths told French explorer Jacques Cartier about the route to kanata; they were actually referring to the village of Stadacona, the site of the present-day City of Québec. For lack of another name, Cartier used the word “Canada” to describe not only the village, but the entire area controlled by its chief, Donnacona.  It wasn’t until 1791 when Canada became the official name of our country.

Alberta was a territory until it became a province of Canada in 1905 (together with Saskatchewan) and was named in honor of the fourth daughter of Queen Victoria—Princess Louise Caroline Alberta. Famous Lake Louise in Banff National Park is also given part of that royal name. Saskatchewan derived it’s name from the Saskatchewan River, which the indigenous Cree people called Kisiskatcfhewsani Sipi, meaning “the swiftly flowing river”. This same river flows through Medicine Hat but is called the South Saskatchewan River.

When Sir John A. Macdonald decided Canada needed a transcontinental railway, the Canadian Pacific Railway was constructed. Many communities sprang up along the railway line. This was the case with Medicine Hat, which is the English translation of Saamis (pronounced Sa-Mus), the Blackfoot word for the “eagle feather headdress worn by medicine men”.

(tent city 1883 and railroad winter quarters)
Medicine Hat, the city where I live, has several legends for the origin of its name. The most popular version (and which I prefer) is that the Cree and Blackfoot had an altercation in the fork of the South Saskatchewan River. During the fierce battle, the Cree medicine man lost his headdress in the river; hence it became known as the place where the medicine man lost his hat.

Another legend  of this community’s name is about a mythical mer-man  river serpent named  Soy-yee-daa-bee—the creator, who appeared to a hunter and instructed him to sacrifice his wife to get mystical powers, which were manifested in a special hat.” I much prefer the official one that was chosen about the Cree medicine man.

There are a few interesting historical facts about Medicine Hat. Rudyard Kipling visited  Medicine Hat circa 1905 and immortalized it by saying it’s a city with “all hell for a basement” because the city is situated over a massive reserves of gas. That’s why our city is nicknamed The Gas City.

After the 1988 winter Olympic Games in Calgary, Alberta, that city was going to dismantle the large teepee they had built for the Games. One of our local citizens and art collector heard of the plan and initiated the purchase and it was dismantled and re-erected here. It was named the Saamis Teepee and is officially the tallest teepee in the world. Here is an award-winning photograph my son, Nick, took of the teepee during a lightning show. 

 Moving a little further west in the province, we have Calgary, known for the greatest outdoor show on earth, the Calgary Stampede. When the North-West Mounted Police (NWMP) established a fort there in 1875, it was originally called Fort Brisebois after a NWMP officer but in 1876  Colonel James Macleod renamed the post Fort Calgary for Calgary Bay in Scotland. The Scottish name is derived from the Gaelic words Cala-ghearridh, meaning pasture by the bay.

Part of the Blackfoot Confederacy, Lethbridge is located in the south-west corner of Alberta just a few miles from the Montana border and nestled in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. This area had many names, such as Coal Banks because of its rich deposits of coal. The Blackfoot called it Aksiiksahko or Steep Banks. It was renamed to Lethbridge in honor of William Lethbridge, a wealthy businessman.

However, besides coal, Lethbridge had a much earlier role when in 1869 the U.S. army outlawed alcohol trading with the Blood nation in Montana. Not to be outdone, two men set up a trading post near Lethbridge, selling mostly alcohol, river water, chewing tobacco and lye. It eventually became nicknamed Fort Whoop-Up. The NWMP took over, bringing law and order to the area. The fort stands today as a popular visitors’ stop and sometimes in the summer there are performances of the RCMP Musical Ride.

           Reesor Lake, Cypress Hills, Alberta side  Photo Nicholas Clements Photography

Moving east into southern Saskatchewan, we find the historic town of Maple Creek, which is just a few miles from the bulk of the Cypress Hills (which is the setting for my historical romance trilogy). For centuries this area was the winter quarters for the various tribes because of the abundance of firewood in the Cypress Hills. In 1875 the NWMP built Fort Walsh in the Cypress Hills, operating there  until 1883 when it closed the fort and set up barracks in Maple Creek because the railroad had arrived that spring. When the railroad reached the area, the crew quartered here and as was often the case, a tent town sprang up, followed quickly by families that left defunct Fort Walsh and resettled in this growing village. The community was named for the Manitoba maples that grew along the creek. It’s proximity to the Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park makes it a popular tourist center for exploring the park a few miles south.

Regina is the capital of Saskatchewan but prior to 1905 this flat area was  called the District of the Assiniboine and was the buffalo hunting ground of the Cree. The Cree only killed enough buffalo for meat and used the hides for clothing and covering their teepees. They piled the bones into stacks because they believed the buffalo would return to visit the bones of their herd. They called the area Oskana-Ka-asateki or “the place where bones are piled”. Sadly, the European buffalo hunters came along and shot the buffalo by the thousands for their hides. This is a picture of the bones being loaded onto rail cars for shipment to a bone factory.

When the fur traders came to the area, they dubbed the site Pile of Bones. The community grew, especially when homesteaders could claim 160 acres of land for ten dollars. In 1882, the town elders felt the settlement should have a more dignified name and decided on Regina, this being the Latin word for queen. Regina also became the headquarters for the North-West Mounted Police for many years and remains the training ground for the Mounties to this day.

An unusual name for a community was derived from the Cree who called the saskatoon berry misâskwatômina, which grows in abundance in the area. When the railroad created a settlement, they called the village Saskatoon.  In 1883 the Toronto Methodists wanted to escape from the bad influence of alcohol in the city and decided to set up a “dry” community. They travelled via the newly constructed railroad to Regina and then made the rest of the journey by horse-drawn cart. However, they were unable to buy a large tract of land to suit their needs, and simply integrated into the community.

Another unique name for a city is Moose Jaw. The Cree called it moscâstani-sîpiy which means a warm place by the river, perhaps because of the Coteau Range that shelters the valley. The beginning of the word, moscâ sounds a bit like moose jaw. Also, some people felt the nearby creek was shaped somewhat like a moose’s jawbone. The Dominion government decided to make Moose Jaw a major terminal because of the abundance of water supplies for their steam engines.

In 2000 I was fortunate to spend a few days in Moose Jaw to visit the wolf caves that were used by cattle rustlers and horse thieves in the late 1800’s. What a treasure trove of history and landscape. I actually stood (in the pictured wolf cave) and breathed in the suffocating smell of dirt. No wonder I  could draw on my reaction to this experience and use it in Beneath A Desperado Moon, Josh and Molly's story in my Prairie Moon trilogy.

Another experience—unforgettable—was visiting the underground tunnels in Moose Jaw. For decades the city officials denied these tunnels existed until one day a city bus fell through a cave-in and the secrets were exposed. One section of the tunnels shows where Chinese hid from persecution and worked for a pittance. The living conditions affected me so deeply that it compelled me to write a poem about it and that history bothers me to this day. There is another tunnel tour that explores the prohibition days and some very interesting tales, especially a female bootlegger who took unusual risks. I so have to go back to Moose Jaw and area.

When we left Moose Jaw after four days of exploring, we drove west toward Eastend and the rolling terrain where Sitting Bull once camped out after Custer’s last stand. This inspired yet another story idea and several chapters which I would love to finish this winter.

There are so many more Canadian places of interest, but I have to rein in my enthusiasm for fear of making you go cross-eyed from so many words. Thus, I just selected a few names that are associated with the “taming of the West”. If a vacation brings you to Canada, this is just a sampling of really neat places to visit and explore. I’d love to hear about some of the names of places that resonate with you.

Excerpt Beneath A Horse Thief Moon 

They emerged from a stand of pines. Moonlight whitewashed the coulees, etching in stark relief every bush and tree. The only sound in the night was the shuffling of their horses and the crickets in the bushes.

A horse thief moon, Sara had called it. In his mind’s eye he relived her unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it from his body. Smoothing her callused palms over his heated skin before pressing her breasts against him.

Lovely, lonely Sara.

Damn it, forget her. She's dead and buried.

Anger at his thoughts made him speak. “Where the hell are we going?”

“Yuh'll see.”

Silence fell, broken only by the soft thud of hooves and the dog padding inches from his right stirrup. An owl's hoot drifted through the darkness. Occasionally, he heard a small creature scuttle in the dry grass.

Abruptly, the prairie plunged into another ravine. Through the trees below, the dark shapes of outbuildings huddled like orphans in the moonlight. The unmistakable odor of a barnyard drifted on the breeze. Horses nickered. A calf bawled. Water murmured and gleamed in a silver path around the curve of the coulee while the moon played hide and seek in the rustling leaves of a giant cottonwood.

Surprise kicked him in the gut. “Where are we?” But he already knew.

“Never mind.”

The old Cranston place. Coincidence that an outlaw had brought him to his quarry, a train robber's hideout? Not by a long shot. But why? Was Billy smarter than I’ve given him credit for?

Chase gritted his teeth. I’m gonna get you, Billy. You’ll pay for the grief you’ve caused Big Jake. His eyes narrowed when a low-roofed log cabin loomed in the moonlight. I'll outwit you and take you in. Maybe even tonight.

“Hold up,” the outlaw snarled. His rifle never wavered from Chase. “Git down. Slow-like.”

Chase frowned, staring through the deep shadows cast by a huge cottonwood. Why were they stopping here by the outbuildings instead of the cabin? And where were the lookouts? The fine hairs on his neck and arms prickled. This isn’t a gathering of outlaws. It’s an execution. But why here instead of back at my camp?

 

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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17898781.Elizabeth_Clements

https://www.amazon.com/Beneath-Horse-Thief-Moon-Prairie-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B07BHQNBDW/ref=as_li_ss_tl?

Beneath A Horse Thief Moon: http://amzn.to/2FVunRW

https://www.amazon.com/Beneath-Fugitive-Moon-Prairie-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B07SZ4LHVS

Link for Diamond Jack’s Angel/Hot Western Nights Anthology

https://www.amazon.com/Western-Nights-Karen-Michelle-Nutt-ebook/dp/B07T9F21B5/ref=pd_rhf_se_p_img_3?