Welcome To The Bullpen
The Bell of Vallecitos
Dave Cox
There once was a great empire in the American Southwest that controlled the trade of Spain’s northern empire in the Americas, Mexico, America, Texas and New Mexico. The name of this empire was the Comanche Empire. Their empire was vast and basically divided into two separate empires the eastern and the western. They both converged at the Taos, New Mexico, trade fairs.
When gifts were sent regularly by the Spanish governor in Santa Fe life was good. If Mexico was late or too broke or disinterested in the North then life was not so good for the rancheros scattered in the Northern provinces of New Mexico. Life could be downright brutal, lives and homes destroyed; people too terrified to leave the safety of their home.
One of the favorite raiding trails came from the West out of the Chama country and followed the valleys down the Rio Vallecitos to Ojo Caliente and down to Abiqui striking every rancho and community.
If you were to follow the Rio Vallecitos as it winds to the Rio Grande you would find a series of fertile valleys that are perfect for raising livestock and small family subsistence farms.
The valleys are all sheltered on two sides by the mountains, the clear mountain water always runs and the sun is guaranteed to shine at least part of everyday. The valley starts at a high elevation and continually runs downward at a gentle slope until you reach the hot springs at Ojo Caliente where the slope is so gentle heading for the Rio Grande that you barely notice it anymore.
The hot springs at Ojo were a favorite spot of all the tribes that at different times have passed this way as well as any settlers that were in the area. The springs are still used to this day.
The Comanche would use the springs in peace and in war as a place to regroup and prepare for the next phase of their trail. The springs could be a place of laughter or torture depending on the enterprise at hand. If the trail was a war trail souls would be lost here.
A band of early Spanish explorers after using the hot springs followed the Rio Vallecitos upward and saw what a perfect country it was to settle, not only the land itself but there was much game: elk, deer, turkey, ducks, prairie chickens and trout in the river. They brought their carts with their families; horses, cattle, and sheep into this wild and beautiful country and began to build homes and communities.
Sometimes the Comanche would ride thru the valleys and just stop and do a little trading and of course they would always expect to be treated as guest and fed and given presents. The ranchers and villagers knew by now that a well fed, happy Comanche was much better than one with his blood up. After all one could only hope to survive the ordeal to live another day and who knows, maybe just maybe the next time they came thru on the war path they might have fond memories of a past feast or gift. Fat chance. What was really happening was that everything was being looked at for future raids: women, children, men with weapons, food stores, livestock, everything, todas mas.
One could only hope that the trading was good in Taos or over on the Arkansas River. With the eastern bands Taos was usually the turning point for war or peace on the western side of the Rio Grande. No gifts equaled blood and gifts meant life for the settlers. This rule was not set in stone but in general seemed to be the case. There was always the small group of raiders that were out for blood or slaves or horses to steal. There was no body politic and no man had to answer to another but the survival of the clan and the family were the driving forces of life. Trade meant life.
During the dark times to say life was a struggle for the rancheros would be an injustice. Life was hell; life was making it one more day. What was life? Life was growing your family; your livestock in the fields, rivers and woods of this valley. Life was a paradise. What was paradise? Paradise was the natural ability of man and country to live together without fear of being murdered or tortured or being made a slave.
When they did come, they came with an unmerciful vengeance to kill and to take for the simple reason you were there in the same time and space and this was not tolerated. The strong, the brave had the right to the space and the time. The weaker were simply a product to be exploited.
The men that were not killed outright would be tortured for fun and to get the blood up of the warriors. The women would be raped, tortured, killed or taken as captives for amusement on the trail or taken as slaves to be sold or traded later and even in a few cases adopted into Comanche families or kept as family slaves.
The ranch owners tried everything they could think of for defense. They even made alarms out of barrel staves to be rung to warn others down the valley to collect for common defense. This would only work if there was no break in the chain of people that rang the chimes. The idea would at times save a few but someone would always miss the signal to warn others further down the valley. The idea in itself was a sound one but it was the implementation that was the problem. The sound could travel much faster than a runner or someone on horseback. They had tried other strategies such as a series of shots but this ultimately failed also as people were always hunting or target shooting or at times powder and ammo was at a premium more valuable than gold. This may sound unbelievable to we that live in modern times but there were some settlers that did not even own firearms.
There was a harvest feast at the autumn equinox and the ranchers were discussing the problem of what to do when the Comanche Moon came again. There were many ideas exchanged but one seemed to have merit with the majority. The idea was to make a bell tower at the head of the valley with different families assigned the duty of guarding and ringing the bell in time of trouble.
The people agreed to collectively build the bell tower but what to do about a bell. This was a huge problem. They sent some people to Santa Fe to explore the possibility of buying a bell. This proved to be a very expensive proposition as a bell would have to be imported from Mexico City at great expense and time. The local church had only one bell and it had taken decades to get it all the way from Spain. There were local blacksmiths but not the materials.
The trip to Santa Fe was not as it is today. It could be life and death if the Comanche caught you on your journey. A return trip to Santa Fe was not impossible but something that had to be carefully planned and thought through.
After the return trip the ranchers decided to collect all the metal they could and risk the return trip to have the bell made. It took several weeks but everyone donated all that they could. The people knew this was life and death and they donated everything that was not absolutely needed to live because they knew that this bell could mean the difference for survival in this new land. People even donated their silver and gold. Some even donated the family silver that had come all of the way from Spain via Mexico City and Santa Fe.
The collections were made and the tower was being built and now was the time to attempt the wagon cart trip back to Santa Fe to have the bell struck. This was no small thing to cross all of that country with a cart loaded with gold and silver. It would take most of the men of the valley and they would be gone for months, leaving the haciendas and adobe shacks alike under the protection of old men, boys, women and a few men that were to be left behind.
These settlers had brought their God with them. Their God was the center of their communities. They knew that God would sustain them if they were diligent in their prayers. There were many prayers coming from this valley. Whose God would overcome and sustain life in this small corner of the world?
There was a general meeting called to make plans for the trip in the following spring and to pray for its success. It was in the winter as the preparations were being made that the, “Miracle of Vallecitos”, occurred. It was called a miracle from God because what else could it be.
The stranger came up the river form the direction of Ojo. He was riding a Spanish mustang and had two mules for pack animals. His horse was a short legged and shaggy but long on wind. The mules were doing what they do best, carry heavy loads over mountain trails. He said in his broken Spanish that he was a trapper from Missouri that had come to trap the mountains west of Taos. He had worked his way down from Colorado and the Indians had told him that as far as they knew no white trappers had ever been in those mountains. They also told him about the Comanche that ruled that part of the world. He would be lucky to keep his hair. He assured the Taosinians that he had managed to evade the Blackfeet, Shoshone, and Souix for so long that he lived that way all the time and besides isn’t your death part of your life?
The main distinguishing fact about this man that has been passed down from generation to generation in the stories of the valley was his bright red hair and beard. You have to imagine how strange it would have been that here in an Indian wilderness in a Spanish settlement for an anglo with red hair from America to just show up. This would almost be the modern equivalent of seeing and alien walking down the street in your home town.
At one of the stops the man made in the valley he mentioned that in his youth before he had decided to go West that he had been an apprentice to a blacksmith and yes he knew how to melt metals and form objects such as bells and other objects. As soon as this was discovered he was asked if he still had those skills and was shown their supply of metal and ask if he could indeed make a bell. The villagers offered to build a furnace or kiln or whatever he needed and would cut all the wood he would need. It was also agreed that payment would be made in the form of land or gold and silver if he would do the job for them. He agreed for food and lodging and a few pieces of gold.
That winter his blacksmith forge was built, a literal mountain of firewood was cut and the mud brick bell tower was even completed. The stranger did as he said and melted the metal and beat and shaped it into a real bell. He even made the clapper. He first tested the bell hanging on a rope in his very shop and those that heard it swore it was the most beautiful note they ever heard a true heavenly sound.
After the bell was completed it was hung in the new tower and tested. It could be heard loud and clear the whole length of the valley. Soon after its completion the stranger packed his mules and his horse and headed up the Vallecitos looking for furs before the winter pelts were lost. He left as abruptly as he came. He was given many thanks and prayers for his journey. After he had left the villagers were having a winter elk feast to celebrate and as they were talking they realized that not one person who had met the strange white man knew his name. No one had asked and he had never volunteered the information. Everyone had just called him “rojo” which was Spanish for red and he never seemed to mind so Rojo was his name. He was always respectful to the women, never drank too much and if he cursed it was not in Spanish. He worked very hard and was generally liked. He showed up out of nowhere with a skill that was needed, did a job for pay and then disappeared out of their lives forever.
I don’t know if you believe in miracles or not. I don’t know how you even define a miracle but to me this story was a miracle. This bell was used by the people of the valley as long as the Comanche were a threat to their very survival; when the threat was no longer there the bell was melted and the gold and silver in it redistributed. The bell tower eventually fell due to neglect and decay. The only thing that still remains is the story of the red headed stranger that showed up in Vallecitos, made a bell out of metal donated from the locals and then disappeared as quickly as he appeared.
This story was told to me by Mr. Martinez as it was told to him by his grandfather. He told me this story almost forty years ago and he was already retired and in his sixties then. I’m sure he is gone now but his story lives on. I only hope that somewhere in the valley some grandfather is telling his grandchild this amazing story.
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REVIEW 1
A great story,Dave. Very interesting.
Don
Review 2
Wow, that was a very interesting story and one that I have never heard. My husbands side of the family go back to homesteading that area and now my sons have taken over the family ranch. Any one who has ever visited these small villages in northern new mexico certainly know the magic here. Great job to Dave Cox, (CD) one of my old hippie friends that still calls Vallecitos home.
Molly
Review 3
I love the descriptions and the background provided in the story. It creates a wonderful picture that pulls me into the story so that I'm ready for the forge and the building of the bell tower. Since I happen to know that you are a wonderful storyteller, I wonder why you didn't add a few lines of dialog to add to the flavor. You also leave me wanting to know how that fellow managed to mold that bell. I'm fairly sure that you have more details about it--a large bell is truly a milagro. Casting it would take a true craftsman, and it should have cracked or broken or warped so that he had to make several tries. Did he have iron and tin to make the soft metals hold their shape? You leave me wanting to know more. And, I need to know if they rang the bell.
I love your story. So, obviously, you have to write more. You are a wonderful storyteller who has a real gift.
Your descriptions are wonderful. I can just see the area. You weave history into the story and make it an excellent tale. Of course, I want more. I always want more--I'm sure there are other people living in Vallecitos. I look forward to reading about them.
Love and kisses,
Kuita
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