In the spring of 1868, Harriet “Hattie” Bunyard, along with her parents and five of her siblings, headed out of Texas, across New Mexico and Arizona Territories on their way to California. It was a six-month journey. Hattie kept a diary of their travels, which, for the most part, she thoroughly enjoyed.
Hattie’s father worked as a schoolteacher in McKinney, Texas, about 30 miles north of Dallas (now a suburb of Dallas), before purchasing and running a cotton gin for a number of years. Hattie was born in McKinney sometime between 1846 and 1849.
Hattie’s diary begins on April 29, 1868, as the family departed their Texas home.
The caravan usually consisted of between 10 and 20 wagons as travelers dropped out and others joined the train. The Bunyards brought with them a large number of cattle that had to be cared for and guarded. Finding fresh grass for them was a constant problem as the company made its way across the harsh desert.
Yet Hattie found the trip exciting and exhilarating, with warm breezes and enough rain to keep temperatures tolerable. Hunting and fishing along the way provided the company with plenty of fresh protein and, initially, they did not lack for cool watering holes. An abundance of berries added fresh pies to their meals.
On May 26, as they arrived at Fort Griffin, a distance just over 200 miles from their starting point, Hattie discovered a young girl at the post who had been living with a nearby Native tribe for several months after her mother had been killed. The girl’s sister was still with the tribe, which may have been Tonkawa Indians who lived in the area. And although the child said the Indians had treated her kindly, the Bunyard family, with deep southern roots, had little tolerance for Native Americans, Mexican families or Black soldiers that they encountered.
By the middle of July, as the weather heated up, the wagon train traveled mainly at night. Gaining about 10 to 15 miles a day, they crossed into New Mexico Territory around July 25.
On Aug. 8, the wagons drove through Apache Pass and into Arizona Territory. Hattie was pleased with the abundance of grass they found for the cattle, as well as a good water supply. She also noted “a number of graves here, most of whom were killed by the Indians.”
She admired the country that provided plenty of wood and water. Camping near the San Pedro River, the company stayed for several days.
An historic photo of Fort Yuma, from Yuma City.
About 15 miles outside of Tucson (according to Hattie), the rain poured out of the sky in a torrential overflow, soaking the travelers. “Only one tent left standing,” she wrote, “so we had to dry our beds today and therefore we will not leave here before 12 o’clock."
Arriving in Tucson on Aug. 19, Hattie remarked it was a beautiful place with nice houses. “Goods are much cheaper than I expected to find them.”
They passed through Sacaton and started following the Gila River, which would take them to the Colorado River and California. They stopped at Maricopa Wells and a week later arrived in Gila Bend.
They paused briefly at Oatman Flat, where most of the Oatman family was massacred in 1851 (see June 16, 2018 Western Women column on Olive Oatman).
Hattie noted the stage stops along the way, some inhabited, others abandoned. Bert’s Station was so hot “that matches kept in the shade will catch on fire unless kept in something that will not burn.”
Stanwick’s, Texas Hill and Mohawk Stations provided small respite from the heat. “How glad I will be when we cross the Colorado River,” she wrote.
“Had heavy sand road to pass over today. We made dry camp last night. Arrived at Antelope Station about 11 o’clock in the morning (Antelope Station was an old Butterfield Overland stage stop). We are camped near the river but there is no grass here; is some grass two miles from here. Will have to drive the stock to it. There is a mountain just opposite the station that is 300 feet high. Nothing growing on it at all.”
Fifteen miles down the road, the party arrived at Mission Camp, just outside of Gila City. Hattie almost sighed, “It is now 14 miles to Fort Yuma.”
On the evening of Sept. 22, the waggoneers pulled within a mile of the fort that Hattie described as “a beautiful place on a high hill that commands full view of Arizona City (later renamed Yuma). Goods and groceries are cheap here. Very few pretty houses in the city.”
The company expected to stock up on produce before making the trek into California, but found very little, although Hattie noted, “they are expecting three boats every day that will bring vegetables.”
She was sorely disappointed that no letters from home had yet found their way to the fort.
Setting up camp about six miles outside of town, where the cattle had plenty of grass, Hattie discovered the Colorado River muddy but good-tasting.
“The mosquitoes are very bad here,” she wrote. “We next have a desert of 40 miles without grass, so will stay here several days.”
With the cattle rested, the party crossed the Colorado River, but Hattie found California “no better than the other, nothing but mountains and sand and brush.”
Her disappointment continued as the train plodded through heavy sand with little water, and she feared for the livestock. She noted, “This is the most destitute country of grass that we have ever traveled over.”
By the middle of October, Hattie and her family had arrived at Warner’s Ranch, a way station for immigrants coming across the barren desert.
On Oct. 24, Hattie made her last entry. The family settled in El Monte, California, a town that became known as the “end of the Santa Fe Trail.” The Bunyards are considered one of the first pioneering families of the community that is now a suburb of Los Angeles. Members of the family still live in the area.
Hattie never married. She died in 1897.
