Life and Adventures of Calamity Jane | Page 4

was
on Goose Creek, Wyoming, where the town of Sheridan is now located.
Capt. Egan was in command of the Post. We were ordered out to quell
an uprising of the Indians, and were out for several days, had numerous
skirmishes during which six of the soldiers were killed and several
severely wounded. When on returning to the Post we were ambushed
about a mile and a half from our destination. When fired upon Capt.
Egan was shot. I was riding in advance and on hearing the firing turned
in my saddle and saw the Captain reeling in his saddle as though about
to fall. I turned my horse and galloped back with all haste to his side
and got there in time to catch him as he was falling. I lifted him onto
my horse in front of me and succeeded in getting him safely to the Fort.
Capt. Egan on recovering, laughingly said: ``I name you Calamity Jane,
the heroine of the plains.'' I have borne that name up to the present time.
We were afterwards ordered to Fort Custer, where Custer city now
stands, where we arrived in the spring of 1874; remained around Fort
Custer all summer and were ordered to Fort Russell in fall of 1874,
where we remained until spring of 1875; was then ordered to the Black
Hills to protect miners, as that country was controlled by the Sioux
Indians and the government had to send the soldiers to protect the lives
of the miners and settlers in that section. Remained there until fall of
1875 and wintered at Fort Laramie. In spring of 1876, we were ordered
north with General Crook to join Gen'ls Miles, Terry and Custer at Big
Horn river. During this march I swam the Platte river at Fort Fetterman
as I was the bearer of important dispatches. I had a ninety mile ride to
make, being wet and cold, I contracted a severe illness and was sent
back in Gen. Crook's ambulance to Fort Fetterman where I laid in the

hospital for fourteen days. When able to ride I started for Fort Laramie
where I met Wm. Hickock, better known as Wild Bill, and we started
for Deadwood, where we arrived about June.
During the month of June I acted as a pony express rider carrying the
U.S. mail between Deadwood and Custer, a distance of fifty miles, over
one of the roughest trails in the Black Hills country. As many of the
riders before me had been held up and robbed of their packages, mail
and money that they carried, for that was the only means of getting
mail and money between these points. It was considered the most
dangerous route in the Hills, but as my reputation as a rider and quick
shot was well known, I was molested very little, for the toll gatherers
looked on me as being a good fellow, and they knew that I never
missed my mark. I made the round trip every two days which was
considered pretty good riding in that country. Remained around
Deadwood all that summer visiting all the camps within an area of one
hundred miles. My friend, Wild Bill, remained in Deadwood during the
summer with the exception of occasional visits to the camps. On the
2nd of August, while setting at a gambling table in the Bell Union
saloon, in Deadwood, he was shot in the back of the head by the
notorious Jack McCall, a desperado. I was in Deadwood at the time and
on hearing of the killing made my way at once to the scene of the
shooting and found that my friend had been killed by McCall. I at once
started to look for the assassian and found him at Shurdy's butcher shop
and grabbed a meat cleaver and made him throw up his hands; through
the excitement on hearing of Bill's death, having left my weapons on
the post of my bed. He was then taken to a log cabin and locked up,
well secured as every one thought, but he got away and was afterwards
caught at Fagan's ranch on Horse Creek, on the old Cheyenne road and
was then taken to Yankton, Dak., where he was tried, sentenced and
hung.
I remained around Deadwood locating claims, going from camp to
camp until the spring of 1877, where one morning, I saddled my horse
and rode towards Crook city. I had gone about twelve miles from
Deadwood, at the mouth of Whitewood creek, when I met the overland
mail running from Cheyenne to Deadwood. The horses on a run, about

two hundred yards from the station; upon looking closely I saw they
were pursued by Indians. The horses ran to the barn as was their
custom. As the horses stopped