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Show That's how it began, Folly Hatch telling me her version of the Porter Rockwell story before she met with Elizabeth Roundy at Government Creek. I kept the fire going all night, and she narrated the events surrounding Rockwell's life in Missouri, Illinois and Utah. What follows in this volume is the same story, as I remember it. In several places, however, I have added detail that I picked up from others who knew Rockwell. Whether he was a hero or a villain - I'll leave that for you to decide. Instead of hitching up the wagon for his trip to Independence, Port saddled Bill, a three-year-old bay gelding he had purchased from Cyrus Ward, a well-known horse breeder in Independence. The river boat that had carried the Rockwells to the Big Blue the previous fall had stopped in Independence In-dependence for repairs. The Rockwells had sold all their stock before leaving New York, the cost being too high to transport livestock on the rivers. They decided to replace the animals once they reached Missouri. Now that they were only a few miles from their destination, and with the need for repairs halting their river travel for a few days, Port decided to shop for a new horse. With a long rope coiled over his shoulder and four twenty-dollar twenty-dollar gold pieces in his pocket, Port began his search. Several inquiries directed him to the residence of Cyrus Ward, the most successful horse breeder in the area. As Port approached the Ward place he noticed a well-fed, middle aged man chasing a beautiful bay gelding around a small pole corral. Several black children were perched on the fence, watching the man's unsuccessful attempts to capture the fright-ened animal. Whenever the angry man managed to corner the horse, it somehow managed to plunge away from him. Once when he got the rope around its neck, it reared and shook the rope free before the man could tie the knot. Swearing, he threw the rope on the ground. Having learned from one of the children that the man was Cyrus Ward, Port entered the corral. "Let me fetch him for you," Port said, unraveling the rope in his hand and forming a loop. The red-faced Ward stepped back against the fence, catching his breath and nodding for the young stranger to proceed. Port caught the colt with his first throw. The animal stopped and turned towards the young man. Except for a slight quiver, it remained still, its head high and ears forward. Port approached at a slow, relaxed pace, talking quietly to the animal. The horse made no attempt to get away as Port stroked its neck, gently yet firmly. After securing Ward's rope around the neck and removing his own, Port stepped back, drinking in the details that made the horse desirable-the sloping muscular hip, the straight back, the pencil neck, the barrel chest, and perfect markings including four white stockings and an even blaze down the center of the face. (To be continued) |