By B.g. Revis
From page 34 of the February, 1993 issue of Lost Treasure
Copyright © February, 1993 Lost Treasure, Inc. all rights reserved
Mark Carpenter lit the fuse raced out of the short tunnel and took cover. He had traced a streak of silver up the east bank of Silver Creek to a point where it disappeared into the hillside. Now he was certain he was about to expose the heart of the vein.
Smoke and debris erupted from the tunnel as the charge fired. Scampering through the smoke into the tunnel Carpenter snatched up a large chunk of the shiny ore that now littered the tunnel and hurried out into the sunlight. One glance set his heart to hopping. In his hands was phenomenally rich native ore.
Ruby red with a metallic luster, the ore was argentite and would as-say at least 80%. The gnarled little man knew he had hit it big.
Having labored many years in the silver mines throughout Colorado and Nevada, Carpenter was well experienced and knew exactly what he had discovered. His foremost priority was to get to the county seat of Apache County in St. Johns, Arizona to file his claim. He had long since set out his claim markers.
Bringing up two burros, one packed with food and camp gear, the other, forked saddle treed with panniers Carpenter stuffed the panniers with the rich ore.
Carpenter broke camp about 10 oclock in the morning and headed up Silver Creek on that hot July day in 1885. Just this side of the small village of Shumway he planned to head east on a regular road to St. Johns.
The best laid plans often go awry and Carpenters were destined to do so that day. His journey would be short with a violent end and he would never leave the creek.
Several miles upstream, ambling along in pace with his burros, Carpenter never heard the crack of the rifle that sent two 30-30 slugs ripping through his flesh, knocking him flat. For some time he lay in shock, bleeding profusely from the gaping holes in his right chest and shoulder.
As he lay dying he just knew that the White Mountain Apaches had ambushed him. Crawling to some bushes, he scanned the area for his attackers to no avail. Pulling himself upright, he managed to stagger to the burro loaded with silver ore. With his last vestige of strength, Carpenter managed to pull himself up and drape himself across the packsaddle and panniers. With a bit of prodding, the burro moved out. Carpenter was fading fast and in the dimness that clouded his mind he realized he may never reach Shumway and help.
His fears would prove wrong and help would be much closer than he realized but not close enough to save him.
For two weeks, a summer camp for A Troop of the Fourth Calvary out of Fort Apache had been set up on Silver Creek replete with canvas roofed adobe quarters, serving as a recreation camp and outpost for grazing spare mounts for the Calvary. The post was commanded by Captain A. A. Smith.
Early that afternoon, one of the Apache scouts attached to the post observed what appeared to be a dead man, strung over a burro, coming into the perimeter of the outpost from the Silver Creek trail. The scout shouted to Captain Smith who was parked in a chair on the shady side of his quarters.
Before Smith reached the burro, two scouts had laid Carpenter out on the ground. Smith kneeled over the bearded man.
Gasping, Carpenter managed, Paches got me. Then there followed mumblings about a rich strike a claim and that he was on the way to file a claim.
Smith was perplexed. To his knowledge, no Indians had broken from the reservation. Four troopers carried Carpenter to the infirmary.
Looking down at the bearded prospector surgeon John Fisher shook his head and said, This man is a goner.
Mark Carpenter never saw the light of day again, or uttered another word. His dream of riches came to an abrupt and violent end on a hot day in July in that lonely Army outpost on Silver Creek. His remains rest there in a solitary grave.
His identity was established by letters found in his pockets, addressed to him in St. Johns, along with other documents.
With most of the troops out on patrol, Smith ordered the remainder to mount up for he wanted to check out Carpenters allegation that Apaches had waylaid him but he was temporarily detained when a very excited sergeant informed him that Carpenters burro was loaded with pure silver.
Dismounting, Smith examined the panniers and found them full of rich ore. However, his concern over a possible Apache uprising superseded any excitement he may have had so with six troopers and two scouts he started backtracking Carpenters trail.
The scouts had no trouble tracking the sign and soon reached the blood-drenched spot where Carpenter had been ambushed. From there they located the spot upstream where two riders on shod horses had picked up the other burro, leading it southwest into the Mogollon Rim country. The scouts then backtracked the two riders to a spot on a knoll where they had lain in ambush for Carpenter. Two empty 30-30 rounds laying on the ground were mute evidence of their grisly deed.
The truth was evident; two white men, not Apaches, had murdered Carpenter.
Surmising that Carpenter had been bushwhacked for his food supplies by two desperate outlaws in flight, Smith and his men pursued the hell-bent pair as fast as possible until the fading sun terminated the chase.
Smith returned to camp, intending to resume the chase at daybreak but a hard driving rain that night erased all signs of the trail.
Excitement ruled the campwith Carpenters silver the topic of conversation. Many went out in search of the mine and failed miserably. The surgeon who attended Carpenter, and Capt. Smith mounted a small expedition that lasted several days, but failed to locate the mine.
Accounts of the dead mans silver, relayed by troopers returning to Fort Apache, created quite a fervor. Many scoffed at the story, and claimed the ruby red ore could not possibly be silver. Fisher erased all doubts by having it assayed. It ran an incredible 84% the richest of any native ores.
Many troopers, after being discharged, took a crack at locating the rich mine, but came up empty. Fisher, more determined than most, waited until his contract with the Army was up in 1888 at Fort Union, then engaged a recently discharged sergeant, by the name of Anderson Swallow, as his partner. Planning an indefinite stay the two men purchased mules and a pack outfit to befit the expedition, and were soon in Silver Creek country.
Near Shumway they found many prospectors but soon learned they knew nothing of Carpenters strike.
The few years they had waited had placed many obstacles in their path. Homesteaders and new settlers had swallowed up a great deal of the land. Armed men chased them out of many areas.
Proceeding into the mountains, they searched back downstream since it had never been determined on what section of the stream Carpenter had made his discovery.
Possessing some knowledge of metallurgy, Fisher had brought along equipment to run assays and samples were worked each night. Occasionally they would find a small piece of argentite in the upper waters of the creek. This they collected and sacked. They surmised that this had washed down from higher up.
No evidence of previous mining activity showed up until downstream within three to four miles of the old army campsite. There they discovered a small tunnel dug into the west wail of the creek. Finding particles of ore, they dug out the caved-in hole discovering a thin vein of quartz.
It was not the ruby red ore that was found on Carpenters burro. They continued to dig, but the results were disappointing. Much of the ore turned out to be low-grade lead and copper.
On down the creek they came upon two other prospectors working a claim. The prospectors grabbed up their rifles and waved the intruders on, preventing them from crossing the stream.
Angered by this rude behavior, Fisher and Swallow camped around the bend from the camp. Sneaking out from camp, Swallow located a claim marker in weathered condition. Tearing into it he found a can containing a claim notice that disintegrated when exposed to the air.
Upon hearing this, Fisher recalled that Carpenter had babbled to the troopers about posting his mine. He and Swallow located another pile of stones that may have been another corner of the claim but it had been torn down.
Hoping that this had been Carpenter s strike, the two men searched for other evidence. Downstream they were excited to find a caved in tunnel with no timbers. Immediately they began to muck it out only to discover no evidence of a large vein.
Returning to camp one evening after another fruitless search they were greeted by the two prospectors who had run them off their claim sitting on their stash and making themselves to home.
The unshaven shifty-eyed string bean of the pair snarled, I see you fellers picked up some pure silver.
Could be replied Fisher sharply. So you searched our property.
In this business alls fair, the string bean shot back. Whered you get the rich stuff?
Cutting in, Swallow replied, Wouldnt you like to know? You two rats had better learn to respect others property. Now get the hell out of here right now!
The string bean snarled, So youre gonna get tough, huh? as he lurched menacingly to his feet.
He made a gesture as if to reach for a gun or knife. Swallow didnt wait to find out. He swung a haymaker that knocked the string bean flat.
Fisher whipped a rifle from his bedroll, and the click of the hammer stopped the string beans partner in his tracks. Then they were driven from the camp.
Fisher and Swallow continued their search to no avail. They found several abandoned diggings, and several prospectors who had come up empty.
When fall rolled around they had reached Shumway with nothing to show for their efforts and decided as a last resort to go back and try the tunnel again.
Returning, they found someone had beaten them to it and cleaned part of the tunnel out. They suspected the two bums they had run out of their camp. They decided to give it a try anyway. They took out another ten feet or so of the tunnel and discovered a vein of quartz that assayed 8%. They blasted out another few feet and the assay jumped a few points.
They were sure the vein would increase in value but it was not the fabulous ruby red they longed for. Their luck was running bad and was about to get worse.
When Swallow hopped out of his blankets the next morning he was knocked flat by a single rifle slug. As he went down Fisher grabbed his rifle and ducked behind his saddle. He thought Swallow was a goner, but was elated to see him crawling for cover. He had only been winged in the right shoulder.
The rifle cracked again, disclosing the position of the bushwhacker in a patch of brush. Fisher fired three fast rounds that resulted in a cry of pain. From a point in the rocks somewhere up the creek, another rifle cut down on them.
Crawling to a safe spot, Swallow rolled over on his back. Fisher ceased firing and made his way to Swallow with his medical kit. Swallow had a nasty shoulder wound and some broken bones. Stopping the bleeding, Fisher wrapped the wound and gave him a sedative.
They swore to each other to get the scum that launched this attack on them if it was the last thing they ever did.
A few minutes passed, and the camp was sprayed with lead once more. Then the onslaught stopped, and a voice yelled at them from the rocks:
You better cart your dead partner s carcass out of here and leave that mine to us. That mine belongs to me now and I aim to keep it!
Poke your ugly face out from behind that rock and Ill blow it off! Fisher retorted.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a scuffle. Then a different voice called out: Hey you fellers! Weve got this rat. His partner is a goner.
Bring him on down, Fisher called back.
Two prospectors hustled the culprit into camp. They had been making their way to the creek when they heard gunfire, figured the situation out, sneaked up on the Lost Ruby Red bushwhacker and put him out of commission.
Anxious to get Swallow to town, Fisher still took time to post the claim, and then set out for St. Johns with his wounded partner, the bushwhacker, and the two prospectors.
Swallow became feverish and delirious and had to be bound to his mule for the duration of the trip. Upon reaching St. Johns, Fisher put Swallow in a room at the local inn where he operated on him. He was in critical condition for several weeks, but pulled through.
The bushwhacker was eventually released, and never brought to trial, as Fisher and Swallow did not want to hang around town for the fall session of court.
Fisher convinced a local merchant, Solomon Barth, that the mine would be a solid investment and purchased it for ten thousand dollars.
Complications set in, and Swallow took a turn for the worse. Needing another operation, Fisher took him by train to Albuquerque, New Mexico, where after an operation and six months rest he was on the road to recovery.
When Swallow was well, Fisher who had remained close joined up with him again for another shot at Silver Creek. Upon reaching the creek they found their old mine abandoned.
Barth had hired a crew of Mexicans to work the mine, ran into a heavy pocket and recovered his investment before the vein trailed out and the mining ceased.
All that year the partners searched for Carpenters rich mine to no avail. Finally they gave up and left the country. Swallow moved to New Mexico and started a small cattle ranch.
Prospectors still search for Mark Carpenters fabulous ruby red ore. The full length of Silver Creek from Shumway to its headwaters is pockmarked with diggings, but no one has found the vermilion ore.
Over the past 107 years the legend of Carpenters incredible ruby red ore has grown out of proportion by the unimaginable tales of its worth. But we do know he had the ore on his burro and it assayed out at 84% silver. At todays piddling silver prices that would round out to about $70,000 a ton well worth looking for.
It has always been assumed that Carpenters strike was made on the creek. What if it wasnt? Although silver has been found on the creek no trace of the rich red ore has ever been discovered. Is it possible that everyone has been looking in the wrong place passing up this glory hole.
We know Carpenter had the ore, and he came up the creek but that doesnt mean he found it on the creek. Perhaps someday a savvy treasure hunter will figure out the key to this riddle, find the fabulous ruby red ore and put the legend to rest.
SOURCES:
Treasure Trails of the Old West. Fall, 1973.