April 14, 1863: Coyote Springs
[Today] we came on thirty miles and stopped at Coyote Springs, about six or seven miles from White River. The road this day was through a desolate waste—I should call it a desert—a house at Deer Creek and another at White River were the only habitations. The soil was barren and, this dry year, almost destitute of vegetation. A part of the way was through low barren hills, all rising to about the same height—in fact, a tableland washed down into hills. We stopped at a miserable hut, where there is a spring and a man keeps a few cattle. He was not at home, but his wife was, and she gave us something to eat, and we slept out upon the ground near our mules. The woman was a fat, ignorant thing, with four little girls who looked like half-savages; in fact, they were scarcely better than Indians.