When I was 7 or 8 years old, in 1938-1939, I went to work with my father one Saturday morning. Dad was the manager of a large Citibank branch in lower Manhattan. As I wondered around the branch, my father called me over to his desk to meet a short, elderly man, wearing buckskins and a sweaty, old, broadbrimmed hat, beneath which he had coiled his long grey hair. He was Bronco Charlie Miller! He told me about his experiences riding for the pony express.
Bronco described being chased by indians. He said he would slide over in his saddle to place his horse between himself and the indians, who were sending arrows his way. He then rolled up his left sleeve to show me where an arrow had hit him on his left arm. That arm had been on the side of the horse toward the indians, so that he could hold his horse's reins on both sides.
Soon after that Saturday, my father brought home to our home in New Jersey a small, autographed picture of BCM mounted on a horse, addressed to me. Later I acquired a copy of the book entitled PONY EXPRESS-The great gamble, by Roy S. Bloss. I also have a short note that BCM wrote requesting that the negative of the picture be returned. He concludes it with the words, "my best regards and oblidge," signed Bronco Charlie Miller.