From Village Creek to Bird's Fort: The Writings of John Henry Brown
The Indian Wars and Pioneers of Texas, 1888, John Henry Brown
John Henry Brown was a journalist, military leader, author, and politician. He is often cited as Dallas' first historian. He authored at least three books on regional and state history in the late 19th century, with many events of which he wrote occurring within living memory. Brown was acquainted with, interviewed, and/or acquired documentation from key figures and eyewitnesses to reinforce his accounts of events, even having been involved in some of those events himself.
Since the late 20th century, Brown has been the subject of criticism as his writings and speeches expressed open racism and discrimination against Native and African Americans as well as abolitionists who were sympathetic to the freedmen. The excerpts that follow reflect those prejudices; for example, Brown expresses outrage at what he considers savage behavior by Indians committing depredations against whites while praising identical atrocities committed by Anglo militiamen against Indians as gallant and honorable. Aside from his racist views, Brown's writings, though not without error, are considered to be of general historical merit due to his acquaintances with key figures who were still alive at the time.
The following is a linear, unbroken excerpt from Brown's 1888 book, The Indian Wars and Pioneers of Texas. It offers an expansive overview of events that culminated in the establishment of Bird's Fort, the drafting and ratification of the Bird's Fort Treaty, and the opening of North Texas to the Anglo settlements that would coalesce into the DFW Metroplex.
The Famous Council House Fight in San Antonio, March 19, 1840 — A Bloody Tragedy — Official Details
From the retreat of the people before Santa Anna in the spring of 1836, down to the close of 1839, the Comanches and other wild tribes had depredated along our entire line of frontier, stealing horses, killing men, and carrying into captivity women and children, more especially the latter, for they often murdered the women also.
On several occasions, as at Houston in 1837, and perhaps twice at San Antonio, they had made quasi-treaties, promising peace and good behavior, but on receiving presents and leaving for home they uniformly broke faith and committed depredations. The people and the government became outraged at such perfidy and finally the government determined, if possible, to recover our captives and inculcate among the hostiles respect for pledges and a desire for peace.
The seat of government in the fall of 1839 was removed from Houston to Austin, a newly planned town, forming the outside settlement on the Colorado. There was not even a single cabin above or beyond the place, west, north, or east, above the falls of the Brazos. So stood matters when the first day of January, 1840, arrived, with Mirabeau B. Lamar as President, David G. Burnet as Vice-President, and Albert Sidney Johnston on the eve of resigning as Secretary of War, to be succeeded by Dr. Branch T. Archer.
On the 10th of January, 1840, from San Antonio, Col. Henry W. Karnes (then out of office), wrote Gen. Johnston, Secretary of War, announcing that three Comanche chiefs had been in on the previous day, expressing a desire for peace, stating also that their tribe, eighteen days previously, had held a council, agreed to ask for peace and had chosen a prominent chief to represent them in the negotiation. They said they had rejected overtures and presents from the hostile Cherokees, and also of the Centralists, of Mexico, who had emissaries among their people. Col. Karnes told them no treaty was possible unless they brought in all prisoners and stolen property held by them. To this they said their people had already assented in council. They left, promising to return in twenty or thirty days with a large party of chiefs and warriors, prepared to make a treaty, and that all white prisoners in their hands would be brought in with them.
From their broken faith on former occasions, and their known diplomatic treachery with Mexico from time immemorial, neither the President, Secretary of War nor Col. Karnes (who had been a prisoner among them) had any faith in their promises, beyond their dread of our power to punish them. Official action was based on this apprehension of their intended duplicity.
On the 30th of January Lieut.-Col. William S. Fisher, commanding the First Regiment of Infantry, was instructed to march three companies to San Antonio under his own command, and to take such position there as would enable him to detain the Comanches, should they come in without our prisoners. In that case, says the order of Gen. Johnston, "some of their number will be dispatched as messengers to the tribe to inform them that those retained will be held as hostages until the (our) prisoners are delivered up, when the hostages will be released." The instructions further say: "It has been usual, heretofore, to give presents. For the future such custom will be dispensed with."
Following this military order, and in harmony with the suggestion of Col. Karnes, President Lamar dispatched Col. Hugh McLeod, Adjutant-General, and Col. William G. Cooke, Quartermaster-General, as commissioners to treat with the Comanches, should they come in, and with instructions in accord with those given Col. Fisher. They repaired to San Antonio and awaited events.
On the 19th of March, in the morning, two Comanche runners entered San Antonio and announced the arrival in the vicinity of a party of sixty-five men, women and children, and only one prisoner, a girl of about thirteen years, Matilda Lockhart. In reporting the subsequent facts to the President on the next day Col. McLeod wrote:
"They (the Indians) came into town. The little girl was very intelligent and told us that she had seen several of the other prisoners at the principal camp a few days before she left, and that they brought her in to see if they could get a high price for her, and, if so, they intended to bring in the rest, one at a time.
"Having ascertained this, it became necessary to execute your orders and take hostages for the safe return of our people, and the order was accordingly given by Col. William G. Cooke, acting Secretary of War. Lieut.-Col. Fisher, First Infantry, was ordered to march up two companies of his command and post them in the immediate vicinity of the council room.
"The chiefs were then called together and asked: 'Where are the prisoners you promised to bring in to the talk?'
"Muke-war-rah, the chief who held the last talk with us and made the promise, replied: 'We have brought in the only one we had; the others are with other tribes.'
"A pause ensued because, as this was a palpable lie, and a direct violation of their pledge, solemnly given scarcely a month since, we had the only alternative left us. He observed this pause and asked quickly: 'How do you like the answer?'
"The order was now given to march one company into the council room and the other in rear of the building, where the warriors were assembled. During the execution of this order the talk was re-opened and the terms of a treaty, directed by your excellency to be made with them in case the prisoners were restored, were discussed, and they were told the treaty would be made when they brought in the prisoners. They acknowledged that they had violated all their previous treaties, and yet tauntingly demanded that new confidence should be reposed in another promise to bring in the prisoners.
"The troops being now posted, the (twelve) chiefs and captains were told that they were our prisoners and would be kept as hostages for the safety of our people then in their hands, and that they might send their young men to the tribe, and as soon as our friends were restored they should be liberated.
"Capt. (George T.) Howard, whose company was stationed in the council house, posted sentinels at the doors and drew up his men across the room. We told the chiefs that the soldiers they saw were their guards, and descended from the platform. The chiefs immediately followed. One sprang to the back door and attempted to pass the sentinel, who presented his musket, when the chief drew his knife and stabbed him. A rush was then made to the door. Capt. Howard collared one of them and received a severe stab from him in the side. He ordered the sentinel to fire upon him, which be immediately did, and the Indian fell dead. They then all drew their knives and bows, and evidently resolved to fight to the last. Col. Fisher ordered: 'Fire, if they do not desist!' The Indians rushed on, attacked us desperately, and a general order to fire became necessary.
"After a short but desperate struggle every one of the twelve chiefs and captains in the council house lay dead upon the floor, but not until, in the hand-to-hand struggle, they had wounded a number of persons.
"The indoor work being finished, Capt. Howard's company was formed in front to prevent retreat in that direction; but, in consequence of the severity of his wound, he was relieved by Capt. Gillen, who commanded the company till the close of the action.
Capt. Redd,* whose company was formed in the rear of the council house, was attacked by the warriors in the yard, who fought like wild beasts. They, however, took refuge in some stone houses, from which they kept up a galling fire with bows and arrows and a few rifles. Their arrows, wherever they struck one of our men, were driven to the feather. A small party escaped across the river, but were pursued by Col. Lysander Wells with a few mounted men and all killed. The only one of the whole band who escaped was a renegade Mexican among them, who slipped away unobserved. A single warrior took refuge in a stone house, refusing every overture sent him by squaws, with promise of security, and killing or wounding several till, after night, when a ball of rags, soaked in turpentine and ignited, was dropped through the smoke escape in the roof onto his head. Thus, in a blaze of fire, he sprang through the door and was riddled with bullets.*Note. Cap. Redd and Col. Wells fought a duel in San Antonio later the same year and killed each other. Judge Robinson died in San Diego, California, in 1853. Judge Hemphill died during the Civil War, a member of the Confederate Senate. Capt. Matthew Caldwell, then of the regulars and a famous Indian fighter, died at his home in Gonzales in the winter of 1842-3. Col. McLeod, commanding a Texas regiment, died at Dumfries, Virginia, during the Civil War. Col. William S. Fisher, afterwards commander at Mier and a " Mier prisoner," died in Galveston in 1845, soon after his release. Col. Wm. G. Cooke died at Navarro ranch, on the San Geronimo, in 1847. He came as Lieutenant of the New Orleans Grays in 1835, succeeded Burleson as Colonel of the regulars in 1840. He married a daughter of Don Luciano Navarro. He was Quartermaster-General, a commissioner to Santa Fe and a prisoner, and was a noble man. Col. Henry W. Karmes died in San Antonio, his home, in the autumn of 1840. Henry Clay Davis was a volunteer in the fight on horseback. An Indian sprang up behind him and, while trying to kill him with an arrow used as a dirk, Davis killed him with one of the first lot of Colt's revolvers ever brought to Texas. Davis settled at Rio Grande City, married a Mexican lady, was once in the Senate, and was killed accidentally by his own gun while out hunting.
" In such an action — so unexpected, so sudden and terrific — it was impossible at times to distinguish between the sexes, and three squaws were killed. The short struggle was fruitful in blood. Our losses were:
Killed: Judge Hood, of San Antonio; Judge Thompson, of Houston; Mr. ______ Casey, of Matagorda County; Lieut. W. M. Dunnington, First Infantry; Privates Kaminske and Whitney, and a Mexican — 7.
"Wounded: Capt. George T. Howard, Lieut. Edward A. Thompson and Private Kelly severely; Capt. Matthew Caldwell, Judge James W. Robinson, Messrs. Higgenbottom, Morgan and Carson — 8.
"John Hemphill, then District Judge and afterward so long Chief Justice, assailed in the council house by a chief and slightly wounded, felt reluctantly compelled (as he remarked to the writer afterwards) to disembowel his assailant with his bowie knife, but declared that he did so under a sense of duty, while he had no personal acquaintance with nor personal ill-will towards his antagonist.
"The Indian loss stood: Thirty chiefs and warriors, 3 women and 2 children killed. Total, 35.
"Prisoners taken: Twenty-seven women and children and 2 old men. Total, 29.
"Escaped, the renegade Mexican, 1. Grand total, 65."
Over a hundred horses and a large quantity of buffalo robes and peltries remained to the victors.
By request of the prisoners one squaw was released, mounted, provisioned and allowed to go to her people and say that the prisoners would be released whenever they brought in the Texas prisoners held by them.
A short time afterwards a party of Comanches displayed a white flag on a hill some distance from town, evidently afraid to come nearer. When a flag was sent out, it was found that they had brought in several white children to exchange for their people. Their mission was successful and they hurried away, seeming to be indeed "wild Indians."
These are the facts as shown by the official papers, copies of which have been in my possession ever since the bloody tragedy. At that time a few papers in the United States, uninformed of the underlying and antecedent facts dictating the action of Texas, criticised the affair with more or less condemnation; but the people of to-day, enlightened by the massacre of Gen. Canby in Oregon, the fall of the chivalrous Gen. Custer, the hundreds of inhuman acts of barbarism along the whole frontier of the United States, and the recent demonisms of Geronimo and his band of cut-throats, will realize and indorse the genuine spirit of humanity which prompted that as the only mode of bringing those treacherous savages to a realization of the fact that their fiendish mode of warfare would bring calamities upon their own people. Be that as it may, the then pioneers of Texas, with their children in savage captivity, shed no tears on that occasion, nor do their survivors now. Their children of today dispense with that liquid, eye-yielding manifestation of grief.
The Great Indian Raid of 1840 — Attack on Victoria — Sacking and Burning of Linnville — Skirmish at Casa Blanca Creek — Overthrow of the Indians at Plum Creek
Of this, the most remarkable Indian raid in the annals of Texas, numerous fragmentary and often erroneous, or extremely partial, accounts in former years have been published. It was a sudden and remarkable inroad by the savages, took the country by surprise, drew the fighting population together from different localities for a few days, to speedily disperse to their homes, and there being no official control, no one was charged with the duty of recording the facts. The great majority of the participants, as will be seen in the narrative, witnessed but a portion, here or there, of the incident.
The writer was then nineteen years old and, though living on the Lavaca near Victoria and Linnville, happened to be with a party from that vicinity that passed to the upper and final field of operations — a party that saw more of the entire episode than any other one party. More than this, he took care at once to gather all the facts not seen by him and made copious notes of all, which have ever since remained in his possession. In January, 1871, in the town of Lavaca, the successor of Linnville, he delivered (for a benevolent purpose) to a large audience, embracing both ladies and gentlemen resident in that section at the time of the raid, a lecture historically narrating the events connected with it, and received their public thanks for its fullness, fairness and historical accuracy. These remarks are justified by the false statements in "Dewees' Letters from Texas," giving the credit of fighting the battle of Plum Creek to four companies of citizen volunteers, he claiming to have been Captain of one of them, when in fact not one of such companies was in the fight or even saw the Indians. This falsehood was exposed by the writer hereof, on the appearance of Dewees' book, in the Indianola Bulletin of January, 1853, an exposure unanswered in the intervening thirty-five years.
At the time of this raid the country between the Guadalupe and San Marcos, on the west, and the Colorado on the east, above a line drawn from Gonzales to La Grange, was a wilderness, while below that line it was thinly settled. Between Gonzales and Austin, on Plum creek, were two recent settlers, Isom J. Goode and John A. Neill. From Gonzales to within a few miles of La Grange there was not a settler. There was not one between Gonzales and Bastrop, nor one between Austin and San Antonio. A road from Gonzales to Austin, then in the first year of its existence, had been opened in July, 1839.
This Indian raid was known to and encouraged by Gen. Valentin Canalizo, commanding in Northern Mexico, with headquarters in Matamoras. The Comanches were easily persuaded into it in retaliation for their loss of thirty-odd warriors in the Council fight in San Antonio during the previous March. Renegade Mexicans and lawless Indians from some of the half-civilized tribes were induced to join it. Dr. Branch T. Archer, Secretary of War, from information reaching him gave a warning to the country two months earlier; but as no enemy appeared, the occasion became derisively known as the "Archer war."
THE RAID
On August 5, 1840, Dr. Joel Ponton and Tucker Foley, citizens of the Lavaca (now Hallettsville) neighborhood, en route to Gonzales, on the road from Columbus and just west of Ponton's creek, fell in with twenty-seven mounted warriors, and were chased about three miles back to the creek. Foley was captured, mutilated and killed. Pontor received two wounds, but escaped, and during the following night reached home. The alarm was given, and next day thirty-six men, under Capt. Adam Zumwalt, hastened to the scene, found and buried Foley, and then pursued the trail of the savages.**Arthur Foley was killed in the Fannin massacre, March 27, 1836; James Foley was killed by Mexican marauders west of the Nueces in 1839; Tucker was the third brother to fall as stated. They were the sons of an eccentric but wealthy planter (Washington Green Lee Foley), who died in Lavaca County some years ago. The father of Dr. Ponton was killed by Indians near his home, on Ponton's creek, about 1834-35.
In the meantime the mail carrier from Austin arrived at Gonzales and reported a large and fresh Indian trail crossing the road in the vicinity of Plum creek, bearing towards the coast. Thereupon twenty-four volunteers, under Ben McCulloch, hastened eastwardly to the Big Hill neighborhood, about sixteen miles east. This is an extended ridge bearing northeast and southwest, separating the waters of the Peach creeks of the Guadalupe from the heads of Rocky, Ponton's, and other tributaries of the Lavaca and the latter stream itself. Indian raiders, bound below, almost invariably crossed the Columbus and Gonzales road at the most conspicuous elevation of this ridge — the Big Hill. Hence McCulloch's haste to that point. On the 6th McCulloch and Zumwalt united on the trail and rapidly followed it in the direction of Victoria. Some miles below they fell in with sixty-five men from the Cuero (now De Witt County) settlements on the Guadalupe, and some from Victoria, commanded by Capt. John J. Tumlinson. The latter assumed command of the whole 125 by request and the march was continued.
On the same afternoon the Indians approached Victoria. At Spring creek, above the town, they killed four negros belonging to Mr. Poage. On the Texana road, east side of town, they met and killed Col. Pinkney Caldwell, a prominent citizen and soldier of 1836. They chased various persons into the town, killing an unknown German, a Mexican, and three more negroes. A party hastily repaired to the suburbs to confront the enemy. Of their number Dr. Gray. Varlan Richardson, William McNuner and Mr. Daniels were killed, a total of thirteen.
The Indians retired and passed the night on Spring creek, having secured about fifteen hundred horses and mules on the prairie in front of Victoria, a large portion of which, belonging to "Scotch" Sutherland, had just arrived en route east. On Friday, August 7, the Indians reappeared, made serious demonstrations, but were held in check by citizens under cover of houses. Securing several hundred more horses, they bore down the country to Nine Mile Point, where they captured young Mrs. Crosby, a granddaughter of Daniel Boone, and her infant. They then deflected to the east, across the prairie in the direction of Linnville. They camped for a portion of the night on Placido creek, killed a teamster named Stephens, but failed to discover a Frenchman ensconced in the moss and foliage of a giant live oak over their heads.
Moving before dawn on Sunday, August 8, as they approached Linnville, its inhabitants entirely unconscious of impending danger, they killed Mr. O'Neal and two negro men belonging to Maj. H. O. Watts. The people, believing the enemy to be friendly Mexicans with horses to sell, realized the fearful truth only in time to escape into the sailboats anchored in shoal water about one hundred yards from shore. In attempting this, Maj. Watts was killed in the water. His young bride, negro woman, and a little son of the latter were captured. There was an immense amount of goods in the warehouses destined for San Antonio and the Mexican trade. Rapidly were these goods packed on horses and mules, but it consumed the day, and late in the afternoon every building but one warehouse was burned, the citizens, becalmed all day in their boats, witnessing the destruction of their homes and business houses.
During the night the jubilant savages began their return march for their mountain homes, taking a route that passes up the west side of the Garcitas creek, about fifteen miles east of Victoria.
On the 8th of August (Sunday) while Linnville was being sacked, Tumlinson reached Victoria about sunset, rested for a time, received some supplies, left about twenty-five men and received about an equal number, continuing his effective force at 125 men. They moved east on the Texana road and at midnight camped on the Casa Blanca creek, a small tributary of the Garcitas from the west. George Kerr was dispatched for recruits to Texana, but at Kitchen's ranch, on the east side of the Arenoso, near tidewater junction with the Garcitas, he found Capt. Clark L. Owen of Texana with forty men. It was then too late to unite with Tumlinson. The enemy in force had come between them. Owen sent out three scouts, of whom Dr. Bell was chased and killed, Nail escaped by the fleetness of his horse towards the Lavaca, and the noble John S. Menefee (deceased in 1884) escaped in some drift brush with seven arrows piercing his body, all of which he extracted and preserved to the day of his death.
Thus Tumlinson early in the day (August 9) confronted the whole body of the Indians with their immense booty, on a level and treeless prairie. He dismounted his men and was continually encircled by cunning warriors, to divert attention while their herds were being forced forward. McCulloch impetuously insisted on charging into the midst of the enemy as the only road to victory. The brave and oft-tried Tumlinson, seeing hesitancy in his ranks, yielded, and the enemy, after immaterial skirmishing, was allowed to move on with herds and booty. Later in the day Owen's party joined them and desultory pursuit was continued, but the pursuers never came up with the Indians, nor did any other party till the battle of Plum creek was fought by entirely different parties. In this skirmish one Indian was killed and also Mr. Mordecai of Victoria.
On reaching the timber of the Chicolita, some twenty miles above the Casa Blanca, writhing under what he considered a lost opportunity, Ben McCulloch, accompanied by Alsey S. Miller, Archibald Gipson, and Barney Randall, left the command, deflected to the west so as to pass the enemy, and made such speed via Gonzales that these four alone of all the men at any time in the pursuit, were in the battle of Plum creek. The pursuers, however, were gallant men, and many of them reached the battle ground a few hours after the fight.
Let us now turn to the series of movements that culminated in the overwhelming overthrow of the Indians at Plum creek, and of much of this the writer was an eye-witness. On the night of August 7, advised by courier of the attack on Victoria twenty-two volunteers left the house of Maj. James Kerr (the home of the writer) on the Lavaca river. Lafayette Ward was called to the command. The writer, then a boy of nineteen, was the youngest of the party. Reaching the Big Hill, heretofore described, and finding the Indians had not passed up, the opinion prevailed that they had crossed over and were returning on the west side of the Guadalupe. They hastened on to Gonzales where the old hero, Capt. Matthew Caldwell, had just arrived. He adopted the same view, and announced that the Indians would recross the Guadalupe where New Braunfels now stands. In an hour he was at the head of thirty-seven men, making our united number fifty-nine. We followed his lead, traveled all night, and at sunrise on the 10th, reached Seguin. As we did so, "Big" Hall, of Gonzales, on foaming steed, overtook us with the news from Victoria and Linnville, and that the Indians, pursued, were retreating on their downward made trail. The old veteran Caldwell at once said we must meet and fight them at Plum creek. After rest and breakfast, and strengthened by a few recruits, we moved on and camped that night at the old San Antonio crossing of the San Marcos. The 11th was intensely hot, and our ride was chiefly over a burnt prairie, the flying ashes being blinding to the eyes. Waiting some hours at noon, watching for the approach of the enemy after night, we arrived at Goode's cabin, on the Gonzales and Austin road, a little east of Plum creek. Here Felix Huston, General of militia, with his aide, James Izard, arrived from Austin about the same time. We moved two or three miles and camped on Plum creek, above the Indian trail. Here we met the gallant Capt. James Bird, of Gonzales, with about thirty men, who had come up the road directly from that place, and with the indefatigable Ben McCulloch and his three comrades. Our united force was then one hundred men. We camped at midnight and sent pickets to watch the trail. Men and horses were greatly jaded, but the horses had to eat while the men slept.
At daylight the pickets dashed in and reported the Indians advancing about three miles below. In twenty minutes every man was mounted and in line. Capt. Caldwell, in the bigness of bis heart, rode out in front and moved that Gen. Felix Huston take command. A few responded aye and none said nay, but in fact the men wanted the old Indian figbter Caldwell himself to lead. They respected Gen. Huston as a military man in regular war. They knew he had no experience in the business then in hand, but they were too polite to say nay, having a real respect for the man. The command moved forward across one or two ravines and glades till they entered a small open space hidden from the large prairie by a branch, thickly studded with trees and bushes. At this moment the gallant young Owen Hardeman, and Reed of Bastrop dashed up with the information that Col. Edward Burleson, with eighty-seven volunteers and thirteen Toncahua Indians (the latter on foot) were within three or four miles, advancing at a gallop. They were too invaluable to be left. A halt was called. Gen. Huston then announced his plan: a hollow square, open in front, Burleson on the right, Caldwell on the left, Bird and Ward forming the rear line, under Maj. Thomas Monroe Hardeman. During this delay we had a full view of the Indians passing diagonally across our front, about a mile distant. They were singing and gyrating in divers grotesque ways, evidencing their great triumph, and utterly oblivious of danger. Up to this time they had lost but one warrior, at the Casa Blanca; they had killed twenty persons, from Tucker Foley, the first, to Mordecai, the last; they had as prisoners Mrs. Watts, Mrs. Crosby and child, and the negro woman and child; they had about 2,000 captured horses and mules, and an immense booty in goods of various kinds. Before Burleson arrived the main body had passed our front, leaving only stragglers bringing up bunches of animals from the timber in their rear. It must be understood that the whole country, about forty miles from the Big Hill to the north side of Plum creek, is heavily timbered, while beyond that it is an open prairie to the foot of the mountains, with the Clear Fork of Plum creek on the left and parallel to the Indian trail.
Here is an appropriate place to speak of the number of Indians. Their number was variously estimated, but from all the facts and the judgment of the most experienced, it is safe to say they numbered about 1,000. Our force was:
Number under Caldwell, including Bird and Ward ...... 100
Under Burleson, 87; and 13 Indians ...... 100 — Total ...... 200
As soon as Burleson arrived the troops were formed as before mentioned, and the advance made at a trot, soon increasing into a gallop. The main body of the Indians were perhaps a mile and a half ahead. As soon as we ascended from the valley on to the level plain, they had a full view of us, and at once prepared for action. Small parties of their more daring warriors met and contested with a few of our men voluntarily acting as skirmishers, and some heroic acts were performed. I remember well the gallantry of Capt. Andrew Neill, Ben McCulloch, Arch. Gipson, Reed of Bastrop, Capt. Alonzo B. Switzer (severely wounded in the arm), Columbus C. DeWitt, Henry E. McCulloch, and others then personally known to me.
The Indians, as we neared them, took position in a point of oaks on the left, with the Clear Fork in their rear, and a small boggy branch on their left, but in the line of their retreat. It was only boggy a short distance, and was easily turned on our right advance.
When within about two hundred yards of the enemy we were halted and dismounted on the open plain. Bands of warriors then began encircling us, firing and using their shields with great effect. From the timber a steady fire was kept up, by muskets and some long range rifles, while about thirty of our men, still mounted, were dashing to and fro among the mounted Indians, illustrating a series of personal heroisms worthy of all praise. In one of these Reed of Bastrop had an arrow driven through his body, piercing his lungs, though he lived long afterwards. Among the dismounted men several were wounded and a number of horses were killed. In all this time the herds and pack animals were being hurried onwards, and our oldest fighters, especially Burleson, Caldwell, Ben McCulloch, and others, were eager for a charge into the midst of the savages. At last, perhaps half an hour after dismounting, an Indian chief, wearing a tremendous head dress, who had been exceedingly caring, approached so near that several shots struck him, and he fell forward on the pommel of his saddle, but was caught by a comrade on either side and borne away, evidently dead or dying, for as soon as he was led among his people in the oaks they set up a peculiar howl, when Capt. Caldwell sang out, "Now, General, is your time to charge them! they are whipped!" The charge was ordered, and gallantly made. Very soon the Indians broke into parties and ran, but ran fighting all the time. At the boggy branch quite a number were killed, and they were killed in clusters for ten or twelve miles, our men scattering as did the Indians, every man acting as he pleased. There was no pretense of command after the boggy branch was passed. A few of our men pursued small bodies for twelve or more miles. In one of these isolated combats it fell to my lot to dismount a warrior wearing a buffalo skin cap surmounted with the horns. He was dead when I dismounted to secure the prize, which was soon afterwards sent by Judge John Hayes to the Cincinnati museum, and was there in 1870.
During the running fight Mrs. Watts was severely wounded in the breast by an arrow, but fell into our hands. The negro woman shared a similar fate, and her little son was recovered without wounds. Mrs. Crosby, by some means (probably her own act), was dismounted during the retreat near a small thicket, and sought to enter it, but in the act a fleeing warrior drove a lance through her heart. With several others, at about a hundred yards distance, I distinctly witnessed the act; but though at full speed none of us could overtake the bloody wretch.
The heroic action of Placido, chief of the Toncahuas, attracted universal praise. He seemed reckless of life, and his twelve followers, as rapidly as mounted, emulated his example. All being on foot, they could only be mounted by each vaulting into the saddle of a slain Comanche, but they were all mounted in a marvelously short time after the action commenced.
Great numbers of the loose and pack animals stampeded during the engagement, and were seen no more; but large numbers on the return were driven in, and about the middle of the afternoon the men had generally returned to the point where the action began, and near which a camp was pitched. A welcome shower proved refreshing about this time. Later in the afternoon Col. John H. Moore, of Fayette, Capt. Owen, previously mentioned, and in all about 150 men arrived on the ground, having followed the trail that far.
The trophies, during the next day, were classified, numbered, and drawn by lot. I only remember that a horse, a fine mule, $27 worth of silk, and about $50 worth of other goods fit for ladies' use fell to my lot, and the latter were so donated. I gave the horse to a poor man as a plow horse, and sold the mule for $100 on trust to a stranger whose horse died on the road, and never received a cent thereof; and although he so treated me, an inexperienced boy, I was very sorry some years later when the Indians shot an arrow through his breast.
It was impossible to determine how many Indians were killed. They sank many in the creek, and many died after reaching their haunts, as was learned from prisoners afterwards reclaimed. From this source of information it was ascertained that fifty-two so died in a few days, and I became satisfied by the after discovery of secreted and sunken bodies and the number found on the field that at least eighty-six were killed in the action, being a total of 138 certainly killed.
The Indians lost everything. The defeat was unexpected — a surprise, complete and crushing. Followed by a great victory over them in the following October, near where Colorado City now stands, won by Col. John H. Moore and his brave volunteers, the Comanches were taught lessons hitherto unknown to them.
Moore's Great Victory on the Upper Colorado, in 1840
Following Col. Moore's defeat on the San Saba in January, 1839, came the Cherokee battles, of July and December, and many engagements or calamities of lesser magnitude during that year, including the massacre of the Webster party of fourteen men and one child and the capture of Mrs. Webster, her other two children and negro woman, on Brushy creek, in what is now Williamson County. In March, 1810, occurred the Council House fight, in San Antonio, and in August the great Indian raid to the coast, the robbery and burning of the village of Linnville, two miles above the present Lavaca, and the final defeat and dispersion of the Indians in the decisive battle of Plum Creek, on the 12th day of that month.
Following this last raid the veteran soldier, Col. John H. Moore, of Fayette, sent forth circulars calling for volunteers to again penetrate the country of the hostiles, on the upper waters of the Colorado, as another lesson to them that the whites were determined to either compel them to abstain from robbing, murdering and capturing their fellow-citizens or exterminate them. A prompt response followed, and about the first of October the expedition left Austin, at once entering the wilderness. Col. Moore commanded, with S. S. B. Fields, a lawyer of LaGrange, as Adjutant. Capts. Thomas J. Rabb and Nicholas Dawson, of Fayette, commanded the companies, the latter being the same who commanded and fell at the Dawson massacre in 1842. There were ninety men in all. Clark L. Owen, of Texana (who fell as a Captain, at Shiloh, in 1862), was First Lieutenant in Rabb's Company. R. Addison Gillespie (who fell as a Captain of Texas rangers in storming the Bishop's palace at Monterey, in 1816), was one of the lieutenants, his brother being also along. Nearly all the men were from Fayette and Bastrop, but there were a few from the Lavaca, among whom I remember Isaac N. Mitchell, Mason B. Foley, Joseph Simons, of Texana, Nicholas J. Ryan and Peter Rockfeller (Simons and Rockfeller both dying in Mexican prisons, as Mier men in 1844 or 1845.) I started with these young men, then my neighbors, but was compelled to halt, on account of my horse being crippled at the head of the Navidad. Col. Moore also had with him a detachment of twelve Lipan Indians, commanded by Col. Castro, their principal chief, with the famous young chief Flacco as his Lieutenant.
The command followed up the valley of the Colorado, without encountering an enemy, till it reached a point now supposed to be in the region of Colorado City. The Lipan scouts were constantly in advance, and on the alert. Hastily returning, while in the vicinity mentioned, they reported the discovery of a Comanche encampment fifteen or twenty miles distant, on the east bank and in a small horseshoe bend of the Colorado, with a high and somewhat steep bluff on the opposite bank. Col. Moore traveled by night to within a mile or two of the camp, and then halted. It was a clear, cold night in October, and the earth white with frost, probably two thousand feet above the sea level. The men shivered with cold, while the unsuspecting savages slept warmly under buffalo robes in their skin-covered tepees. In the meantime Moore detached Lieut. Owen, with thirty men, to cross the river below, move up and at dawn occupy the bluff. This movement was successfully effected, and all awaited the dawn for sufficient light to guide their movements.
The stalwart and gallant old leader, mounted on his favorite steed, with a few whispered words summoned every man to his saddle. Slowly, cautiously they moved till within three hundred yards of the camp, when the rumbling sound of moving horses struck the ear of a warrior on watch. His shrill yell sounded the alarm, and ere Moore, under a charge instantly ordered, could be in their midst, every warrior and many of the squaws had their bows strung and ready for fight. But pell-mell the volunteers rushed upon and among them. The rifles, shot-guns and pistols of the white man, in a contest largely hand-to-hand, with fearful rapidity struck the red man to the earth. Surprised and at close quarters, the wild man, though fighting with desperation, shot too rapidly and wildly to be effective. Seeing their fate a considerable number swam the narrow river and essayed to escape by climbing the bluff. Some were shot in their ascent by Moore's men from across the stream and tumbled backwards. Every one who made the ascent to the summit of the bluff was confronted and slain by Owen's men. At the onset two horses were tied in the camp. On these two warriors escaped. Besides them, so far as could be ascertained, every warrior was killed, excepting a few old men and one or two young men, who surrendered and were spared.
Many of the Indian women, for a little while, fought as stoutly as the men and some were killed, despite every effort to save them. In the charge Isaac Mitchell's bridle bit parted asunder and his mule rushed ahead into the midst of the Indians — then halted and "sulked" — refused to move. A squaw seized a large billet of wood and by a blow on his head tumbled him to the ground; but he sprang to his feet, a little bewildered, and just as his comrades came by, seeing the squaw springing at him knife in hand, they sang out, "Kill her, Mitchell!" With a smile, not untinged with pain, he replied: "Oh, no, boys, I can't kill a woman!" But to prevent her killing himself, he knocked her down and wrenched the weapon from her hands.
A hundred and thirty Indians were left dead on the field. Thirty-four squaws and children and several hundred horses were brought in, besides such camp equipage as the men chose to carry with them, among which were goods plundered at Linnville the previous August.
A Raid into Gonzales and Pursuit of the Indians in May, 1841 — Ben McCulloch in the Lead
Late in April, or early in May, 1841, a party of twenty-two Indians made a night raid into and around Gonzales, captured a considerable number of horses and, ere daylight came, were in rapid flight to their mountain home. It was but one of oft-recurring inroads, the majority of which will never be kwown in history. In this case, however, as in many others, I am enabled to narrate every material fact, and render justice to the handful of gallant men who pursued and chastised the free-booters.
Ben McCulloch called for volunteers; but not, as was most usual, to hurry off in pursuit. He knew the difficulty and uncertainty of overhauling retreating savages, with abundant horses for frequent change, and preferred waiting a few days, thereby inducing the red men, who always kept scouts in the rear, to believe no pursuit would be made, and in this he was successful.
When ready, McCulloch set forth with the following sixteen companions, every one of whom was personally well known to the writer as a brave and useful frontiersman, viz.: Arthur Swift, James H. Callahan (himself often a captain), Wilson Randle, Green McCoy (the Gonzales boy who was in Erath's fight in Milam County in 1837, when his uncle, David Clark, and Frank Childress, were killed), Eli T. Hankins, Clement Hinds, Archibald Gipson (a daring soldier in many fights, from 1836 to 1851,) W. A. Hall, Henry E. McCulloch, James Roberts, Jeremiah Roberts, Thomas R. Nichols, William Tumlinson, William P. Kincannon, Alsey S. Miller, and William Morrison.
They struck the Indian trail where it crossed the San Marcos at the mouth of Mule creek and followed it northwestwardly up and to the head of York's creek; thence through the mountains to the Guadalupe, and up that stream to what is now known as "Johnson's Fork," which is the principal mountain tributary to the Guadalupe on the north side. The trail was followed along this fork to its source, and thence northwestwardly to the head of what is now known as "Johnson's Fork" of the Llano, and down this to its junction with the Llano.
Before reaching the latter point McCulloch halted in a secluded locality, satisfied that he was near the enemy, and in person made a reconnoissance of their position, and with such accuracy that he was enabled to move on foot so near to the encampment as, at daylight, to completely surprise the Indians. The conflict was short. Five warriors lay dead upon the ground. Half of the remainder escaped wounded, so that of twenty-two only about eight escaped unhurt; but their number had probably been increased after reaching that section.
The Indians lost everything excepting their arms. Their horses, saddles, equipages, blankets, robes, and even their moccasins, were captured. It was not only a surprise to them, but a significant warning, as they had no dread of being hunted down and punished in that distant and remarkably secluded locality. In March and April, 1865, in command of 183 men, the writer, as a Confederate officer, made a campaign through and above that country, following the identical route from the mouth of Johnson's Fork of the Guadalupe to the spot where this conflict took place twenty-four years before, and found it still a wild mountain region &mdas; still a hiding-place for savage red men, and at that particular period, for lawless and disreputable white men.
Red River and Trinity Events in 1841 — The Yeary and Ripley Families — Skirmish on Village Creek and Death of Denton — Expeditions of Gens. Smith and Tarrant
For a great many years I have had notes on the expedition in which John B. Denton was killed, furnished at different times by four different persons who were participants, viz., Cols. Jamey Bourland and Wm. C. Young, Dr. Lemuel M. Cochran and David Williams, then a boy; but there has appeared from time to time in former years such a variety of fiction on the subiect that I determined to publish nothing until thoroughly convinced of the accuracy of the statements thus obtained — all the while hoping for a personal interview with my venerable friend of yore, Henry Stout, of Wood County — who, besides Denton, was the only man hurt in the trip. This I now have together with a written statement from Dr. Cochran, dated Gonzales, September 26, 1886, and the personal recollections of John M. Watson, Alex W. Webb and Col. Jas. G. Stevens, then a youth.
As a prelude to the expedition it is proper to say that late in 1840, the house of Capt. John Yeary, living on Sulphur, in the southeast part of Fannin County, was attacked by a party of ten Indians while he and a negro man were at work in his field three hundred yards from the house. Mrs. Yeary, gun in hand, stood on the defensive, inside of the closed door. Yeary and the negro man, armed with a hoe each, rushed towards the house and across the yard fence, fought the assailants hand to hand, in which Yeary received an arrow just above the eye, which glanced around the skull without penetrating. Mrs. Yeary, with a gun, ran out to her husband, but in doing so was shot in the hip. Thus strengthened in the means of defense, the Indians were driven off, without further casualty to the family.
Early in April, 1841, a part of the Ripley family on the old Cherokee trace, on Ripley creek, in Titus County, were murdered by Indians. Ripley was absent. Mrs. Ripley was al home with a son scarcely twenty years old, a daughter about sixteen, two daughters from twelve to fifteen, and several smaller children, living some distance from any other habitation. The Indians suddenly appeared in daylight, shot and killed the son as he was plowing in the field, and rushed upon the house, from which the mother and children fled towards a canebrake, two hundred yards distant. The elder daughter was shot dead on the way. The second and third daughters escaped into the cane; the mother and the other children were killed with clubs; one child in the house, probably asleep. The Indians then plundered the house and set it on fire, the child inside being consumed in the flames.
This second outrage led to a retaliatory expedition, which required some time for organization, in the thinly populated district. By prior agreement the volunteer citizens, numbering eighty (as stated by Dr. Cochran, who was Orderly Sergeant; but, seventy, according to Henry Stout's statement), met in a body on Choctaw bayou, eight miles west of the place since known as Old Warren, on the 4th of May, 1841, as shown by the notes of John M. Watson, yet (1886) living in Fannin County. On the next morning they organized into a company by electing James Bourlaud, Captain, William C. Young, Lieutenant, and Lemuel M. Cochran, Orderly Sergeant. John B. Denton and Henry Stout were each placed in charge of a few men as scouts. Edward H. Tarrant, General of militia, was of the party without command, but was consulted and respected as a senior officer. On the same day the company moved west to the vacant barracks, erected during the previous winter by Col. William G. Cooke, senior officer in command of the regular troops of Texas. At the barracks, which stood in the immediate vicinity of the present town of Denison, the company remained two or three days for a portion of the volunteers, who had been detained. On their arrival the command moved west on the old Chihuahua trail, leading to Natchitoches. Jack Ivey, a man of mixed Indian and African blood, was pilot. At that time Holland Coffee, who was one of the party, lived eight miles above the barracks. At some point on the trip, but exactly when or where, I have been unable to learn, he, with a man named Wm. A. (Big Foot) Wallace, Colvill, and seven others, left the company and returned to his post or trading house. This doubtless accounts for the disparity in numbers given by Cochran and Stout.
It was believed that the depredating Indians were encamped on a creek which enters the west fork of Trinity from the northeast side, where the town of Bridgeport now stands, in Wise County, the reputed village being at a broken, rocky spot, four or five miles up the stream, which now bears the name of "Village" creek. The expedition moved under that belief, passing where Gainesville now is, and thence southwesterly to the supposed Keechi village, but found it abandoned, without any evidence of very recent occupancy, beyond some fresh horse tracks, not far away.
The next day they crossed to the west side of the Trinity, and for two days traveled south obliquely in the direction of the Brazos. Finding no indication of Indians, they turned northeasterly, and on the afternoon of the second day recrossed the Trinity to the north and traveled down its valley, camping in the forks of that stream and Fossil creek. On the next day, near their camp, they found an old buffalo trail, leading down and diagonally across the river, and on to an Indian encampment on Village creek, a short distance above, but south from where the Texas and Pacific Railroad crosses that creek, which runs from south to northeast, and is some miles east of Fort Worth. On this trail they found fresh horse tracks, and followed them. Henry Stout then, as throughout the expedition, led an advance scout of six men. Nearing the camp referred to, they discovered an Indian woman cooking in a copper kettle, in a little glade on the bank of the creek. Seeing he was not observed, and being veiled by a brush-covered rise in the ground, Stout halted and sent the information back to Tarrant. While thus waiting, a second woman rose the bank and joined the first, one of them having a child. As Tarrant came up the squaws discovered them, gave a loud scream, and plunged down into the bed of the creek. The men charged, supposing the warriors were under the bank. A man named Alsey Fuller killed one of the squaws, not knowing her to be a woman, as she ascended the opposite bank. The other woman and child were captured.
Here the men scattered into several different parties in quest of the unseen enemy. Bourland, with about twenty men, including Denton, Cochran and Lindley Johnson, crossed the creek and found a road along its valley. They galloped along it down the creek a little over a mile, when they came upon a large camp, when Bourland, with about half of the men, bore to the right, and Cochran, with the others, to the left, in order to flank the position, but the Indians retreated into the thickets on the opposite side. Cochran and Elbert Early both attempted to fire at a retreating Indian, but their guns snapped. On reaching the creek the Indian fired at Early but missed. The whole command became badly scattered and confused. Eight men again crossed the creek and in a short distance came upon a third camp just deserted. Tarrant ordered them to fall back to the second camp. When they did so about forty were present. While waiting for the others to come up, Denton asked and obtained Tarrant's reluctant consent to take ten men and go down the creek, promising to avoid an ambuscade by extreme caution. After Denton left, Bourland took ten men and started in a different direction; but about a mile below they came together, and after moving together a short distance Bourland and Calvin Sullivan crossed a boggy branch to capture some horses, one of which wore a bell. The others bore farther down the branch into a corn-field, crossed it and found a road leading into the bottom. At the edge of the bottom thicket they halted, Denton to fulfill his promise of care in avoiding an ambush. Henry Stout then rode to the front saying, "If you are afraid to go in there, I am not." Denton brusquely answered that he would follow him to the infernal regions and said "Move on!" In about three hundred yards they came to and descended the creek bank. Stout led, followed by Denton, Capt. Griffin and the others in single file. When the three foremost bad traveled up the creek bed about thirty paces from a thicket on the west bluff they were fired upon. Stout was in front, but partly protected by a small tree, but was shot through his left arm. He wheeled to the right, and in raising his gun to fire, a ball passed through its butt, causing the barrel to strike him violently on the head, and five bullets pierced his clothing around his neck and shoulders. Denton, immediately behind Stout, was shot at the same instant, wheeled to the right-about, rode back up the bank, and fell dead, pierced by three balls, one in his arm, one in his shoulder and one through his right breast. The other men, being in single file, did not get in range, being screened by a projection in the bank, and some had not quite reached the creek bed. Those firing upon Stout and Denton fled in the brush after a single volley, and in a little time the savages were securely hidden in the surrounding thickets. Griffin was grazed by a ball on his cheek, and several passed through his clothes.
The men hastily countermarched to the field, where Capt. Bourland met them. They were considerably demoralized. Pretty soon all were rallied at the first point of attack. Bourland took twenty-four men, went back and carried off the body of Denton. Eighty horses, a considerable number of copper kettles, many buffalo robes and other stuff were carried away. Our men retraced their steps to the Fossil creek camp of the previous night, arriving there about midnight, after losing much of the spoil. Next morning, crossing Fossil creek bottom to its north side, they buried Denton under the bank of a ravine, at the point of a rocky ridge, and not far from where Birdville stands. Ten or twelve feet from the grave stood a large post oak tree, at the roots of which two stones were partly set in the ground. This duty performed they traveled up the country on the west side of the Cross Timbers and Elm Fork, until they struck their trail outward at the site of Gainesville, and then followed it back to the barracks, where they disbanded, after a division of the captured property. The Indian woman escaped on the way in. Gen. Tarrant kept the child, but it was restored to its mother some two years later, at a council in the Indian Territory.
The expedition was unsuccessful in its chief objects and, from some cause, probably a division of responsibility, the men, or a portion of them, at the critical moment, were thrown into a degree of confusion bordering on panic.
On returning home from this fruitless, indeed unfortunate, expedition, measures were set on foot for a larger one, of which Gen. Tarrant was again to be the ranking officer.
At that time Gen. James Smith, of Nacogdoches, was commander of the militia in that district. He led an expedition at the same time to the same section of country, there being an understanding that he and Tarrant would, if practicable, meet somewhere in the Cross Timbers.
The volunteers of Red river, between 400 and 500 in number, assembled from the 15th to the 20th of July, 1841, at Fort English, as the home of Bailey English was called, and there organized as a regiment by electing William C. Young as Colonel and James Bourland as Lieutenant-Colonel. John Smither was made Adjutant, and among the captains were William Lane, David Key and Robert S. Hamilton.
Gen. Tarrant assumed command and controlled the expedition. Simultaneously with this assembling of the people two little boys on the Bois d'Arc, lower down, were captured and carried off by Indians, to be recovered about two years later.
The expedition moved southwest and encamped on the west bank of the Trinity, probably in Wise County, and sent out a scouting party, who made no discoveries; yet, as will be seen, the Indians discovered Tarrant's movements in time to be unseen by him and to narrowly escape a well-planned attack by Gen. Smith. Without discovering any enemy, after being out several weeks, Tarrant's command returned home and disbanded.
In the meantime Gen. Smith, with a regiment of militia and volunteers, moved up northwesterly in the general direction of the present city of Dallas. On arriving at the block houses, known as King's Fort, at the present town of Kaufman, he found that the place had been assaulted by Indians during the previous evening and a considerable fight had occurred, in which the assailants had been gallantly repulsed and had retired, more or less damaged.
Gen. Smith fell upon and followed the trail of the discomfited savages, crossing Cedar creek (of Kaufman County), the "East Fork," White Rock and the Trinity where Dallas stands, this being a few months before John Neely Bryan pitched his lonely camp on the same spot. On the spring branch, a mile or so on the west side of the river, the command halted, enjoying limpid spring water and an abundance of honey, from which one of the springs derived the name it still retains — Honey spring. From this camp Gen. Smith dispatched a scout of twelve men, under Capt. John L. Hall, to seek and report the location of the Indian village. Besides Capt. Hall there were in this scout John H. Reagan (then a buckskin attired surveyor — years later United States senator, having first entered the lower House of Congress in 1857), Samuel Bean, Isaac Bean, John I. Burton (of race-horse fame), Hughes Burton, George Lacey, Warren A. Ferris, a Creek Indian named Charty, and three others whose names have not been obtained. They crossed Mountain creek above or south of the Texas and Pacific railroad of to-day, thence passed over the prairie into the Cross Timbers and to within a short distance of Village creek. From the number of fresh trails, apparently converging to a common center, it became evident they were in the vicinity of an Indian town. Secreting his party in a low and well hidden spot, Capt. Hall sent Judge Reagan and Isaac Bean on foot, to discover the exact location of the village and the best means of approaching and surprising it. These brave but cautious men, well-skilled in woodcraft, spent over half a day in "spying out the lay of the land," finding the Indians in quiet possession of their camp and that it was approachable at both the upper and lower ends of the village. Thus informed they lost no time in reporting to Capt. Hall, who, as soon as night came, cautiously emerged from his hiding-place with his party, and hastened with the information to Gen. Smith, who, by the way, was a gallant old soldier in the Creek war under Gen. Jackson. Camping at night on Mountain creek, after starting as soon as possible after the arrival of Hall, Gen. Smith reached the village about noon next day. The command was divided into two battalions, respectively commanded by Gen. Smith and Lieut.-Col. Elliott.
Judge Reagan acted as guide in conducting Smith to the upper end of the village, while Bean performed the same service in guiding Elliott to the lower. Both moves were successfully made; but, when the crisis came and the enthusiasm of the men was at fever heat, it was found that the enemy had already precipitately fled, leaving some supplies and camp fixtures.
The simple explanation was that the Indians had discovered Tarrant's force and fled barely in time to elude Smith. Pursuit, under such circumstances, would be useless.
Without meeting, each command, in its own way, returned homeward; but, though bloodless, the invasion of the Indian country, in such force, had a salutary effect in preparing all the smaller hostile tribes for the treaty entered into in September, 1843.
Death of McSherry and Stinnett — Killing of Hibbins and Creath and the Capture of Mrs. Hibbins and Children — 1828 to 1842
In 1828, there arrived on the Guadalupe river a young married couple from the vicinity of Brownsville, Jackson County, Illinois — John McSherry and his wife, Sarah, whose maiden name was Creath. They settled on the west side of the Guadalupe, near a little creek, which, with a spring, was some two hundred yards in front of the cabin they erected. This was in the lower edge of DeWitt's Colony, as it is now in the lower edge of DeWitt County. Their nearest neighbor was Andrew Lockhart, ten miles up the river, and one of a large family of sterling pioneers on the Guadalupe, bearing that name. Mrs. McSherry was a beautiful blonde, an excellent type of the country girls of the West in that day, very handsome in person, graceful in manner and pure of heart. Mr. McSherry was an honest, industrious man of nerve and will. They were happily devoted to each other.
Early in 1829, their first child, John, was born in that isolated cabin, in one of the most lovely spots of the Southwest.
Later in the same year, about noon on a pleasant day, Mr. McSherry went to the spring for a bucket of water. As he arose from the bank, bucket in hand, a party of Indians with a wild yell, sprang from the bushes and in a moment he was a lifeless and scalped corpse. His wife hearing the yell, sprang to the door, saw him plainly and realized the peril of herself and infant. In the twinkling of an eye, she barred the door, seized the gun and resolved to defend herself and baby unto death. The savages surveyed the situation and manœuvered to and fro, but failed to attack the cabin and soon disappeared. Thus she was left alone, ten miles from the nearest habitation, and without a road to that or any other place. But truly, in the belief of every honest person of long frontier experience, the ways of providence are inscrutable. About dark John McCrabb, a fearless and excellent man, well armed and mounted, but wholly unaware of the sad condition of matters, rode up to the cabin to pass the night. Hearing the recital his strong nerves became stronger, and his heart pulsated as became that of a whole-souled Irishman.
Very soon he placed the young mother and babe on his horse and, by the light of the stars, started on foot, through the wilderness, for the house of Andrew Lockhart, reaching it before daylight, where warm hearts bestowed all possible care and kindness on those so ruthlessly stricken in the wilderness and so remote from all kindred ties.
Mrs. McSherry, for a considerable time, found a home and friends with the Lockharts; but a few years later married John Hibbins, a worthy man, who settled on the east side of the Guadalupe, in the vicinity of where the town of Concrete now stands, in DeWitt County.
In the summer of 1835, with her little boy, John McSherry, and an infant by Mr. Hibbins, she revisited her kindred in Illinois. She returned via New Orleans in the winter of 1835-6, accompanied by her brother, George Creath, a single man, and landed at Columbia, on the Brazos, where early in February, 1836, Mr. Hibbins met them with an ox cart, on which they began the journey home. They crossed the Colorado at Beason's and fell into the ancient La Bahia road on the upper Navidad. In due time they arrived at and were about encamping on Rocky creek, six miles above the subsequent village of Sweet Home, in Lavaca County and within fifteen or sixteen miles of their home, when they were suddenly attacked by thirteen Indian warriors who immediately killed Hibbins and Creath, made captives Mrs. Hibbins and her two children, took possession of all the effects and at leisure moved off up the country with perfect unconcern. They traveled slowly up through the timbered country, the Peach creek region between the Guadalupe and the Colorado, securely tying Mrs. Hinnins at night and lying encircled around her. About the second day, at one of their camps, the baby cried with pain for some time, when one of the Indians seized it by the feet and mashed its brains against a tree, all in the presence of its helpless mother. For two or three days at this time Mrs. Hibbins distinctly heard the guns in the siege of the Alamo, at least sixty miles to the west. That she did so was made certain a little later by her imparting the news to others till then unaware of that now world-renowned struggle.
In due time her captors crossed the Colorado at the mouth of Shoal creek, now in the city of Austin. They moved on three or four miles and encamped on the south edge of a cedar brake, where a severe norther came up and caused them to remain three nights and two days. On the third night the Indians were engaged in a game till late and then slept soundly. Mrs. Hibbins determined, if possible, to escape. Cautiously, she freed herself of the cords about her wrists and ankles and stepping over the bodies of her unconscious guards, stole away, not daring even to imprint a kiss on her only and first-born child, then a little over six years of age.
Daylight found her but a short distance from camp, not over a mile or two, and she secreted herself in a thicket from which she soon saw and heard the Indians in pursuit. The savages compelled the little boy to call aloud, "Mama! Mama!" But she knew that her only hope for herself and child was in escape, and remained silent. After a considerable time the Indians disappeared. But she remained concealed still longer, till satisfied her captors had left. She then followed the creek to the Colorado and, as rapidly as possible, traveled down the river, shielded by the timber along its banks.
The crow of a chicken late in the afternoon sent a thrill through her agonizing heart. The welcome sound was soon repeated several times and thither she hastened with a zeal born of her desperate condition, for she did not certainly know she was in a hundred miles of a habitation. In about two miles she reached the outer cabin on the Colorado, or rather one of the two outer ones — Jacob Harrell occupying the one she entered and Reuben Hornsby the other. She was so torn with thorns and briars, so nearly without raiment, and so bruised about the face, that her condition was pitiable. Providentially (as every old pioneer untainted with heathenism believed), eighteen rangers, the first ever raised under the revolutionary government of Texas, and commanded by Capt. John J. Tumlinson, had arrived two days before and were encamped at the cabin of Hornsby. To this warmhearted and gallant officer Mrs. Hibbins was personally known and to him she hastily narrated her sad story.
Tumlinson knew the country somewhat and felt sure he could find the Indians at a given point further up the country. He traveled nearly all night, halting only a short while before day to rest his horses and resuming the march at sunrise, and about 3 o'clock came upon the Indians, encamped, but on the eve of departure. I have the privilege, as to what followed, of quoting the exact language of Capt. Tumlinson, written for me forty years ago, as follows:
"The Indians discovered us just as we discovered them, but had not time to get their horses, so they commenced running on foot towards the mountain thickets. I threw Lieut. Joseph Rogers, with eight men, below them — and with the others I dashed past and took possession of their route above them. The Indians saw that the route above and below them was in our possession, and struck off for the mountain thicket nearest the side of the trail. I ordered Lieut. Rogers to charge, and fell upon them simultaneously. I saw an Indian aiming his rifle at me, but knew that he must be a better marksman than I had seen among them to hit me going at my horse's speed, and did not heed him till I got among them. Then I sprang from my horse quick as lightning, and turned towards him; at the same instant he fired; the ball passed through the bosom of my shirt and struck my horse in the neck, killing him immediately. I aimed deliberately and fired. The Indian sprang a few feet into the air, gave one whoop and fell dead within twenty-five feet of me. The fight now became general. Pell-mell we fell together. The Indians, thirteen in number, armed with bows and rifles, were endeavoring to make good their retreat towards the thicket. Several of them fell, and two of my men were wounded; when finally they effected an entrance into the thicket, which was so dense that it would have been madness to have attempted to penetrate it, and we were forced to cease the pursuit. I dispatched Roger after the child, the horses and mules of the Indians, whilst I remained watching the thicket to guard against surprise. He found the child in the Indian camp tied on the back of a wild mule, with his robe and equipments about him fixed on for the day's march, and had to shoot the mule in order to get the child. He also succeeded in getting hold of all the animals of the Indians, and those they had stolen. My men immediately selected the best horse in the lot, which they presented to me in place of the one that was killed.
"We watched for the Indians a while longer; and in the meantime sent a runner for the doctor to see to the wounded. I sent a portion of the men under the command of Rogers with the cbild, and the wounded men and I brought up the rear. The wounded were Elijah Ingram, shot in the arm, the ball ranging upwards to the shoulder; also Hugh M. Childers, shot through the leg. Of the Indians, four were killed. We arrived that night at Mr. Harrell's, where we found Mrs. Hibbins, the mother of the child. Lieut. Rogers presented the child to its mother, and the scene which here ensued beggars description. A mother meeting with her child released from Indian captivity, recovered as it were from the very jaws of death! Not an eye was dry. She called us brothers, and every other endearing name, and would have fallen on her knees to worship us. She hugged her child to her bosom as if fearful that she would again lose him. And— but 'tis useless to say more."
Lieut. Joseph Rogers was a brother of Mrs. Gen. Burleson, and was killed in a battle with the Indians a few years later. Thus the mother and child, bereft of husband and father, and left without a relative nearer than Southern Illinois, found themselves in the families of Messrs. Harrell and Hornsby, the outside settlers on the then feeble frontier of the Colorado — large-hearted and sympathizing avant-couriers in the advancing civilization of Texas. The coincident fall of the Alamo came to them as a summons to pack up their effects and hasten eastward, as their fellow-citizens below were already doing.
The mother and child accompanied these two families in their flight from the advancing Mexicans, till they halted east of the Trinity, where, in a few weeks, couriers bore the glorious news of victory and redemption from the field of San Jacinto. Soon they resumed their weary march, but this time for their homes. In Washington County Mrs. Hibbins halted, under the friendly roof of a sympathizing pioneer. There she also met a former neighbor, in the person of Mr. Claiborne Stinnett, an intelligent and estimable man, who, with Capt. Henry S. Brown (father of the writer of this) represented De Witt's Colony in the first deliberative body ever assembled in Texas — the able and patriotic convention assembled at San Felipe, October 1, 1832.
After a widowhood of twelve months, Mrs. Hibbins married Mr. Stinnett and they at once (in the spring of 1837) returned to their former home on the Guadalupe. In the organization of Gonzales County, a little later, Mr. Stinnett was elected Sheriff. Late in the fall, with a packhorse, he went to Linnville, on the bay, to buy needed supplies. Loading this extra horse with sugar, coffee, etc., and with seven hundred dollars in cash, he started home. But instead of following the road by Victoria, he traveled a more direct route through the prairie. When, about night, he was near the Arenosa creek, about twenty miles northeast of Victoria, he discovered a camp fire in a grove of timber and, supposing it to be a camp of hunters, went to it. Instead, it was the camp of two "run away" negro men, seeking their way to Mexico. They murdered Mr. Stinnett, took his horses, provisions and money, and, undiscovered, reached Mexico. The fate of the murdered man remained a mystery. No trace of him was found for five years, until, in the fall of 1842, one of the negroes revealed all the facts to an American prisoner in Mexico (the late Col. Andrew Neill), and so described the locality that the remains of Mr. Stinnett were found and interred.
Thus this estimable lady lost her third husband — two by red savages and one by black — and was again alone, without the ties of kinship, excepting her child, in all the land. Yet she was still young, attractive in person and pure of heart, so that, two years later, she was wooed and won by Mr. Philip Howard. Unwisely, in June, 1840, soon after their marriage, they abandoned their home on the Guadalupe and removed to the ancient Mission of San Juan, eight miles below San Antonio. It was a hundred miles through a wilderness often traversed by hostile savages. Hence they were escorted by seven young men of the vicinity, consisting of Byrd Lockhart, Jr. (of that well known pioneer family), young McGary, two brothers named Powers (one of whom was a boy of thirteen and both the sons of a widow), and three others whose names are forgotten. On arriving at the mission in the forenoon their horses were hobbled out near by and little John McSherry (the child of Mrs. Howard, recovered from the Indians in 1836, and at this time in his eleventh year) was left on a pony to watch them: but within half an hour a body of Indians suddenly charged upon them, captured some of the horses, and little John barely escaped by dashing into the camp, a vivid reminder to the mother that her cup of affliction was not yet full. In a day or two the seven young men started on their return home. About noon next day, a heavy shower fell, wetting their guns; but was soon followed by sunshine, when they all fired off their guns to clean and dry them. Most imprudently they all did so at the same time, leaving no loaded piece. This volley attracted the keen ear of seventy hostile Comanches who otherwise would not have discovered them. In a moment or two they appeared and cried out that they were friendly Toncahuas. The ruse succeeded and they were allowed to approach and encircle the now helpless young men. Six of them were instantly slain, scalped and their horses and effects, with the boy Powers, carried off. During the second night afterwards, in passing through a cedar brake at the foot of the Cibolo mountains, he slid quietly off his horse and escaped. In three or four days he reached the upper settlements on the Guadulupe, and gave the first information of these harrowing facts.
Thus again admonished, Mr. and Mrs. Howard removed low down on the San Antonio river, below the ancient ranch of Don Carlos de la Garza in the lower edge of Goliad County, confident that no hostile savage would ever visit that secluded locality. But they were mistaken. Early in the spring of 1842, the hostiles made a night raid all around them, stole a number of their horses, murdered two of their neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Gilleland, and carried off their little son and daughter; but a party of volunteers, among whom were the late Maj. Alfred S. Thurmond, of Aransas, and the late Col. Andrew Neill, of Austin, overhauled and defeated the Indians and recaptured the children. The boy is now Wm. M. Gilleland, long of Austin, and the little girl is the widow of the late Rev. Orseneth Fisher, a distinguished Methodist preacher.
Following this sixth admonition, Mr. and Mrs. Howard at once removed to the present vicinity of Hallettsville, in Lavaca County, and thenceforward her life encountered no repetition of the horrors which had so terribly followed her footsteps through the previous thirteen years. Peace and a fair share of prosperity succeeded. In 1848 Mr. Howard was made County Judge, and some years later they located in Bosque County.
The Snively Expedition Against the Mexican Santa Fe Traders in 1843
The year 1843 was one of the gloomiest, at least during its first half, ever experienced in Texas. The perfidious and barbarous treatment given the "Texian Santa Fe" prisoners of 1841, after they had capitulated as prisoners of war, preceded by the treason of one of their number, a wretch named William P. Lewis, had created throughout Texas a desire for retaliation. The expedition so surrendered to the overwhelming force of Armijo, the Governor of New Mexico, was both commercial and peaceful, but of necessity accompanied by a large armed escort to protect it against the hostile Indians, covering the entire distance. The wisdom and the legality of the measure, authorized by President Lamar, on his own responsibility, were severely criticised by many; but Texas was a unit in indignation at the treacherous, dastardly and brutal treatment bestowed upon their brave and chivalrous citizens after honorable surrender, among whom were many well-known soldiers and gentlemen, including Hugh McLeod, the commander, Jose Antonio Navarro, William G. Cooke and Dr. Richard F. Brenham as Peace Commissioners, Capt. Matthew Caldwell, Geo. W. Kendall of New Orleans, young Frank Coombes of Kentucky, Capt. Houghton and an array of first-class privates, the choice spirits of the country, of whom my friend of forty-eight years, Thomas W. Hunt, now of Bosque County, is still an honorable sample.
The triplicate Mexican raid of 1842, ending with the glorious but unsuccessful battle of Mier, intensified the desire for retaliatory action towards Mexico and especially so towards New Mexico.
As the result of this feeling, on the 28th of January, 1843, Jacob Snively, who had held the staff rank of Colonel in the Texian army, applied to the government for authority to raise men and proceed to the upper boundaries of Texas, and capture a rich train belonging to Armijo and other Santa Fe Mexicans. Permission was issued by George W. Hill, Secretary of War, on the 16th of February, with provisos that half the spoils should go to the government and should only be taken in honorable warfare.
On the 24th of April, near the present town of Denison, the expedition, about 175 strong, was organized, with Snively unanimously chosen as commander. A few others joined a day or two later, making a total of about 190. They followed the old Chihuahua trail west till assured of being west of the hundredth meridian, then bore north, passing along the western base of the Wichita mountains, and on the 27th of May encamped on the southwest bank of the Arkansas. This was said to be about forty miles below the Missouri-Santa Fe crossing, but was only eight or ten miles from the road on the opposite side of the river.
It was known before they started that a Mexican train of great value (for that day) would pass from Independence to Santa Fe, some time in the spring, and as the route for a long distance lay in Texas, it was considered legitimate prey.
They soon learned from some men from Bent's Fort that six hundred Mexican troops were waiting above to escort the caravan from the American boundary to Santa Fe. Snively kept out scouts and sought to recruit his horses. His scouts inspected the camp of the enemy and found their number as reported, about six hundred. On the 20th of June a portion of the command had a fight with a detachment of the Mexicans, killing seventeen and capturing eighty prisoners, including eighteen wounded, without losing a man, and securing a fine supply of horses, saddles and arms. Snively held the prisoners in a camp with good water. On the 24th three hundred Indians suddenly appeared, but, seeing Snively's position and strength, professed friendship. There was no confidence, however, in their profession, excepting so far as induced by a fear to attack.
The long delay created great discontent and when scouts came in on the 28th and reported no discovery of the caravan, a separation took place. Seventy of the men, selecting Capt. Eli Chandler as their commander, started home on the 29th. Snively, furnishing his wounded prisoners with horses to ride, the others with a limited number of guns for defense against the Indians and such provisions as he could spare, set the whole party at liberty. Whereupon he pitched another camp farther up the river to await the caravan, perfectly confident that he was west of the hundredth meridian and (being on the southwest side of the Arkansas, the boundary line from that meridian to its source), therefore, in Texas. Subsequent surveys proved that he was right. By a captured Mexican he learned that the caravan was not far distant escorted by one hundred and ninety-six United States dragoons, commanded by Capt. Philip St. George Cooke. On June 30th they were discovered by the scouts and found to have also two pieces of artillery. Cooke soon appeared, crossed the river, despite the protest of Snively that he was on Texas soil, and planted his guns so as to rake the camp. He demanded unconditional surrender and there was no other alternative to the outrage. Cooke allowed them to retain ten guns for the one hundred and seven men present, compelled to travel at least four hundred miles through a hostile Indian country without a human habitation; but their situation was not so desperate as he intended, for a majority of the men, before it was too late, buried their rifles and double-barreled shot-guns in the friendly sand mounds, and meekly surrendered to Cooke the short escopetas they had captured from the Mexicans. Cooke immediately re-crossed the river and slept. He awakened to a partial realization of his harsh and unfeeling act; and sent a message to Snively that he would escort as many of his men as would accept the invitation into Independence, Missouri. About forty-two of the men went, among whom were Capt. Myers F. Jones of Fayette County, his nephew John Rice Jones, Jr., formerly of Washington County. Missouri, and others whose names cannot be recalled. With Cooke, on a health-seeking trip, was Mr. Joseph S. Pease, a noted hardware merchant of St. Louis, and an old friend of the writer, who bitterly denounced Cooke and defended the cause of the Texians on reaching St. Louis.
Col. Snively hastily dispatched a courier advising Capt. Chandler of these events and asking him to halt. He did so and on the 2d of July the two parties re-united. On the 4th the Indians stampeded sixty of their horses, but in the fight lost twelve warriors, while one Texian was killed and one wounded.
On the 6th the scouts reported that the caravan had crossed the Arkansas. Some wanted to pursue and attack it — others opposed. Snively resigned on the 9th. Sixty-five men selected Chas. A. Warfield as leader (not the Charles A. Warfield afterwards representative of Hunt County, and more recently of California, but another man of the same name who, it is believed, died before the Civil War). Col. Snively adhered to this party. They pursued the caravan till the 13th, when they found the Mexican escort to be too strong and abandoned the enterprise and started home. Warfield resigned and Snively was re-elected. On the 20th they were assaulted by a band of Indians, but repulsed them, and after the usual privations of such a trip in mid-summer, they arrived at Bird's Fort, on the West Fork of the Trinity, pending the efforts to negotiate a treaty at that place, as elsewhere set forth in this work. Chandler and party, including Capt. S. P. Ross, had already gotten in.
Besides those already named as in this expedition was the now venerable and honorable ex-Senator Stewart A. Miller, of Crockett, who kept a daily diary of the trip, which was in my possession for several years and to which Yoakum also had access. The late founder of the flourishing town bearing his name, Robert A. Terrell, was also one of the party, and a number of others who are scattered over the country, but their names cannot be given.
When this news reached St. Louis, the writer was on a visit to that city, the Republican, in whose family six years of his boyhood had been passed. The press of the country went wild in bitter denunciation of the Texians as robbers and pirates. The Republican alone of the St. Louis press seemed willing to hear both sides. Capt. Myers F. Jones and party published a short defensive card, supplemented by a friendly one from Mr. Joseph S. Pease. That was nearly forty-five years ago, when the writer had just graduated from contests with Mexican freebooters, running for the ten months next prior to the battle of Mier. He could mot submit in silence, and published in the Republican a complete recapitulation of the outrages, robberies and murders committed in 1841 and 1842 by the Mexicans upon the people of Texas, closing with a denunciation of the conduct of Capt. Philip St. George Cooke.
The Thrilling Mission of Commissioner Joseph C. Eldridge to the Wild Tribes in 1843, by Authority of President Houston — Hamilton P. Bee, Thomas Torrey — The Three Delawares, Jim Shaw, John Connor and Jim Second Eye — The Treaty
When the year 1843 opened, Gen. Sam Houston was serving his second term as President of the Republic of Texas, and the seat of government was temporarily at the town of Washington-on-the-Brazos. He had uniformly favored a peace policy toward the Indians, whenever it might become practicable to conclude a general treaty with the numerous wild and generally hostile tribes inhabiting all the western and northwestern territory of the republic. On this policy the country was divided in opinion, and the question was often discussed with more or less bitterness. Nothing could be more natural, respecting a policy affecting so deeply the property and lives of the frontier people, who were so greatly exposed to the raids of the hostiles, and had little or no faith in their fidelity to treaty stipulations; while the President, realizing the sparsity of population and feebleness in resources of the government and the country, hoped to bring about a general cessation of hostilities, establish a line of demarcation between the whites and Indians, and by establishing along the same a line of trading houses, to promote friendly traffic, with occasional presents by the government, to control the wild men and preserve the lives of the people.
At this time Joseph C. Eldridge,* a man of education, experience, courage, and the highest order of integrity, was appointed by the President as Commissioner of Indian Affairs. About the same time a delegation from several of the smaller tribes visited the President, in order to have a talk. Among them were several Delawares, nearly civilized, and among them were persons who spoke not only our language, but all the tongues of the wild prairie tribes, some speaking one and some another tongue. It occurred to the President, after frequent interviews, that he could utilize these Delawares, or the three chief men among them, Jim Shaw, John Connor and Jim Second Eye, as commissioners in inducing all the wild tribes to meet the President and peace commissioners, at a point to be designated, for the purpose of making a treaty. Subsequent events went to show that the Delawares had imbibed that idea; but President Houston finally decided to commission Capt. Eldridge for that onerous and hazardous mission, to be accompanied by two or three white men of approved character, together with the Delawares and a few Indians of other tribes. Capt. Eldridge eagerly applied to his young and bosom friend, Hamilton P. Bee, to accompany him. They had crossed the gulf together on their first arrival in Texas in 1837 — Bee accompanying his mother from South Carolina to join his father, Col. Barnard E. Bee, already in the service of Texas, and Eldridge coming from his native State, Connecticut. He selected also Thomas Torrey, already an Indian agent, and also a native of Connecticut.*Joseph C. Eldridge was a native of Connecticut, and of an ancient and honorable family. Of him Gen. Bee writes me: "He was an admirable character, brave, cool, determined in danger, faithful to public trusts and loving in his friendships. He did more than his duty on this trip. He served as Paymaster in the United States navy from 1846, and died the senior officer of that corps in 1881, at his home in Brooklyn, New York. His stern sense of duty was displayed on our way out, when, north of Red river, we met and camped all night with a company of men under Capt. S. P. Ross, returning from the ill-fated Snively expedition. They urged us to return home, as the Indians on the plains were all hostile — our trip would be fruitless, and the hazards were too great for such a handful. Only Eldridge's courage and high sense of duty caused him to reject the advice and proceed; but pending our trial in the Comanche council we all regretted not having yielded to the warnings of Capt. Ross. Capt. Eldridge died of softening of the brain. He had a son, Houston Eldridge, named for the President after their temporary unpleasantness, a most promising young officer of the navy, who died not long after his father. John C. Eldridge, a cousin of Joseph C., also figured honorably in Texas for a number of years, and their names were sometimes confounded. Charles W. Eldridge, another cousin, deceased in Hartford, Connecticut, was a brother-in-law to the writer of this history.
The preparations being completed, the party left Washington late in March, 1843, and consisted of Joseph C. Eldridge, commissioner, Thomas Torrey, Indian agent, the three Delawares as guides and interpreters, several other Delawares as hunters, helpers and traders, Acoquash, the Waco head chief, who was one those who had been to see the President, and Hamilton P. Bee. There may have been a few other Indians. They had a small caravan of pack mules to transport their provisions and presents for the Indians. They also had with them for delivery to their own people two Comanche children about twelve years old, one a girl named Maria (May-re-ah) and the other a boy who had taken the name of William Hockley, being two of the captives at the Council House fight, in San Antonio, on the 19th of March, 1840, elsewhere described in this work. They also had two young Waco women, previously taken as prisoners, but these were placed in charge of Acoquash.
They passed up the valley of the Brazos, passing Fort Milam, near the present Marlin, around which were the outside habitations of the white settlers. Further up, on Tehuacano creek, six or seven miles southeast of the present city of Waco, they reached the newly established trading house of the Torrey brothers,* afterwards well known as a resort for Indians and traders. Here they found a large party of Delawares.*There were four of the Torrey brothers, all from Ashford, Connecticut, the younger following the elder to Texas 1836 to 1810. David was the head of Torrey's Trading House. He was the third one in the order of death, being killed by Indians on the Brazos frontier, not far from the time of annexation. James, a gallant and estimable young man, kindly remembered by the writer of this for his social and soldierly virtues, was one of the seventeen justly celebrated Mier prisoners who drew black beans at the hacienda of Salado, Mexico, and were shot to death by order of Santa Anna, on the 19th of March, 1843. Thomas, the companion of Eldridge and Bee on this hazardous mission, a worthy brother of such men as David and James, was a Santa Fe prisoner in 1841-42, marched in chains twelve hundred miles, from Santa Fe to the city of Mexico, and was there imprisoned with his fellows. He passed the terrible ordeal narrated in this chapter, as occurring in the council of Payhayuco — separated from Eldridge and Bee at the Wichita village, successfully reached Bird's Fort, with detachments of the wild tribes, there to sicken and die, as success largely crowned their efforts to bring about a general treaty. John F. Torrey, the only survivor of the four brothers, the personification of enterprise, built and ran cotton and woolen factories at New Braunfels. Floods twice swept them and his wealth away. At a goodly age he lives on his own farm on Comanche Peak, Hood County. Honored be the name of Torrey among the children of Texas!
The Delawares accompanying Eldridge also had mules freighted with goods for traffic with the wild tribes, and, among other commodities, a goodly supply of that scourge of our race — whisky — doubtless intended for the Delawares found here, as expected by those with Eldridge, for at that time the wild tribes did not drink it.
On the arrival of the commissioner, all became bustle and activity. The liquor was soon tapped and a merry time inaugurated, but soon after dark every Indian surrendered his knife and firearms to the chiefs, by whom they were secreted. Then loose reign was given to unarmed warriors, and throughout the night pandemonium prevailed accompanied by screams, hideous yells, fisticuffs, scratching, biting, and all manner of unarmed personal combat, causing wakefulness and some degree of apprehension among the white men. But no one was killed or seriously injured, and in due time, sheer exhaustion was followed by quiet slumber, the red man showing the same maudlin beastliness when crazed by mean whisky as, alas! characterizes his white brother in like condition. It required two days to recover from the frolic, and then Eldridge resumed his march into the wilds beyond. His instructions were to visit as many of the wild tribes as possible, and the head chief of the Comanches — to deliver to them the words of friendship from their Great Father, the President, and invite them all to attend a grand council to be held at Bird's Fort, on the north side of the main or west fork of the Trinity, commencing on the 10th of August (1843), where they would meet duly accredited commissioners and the President in person to treat with them. This fort was about twenty-two miles westerly from where Dallas was subsequently founded.
At a point above the three forks of the Trinity, probably in Wise or Jack County, the expedition halted for a few days and sent out Delaware messengers to find and invite any tribes found in the surrounding country to visit them. Delegations from eleven small tribes responded by coming in, among them being Wacos, Anadarcos, Towdashes, Caddos, Keechis, Tehuacanos, Delawares, Bedais, Boluxies, Ionies, and one or two others, constituting a large assemblage, the deliberations of which were duly opened by the solemnities of embracing, smoking, and a wordy interchange of civilities. Capt. Eldridge appeared in full uniform, and Bee* performed the duties of secretary. The council opened by an address from the Delaware interpreters, and the whole day was consumed in a series of dialogues between them and the wild chiefs, Capt. Eldridge getting no opportunity to speak, and when desiring to do so was told by the Delawares that it was not yet time, as they had not talked enough to the wild men. So, at night, the council adjourned till next day when Eldridge delivered his talk, which was interpreted to the different tribes by the Delawares. Finally Eldridge said: "Tell them I am the mouth-piece of the President, and speak his words." Two of the Delawares interpreted the sentence, but Jim Shaw refused, saying it was a lie. The other two conveyed the language to all. The result was satisfactory, and the tribes present all agreed to attend the council at Bird's Fort. Returning to his tent, Capt. Eldridge demanded of Shaw, who was the leader and more intelligent of the Delawares, the meaning of his strange conduct, to which he replied that the three Delawares considered themselves the commissioners, Eldridge being along only to write down whatever was done. He also charged that Eldridge had their commission, attested by seals and ribbons, with his baggage. This document being Eldridge's instructions as commissioner, was brought out, read and explained by Bee. Jim Shaw was greatly excited, and had evidently believed what he said; but Eldridge bore himself with great composure and firmness. After the reading Jim Shaw said: "I beg your pardon, Joe, but I have been misled. I thought the Delawares were to make the treaties. We will go no farther, but go to our own country, on the Missouri river — will start tomorrow, and will never return to Texas." Eldridge, alarmed at this unexpected phase of affairs, appealed to the trio to stay and guide him, as the President expected them to do; but they seemed inflexible. To proceed without them was madness, and in this dilemma Eldridge sent for Jose Maria, the noted chief of the Anadarcos, who had been so severely wounded in his victorious fight with the whites, in Bryant's defeat near Marlin, in January, 1839. He explained to him the facts just related, and asked him if he would escort him back into the settlements. Greatly pleased at such a mark of confidence — his keen black eyes giving full expression to his gratified pride — he promptly and solemnly promised to do so.*Hamilton P. Bee is a native of Charleston, South Carolina, favorably and intimately known to the writer for half a century as an honor to his country in all that constitutes a true and patriotic citizen — a son of the Hon. Barnard E. Bee, who early tendered his sword and services to struggling Texas, and a brother of Gen. Barnard E. Bee, who fell at Manassas, the first General to yield his life to the Confederate cause. Hamilton P. Bee was Secretary to the United States and Texas Boundary Commission, 1839-40; Secretary of the first State Senate in 1846; a gallant soldier in the Mexican war; eight years a member of the Legislature from the Rio Grande, and Speaker of the House In 1855-56; a Brigadier-General in the Confederate army, losing a handsome estate by the war, and later served as Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics and History of the State of Texas.
On the next morning, while Eldridge was packing and mounting for his homeward march, surrounded by his promised escort of one hundred Anadarco warriors, well mounted and armed with bows and lances, with Jose Maria at their head, Jim Shaw sent word to Capt. Eldridge that he had changed his mind and would continue the trip. An interview followed and a full understanding was entered into, acknowledging Capt. Eldridge as the sole head of the expedition; but after this the manner of the Delaware trio was formal and reserved, and their intercourse long confined to business matters.
Continuing the march, they next reached the principal village of the Wacos, whither they had been preceded by Acoquash, with the two released Waco girls, who greeted them warmly. During their stay he was their guest, and most of the time had his family on hand. It was a little odd, but his friendship was too valuable to be sacrificed on a question of etiquette. Here the Delawares announced that it would be necessary to send out runners to find the Comanches; that this would require fifteen days, during which time the trio—Shaw, Connor and Second Eye—would take the peltries they had on hand to Warren's trading house down on Red river, for deposit or sale, and return within the time named. During the delay, Eldridge camped three miles from the village, but was daily surrounded and more or less annoyed by the Wacos, men, women and children. The wife of Acoquash became violently ill, and he requested his white brothers to exert their skill as medicine men. Mr. Bee administered to her jalap and rhubarb, which, fortunately for them, as will be seen later, speedily relieved and restored her to health.
The runners returned on time with rather encouraging reports; but the essential trio, so indispensable to progress, were absent twenty-eight instead of fifteen days, causing a loss of precious time.
Their next move was for the Wichita village, at or near the present site of Fort Sill. They were kindly received by this warlike tribe, who had heard of their mission and promised to attend the council at Bird's Fort.
They next bore westerly for the great prairies and plains in search of the Comanches, Acoquash and his wife being with them. It was now in July and all of their provisions were exhausted, reducing them to an entire dependence on wild meat, which, however, was abundant, and they soon found the tallow of the buffalo, quite unlike that of the cow, a good substitute for bread. They carried in abundant strings of cooked meat on their pack mules.
After twenty days they found Indian "signs" in a plum thicket, "the best wild plums," wrote Young Bee, "I ever saw." They saw where Indians had been eating plums during the same day, and there they encamped. Pretty soon an Indian, splendidly mounted, approached, having a boy of six years before him. He proved to be blind, but a distinguished chief of the Comanches — a man of remarkable physique, over six feet in height, a model in proportions and his hair growing down over his face. He told the Delaware interpreter the locality in which they were, and that the town of Payhayuco, the great head chief of the Comanches, was only a few miles distant.
As soon as the blind chief's boy — a beautiful child, handsomely dressed in ornamented buckskin — gathered a supply of plums, they mounted and returned to their town, accompanied by a few of the Delawares. In the afternoon a delegation of the Comanches visited Eldridge and invited him and his party to visit their town. Promptly saddling up and escorted by about 500 Comanche warriors, in about two hours' ride, they entered the town of the great chief Pahayuco, and for the first time beheld the pride and the glory of the wild tribes — the Comanche Indian in his Bedouin-like home. With considerable ceremony they were conducted to the tent of Pahayuco, who was absent, but the honors were done by the chief of his seven wives, who caused the best tent to be vacated and placed at the disposal of her white guests. It was hot, August weather, and such crowds of Comanches, of all ages and sexes, pressed in and around the tent that it became so suffocating as to necessitate the erection of their own tent, which was open at both ends. First getting the consent of their hostess, this was done.
Finding that the chief would be absent a week yet to come, and their business being with him, they could only patiently await his arrival. They were ceaseless curiosities to all the younger Comanches, who had never seen a white man, and who continued to crowd around and inspect them; rolling up their sleeves to show their white arms to the children, etc. While thus delayed the Comanches twice moved their town, and our people were astonished at the regularity with which each new location was laid off into streets and the precision with which each family took its position in each new place. Mr. Bee accompanied the warriors on two or three buffalo hunts, and was surprised at their wonderful dexterity.
Payhayuco arrived on the afternoon of August 9 (1843), and occupied the tent adjoining the whites. They were soon informally presented to him and courteously received, but no clue was obtained as to the state of his mind. At sunrise next morning about a hundred warriors met in council in a large tent, sitting on the ground in a series of circles diminishing from circumference to center, wherein Payhayuco sat. Our friends, not being invited, took a brief glance at them and retired to their own tent, leaving their case with the Delawares, who attended the council. About 10 a. m. a sort of committee from the council waited on them to say that a report bad come from the Waco village, where they had tarried so long, charging that they were bad men and had given poison to the Wacos, and wanted to know what they had to say about it. This was supremely preposterous, but it was also gravely suggestive of danger. They repelled the charge and referred to the old Waco chief, Acoquash, then present, their companion on the whole trip, and whose wife they had cured. What a hazard they had passed! Had that poor squaw died instead of recovering under Bee's treatment, their fate would have been sealed. A Choctaw negro, who understood but little Comanche, told them the council was deliberating on their lives and talking savagely. They sent for the Delawares and told them of this. The Delawares denied it, and reassured them. But half an hour later their favorite Delaware hunter, the only one in whose friendship they fully confided, informed them that the Comanches were going to kill them. They were, of course, very much alarmed by this second warning, and, again summoning the trio, told Jim Shaw they were not children, but men, and demanded to know the truth. Shaw replied that he had desired to conceal their peril from them as long as possible, and for that reason had told them a lie; but in truth the council was clamorous and unanimous for their death; that all the chiefs who had a right to speak had done so, and all were against them; that they (Shaw and Connor) had done all they could for them; had told the council they would die with them, as they had promised the White Father they would take care of them and would never return without them; and that Acoquash had been equally true to them. They added that only Payhayuco was yet to speak, but even should he take the opposite side they did not believe he had influence enough to save their lives. "Next came into our tent" (I quote the language of Gen. Bee on this incident), "our dear old friend Acoquash, where we three lone white men were sitting, betraying the most intense feeling, shaking all over and great tears rolling from his eyes, and as best he could, told us that we would soon be put to death. He said he had told them his father was once a great chief, the head of a nation who were lords of the prairie, but bad always been the friends of the Comanches, who always listened to the counsel of his father, for it was always good, and he had begged them to listen to him as their fathers had listened to his father, when he told them that we (Eldridge, Bee and Torrey) were messengers of peace: that we had the 'white flag,' and that the vengeance of the Great Spirit would be turned against them if they killed such messengers; but he said it was of no avail. We had to die and he would die with us for he loved us as his own children. Poor old Indian! My heart yearns to him yet after the lapse of so many years." [Gen. Bee to his children.]
Acoquash then returned to the council. Our friends, of course, agonized as brave men may who are to die as dogs, but they soon recovered composure and resolved on their course. Each had two pistols. When the party should come to take them out for death, each would kill an Indian with one, and then, to escape slow torture, empty the other into his own brain. From 12 to 4 o'clock not a word was spoken in that council. All sat in silence, awaiting the voice of Payhayuco. At 4 o'clock his voice was heard, but no one reported to the doomed men. Then other voices were heard, and occasionally those of the Delawares. A little later confusion seemed to prevail, and many voices were heard. Bee said to Eldridge: "See the setting sun, old fellow! It is the last we shall ever see on earth!" At the same instant approaching footsteps were heard. Each of the three sprang to his feet, a pistol in each hand, when "dear old" Acoquash burst into the tent and threw himself into the arms of Eldridge. Bee and Torrey thought the old Spartan had come to redeem his pledge and die with them, but in a moment realized that his convulsive action was the fruit of uncontrollable joy. The next moment the Delawares rushed in exclaiming. "Saved! saved!" "Oh! God! can I ever forget that moment! To the earth, from which we came, we fell as if we had been shot, communing with Him who reigns over all — a scene that might be portrayed on canvas, but not described! Prostrate on the earth lay the white man and the red man, creatures of a common brotherhood, typified and made evident that day in the wilderness; not a word spoken; each bowed to the earth — brothers in danger and brothers in the holy electric spark which caused each in his way to thank God for deliverance." [Gen. Bee to his children.]
After this ordeal had been passed, succeeded by a measure of almost heavenly repose, the interpreters, now fully reconciled to Eldridge, explained that after that solemn silence of four hours, Payhayuco had eloquently espoused the cause of mercy and the sanctity of the white flag borne by the messengers of peace. His appeal was, perhaps, as powerful and pathetic as ever fell from the lips of an untutored son of the forest. Upon conclusion, amid much confusion and the hum of excited voices, he took the vote per capita and was sustained by a small majority. The sun sank st the same moment, reflecting rays of joy upon the western horizon, causing among the saved a solemn and inexpressibly grateful sense of the majesty and benignity of the King of kings—our Father in Heaven.
As darkness came, the stentorian voice of Pay-hayuco was successively heard in the four quarters of the town, its tones denoting words of command. Our countrymen demanded of the interpreters to know what he was saying. The latter answered: "He is telling them you are under his protection and must not, at the peril of their lives, be hurt." A hundred warriors were then placed in a circle around the tent, and so remained till next morning. No Indian was allowed to enter the circle.
When morning came they were invited to the council, when Capt. Eldridge delivered the message of friendship from President Houston, and invited them to accompany him in and meet the council at Bird's Fort; but this was the 11th of August, a day after the date heretofore fixed for the assemblage, and a new date would be selected promptly on their arrival, or sooner if runners were sent in advance. The presents were then distributed and an answer awaited.
On their arrival the little Comanche boy had been given up. He still remembered some of his mother tongue and at once relapsed into barbarism. But now Capt. Eldridge tendered to the chief, little Maria, a beautiful Indian child, neatly dressed, who knew no word but English. A scene followed which brought tears to the eyes of not only the white men, but also of the Delawares. The child seemed horrified, clung desperately and imploringly to Capt. Eldridge, and screamed most piteously; but the whole scene cannot be described here. It was simply heartrending. She was taken up by a huge warrior and borne away, uttering piercing cries of despair. For years afterwards she was ocassionally heard of, still bearing the name of Maria, acting as interpreter at Indian councils.
Succeeding this last scene they were informed that the council had refused to send delegates to the proposed council. Payhayuco favored the measure, but was overruled by the majority. Within an hour after this announcement (August 11th, 1843) our friends mounted and started on their long journey home — fully five hundred miles, through a trackless wilderness. I pass over some exciting incidents occurring at the moment of their departure between a newly arrived party of Delaware traders, having no connection with Eldridge, and a portion of the Comanches, in regard to a Choctaw negro prisoner bought from the Comanches by the traders. It was dreaded by our friends as a new danger, but was settled without bloodshed by the payment of a larger ransom to the avaricious Comanches.
Without remarkable incident and in due time, our friends arrived again at the principal Wichita village (at or near the present Fort Sill) and were again kindly received. The day fixed for the treaty having passed, Eldridge knew the President would be disappointed and impatient; so, after consultation, it was agreed that Torrey, with Jim Shaw, John Connor and the other Indian attaches, still with them, should return on the route they had gone out, gather up the tribes first mentioned in this narrative, and conduct them to Bird's Fort; while Eldridge, Bee and their most trusted Delaware hunter, with Jim Second Eye as guide, would proceed directly to the fort. Thus they separated, each party on its mission, and to Eldridge and Bee it was a perilous one. I shall follow them.
On the second day, at 3 p. m., they halted in a pretty grove, on a beautiful stream, to cook their last food, a little Wichita green corn. This enraged Second Eye, who seized the hunter's gun, and galloped away, leaving them with only holster pistols. The Delaware hunter was a stranger in the country and could only communicate by signs. For three days he kept a bee line for Warren's trading house on Red river, as safer than going directly to Bird's Fort, guided by the information he had casually picked up from his brothers on the trip, for neither of the white men knew the country. On the third day they entered the Cross Timbers where brush and briers retarded their progress, and camped near night on a pretty creek. The Delaware climbed a high tree and soon began joyful gesticulations. Descending he indicated that Eldridge should accompany him, leaving Bee in camp. He did so and they were gone two or three hours, but finally returned with a good supply of fresh corn bread, a grateful repast to men who had been without an ounce of food for three days and nights. The camp visited proved to be that of a party of men cutting hay for Fort Arbuckle, on the Washita, who cooked and gave them the bread and other provisions, with directions to find the trading house and the information that they could reach it next day. With full stomachs they slept soundly; started early in the morning and about 2 p. m. rode up to Warren's trading house. The first man seen was Jim Second Eye, the treacherous scoundrel who had left them at the mercy of any straggling party of hostile or thieving savages. He hastened forward with extended hand, exclaiming: "How are you, Joe? How are you, Ham? Glad to see you!"
The always courteous Eldridge, usually gentle and never given to profane language, sprang from his horse and showered upon him such a torrent of denunciatory expletives as to exhaust himself; then, recovering, presented himself and Mr. Bee to Mr. Warren, with an explanatory apology for his violent language, justified, as he thought, towards the base wretch to whom it was addressed. Quite a crowd of Indians and a few white men were present. Mr. Warren received and entertained them most kindly. They never more beheld Jim Second Eye.
After a rest of two days Eldridge and Bee, with their faithful Delaware, left for Bird's Fort, and, without special incident, arrived there about the middle of September, to be welcomed by the commissioners, Messrs. George W. Terrell and E. H. Tarrant, who had given them up as lost. The President had remained at the fort for a month, when, chagrined and greatly disappointed, he had left for the seat of government.
Capt. Eldridge, anxious to report to the President, tarried not at the fort, but with Bee and the still faithful Delaware, continued on. On the way Mr. Bee was seized with chills and fever of violent type, insomuch that, at Fort Milam, Eldridge left him and hurried on. Mr. Bee finally reached the hospitable house of his friend, Col. Josiah Crosby, seven miles above Washington, and there remained till in the winter, before recovering his health. Capt. Eldridge, after some delay, met and reported to the President, but was not received with the cordiality he thought due his services. Jim Shaw and John Connor had preceded him and misstated various matters to the prejudice of Eldridge, and to the amazement of many who knew his great merit and his tried fidelity to President Houston, he was dismissed from office. Very soon, however, the old hero became convinced of his error; had Eldridge appointed chief clerk of the State Department under Anson Jones, and, immediately after annexation in 1846, secured his appointment by President Polk, as Paymaster in the United States Navy, a position he held till his death in his long-time home in Brooklyn, New York, in 1881. Excepting only the incident referred to — deeply lamented by mutual friends — the friendship between him and President Houston, from their first acquaintance in 1837, remained steadfast while both lived. Indeed Capt. Eldridge subsequently named a son for him — his two sons being Charles and Houston Eldridge.
A TREATY MADE
On the 29th of September, 1843, a few days after Eldridge and Bee left, a treaty was concluded by Messrs. Tarrant and Terrell, with the following tribes, viz.: 'Tehuacanos, Keechis, Wacos, Caddos, Anadarcos, Ionics, Boluxies, Delawares, and thirty isolated Cherokees. The Wichitas and Towdashes were deterred from coming in by the lies of some of the Creeks. Estecayucatubba, principal chief of the Chickasaws, signed the treaty merely for its effect on the wild tribes. Leonard Williams and Luis Sanchez, of Nacogdoches, were present and aided in collecting the tribes, who failed to assemble on the 10th of August, because of the non-return of Eldridge and his party. Roasting Ear, S. Lewis and McCulloch, Delaware chiefs, were present at the signing and rendered service in favor of the treaty.
The most potent chief in the council, to whom the wild tribes looked as a leader, was Kechikoro-qua, the head of the Tehuacanos, who at first refused to treat with any one but the President; but finally yielded, after understanding the powers of the commissioners. A line of demarcation was agreed upon between the whites and Indians, along which, at proper intervals, trading houses were to be established. Three points for such houses were selected, which indicate the general line chosen, viz.: one at the junction of the West and Clear Forks of the Trinity; one at the Comanche Peak; and one at the old San Saba Mission.
From undoubted data this narrative has been prepared, the first ever published of this most thrilling succession of events in our Indian history. It reflects the highest credit on the three courageous young men who assumed and triumphed over its hazards, though sadly followed by the death of the heroic and much loved Thomas Torrey.