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Title: The Indians of the Pike's Peak Region - Including an Account of the Battle of Sand Creek, and of Occurrences in El Paso County, Colorado, during the War with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, in 1864 and 1868
Author: Howbert, Irving
Language: English
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[Illustration: Pike's Peak
From a painting by Charles Craig]
THE INDIANS OF THE PIKE'S PEAK REGION
Including an Account of the Battle of Sand
Creek, and of Occurrences in El Paso
County, Colorado, during the War
with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes,
in 1864 and 1868
by
IRVING HOWBERT
Illustrated
The Knickerbocker Press
New York
1914
Copyright, 1914
by
Irving Howbert
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE TRIBES OF THE PIKE'S PEAK REGION 1
TRAILS, MINERAL SPRINGS, GAME, ETC. 27
THE INDIAN TROUBLES OF 1864 75
THE THIRD COLORADO AND THE BATTLE OF
SAND CREEK 93
A DEFENSE OF THE BATTLE OF SAND CREEK 114
A DEFENSE OF THE BATTLE OF SAND CREEK—_CONTINUED_ 147
THE INDIAN WAR OF 1868 187
ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING
PAGE
PIKE'S PEAK _Frontispiece_
OURAY 60
COLONEL JOHN M. CHIVINGTON 117
GOVERNOR JOHN EVANS 123
INTRODUCTION
For the most part this book is intentionally local in its character.
As its title implies, it relates principally to the Indian tribes that
have occupied the region around Pike's Peak during historic times.
The history, habits, and customs of the American Indian have always
been interesting subjects to me. From early childhood, I read everything
within my reach dealing with the various tribes of the United States and
Mexico. In 1860, when I was fourteen years of age, I crossed the plains
between the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains twice, and again in
1861, 1865, and 1866; each time by ox- or horse-team, there being no
other means of conveyance. At that time there were few railroads west of
the Mississippi River and none west of the Missouri. On each of these
trips I came more or less into contact with the Indians, and during my
residence in Colorado from 1860 to the present time, by observation and
by study, I have become more or less familiar with all the tribes of
this Western country.
From 1864 to 1868, the Indians of the plains were hostile to the whites;
this resulted in many tragic happenings in that part of the Pike's Peak
region embracing El Paso and its adjoining counties, as well as elsewhere
in the Territory of Colorado. I then lived in Colorado City, in El Paso
County, and took an active part in the defense of the settlements during
all the Indian troubles in that section. I mention these facts merely to
show that I am not unfamiliar with the subject about which I am writing.
My main object in publishing this book is to make a permanent record of
the principal events of that time.
So far as I know, the public has never been given a detailed account of
the Indian troubles in El Paso County during the years 1864 and 1868.
At that time there was no newspaper published in the county and the few
newspapers of the Territory were small affairs, in which little attention
was given to anything outside of their immediate localities. The result
was that news of tragic happenings in our part of the Territory seldom
passed beyond the borders of our own county.
I have thought best to begin with a short account of the tribes occupying
the Pike's Peak region prior to the coming of the white settler, adding
to it extracts from the descriptions given by early explorers, together
with an account of the game, trails, etc., of this region. All these
facts will no doubt be of interest to the inhabitant of the present day,
as well as of value to the future historian.
I took part in the battle of Sand Creek, and in many of the other events
which I mention. Where I have no personal knowledge of any particular
event, I have taken great pains to obtain the actual facts by a comparison
of the statements of persons who I knew lived in the locality at the
time. Consequently, I feel assured of the substantial accuracy of every
account I have given.
In giving so much space to a defense of the battle of Sand Creek, I am
impelled by an earnest desire to correct the false impression that has
gone forth concerning that much maligned affair. Statements of prejudiced
and unreliable witnesses concerning the battle were sent broadcast at
the time, but except through government reports, that only few read,
never before, to my knowledge, has publicity been given to the statement
of the Governor of the Territory, telling of the conditions leading
up to the battle, or to the sworn testimony of the colonel in command
at the engagement, or of the officer in command of the fort near which
it was fought. That the battle of Sand Creek was not the reprehensible
affair which vindictive persons have represented it to be, I believe is
conclusively proven by the evidence which I present.
I. H.
COLORADO SPRINGS,
November 1, 1913.
The Indians of the Pike's Peak Region
CHAPTER I
THE TRIBES OF THE PIKE'S PEAK REGION
It would be interesting to know who were the occupants of the Pike's Peak
region during prehistoric times. Were its inhabitants always nomadic
Indians? We know that semi-civilized peoples inhabited southwestern
Colorado and New Mexico in prehistoric times, who undoubtedly had lived
there ages before they were driven into cliff dwellings and communal
houses by savage invaders. Did their frontier settlements of that period
ever extend into the Pike's Peak region? The facts concerning these
matters, we may never know. As it is, the earliest definite information
we have concerning the occupants of this region dates from the Spanish
exploring expeditions, but even that is very meager. From this and other
sources, we know that a succession of Indian tribes moved southward along
the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains during the two hundred years
before the coming of the white settler, and that during this period,
the principal tribes occupying this region were the Utes, Comanches,
Kiowas, Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Sioux; and, further, that there were
other tribes such as the Pawnees and Jicarilla Apaches, who frequently
visited and hunted in this region.
The Jicarilla Apaches are of the Athapascan stock, a widely distributed
linguistic family, which includes among its branches the Navajos, the
Mescalaros of New Mexico, and the Apaches of Arizona. Notwithstanding the
fact that they were kindred people, the Jicarillas considered the latter
tribes their enemies. However, they always maintained friendly relations
with the Utes, and the Pueblos of northern New Mexico, and intermarriages
between members of these tribes were of frequent occurrence. The mother
of Ouray, the noted Ute chief, was a Jicarilla Apache.
From the earliest period, the principal home of the Jicarilla Apaches
was along the Rio Grande River in northern New Mexico, but in their
wanderings they often went north of the Arkansas River and far out
on the plains, where they had an outpost known as the Quartelejo. By
reason of the intimate relations existing between the Jicarillas and
the Pueblo Indians, this outpost was more than once used as a place of
refuge by members of the latter tribes. Bancroft, in his history of New
Mexico, says that certain families of Taos Indians went out into the
plains about the middle of the seventeenth century and fortified a place
called "Cuartalejo," which undoubtedly is but another spelling of the
name Quartelejo. These people remained at Quartelejo for many years,
but finally returned to Taos at the solicitation of an agent sent out
by the Government of New Mexico. In 1704, the Picuris, another Pueblo
tribe, whose home was about forty miles north of Santa Fé, abandoned
their village in a body and fled to Quartelejo, but they also returned
to New Mexico two years later. Quartelejo is frequently mentioned in
the history of New Mexico, and its location is described as being 130
leagues northeast of Santa Fé. In recent years the ruin of a typical
Pueblo structure has been unearthed on Beaver Creek in Scott County,
Kansas, about two hundred miles east of Colorado Springs, which, in
direction and distance from Santa Fé, coincides with the description
given of Quartelejo, and is generally believed to be that place.
Aside from the Jicarilla Apaches, the Utes, living in the mountainous
portion of the region now included in the State of Colorado, were the
earliest occupants of whom there is any historical account. They were
mentioned in the Spanish records of New Mexico as already inhabiting
the region to the north of that Territory in the early part of the
seventeenth century. At that time, and for many years afterward, they
were on peaceable terms with the Spanish settlers of New Mexico. About
1705, however, something occurred to disturb their friendly relations,
and a war resulted which lasted fifteen to twenty years, during which
time many people were killed, numerous ranches were plundered, and many
horses stolen. Although the Utes already owned many horses, it is said
that in these raids they acquired so many more that they were able to
mount their entire tribe. During that time various military expeditions
were sent against the Utes as well as against the Comanches, who had
first appeared in New Mexico in 1716. In 1719, the Governor of New Mexico
led a military force, consisting of 105 Spaniards and a large number of
Indian auxiliaries, into the region which is now the State of Colorado,
against the hostile bands. The record of the expedition says that it
left Santa Fé on September 15th and marched north, with the mountains
on the left, until October 10th. In this twenty-five days' march the
expedition should have gone far beyond the place where Colorado Springs
now stands. Although the expedition failed to overtake the Indians, the
latter ceased their raids for a time, but their subsequent outbreaks
showed that their friendship for the New Mexican people could not be
entirely depended upon, although they mingled with them to such an
extent that a large portion of the tribe acquired a fair knowledge of
the Spanish language.
The Utes were an offshoot of the Shoshone family, the branches of which
have been widely distributed over the Rocky Mountain region from the
Canadian line south into Mexico. It is now generally conceded that the
Aztecs of Mexico and the Utes belong to the same linguistic family. It is
probable that in the march of the former toward the south, many centuries
ago, the Utes were left behind, remaining in their savage state, while
the Aztecs, coming in contact with the semi-civilized nations of the
South, gradually reached the state of culture which they had attained
at the time of the conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards. I am firmly of
the opinion that these Indians, and in fact all the Indians of America,
are descendants of Asiatic tribes that crossed over to this continent by
way of Bering Strait at some remote period. These tribes may, however,
have been added to at various times by chance migrations from Japan,
the Hawaiian and South Sea islands. It is known that in historic times
the Japanese current has thrown upon the Pacific Coast fishing-boats,
laden with Japanese people, which had drifted helplessly across the
Pacific Ocean. It is, therefore, fair to assume that what is known to
have occurred in recent times might also have frequently occurred in the
remote past, and if this be so, the intermarriage of these people with
the native races would undoubtedly have had a decided influence upon the
tribes adjacent to the Pacific Coast. There seems to be no reason why
the people of the Hawaiian Islands should not have visited our shores,
as those islands are not much farther distant from the Pacific Coast than
are certain inhabited islands in other directions. These same conclusions
have been reached by many others who have made a study of the question.
The _National Geographic Magazine_ of April, 1910, contained an article
written by Miss Scidmore on "Mukden, the Manchu Home," in which she says:
When I saw the Viceroy and his suite at a Japanese fête
at Tairen, whither he had gone to pay a state visit, I was
convinced as never before of the common origin of the North
American Indian and the Chinese or Manchu Tartars. There
before me might as well have been Red Cloud, Sitting Bull, and
Rain-in-the-Face, dressed in blue satin blankets, thick-soled
moccasins, and squat war-bonnets with single bunches of feathers
shooting back from the crown. Manchu eyes, Tartar cheek-bones,
and Mongol jaws were combined in countenances that any Sioux
chief would recognize as a brother.
The Ute Indians were well-built, but not nearly as tall as the Sioux,
Cheyennes, Arapahoes, or any of the tribes of the plains. Their type of
countenance was substantially the same as that of all American Indians.
They were distinctly mountain Indians, and that they should have been
a shorter race than those of the plains to the east is peculiar, as
it reverses the usual rule. Might not this have been the result of an
infusion of Japanese blood in the early days of the Shoshones when their
numbers were small? And possibly from this same source came the unusual
ability of the Utes in warfare.
As Indians go, the Utes were a fairly intelligent people. They had a less
vicious look than the Indians of the plains, and as far as my observation
goes, they were not so cruel. They ranged over the mountainous region
from the northern boundaries of the present State of Colorado, down as
far as the central part of New Mexico. Their favorite camping-place,
however, was in the beautiful valleys of the South Park, and other places
in the region west of Pike's Peak. The South Park was known to the old
trappers and hunters as the Bayou Salado, probably deriving its name
from the salt marshes and springs that were abundant in the western part
of that locality.
Game was to be found in greater abundance in the South Park and the
country round about than in almost any other region of the Rocky
Mountains, and for that reason its possession was contended for most
strenuously year after year by all the tribes of the surrounding country.
For a time in the summer season, the Utes were frequently driven away
from this favorite region by the tribes of the plains who congregated in
the South Park in great numbers as soon as the heat of the plains became
uncomfortable. However, the Utes seldom failed to retain possession
during most of the year, as they were remarkably good fighters and more
than able to hold their own against equal numbers.
In point of time, the Comanches were the next tribe of which we have any
record, as inhabiting this region. These Indians also were a branch of the
Shoshone nation. They led the procession of tribes that moved southward
along the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains during the seventeenth
and the first half of the eighteenth centuries. When first heard of,
they were occupying the territory where the Missouri River emerges from
the Rocky Mountains. Later, they were driven south by the pressure of
the Sioux Indians and other tribes coming in from the north and east.
For a while they occupied the Black Hills, and then were pushed still
farther south by the Kiowas. They joined their kinsmen the Utes in raids
upon the settlements of New Mexico in 1716, and it was to punish the
Comanches as well as the Utes, that the Governor of New Mexico, in 1719,
led the military expedition into the country now within the boundaries
of Colorado. In 1724, Bourgemont, a French explorer mentions them under
the name of the Padouca, as located between the headwaters of the Platte
and Kansas rivers, but later accounts show that before the end of that
century they had been pushed south of the Arkansas River by the pressure
of the tribes to the north.
During the stay of the Comanches in this region, they were for a time
friendly with the Utes, and the two tribes joined each other in warfare
and roamed over much of the same territory, but later, for some unknown
reason, they for a time engaged in a deadly warfare. The old legend
of the Manitou Springs mentions the possible beginning of the trouble.
The incident around which the legend is woven, may be an imaginary one,
but it is a well-known fact that long and bitter wars between tribes
resulted from slighter causes. It is said that a long war between the
Delawares and Shawnees originated in a quarrel between two children over
a grasshopper.
The Comanches were a nation of daring warriors, and after their removal
to the south of the Arkansas River, they became a great scourge to the
settlements of Texas and New Mexico, finally extending their raids as
far as Chihuahua, in Mexico. As a result of these operations, they became
rich in horses and plunder obtained in their raids, besides securing as
captives many American and Spanish women and children. One of their most
noted chiefs in after days was the son of a white woman who had been
captured in Texas in her childhood, and who, when grown, had married
a Comanche chief. The Government arranged for the release of both the
American and Spanish captives, but in more than one instance women who
had been captured in their younger days refused to leave their Comanche
husbands, notwithstanding the strongest urging on the part of their own
parents.
Following the Comanches came the Kiowas, a tribe of unknown origin,
as their language seems to have no similarity to that of any of the
other tribes of this country. According to their mythology, their first
progenitors emerged from a hollow cottonwood log, at the bidding of a
supernatural ancestor. They came out one at a time as he tapped upon the
log, until it came to the turn of a fleshy woman, who stuck fast in the
hole, and thus blocked the way for those behind her, so that they were
unable to follow. This, they say, accounts for the small number of the
Kiowa tribe.
The first mention of this tribe locates them at the extreme sources of
the Yellowstone and Missouri rivers, in what is now central Montana.
Later, by permission of the Crow Indians, they took up their residence
east of that tribe and became allied with them. Up to this time they
possessed no horses and in moving about had to depend solely upon dogs.
They finally drifted out upon the plains; here they first procured
horses, and came in contact with the Arapahoes, Cheyennes, and, later,
with the Sioux. The tribe probably secured horses by raids upon the
Spaniards of New Mexico, as the authorities of that Territory mention
the Kiowas as early as 1748, while the latter were still living in the
Black Hills. It may not be generally known that there were no horses
upon the American continent prior to the coming of the Spaniards. The
first horses acquired by the Indians were those lost or abandoned by
the early exploring expeditions, and these were added to later by raids
upon the Spanish settlements of New Mexico. The natural increase of the
horses so obtained gave the Indians, in many cases, a number in excess
of their needs. Previous to acquiring horses, the Indians used dogs
in moving their belongings around the country. As compared with their
swift movements of later days this slow method of transportation very
materially limited their migrations.
By the end of that century, the Kiowas had drifted south into the region
embraced by the present State of Colorado, probably being forced to do so
by the pressure of the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, who were at that
time advancing from the north and east. As the Kiowas advanced southward,
they encountered the Comanches; this resulted in warfare that lasted
many years, in the course of which the Comanches were gradually driven
south of the Arkansas River. When, finally, the war was terminated, an
alliance was effected between the two tribes, which thereafter remained
unbroken. In 1806, the Kiowas were occupying the country along the
eastern base of the mountains of the Pike's Peak region. From Lieut.
Zebulon Pike's narrative, we learn that James Pursley, who, according to
Lieutenant Pike, was the first American to penetrate the immense wilds
of Louisiana, spent a trading season with the Kiowas and Comanches in
1802 and 1803. He remained with them until the next spring, when the
Sioux drove them from the plains into the mountains at the head of the
Platte and Arkansas rivers. In all probability their retreat into the
mountains was through Ute Pass, as that was the most accessible route.
In the same statement Lieutenant Pike mentions Pursley's claim to having
found gold on the headwaters of the Platte River. By the year 1815,
most of the Kiowas had been pushed south of the Arkansas River by the
Cheyennes and Arapahoes, but not until 1840 did they finally give up
fighting for the possession of this region.
The Cheyennes and Arapahoes were of the Algonquin linguistic family,
whose original home was in the New England States and southern Canada.
When first heard of, about 1750, the Cheyennes were located in northern
Minnesota. Later, about 1790, they were living on the Missouri, near the
mouth of the Cheyenne River. Subsequently they moved west into the Black
Hills, being forced to do so by the enmity of the Sioux. Here they were
joined by the Arapahoes, a tribe of the same Algonquin stock, and from
that time on the two tribes were bound together in the closest relations.
Beginning about 1800, these two federated tribes, accompanied by some
of the Sioux, with whom they had made peace, gradually moved southward
along the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains. Dr. James, the historian
of Long's expedition which visited the Pike's Peak region in 1820,
mentions the fact that about four years previous there had been a large
encampment of Indians on a stream near Platte Cañon, southwest of Denver,
which had assembled for trading purposes. It appears that the Cheyennes
had been supplied with goods by British traders on the Missouri River,
and had met to exchange these goods for horses. The tribes dwelling on
the fertile plains of the Arkansas and Red rivers always had a great
number of horses, which they reared with much less difficulty than did
the Cheyennes, who usually spent the winter in the country farther to
the north, where the cold weather lasted much longer and feed was less
abundant. After many years of warfare with the Kiowas, the Cheyennes
and Arapahoes were victorious, and by a treaty, made in 1840, secured
undisputed possession of the territory north of the Arkansas River and
east of the mountains. As this was only eighteen years before the coming
of the whites, the Cheyennes and Arapahoes could not rightfully claim this
region as their ancestral home. The country acquired by the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes, through their victory over the Kiowas, embraced a territory
of more than eighty thousand square miles. As in those two tribes there
were never more than five thousand men, women, and children, all told,
the area was out of all proportion to their numbers.
Early in 1861, the Government made a treaty with the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes by which these tribes gave up the greater part of the lands
claimed by them in the new Territory of Colorado. For this they were to
receive a consideration of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, to
be paid in fifteen yearly installments, the tribes reserving for their
own use a tract about seventy miles square located on both sides of the
Arkansas River in the southeastern part of the Territory.
From the time of their first contact with the whites, the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes were alternately friendly or hostile, just as their temper
or whim dictated upon any particular occasion. With the old trappers
and hunters of the plains, the Cheyennes had the reputation of being
the most treacherous and untrustworthy at all times and in all places,
of any of the tribes of the West. The Arapahoes, while occasionally
committing depredations against the whites, were said to be somewhat
different in temperament, in that they were not so sullen and morose as
the Cheyennes, and were less treacherous and more open and trustworthy
in their dealings. This estimate of the characteristics of the two
tribes was fully confirmed in our contact with them in the early days
of Colorado.
The Cheyennes were continuously hostile during the years 1855, 1856,
and 1857, killing many whites and robbing numerous wagon-trains along
the Platte River, which at that time was the great thoroughfare for
travelers to Utah, California, Oregon, and other regions to the west of
the Rocky Mountains. In 1857, the Cheyennes were severely punished in a
number of engagements by troops under command of Colonel E. V. Sumner
of the regular army, and as a result, they gave little trouble during
the next five or six years.
In the early days, the Arapahoes came in touch with the whites to a much
greater extent than did the Cheyennes. The members of the latter tribe
usually held aloof, and by their manner plainly expressed hatred of the
white race. Horace Greeley, in his book describing his trip across the
plains to California in 1859, tells of a large body of Arapahoes who
were encamped on the outskirts of Denver in June of that year, because
of the protection they thought it gave them from their enemies the Utes.
I saw this band when I passed through Denver in June of the following
year.
The Sioux were one of the largest Indian nations upon the American
continent. So far as is known, their original home was upon the Atlantic
Coast in North Carolina, but by the time Europeans began to settle in that
section they had drifted into the Western country. Their first contact
with the white race occurred in the upper Mississippi region. These white
people were the French explorers who had penetrated into almost every
part of the interior long before the English had made any serious attempt
at the exploration of the wilderness west of the Allegheny Mountains.
The friendly relations between the French and the Sioux continued for
many years, but when the French were finally supplanted by the English
in most localities, the Sioux made an alliance with the latter which was
maintained during the Revolutionary War, and continued until after the
War of 1812. Subsequent to the year 1812, the Sioux gradually drifted
still farther westward, and not many years later their principal home
was upon the upper Missouri River. The recognized southern boundary
of their country was the North Platte River, but on account of their
friendly relations with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, the Sioux often
wandered along the base of the mountains as far as the Arkansas River,
and, being at enmity with the Utes, they frequently joined the Cheyennes
and Arapahoes in raids upon their common enemy.
While the Pawnees seldom spent much time in this region, they often
came to the mountains in raids upon their enemies the Sioux, Cheyennes,
Arapahoes, and Kiowas and upon horse-stealing expeditions. The Pawnees
were members of the Caddoan family, whose original home was in the
South. In this they were exceptional, since almost every other tribe in
this Western country came from the north or east. From time immemorial
their principal villages were located on the Loup Fork of the Platte
River and on the headwaters of the Republican River, about three hundred
miles east of the Rocky Mountains. The Pawnees were a warlike tribe
and extended their raids over a very wide stretch of country, at times
reaching as far as New Mexico. They carried on a bitter warfare with the
Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, and at times were engaged in warfare
with almost every one of the surrounding tribes. They were a courageous
people, and were generally victorious, where the numbers engaged were at
all nearly equal. The Spaniards of New Mexico became acquainted with this
tribe as early as 1693, and made strenuous efforts to maintain friendly
relations with them; with few exceptions these efforts were successful.
In 1720, the Spanish authorities of New Mexico learned that French
traders had established trading stations in the Pawnee country, and
were furnishing the Indians with firearms. This news greatly disturbed
the Spaniards and resulted in a military expedition being organized at
Santa Fé, to visit the principal villages of the Pawnees for the purpose
of impressing that tribe with the strength of the Spanish Government,
and thus to counteract the influence of the French. The expedition
started from Santa Fé in June of that year. It was under the command of
Lieutenant-Colonel Villazur, of the Spanish regular army, and was composed
of fifty armed Spaniards, together with a large number of Jicarilla
Apache Indians as auxiliaries, making the expedition an imposing one
for the times. The route taken, as nearly as I can determine from the
description given in Bancroft's history of New Mexico, was northerly
along the eastern base of the mountains, passing not very far from where
Colorado Springs is now located. After reaching the Platte River, at no
great distance east of the mountains, the expedition proceeded down the
valley of that stream until it came in contact with the Pawnees, but
before a council could be held, the latter surprised the Spaniards, killed
the commanding officer, and in the fight that ensued almost annihilated
the party. The surviving half-dozen soldiers, who were mounted, saved
themselves by flight. Not yet having acquired horses, the Pawnees could
not pursue them. These survivors, after untold hardships, reached Santa
Fé a month or two later to tell the tale. Another instance of a Spanish
force visiting the Pawnees occurred in 1806. When Lieutenant Pike on his
exploring tour visited the Pawnees on the Republican River in September
of that year, he found that a Spanish military force had been there just
ahead of him. This force had been dispatched from Santa Fé to prevent
him from exploring the country north of the Arkansas River, to which
the Spanish Government insistently laid claim. However, the expedition
failed of its purpose, inasmuch as it marched back up the Arkansas River
to the mountains, and returned to Santa Fé without having seen or heard
of Lieutenant Pike.
When Colonel Long on his exploring expedition visited this tribe in
1819, he found the Pawnees mourning the loss of a large number of
their warriors who had been killed in an encounter with the Cheyennes
and Arapahoes in the region adjacent to the Rocky Mountains. It seems
that ninety-three warriors left their camp on the Republican River and
proceeded on foot to the mountains on a horse-stealing expedition. The
party finally reached a point on the south side of the Arkansas River,
having up to that time accomplished nothing. Here they were discovered
and attacked by a large band of Cheyennes and Arapahoes. During the fight
that followed, over fifty of the Pawnees were killed; but the attacking
party suffered so severely that after the fighting had continued for a
day or more, they were glad to allow the surviving Pawnees, numbering
about forty, to escape. Most of the latter were wounded and it was with
difficulty that they succeeded in reaching their homes.
All the tribes that I have mentioned were purely nomadic, and, aside
from the Pawnees, depended entirely upon game for a living.
The Pawnees were the only tribe that engaged in agriculture. Their summer
camps were generally located at some favorable spot for growing corn,
beans, pumpkins, and other vegetables. They usually remained at such place
until their crops were harvested, when they made large excavations in the
ground in which they stored their grain and vegetables for future use.
After covering the excavation they carefully obliterated all evidence
of it, in order to prevent discovery. They would then go off on hunting
expeditions, returning later in the winter to enjoy the fruits of the
summer's toil of their squaws—for the warrior never degraded himself by
doing any labor which the squaw could perform. Their habitations, when
staying any length of time in one locality, were made of poles, brush,
grass, and earth, and were more durable structures than the lodges used
by the other tribes of the plains.
The Utes, Comanches, Kiowas, Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes used
the conical wigwam, which was easily erected and quickly taken down.
The conical wigwam consisted of a framework of small pine poles about
two and one-half inches in diameter and twenty feet in length. In its
erection, three poles were tied together about two or three feet from
the smaller end; the three poles were then set up, their bases forming a
triangle sufficiently far apart to permit of a lodge about twenty feet
in diameter. The remaining sixteen to eighteen poles used were then
placed in position to form a circle, their bases about four feet apart
and their tops resting in the fork of the three original poles. Among
the plains Indians, where buffalo were plentiful, the covering for this
framework consisted of buffalo skins which had been tanned and sewed
together by the squaws. It was so shaped that a flap could be thrown
back at the top, leaving an opening through which the smoke could escape,
and another at the bottom for use as a door. The bottom of this covering
was secured by fastening it to small stakes driven into the ground. All
of the bedding, buffalo robes, and other belongings of the Indians were
taken into the wigwam and piled around the sides; a small hole was then
dug in the center of the earthern floor, in which the fire was built.
In taking down the tents, preparatory to moving about the country, the
squaws removed the covering from the framework, and folded it into a
compact bundle; they took the poles down and laid them in two parallel
piles three or four feet apart, and then led a pony in between them. The
upper end of each pile was fastened to the pack-saddle, leaving the other
end to drag upon the ground. Just back of the pony's tail the covering
of the tent was fastened to the two sets of poles, on top of which the
babies and small children were placed. In this way the Indians moved
their camps from place to place. The squaws did all the work of making
these tent coverings, procuring the poles, setting up the tents, and
taking them down. The warrior never lifted his hand to help, as it was
beneath the dignity of a warrior to do any kind of manual labor.
Among the favorite camping-places of the Indians in El Paso County,
Colorado, the region extending along the west side of Cheyenne Creek just
above its mouth was probably used most frequently. There were evidences
of other camping places at different points farther up the creek, that
had been used to a lesser extent. Their tent-poles, in being dragged
over the country, rapidly wore out, and for that reason the Indians of
the plains found it necessary to come to the mountains every year or two
to get a new supply. The thousands of small stumps that were to be seen
on the side of Cheyenne Mountain at the time of the first settlement of
this region gave evidence that many Indians had secured new lodge poles
in that locality. It is probable that this was the reason why their tents
were so often pitched in the valley of Cheyenne Creek, and undoubtedly
this is the origin of the name by which the creek is now known.
On account of its close proximity to the country of the Utes, the Indians
of the plains must necessarily have had to come to this locality in
very considerable force and must at all times have kept a very sharp
lookout in order to avoid disaster. It is known that the Utes maintained
pickets in this vicinity much of the time. In the early days, any one
climbing to the top of the high sandstone ridge back of the United States
Reduction Works at Colorado City might have seen numerous circular places
of defense built of loose stone, to a height of four or five feet, and
large enough to hold three or four men comfortably. These miniature
fortifications were placed at intervals along the ridge all the way
from the Fountain to Bear Creek and doubtless were built and used by
the Utes. From these small forts, the Indian pickets could overlook the
valley of the Fountain, the Mesa, and keep watch over the country for
a long distance out on the plains. At such times as the Utes maintained
sentinels there it would have been difficult for their enemies to reach
this region without being discovered.
CHAPTER II
TRAILS, MINERAL SPRINGS, GAME, ETC.
The principal Indian trail into the mountains from the plains to the
northeast of Pike's Peak came in by way of the Garden Ranch, through what
used to be known as Templeton's Gap. It crossed Monument Creek about a
mile above Colorado Springs, then followed up a ridge to the Mesa; then
it went southwest over the Mesa and across Camp Creek, passing just
south of the Garden of the Gods; from there it came down to the Fountain,
about a mile west of Colorado City, and there joined another trail that
came from the southeast up the east side of Fountain Creek. The latter
trail followed the east side of the Fountain from the Arkansas River,
and crossed Monument Creek just below the present Artificial Ice Plant
in Colorado Springs, from which point it ran along the north side of the
Fountain to a point just west of Colorado City, where it crossed to the
south side, then up the south side of the creek to the Manitou Springs.
From this place it went up Ruxton Creek for a few hundred yards, then
crossed over to the west side, then up the creek to a point just below
the Colorado Midland Railway bridge; thence westward up a long ravine
to its head; then in the same direction near the heads of the ravines
running into the Fountain and from a quarter to a half of a mile south
of that creek for two miles or more. The trail finally came down to
the Fountain again just below Cascade Cañon and from there led up the
Fountain to its head, where it branched off in various directions.
The trail I have described from Manitou to Cascade Cañon is the famous
old Ute Pass trail which undoubtedly had been used by various tribes of
Indians for hundreds of years before the discovery of America. We know
it was used later for many generations by the Spanish explorer, the
hunter, the trapper, and the Indian until the white settler came, and
even after that by occasional war-parties, up to the time the Indians
were driven from the State of Colorado. Marble markers were placed at
intervals along this trail by the El Paso County Pioneer Society in the
summer of 1912. This trail and those leading into it from the plains
were well-traveled roads and gave indication of long and frequent use.
Dr. Edwin James, botanist and historian of Long's expedition, who visited
the Pike's Peak region in 1820, says:
A large and much frequented road passes the springs and enters
the mountains running to the north of the high peak.
He says of the principal spring at Manitou:
The boiling spring is a large and beautiful fountain of water,
cool and transparent and aërated with carbonic acid. It rises
on the brink of a small stream which here descends from the
mountains at the point where the bed of this stream divides the
ridge of sandstone, which rests against the base of the first
granitic range. The water of the spring deposits a copious
concretion of carbonate of lime, which has accumulated on
every side, until it has formed a large basin overhanging the
stream, above which it rises several feet. The basin is of snowy
whiteness and large enough to contain three or four hundred
gallons, and is constantly overflowing. The spring rises from
the bottom of the basin with a rumbling noise, discharging
about equal volumes of air and of water, probably about fifty
gallons per minute, the whole kept in constant agitation. The
water is beautifully transparent, has a sparkling appearance,
the grateful taste and exhilarating effect of the most highly
aërated artificial mineral water.
In the bottom of the spring a great number of beads and
other small articles of Indian adornment were found, having
unquestionably been left there as a sacrifice or present to
the springs, which are regarded with a sort of veneration by
the savages. Bijeau, our guide, assured us he had repeatedly
taken beads and other adornments from these springs and sold
them to the same savages who had thrown them in.
Mr. Rufus B. Sage, who describes himself as a New Englander, after passing
through this region in 1842, published a book giving his experiences and
observations. In speaking of the Fontaine qui Bouille Creek, now known
as the Fountain and of the Manitou Springs, he says:
This name is derived from two singular springs situated within
a few yards of each other at the creek's head, both of which
emit water in the form of vapor, with a hissing noise; one
strongly impregnated with sulphur and the other with soda. The
soda water is fully as good as any manufactured for special
use and sparkles and foams with equal effervescence. The
Arapahoes regard this phenomenon with awe, and venerate it as
the manifestation of the immediate presence of the Great Spirit.
They call it the "Medicine Fountain" and seldom neglect to
bestow their gifts upon it whenever an opportunity is presented.
These offerings usually consist of robes, blankets, arrows,
bows, knives, beads, moccasins, etc., which they either throw
into the water, or hang upon the surrounding trees.
Sometimes a whole village will visit the place for the purpose
of paying their united regard to this sacred fountain.
The scenery in the vicinity is truly magnificent. A valley
several hundred yards in width heads at the springs, and
overlooking it from the west in almost perpendicular ascent
tower the lofty summits of Pike's Peak, piercing the clouds
and reveling in eternal snow. This valley opens eastward and
is walled in at the right and left at the mountain's base by
a stretch of high table-land surmounted by oaks and stately
pines, with now and then an interval displaying a luxuriant
coating of grass. The soil is a reddish loam and very rich.
The trees, which skirt the creek as it traces its way from
the fountain, are generally free from underbrush, and show
almost as much regularity of position as if planted by the
hand of art. A lusty growth of vegetation is sustained among
them to their very trunks, which is garnished by wild flowers
during the summer months, that invest the whole scene with an
enchantment peculiar to itself.
The climate, too, is far milder in this than in adjoining
regions, even of a more southern latitude. "'Tis here summer
first unfolds her robes, and here the longest tarries"; the
grass, continuing green the entire winter, here first feels the
genial touch of spring. Snow seldom remains upon the ground to
exceed a single day, even in the severest weather, while the
neighboring hills and prairies present their white mantlings
for weeks in succession.
As the creek emerges from the mountains, it increases in
size by the accession of several tributaries, and the valley
also expands, retaining for a considerable distance the
distinguishing traces above described.
The vicinity affords an abundance of game, among which are deer,
sheep, bear, antelope, elk, and buffalo, together with turkeys,
geese, ducks, grouse, mountain fowls, and rabbits. Affording
as it does such magnificent and delightful scenery, such rich
stores for the supply of human wants both to please the taste
and enrapture the heart; so heavenlike in its appearance and
character, it is no wonder the untaught savage reveres it as a
place wherein the Good Spirit delights to dwell, and hastens
with his free-will offerings to the strange fountain, in the
full belief that its bubbling waters are the more immediate
impersonation of Him whom he adores.
And there are other scenes adjoining this that demand a passing
notice. A few miles from the springs, and running parallel
with the eastern base of the mountain range, several hundred
yards removed from it, a wall of coarse, red granite towers
to a varied height of from fifty to three hundred feet. This
wall is formed of an immense strata planted vertically. This
mural tier is isolated and occupies its prairie site in silent
majesty, as if to guard the approach to the stupendous monuments
of Nature's handiwork, that form the background, disclosing
itself to the beholder for a distance of over thirty miles.
Lieut. John C. Frémont, who visited the springs in 1843, while on his
second expedition, was just as enthusiastic about them. He says:
On the morning of the 16th of July we resumed our journey.
Our direction was up the Boiling Springs River, it being my
intention to visit the celebrated springs from which the river
takes its name, and which are on its upper waters at the foot
of Pike's Peak.
Our animals fared well while we were on this stream, there
being everywhere a great abundance of grass. Beautiful clusters
of flowering plants were numerous, and wild currants, nearly
ripe, were abundant. On the afternoon of the 17th, we entered
among the broken ridges at the foot of the mountain, where
the river made several forks.
Leaving the camp to follow slowly, I rode ahead in the
afternoon, in search of the springs. In the meantime, the
clouds, which had been gathering all the afternoon over the
mountains, began to roll down their sides, and a storm so
violent burst upon me that it appeared I had entered the store
house of the thunder storms. I continued, however, to ride
along up the river until about sunset, and was beginning to
be doubtful of finding the springs before the next day, when
I came suddenly upon a large, smooth rock about twenty feet in
diameter, where the water from several springs was bubbling and
boiling up in the midst of a white encrustation, with which it
had covered a portion of the rock. As it did not correspond
with the description given me by the hunters, I did not stop
to taste the water, but dismounting, walked a little way up
the river, and passing through a narrow thicket of shrubbery
bordering the stream, stepped directly upon a huge, white rock
at the foot of which the river, already becoming a torrent,
foamed along, broken by a small fall.
A deer which had been drinking at the spring was startled by
my approach, and springing across the river bounded off up the
mountain. In the upper part of the rock, which had been formed
by the deposition, was a beautiful, white basin overhung by
currant bushes, in which the cold, clear water bubbled up,
kept in constant motion by the escaping gas, and overflowing
the rock which it had almost entirely covered with a smooth
crust of glistening white.
I had all day refrained from drinking, reserving myself for
the springs, and as I could not well be more wet than the rain
had already made me, I lay down by the side of the basin and
drank heartily of the delightful water.
As it was now beginning to grow dark, I rode quickly down the
river on which I found the camp a few miles below. The morning
of the 18th was beautiful and clear, and all of the people
being anxious to drink of these famous waters, we encamped
immediately at the springs and spent there a very pleasant day.
On the opposite side of the river is another locality of
springs which are entirely of the same nature. The water has
a very agreeable taste, which Mr. Preuss found very much to
resemble that of the famous Selter spring in the Grand Duchy
of Nassau, a country famous for wine and mineral waters.
Resuming our journey on the morning of the 19th, we descended
the river, in order to reach the mouth of the eastern fork
which I proposed to ascend. The left bank of the river is here
very much broken. There is a handsome little bottom on the
right, and both banks are exceedingly picturesque, a stratum
of red rock in nearly perpendicular walls, crossing the valley
from north to south.
Lieut. George F. Ruxton, an officer of the British Army, who was seeking
the restoration of his health by roughing it in the Rocky Mountains,
camped at the Manitou Springs for a number of months in the early part
of 1847.
Writing of his trip from Pueblo up the Fontaine qui Bouille in the month
of March of that year, and of his stay at the springs afterwards, he says:
The further I advanced up the creek and the nearer the
mountains, the more advanced was the vegetation. As yet,
however, the cottonwoods and the larger trees in the bottom
showed no signs of life, and the currant and cherry bushes
still looked dry and sapless. The thickets, however, were filled
with birds and resounded with their songs, and the plains were
alive with prairie dogs, busy in repairing their houses and
barking lustily as I rode through their towns. Turkeys, too,
were calling in the timber, and the boom of the prairie fowl
at rise and set of sun was heard on every side. The snow had
entirely disappeared from the plains, but Pike's Peak and the
mountains were still clad in white.
On my way I met a band of hunters who had been driven in by
a party of Arapahoes who were encamped on the eastern fork of
the Fontaine qui Bouille [Monument Creek]. They strongly urged
me to return, as, being alone, I could not fail to be robbed
of my animals, if not killed myself. However, in pursuance of
my fixed rule never to stop on account of Indians, I proceeded
up the river and camped on the first fork for a day or two,
hunting in the mountains. I then moved up the main fork on
which I had been directed by the hunters to proceed, in order
to visit the far famed springs, from which the creek takes its
name. I followed a very good lodge-pole trail which struck the
creek before entering the broken country, being that used by
the Utes and Arapahoes on their way to the Bayou Salado. Here
the valley narrowed considerably, and turning an angle with
the creek, I was at once shut in by mountains and elevated
ridges which rose on each side of the stream. This was now a
rapid torrent tumbling over the rocks and stones and fringed
with oak and a shrubbery of brush. A few miles on, the cañon
opened into a little shelving glade and on the right bank of
the stream, raised several feet above it, was a flat, white
rock, in which was a round hole where one of the celebrated
springs hissed and bubbled with its escaping gas. I had been
cautioned against drinking this, being directed to follow the
stream a few yards to another, which is the true soda spring.
I had not only abstained from drinking that day, but with the
aid of a handful of salt, which I had brought with me for the
purpose, had so highly seasoned my breakfast of venison, that
I was in a most satisfactory state of thirst. I therefore
proceeded at once to the other spring, and found it about forty
yards from the first and immediately above the river, issuing
from a little basin in the flat, white rock, and trickling over
the edge into the stream. The escape of gas in this was much
stronger than in the other, and was similar to water boiling
smartly.
I had provided myself with a tin cup holding about a pint, but
before dipping it in I divested myself of my pouch and belt,
and sat down in order to enjoy the draught at my leisure. I
was half dead with thirst, and tucking up the sleeves of my
hunting shirt, I dipped the cup into the midst of the bubbles
and raised it, hissing and sparkling, to my lips. Such a
draught! Three times without drawing a breath was it replenished
and emptied, almost blowing up the roof of my mouth with its
effervescence. It was equal to the very best soda water, but
possesses that fresh, natural flavor which manufactured water
cannot impart.
The Indians regard with awe the medicine waters of these
fountains, as being the abode of a Spirit who breathes through
the transparent water, and thus by his exhalations causes
the perturbation of its surface. The Arapahoes especially
attribute to this water god, the power of ordaining the success
or miscarriage of their war expeditions, and as their braves
pass often by the mysterious springs when in search of their
hereditary enemies, the Utes, in the "Valley of Salt," they
never fail to bestow their votive offerings upon the water
sprite, in order to propitiate the Manitou of the fountain
and insure a fortunate issue to their path of war. Thus at
the time of my visit, the basin of the spring was filled with
beads and wampum and pieces of red cloth and knives, while
the surrounding trees were hung with strips of deer skin,
cloth, and moccasins; to which, had they been serviceable, I
would most sacrilegiously have helped myself. The signs, too,
around the spring, plainly showed that here a war dance had
been executed by the braves, and I was not a little pleased
to find that they had already been here and were not likely
to return the same way; but in this supposition I was quite
astray.
The large spring referred to by Dr. James, Sage, Frémont, Ruxton, and
the other writers whom I have quoted, is the one now enclosed and used
by the bottling works at Manitou. Ruxton says the two springs were
intimately connected with the separation of the Comanche and the Snake,
or Ute tribes, and he gives the following legend concerning the beginning
of the trouble:
Many hundreds of winters ago, when the cottonwoods on the Big
River were no higher than an arrow, and the red men, who hunted
the buffalo on the plains, all spoke the same language, and the
pipe of peace breathed its social cloud of kinnikinnik whenever
two parties of hunters met on the boundless plains—when,
with hunting grounds and game of every kind in the greatest
abundance, no nation dug up the hatchet with another because
one of its hunters followed the game into their bounds, but,
on the contrary, loaded for him his back with choice and
fattest meat, and ever proffered the soothing pipe before
the stranger, with well-filled belly, left the village,—it
happened that two hunters of different nations met one day
on a small rivulet, where both had repaired to quench their
thirst. A little stream of water, rising from a spring on a
rock within a few feet of the bank, trickled over it and fell
splashing into the river. To this the hunters repaired; and
while one sought the spring itself, where the water, cold and
clear, reflected on its surface the image of the surrounding
scenery, the other, tired by his exertions in the chase, threw
himself at once to the ground and plunged his face into the
running stream.
The latter had been unsuccessful in the chase, and perhaps his
bad fortune and the sight of the fat deer, which the other
hunter threw from his back before he drank at the crystal
spring, caused a feeling of jealousy and ill-humour to take
possession of his mind. The other, on the contrary, before
he satisfied his thirst, raised in the hollow of his hand a
portion of the water, and, lifting it towards the sun, reversed
his hand and allowed it to fall upon the ground,—a libation
to the Great Spirit who had vouchsafed him a successful hunt,
and the blessing of the refreshing water with which he was
about to quench his thirst.
Seeing this, and being reminded that he had neglected the usual
offering, only increased the feeling of envy and annoyance
which the unsuccessful hunter permitted to get the mastery
of his heart; and the Evil Spirit at that moment entering his
body, his temper fairly flew away, and he sought some pretense
by which to provoke a quarrel with the stranger Indian at the
spring.
"Why does a stranger," he asked, rising from the stream at
the same time, "drink at the spring-head, when one to whom
the fountain belongs contents himself with the water that runs
from it?"
"The Great Spirit places the cool water at the spring," answered
the other hunter, "that his children may drink it pure and
undefiled. The running water is for the beasts which scour the
plains. Au-sa-qua is a chief of the Shos-shone; he drinks at
the head water."
"The Shos-shone is but a tribe of the Comanche," returned the
other; "Waco-mish leads the grand nation. Why does a Shos-shone
dare to drink above him?"
"He has said it. The Shos-shone drinks at the spring-head; other
nations of the stream which runs into the fields. Au-sa-qua
is chief of his nation. The Comanche are brothers. Let them
both drink of the same water."
"The Shos-shone pays tribute to the Comanche. Waco-mish leads
that nation to war. Waco-mish is chief of the Shos-shone, as
he is of his own people."
"Waco-mish lies; his tongue is forked like the rattlesnake's;
his heart is black as the Misho-tunga [bad spirit]. When the
Manitou made his children, whether Shos-shone or Comanche,
Arapahoe, Shi-an, or Pā-né, he gave them buffalo to eat, and
the pure water of the fountain to quench their thirst. He said
not to one, Drink here, and to another, Drink there; but gave
the crystal spring to all, that all might drink."
Waco-mish almost burst with rage as the other spoke; but his
coward heart alone prevented him from provoking an encounter
with the calm Shos-shone. _He_, made thirsty by the words he had
spoken—for the red man is ever sparing of his tongue—again
stooped down to the spring to quench his thirst, when the
subtle warrior of the Comanche suddenly threw himself upon
the kneeling hunter, and, forcing his head into the bubbling
water, held him down with all his strength, until his victim
no longer struggled, his stiffened limbs relaxed, and he fell
forward over the spring, drowned and dead.
Over the body stood the murderer, and no sooner was the deed
of blood consummated than bitter remorse took possession of
his mind, where before had reigned the fiercest passion and
vindictive hate. With hands clasped to his forehead, he stood
transfixed with horror, intently gazing on his victim, whose
head still remained immersed in the fountain. Mechanically he
dragged the body a few paces from the water, which, as soon
as the head of the dead Indian was withdrawn, the Comanche
saw suddenly and strangely disturbed. Bubbles sprang up from
the bottom, and rising to the surface, escaped in hissing
gas. A thin vapoury cloud arose, and gradually dissolving,
displayed to the eyes of the trembling murderer the figure of
an aged Indian, whose long, snowy hair and venerable beard,
blown aside by a gentle air from his breast, discovered the
well-known totem of the great Wan-kan-aga, the father of the
Comanche and Shos-shone nation, whom the tradition of the
tribe, handed down by skillful hieroglyphics, almost deified
for the good actions and deeds of bravery this famous warrior
had performed when on earth.
Stretching out a war-club towards the affrighted murderer,
the figure thus addressed him:
"Accursed of my tribe! this day thou hast severed the link
between the mightiest nations of the world, while the blood of
the brave Shos-shone cries to the Manitou for vengeance. May
the water of thy tribe be rank and bitter in their throats."
Thus saying, and swinging his ponderous war-club (made from
the elk's horn) round his head, he dashed out the brains of
the Comanche, who fell headlong into the spring, which, from
that day to the present moment, remains rank and nauseous, so
that not even when half dead with thirst, can one drink the
foul water of that spring.
The good Wan-kan-aga, however, to perpetuate the memory of the
Shos-shone warrior, who was renowned in his tribe for valour
and nobleness of heart, struck, with the same avenging club, a
hard, flat rock which overhung the rivulet, just out of sight
of this scene of blood; and forthwith the rock opened into
a round, clear basin, which instantly filled with bubbling,
sparkling water, than which no thirsty hunter ever drank a
sweeter or a cooler draught.
Thus the two springs remain, an everlasting memento of the foul
murder of the brave Shos-shone, and the stern justice of the
good Wan-kan-aga; and from that day the two mighty tribes of
the Shos-shone and Comanche have remained severed and apart;
although a long and bloody war followed the treacherous murder
of the Shos-shone chief, and many a scalp torn from the head
of the Comanche paid the penalty of his death.
In telling of the great quantities of game in this region, Ruxton says:
Never was there such a paradise for hunters as this lone and
solitary spot.
Game abounded on every hand. Bear, elk, deer, mountain sheep, antelope,
and grouse were in abundance in the surrounding mountains and valleys.
Of buffalo there were few except in the valleys west of Pike's Peak and
in the Bayou Salado, or South Park, as it is now known.
Ruxton further says:
It is a singular fact that within the last two years the
prairies, extending from the mountains to one hundred miles
or more down the Arkansas, have been entirely abandoned by
the buffalo; indeed, in crossing from the settlements of New
Mexico, the boundary of their former range is marked by skulls
and bones, which appear fresher as the traveler advances
westward and towards the waters of the Platte.
The evidences that Ruxton here mentions were still apparent twelve or
fourteen years later, when the first settlers of this region arrived.
Buffalo skulls and bones were scattered everywhere over the plains, but
live buffalo could seldom be found nearer than one hundred miles east
of the mountains.
The reason for this has been variously stated, some claiming that a
contagious disease broke out among the buffalo in the early forties, which
virtually exterminated those along the eastern base of the mountains.
Others say that about that time there was a tremendous snowfall in the
early part of the winter which covered the whole country along the eastern
base of the mountains to a depth of six to eight feet, and that as a
result all the buffalo within the region of the snowfall starved to death
during the following winter. It is very possible that the latter reason
may have been the true one, as a heavy fall of snow in the early part of
the winter is not unknown. In the winter of 1864-1865 the antelope of
this region nearly starved to death, owing to a two-foot fall of snow,
on the last day of October and the first day of November, 1864, which
covered the ground to a considerable depth for most of the winter.
While it is true that there were no buffalo in this immediate region at
the time Ruxton was here, nor afterwards, it is well-known that they
had been fairly plentiful in earlier years. Lieutenant Pike tells of
killing five buffalo the day he reached the present site of Pueblo in
1806, and a day or two afterwards he killed three more on Turkey Creek,
about twenty miles south of where Colorado Springs now stands, and saw
others while climbing the mountains in his attempt to reach the "high
point," as he calls it, now known as Pike's Peak.
In 1820, Long's expedition, on its way from Platte Cañon, killed several
buffalo on Monument Creek, a few miles south of the Divide; and later,
while camped on the Fountain a short distance below the site of the
present city of Colorado Springs, killed several more.
Sage says that in 1842, during a five days' stay at Jimmy's Camp (ten
miles east of the present city of Colorado Springs), he "killed three
fine buffalo cows."
After Ruxton had been camped near Manitou Springs for two or three weeks,
while out hunting one day, he ran across an Indian camp, which startled
him very much. No Indians were in sight at the time, but later he got a
glimpse of two carrying in a deer which they had killed. The next morning
Ruxton concluded that as a matter of safety, he had better remove his
camp to some more secluded spot. The following day a fire was started
on the side of the mountain to the south of the springs, which rapidly
spread in every direction. He says:
I had from the first no doubt that the fire was caused by the
Indians who had probably discovered my animals, and thinking
that a large party of hunters might be out, had taken advantage
of a favorable wind to set fire to the grass, hoping to secure
the horses and mules in the confusion, without risk of attacking
the camp.
In order to be out of reach of the fire, Ruxton moved his camp down the
Fontaine qui Bouille six or seven miles. He says:
All this time the fire was spreading out on the prairies. It
extended at least five miles on the left bank of the creek
and on the right was more slowly creeping up the mountainside,
while the brush and timber in the bottom was one mass of flame.
Besides the long, sweeping line of the advancing flame the
plateaus on the mountainside and within the line were burning
in every direction as the squalls and eddies down the gullies
drove the fire to all points. The mountains themselves being
invisible, the air from the low ground where I then was,
appeared a mass of fire, and huge crescents of flame danced as
it were in the very sky, until a mass of timber blazing at once
exhibited the somber background of the stupendous mountains.
The fire extended towards the waters of the Platte upwards of forty
miles, and for fourteen days its glare was visible on the Arkansas River
fifty miles distant.
The testimony of Ruxton bears out information I have from other
sources, that a large portion of the great areas of dead timber on
the mountainsides of this region is the result of fires started by the
various Indian tribes in their wanderings to and fro. Old trappers say
that the Utes frequently went out upon the plains on horse-stealing
expeditions; that when they had located a camp of their enemies, they
would stealthily creep in among their ponies in the night, round them up,
and start off towards the mountains with as many as they could hastily
gather together. They were sure to be pursued the following morning when
the raid had been discovered, and often the Utes with the stolen herd
would find their pursuers close after them by the time they reached the
mountains. In that case, they knew that if they followed up Ute Pass
they were likely to be overtaken, but by crossing over the northern
point of Cheyenne Mountain and on to the west along a trail that ran not
very far distant from the route now followed by the Cripple Creek Short
Line, they could much more easily elude their pursuers. If, when west of
Cheyenne Mountain the Utes found their enemies gaining upon them, they
would start a timber fire to cover their retreat. These fires would,
of course, spread indefinitely and ruin immense tracts of timber. This
is doubtless one of the principal reasons why our mountainsides are so
nearly denuded of their original growth of trees. These horse-stealing
raids were no uncommon occurrence. Colonel Dodge, in his book _Our Wild
Indians_, tells of one made by the Utes in 1874, which was daring as
well as successful. He says:
A mixed band of some fifteen hundred Sioux and Cheyennes,
hunting in 1874, went well up on the headwaters of the
Republican River in search of buffalo. The Utes found them out
and a few warriors slipped into their camp during the night,
stampeded their ponies at daylight, and in spite of the hot
pursuit of the Sioux, reached the mountains with over two
hundred head.
Ruxton frequently mentions the Ute Pass, and states that it was the
principal line of travel to and from the South Park for all the Indian
tribes of this region at the time of his arrival, as well as previous
thereto.
There was another much-used trail into the South Park which entered the
mountains near the present town of Cañon City. It led in a northwesterly
direction from the latter place, and reached the South Park proper near
Hartsell Hot Springs. This route was used by the Indians occupying the
country along the Arkansas River and to the south of it. In addition
to the two principal trails, there were others of lesser note, as, for
example, that over the north end of Cheyenne Mountain, and one west of
the present town of Monument; but these were difficult and were not used
to any great extent.
In 1806, Lieutenant Pike attempted to lead his exploring expedition
over the Cañon City trail, but evidently had a very poor guide, and,
as a result, lost his way very soon after leaving the Arkansas River.
They wandered about through the low mountains west of the present mining
camp of Cripple Creek, and finally reached the Platte near the west end
of Eleven-Mile Cañon where the river emerges from the South Park. He
mentions having found near that point a recently abandoned Indian camp
which he estimates must have been occupied by at least three thousand
Indians.
Thomas J. Farnham, on his way to Oregon in 1839, passed through the South
Park, reaching it from the Arkansas River by the trail already described.
He tells of his trip, in a rudely bound little book of minutely fine
print, published in 1843. In recounting his journey from the Arkansas
River to the South Park, he frequently mentions James Peak as being
to the east of the route he was traveling. Previously, when encamped
on the Arkansas River, below the mouth of the Fontaine qui Bouille, he
speaks of the latter stream as heading in James Peak, eighty miles to
the northwest; he also states that one of the branches of the Huerfano
originates in Pike's Peak, seventy to eighty miles to the south. This
brings to mind the fact that previous to about 1840 the peak that we
now know as Pike's Peak was known as James Peak. Major S. H. Long, who
was in command of the expedition that explored the Pike's Peak region in
1820, gave it this name in honor of Dr. James, who is supposed to have
been the first white man to ascend it. After about 1840, this name was
gradually dropped and Pike's Peak was substituted.
Farnham was very much pleased with the South Park, and says of it, after
describing its streams, valleys, and rocky ridges:
This is a bird's-eye view of Bayou Salado, so named from the
circumstance that native rock salt is found in some parts of
it. We were in the central portion of it. To the north and
south and west its isolated plains rise one above another,
always beautiful and covered with verdure during the months of
spring and summer. A sweet spot this, for the romance of the
future as well as of the present and past. The buffalo have for
ages resorted here about the last days of July from the arid
plains of the Arkansas and the Platte; and hither the Utes,
Cheyennes and Arapahoes, Black Feet, Crows and Sioux of the
north, have for ages met and hunted and fought and loved, and
when their battles and hunts were interrupted by the chills
and snows of November, they separated for their several winter
resorts.
How wild and beautiful the past, as it comes up fledged with
the rich plumage of the imagination! These vales, studded
with a thousand villages of conical skin wigwams, with their
thousands of fires blazing on the starry brow of night! I see
the dusky forms crouching around the glowing piles of ignited
logs, in family groups, whispering the dreams of their rude
love, or gathered around the stalwart form of some noble chief
at the hour of midnight, listening to the harangue of vengeance
or the whoop of war that is to cast the deadly arrow with the
first gleam of morning light.
Or, may we not see them gathered, a circle of old braves,
around an aged tree, surrounded each by the musty trophies
of half a century's daring deeds. The eldest and richest in
scalps rises from the center of the ring and advances to the
tree. Hear him!
"Fifty winters ago when the seventh moon's first horn hung
over the green forests of the Ute hills, myself and five others
erected a lodge for the Great Spirit on the snows of the White
Butte and carried there our wampum and skins, and the hide
of a white buffalo. We hung them in the Great Spirit's lodge
and seated ourselves in silence till the moon had descended
the western mountain, and thought of the blood of our fathers
that the Comanches had killed when the moon was round and
lay on the eastern plains. My own father was scalped, and the
fathers of five others were scalped, and their bloody heads
were gnawed by the wolf. We could not live while our father's
lodges were empty and the scalps of their murderers were not
in the lodges of our mothers. Our hearts told us to make these
offerings to the Great Spirit who had fostered them on the
mountains, and when the moon was down and the shadows of the
White Butte were as dark as the hair of a bear, we said to the
Great Spirit: 'No man can war with the arrows from the quiver
of thy storms. No man's word can be heard when thy voice is
among the clouds. No man's hand is strong when thy hand lets
loose the wind. The wolf gnaws the heads of our fathers and
the scalps of their murderers hang not in the lodges of our
mothers. Great Father Spirit, send not thine anger out. Hold
in thy hand the winds. Let not thy great voice drown the death
yell while we hunt the murderers of our fathers.' I and the
five others then built in the middle of the lodge a fire, and
in its bright light the Great Spirit saw the wampum and the
skins and the white buffalo hide. Five days and nights I and
five others danced and smoked the medicine and beat the board
with sticks and chanted away the powers of the great Medicine
Men, that they might not be evil to us and bring sickness into
our bones. Then when the stars were shining in the clear sky,
we swore (I must not tell what, for it was in the ear of the
Great Spirit), and went out of the lodge with our bosoms full
of anger against the murderers of our fathers whose bones were
in the jaws of the wolf and went for their scalps, to hang
them in the lodges of our mothers." See him strike the aged
tree with his war-club; again, again, nine times. "So many
Comanches did I slay, the murderers of my father, before the
moon was round again and lay upon the eastern plains."
Farnham, continuing, says:
This is not merely an imaginary scene of former times in the
Bayou Salado. All the essential incidents related happened
yearly in that and other hunting-grounds, whenever the old
braves assembled to celebrate valorous deeds of their younger
days. When these exciting relations were finished, the young
men of the tribe who had not yet distinguished themselves were
exhorted to seek glory in a similar way; and woe to him who
passed his manhood without ornamenting the door of his lodge
with the scalps of his enemies.
This valley is still frequented by these Indians as a summer
haunt, when the heat of the plains renders them uncomfortable.
The Utes were scouring it when we passed. Our guide informed
us that the Utes reside on both sides of the mountains,—that
they are continually migrating from one side to the other,—that
they speak the Spanish language,—that some few half-breeds
have embraced the Catholic faith,—that the remainder yet
hold the simple and sublime faith of their forefathers, in
the existence of one great, creating, and sustaining Cause,
mingled with the belief in the ghostly visitations of their
deceased Medicine Men, or Diviners;—that they number one
thousand families.
He also stated that the Cheyennes were less brave and more
thievish than any of the other tribes living on the plains.
Farnham's description of the incantations practiced by the Utes is in the
main probably true; the information on which it was based was doubtless
obtained from his guide.
Ruxton tells of the use of the trail west of the present town of Monument
by a war-party of Arapahoes on their way to the South Park to fight the
Utes. In the night the band had surprised a small company of trappers
on the head of Bijou Creek, killing four of them and capturing all of
their horses. The following morning two of the trappers, one of whom
was slightly wounded, started in pursuit of the Indians, intending if
possible to recover their animals. They followed the trail of the Indians
to a point in the neighborhood of the present town of Monument where
they found that the band had divided, the larger party, judging from the
direction taken, evidently intending to enter the mountains by way of
Ute Pass. The other party, having all the loose animals, started across
the mountains by the pass to the west of Monument, probably hoping to
get the better of the Utes by coming in from two different directions.
The trappers followed the latter party across the first mountains where
they found their stolen animals in charge of three Indians. The trappers
surprised and killed all three of them, recaptured their animals, and
then hurried on to the Utes, giving such timely warning as enabled them
to defeat the Arapahoes in a very decisive manner.
The battles in the South Park and on the plains between the contending
tribes were seldom of a very sanguinary nature. If the attacking Indians
happened to find their enemies on level ground, they would circle around
them just out of gunshot at first, gradually coming closer, all the time
lying on the outside and shooting from under the necks of their ponies.
These ponies were generally the best that the tribe afforded and were
not often used except for purposes of war. While engaged in battle, the
Indians seldom used saddles, and in place of bridles had merely a piece
of plaited buffalo-hide rope, tied around the under jaw of the pony. If
the defending party was located in a fairly good defensive position, the
battle consisted of groups of the attacking party dashing in, firing,
and then dashing out again. This was kept up until a few warriors had
been killed or wounded and a few scalps had been taken; then the battle
was over, one side or the other retreating. With an Indian, it was a
waste of time to kill an enemy unless his scalp was taken, as that was
the evidence necessary to prove the prowess of the warrior. Engagements
of the kind I have mentioned have occurred in almost every valley in
and around the South Park at some time during the hundreds of years of
warfare that was carried on in that region.
Frémont, on his return trip from California, during his second exploring
expedition, crossed the Rocky Mountains by way of Middle Park, then
across South Park, reaching the Arkansas River near the present town of
Cañon City. On his way through the South Park he witnessed one of these
battles, in describing which he says:
In the evening a band of buffalo furnished a little excitement
by charging through our camp. On the following day we descended
the stream by an excellent buffalo trail along the open grassy
bottom of the river. On our right, the Bayou was bordered by
a mountainous range crested with rocky and naked peaks, and
below it had a beautiful parklike character of pretty, level
prairies, interspersed among low spurs, wooded openly with
pine and quaking aspens, contrasting well with the denser
pines which swept around on the mountainous sides. Descending
always the valley of the stream, towards noon we descried a
mounted party descending the point of a spur, and judging them
to be Arapahoes—who, defeated or victorious, were equally
dangerous to us, and with whom a fight would be inevitable—we
hurried to post ourselves as strongly as possible on some
willow islands in the river. We had scarcely halted when they
arrived, proving to be a party of Ute women, who told us that
on the other side of the ridge their village was fighting with
the Arapahoes. As soon as they had given us this information,
they filled the air with cries and lamentations, which made
us understand that some of their chiefs had been killed.
Extending along the river directly ahead of us was a low piny
ridge, leaving between it and the stream a small open bottom
on which the Utes had very injudiciously placed their village,
which, according to the women, numbered about three hundred
warriors. Advancing in the cover of the pines, the Arapahoes,
about daylight, charged into the village, driving off a great
number of their horses, and killing four men, among them the
principal chief of the village. They drove the horses perhaps
a mile beyond the village to the end of a hollow where they
had previously forted at the edge of the pines. Here the Utes
had instantly attacked them in turn, and, according to the
report of the women, were getting rather the best of the day.
The women pressed us eagerly to join with their people, and
would immediately have provided us with the best horses at the
village, but it was not for us to interfere in such a conflict.
Neither party were our friends or under our protection, and
each was ready to prey upon us that could. But we could not
help feeling an unusual excitement at being within a few hundred
yards of a fight in which five hundred men were closely engaged,
and hearing the sharp cracks of their rifles. We were in a
bad position and subject to be attacked in it. Either party
which we might meet, victorious or defeated, was certain to
fall upon us, and gearing up immediately, we kept close along
the pines of the ridge, having it between us and the village,
and keeping the scouts on the summit to give us notice of the
approach of the Indians. As we passed by the village which was
immediately below us, horsemen were galloping to and fro, and
groups of people were gathered around those who were wounded
and dead and who were being brought in from the field.
We continued to press on, and crossing another fork which came
in from the right, after having made fifteen miles from the
village, fortified ourselves strongly in the pines a short
distance from the river.
During the afternoon Pike's Peak had been plainly in view before
us and from our encampment bore north 87° east by compass.
This was a familiar object, and it had for us the face of an
old friend. At its foot were the springs where we had spent
a pleasant day in coming out.
In 1859, a battle between the Utes on the one side, and the Cheyennes,
Arapahoes, and Sioux on the other, was fought six miles north of Colorado
City, in the valley now occupied by the Modern Woodmen's Home. There
were several hundred warriors on each side and the battle was of unusual
duration, continuing for almost an entire day. The Utes were finally
victorious and drove their enemies back to the plains.
Until 1864, every spring after the white settlers came into this region,
war-parties of Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Sioux would come trailing in
from the plains, pass through Colorado City, stopping long enough to
beg food from the families living near the line of their march and then
go on to the soda springs; here they would tarry long enough to make
an offering to the Great Spirit who was supposed to be manifest in the
bubbling waters, and then follow, in single file, up the Ute Pass trail
into the South Park, where they would scout around until they had found
a band of Utes. If they succeeded in surprising the latter, they would
probably come back with a lot of extra ponies and sometimes with captured
squaws and children, in which case they would exhibit a jubilant air;
but at other times on their return, they would present such a dejected
appearance that one could readily surmise that they had suffered defeat.
These annual visits were discontinued after the tribes became involved
in warfare with the whites.
Referring again to the mineral springs at Manitou, I quote from Col. R.
B. Marcy, of the United States Army, who, with his command, camped there
during the whole of the month of April, 1858. He tells not only of the
springs and the game of that neighborhood, but of a frightful snowstorm
that delayed them, near Eastonville in El Paso County, for several days
at the beginning of the following month. He says:
Having accomplished the objects of my mission to New Mexico,
by procuring animals and other supplies sufficient to enable
the troops at Fort Bridger to make an early march into Salt
Lake Valley, I, on the 15th day of March, left Fort Union on
my return for Utah, intending to pass around the eastern base
of the mountains near Pike's Peak and the headwaters of the
Arkansas and Platte rivers, following the Cherokee trail from
the Cache la Poudre. The command was well organized, and we made
rapid progress for about two hundred and fifty miles, when,
on the 27th of March, I received an order from the General
in Command in New Mexico, to halt and await reinforcements.
I was obliged to obey the order and went into camp upon the
headwaters of a small tributary of the Arkansas, called Fontaine
qui Bouille, directly at the foot of Pike's Peak and near a
very peculiar spring which gives the name to the stream.
This beautiful fountain issues from the center of a basin,
or rather bowl, about six feet in diameter, and throws out a
column of water near the size of a man's arm. The receptacle,
which is constantly filled but never runs over, seems to have
been formed by the deposit of salts from the water, and is
as perfectly symmetrical and round as if it had been cut out
with a chisel. As the fountain is constantly playing and never
overflows, it of course has a subterranean outlet. The most
remarkable feature, however, in the Fontaine qui Bouille, is
the peculiar taste of the water. It is pungent and sparkling
and somewhat similar in taste to the water from the Congress
spring at Saratoga, but sweeter, and to my palate pleasanter.
We drank it every day in large quantities without perceiving
any ill effect from it, and the men made use of it instead of
yeast in raising their bread, which induced the belief that
it contained soda or some other alkali.
The Indians believe it to possess some mysterious powers, the
purport of which I could not learn, but there were a great
many arrows, pieces of cloth, and other articles that they
had deposited in the spring, probably as an offering to the
Big Medicine Genius that presided over it. We remained at
this place a month, during which time we amused ourselves in
hunting elk, mountain sheep, and blacktail deer, all of which
were very abundant in the surrounding country, and our larder
was constantly supplied with the most delicious game.
[Illustration: Ouray
Chief of the Utes]
I remember that one morning just at daybreak, I was awakened
by my servant, who told me there was a large herd of elk in
close proximity to the camp. I ran out as soon as possible and
saw at least five hundred of these magnificent animals, drawn
up in line like a troop of cavalry horses, with their heads
all turned in the same direction, and from the crest of a high
projecting cliff, looking in apparent wonder and bewilderment
directly down upon us. It was to me a most novel and interesting
spectacle. The noise made in the camp soon frightened them,
however, and they started for the mountains. They were pursued
for some distance by our hunters, who succeeded in killing
six before they escaped.
On the 30th day of April, our reinforcements having joined us,
we gladly resumed our march for Utah, and at about one o'clock
encamped upon the ridge that divides the Arkansas from the
Platte rivers. The day was bright, cheerful, and pleasant, the
atmosphere soft, balmy, and delightful. The fresh grass was
about six inches high. The trees had put forth their new leaves
and all nature conspired in giving evidence that the somber garb
of winter had been cast aside for the more verdant and smiling
attire of spring. Our large herds of animals were turned out
to graze upon the tender and nutritious grass that everywhere
abounded. Our men were enjoying their social jokes and pastimes
after the fatigues of the day's march and everything indicated
contentment and happiness. This pleasant state of things lasted
until near sunset, when the wind suddenly changed into the
north. It turned cold and soon commenced snowing violently,
and continued to increase until it became a frightful winter
tempest, filling the atmosphere with a dense cloud of driving
snow, against which it was utterly impossible to ride or walk.
Soon after the storm set in, one of our herds of three hundred
horses and mules broke furiously away from the herdsmen who
were guarding them, and in spite of their utmost efforts, ran
at full speed directly with the wind for fifty miles before
they stopped. Three of the herdsmen followed them as far as
they were able, but soon became exhausted, bewildered, and lost
on the prairie. One of them succeeded in finding his way back
to camp in a state of great prostration and suffering. One of
the others was found frozen to death in the snow, and the third
was discovered crawling about upon his hands and knees in a
state of temporary delirium, after the tempest subsided. This
terrific storm exceeded in violence and duration anything of
the kind our eldest mountaineer had ever beheld. It continued
with uninterrupted fury for sixty consecutive hours and during
this time it was impossible to move for any distance facing
the wind and snow. One of our employes who went out about
two hundred yards from the camp, set out to return, but was
unable to do so and perished in the attempt. Several antelope
were found frozen upon the prairie after the storm.... At the
termination of this frightful tempest, there was about three
feet of snow upon the ground, but the warm rays of the sun
soon melted it, and after collecting together our stampeded
animals, we again set forward for Utah and on the third day
following, struck the South Platte at its confluence with
Cherry Creek. There was at that time but one white man living
within one hundred and fifty miles of the place, and he was
an Indian trader named Jack Audeby, on the Arkansas.
A year later, after the Pike's Peak mining excitement had started, Marcy
issued a handbook for overland expeditions, in which he says, referring
to a point at the mouth of Monument Creek, which he calls the forks of
the Fontaine qui Bouille:
The road to Cherry Creek here leaves the Fontaine qui Bouille
and bears to the right. There is a large Indian trail which
crosses the main creek and takes a northwesterly course towards
Pike's Peak. By going up this trail about two miles, a mineral
spring will be found which gives the stream its name of "The
Fountain that Boils." This spring, or rather these springs, for
there are two, both of which boil up out of the solid rock,
are among the greatest natural curiosities that I have ever
seen. The water is strongly impregnated with salts, but is
delightful to the taste and somewhat similar to the Congress
water. It will well compensate one for the trouble of visiting
it.
Marcy claims that while waiting at the mouth of Cherry Creek for a
ferry-boat to be constructed to take them over the Platte River, which
was very high at the time, one of his employees washed a small amount of
gold dust from the sands of Cherry Creek. This employee was discharged
soon after and went direct to St. Louis, where he told of his discovery,
and Marcy claims that this was the beginning of the mining excitement
in the Pike's Peak region. This is different from other versions of the
event, the most probable of which is that the discovery of gold was first
made by the semi-civilized Cherokee Indians on their way to California.
What was known as the old Cherokee trail came up the Arkansas River to
a point about twelve miles below the mouth of the Fontaine qui Bouille.
From that place it ran in a northwesterly direction across the hills,
striking that creek about eight or ten miles above its mouth; thence up
the valley of the Fontaine to a point near the present town of Fountain;
turning northerly by the way of Jimmy's Camp to the head of Cherry
Creek, and down Cherry Creek to its mouth, where Denver now stands. From
this place, after running northerly along the base of the mountains
for a considerable distance, it struck across the mountains through
Bridger's Pass, and then turned westerly along the usual traveled road
to California. This trail was used by the first gold-seeking parties
which came to the present State of Colorado in 1858. The first of these
parties arrived at Cherry Creek only about two months after Marcy left.
The second party followed a week or two later, and the third party, of
which Anthony Bott, of Colorado City, was a member, was close behind it.
Members of this third party explored the region around where Colorado
City now stands, and later, with some others, returned and laid out the
town.
In 1859, occurred the memorable visit of Horace Greeley to the Pike's
Peak region. He arrived in Denver, June 16th, having come by the Smoky
Hill route. Writing from Denver, he says, among other things:
I have been passing, meeting, observing, and trying to converse
with Indians, almost ever since I crossed the Missouri River.
Eastern Kansas is checkered with their reservations,—Delaware,
Kaw, Ottawa, Osage, Kickapoo, Potawatamie, while the buffalo
range and all this side belong to, and are parceled among
the Cheyennes, the Arapahoes, and the Apaches, or perhaps
among the two former only, as Indian boundaries are not well
defined. At all events, we have met or passed bands of these
three tribes, with occasional visitors from the Sioux on the
north, and the Comanches on the south, all these tribes having
for the present a good understanding. The Utes who inhabit the
mountains are stronger and braver than any one of the three
tribes first named, though hardly a match for them all, are at
war with them. The Arapahoe Chief, Left Hand, assures me that
his people were always at war with the Utes; at least he has no
recollection, no tradition, of a time when they were at peace.
Some two or three hundred lodges of Arapahoes are encamped in
and about this log city, calculating that the presence of the
whites will afford some protection to their wives and children
against a Ute onslaught, while the braves are off on any of
their fighting—that is stealing—expeditions. An equal or
larger body of Utes are camped in the mountains some forty or
fifty miles west, and the Arapahoe warriors recently returned in
triumph from a war party on which they managed to steal about
one hundred horses from the Utes, but were obliged to kill
most of them in their rapid flight so that they only brought
home forty more than they took away. They are going out again
in a day or two, and have been for some days practicing secret
incantations and public observances with reference thereto.
Last midnight they were to have had a great war dance and to
have left on the warpath to-day, but their men sent out after
their horses reported that they saw three Utes on the plain,
which was regarded as premonitory of an attack, and the braves
stood to their arms all night and were very anxious for white
aid in case of the Ute foray on their lodges here in Denver.
Such an attack seems very improbable and I presume the three
Utes who caused all this uproar were simply scouts or spies
on the watch for just such marauding surprise parties as our
Arapahoe neighbors are constantly meditating. I do not see
why they need to take even this trouble. There are points on
the mountain range west of this city, where a watchman with
sharp eyes and a good glass could command the entire plain
for fifty miles north, south, and east of him, and might
hence give intelligence of any Arapahoe raid at least a day
before a brave entered the mountains; for though it is true
that Indians on the warpath travel or ride mainly by night, I
find that the Arapahoes do this only after they have entered
on what they consider disputed or dangerous ground; that they
start from their lodges in open day and only advance under
cover of darkness after they are within the shadows of the
mountains. Hence the Utes, who are confessedly the stronger,
might ambush and destroy any Arapahoe force that should venture
into their Rocky Mountain recesses, by the help of a good
spy-glass and a little "white forecast"; but the Indians are
children. Their arts, wars, treaties, alliances, habitations,
crafts, properties, commerce, comforts, all belong to the
very lowest and rudest ages of human existence. Any band of
schoolboys from ten to fifteen years of age are quite as capable
of ruling their appetites, devising and upholding a public
policy, constituting and conducting a state or community, as
the average Indian tribe.
I have learned to appreciate better than hitherto, and to make
more allowance for the dislike, aversion, and contempt wherewith
Indians are usually regarded by their white neighbors, and
have been since the days of the Puritans. It needs but little
familiarity with the actual, palpable aborigines, to convince
anyone that the poetical Indian—the Indian of Cooper and
Longfellow—is only visible to the poet's eye.
The Utes seldom visited Colorado City and the region round about in the
early days, except in the winter, which was the only time they could
do so with a fair degree of safety. A majority of the tribe had been on
friendly terms with the English-speaking people from the time of their
earliest contact with that race. It is true that straggling bands of
Utes occasionally committed acts of depredation, and such bands on one
or two occasions killed white people, but these acts were not approved
by the majority of the tribe.
One of these exceptions occurred on Christmas day, 1854, at Fort Napesta,
on the present site of the city of Pueblo. It is said that the men
who occupied the fort were celebrating the day with the liquid that
both cheers and inebriates, and in the midst of their jollity, a band
of wandering Utes came by and was invited to join in the revelry. The
Indians, nothing loath, partook of the white man's Taos lightning, the
product of a distillery at Taos, New Mexico, and the natural consequence
was an attack upon the whites which resulted in all the latter being
killed.
In 1866, a small band of Utes began a raid upon the settlers on Huerfano
Creek, but when the news reached Ouray, the head chief of the tribe, he
sent runners out at once to warn the settlers and then went to the scene
of action with a band of his faithful warriors. He soon afterwards took
the hostile Indians prisoners and compelled them to go to Fort Garland
and remain there, in this manner quickly ending the trouble. Ouray was
always the friend of the whites, and is entitled to the very greatest
credit for the able manner in which he held the Utes under control up
to the time of his death, in 1881.
Ouray was born at Taos, New Mexico, in 1833. His father was a Tabeguache
Ute and his mother a Jicarilla Apache. His boyhood was passed among
the better class of Mexicans, chiefly as a herder of sheep. He learned
Spanish and always preferred it to his native tongue. When eighteen years
of age, he joined the band of Utes of which his father was leader, then
located in southwestern Colorado. From that time until about 1860, he
led the life of a wild Indian, passing his time hunting in the mountains
and on the plains, varied by an occasional battle with the hereditary
enemies of his people, the Kiowas, Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes of
the plains, in which he acquired the reputation of a courageous and
skillful warrior. In 1859, he chose a wife, named Chipeta, from among
the Tabaguache maidens, to whom he was always devotedly attached, and
who bore him a son. This child was captured by the Cheyennes in 1863,
they having surprised a hunting camp of Utes under Ouray's command, near
the present site of Fort Lupton on the Platte River. The boy was never
recovered and, indeed, was never heard of afterwards.
In person Ouray was of the almost invariably short stature which
distinguishes his people from those of the plains tribes. He stood about
five feet seven inches high and in his later years became quite portly.
His head was strikingly large and well-shaped, his features were regular,
bearing an expression of dignity in repose, but lighting up pleasantly in
conversation. In his ordinary bearing his manner was courtly and gentle,
and he was extremely fond of meeting and conversing with cultivated white
men, with whom he was a genial companion, compelling their respect and
favor by the broad enlightenment of his views. In his habits he was a
model, never using tobacco, abhorring whiskey, and taking only a sip of
wine when in company with those who were indulging, and then merely as
a matter of courtesy to them. He never swore nor used obscene language,
was a firm believer in the Christian religion, and about two years before
his death united himself with the Methodist Church.
When in active command of his men, his word was law, and disobedience
meant death. In the summer of 1874 at Bijou, while returning from Denver
to their camp in the south, one of his men decided to build a fire and
started to cut some wood for that purpose within the enclosure of a white
settler. Ouray, discovering his intention, ordered him back, reminding
him that they must not trespass upon the property of the white man. The
obstinate Ute replied that he must have firewood and that he would cut
it anyway. Ouray answered that if he did, he would kill him, whereat the
other observed that two could play at that game. Instantly both started
for their guns, reaching them at about the same time, but Ouray was
quicker than his adversary and shot him. On another occasion he shot and
broke the arm of Johnson, a member of his tribe, who afterwards caused
much of the trouble at the White River Agency. Johnson was given to
gambling, horse-racing, lying, and trickery of all kinds. In the present
case, he had stolen some horses from white men, and refused to return
them when commanded to do so, thereby, in Ouray's opinion, bringing
disgrace upon the Ute nation, for which he had to be punished.
In the foregoing, I have quoted freely from General Frank Hall's History
of Colorado. General Hall had unusual opportunities for knowing Ouray
and of his dealings with the whites.
It was through the prompt and decisive action of Ouray that the leaders
of the massacre of Meeker and others at the White River Agency, in 1879,
were surrendered to the authorities for punishment. The early settlers
of Colorado owe to Ouray a debt of gratitude, and a monument to his
memory should at some time be erected by the people of this State. Ouray
frequently came to Colorado City in the early days, and sometimes his
visits were of considerable duration.
In the winter of 1865-1866, a large body of Ute Indians camped for
several months on the south side of the Fountain, opposite Colorado
City. On departing in the spring, they abandoned a squaw who had broken
a leg, leaving her in a rudely constructed tent, or tepee. Had not
the women of Colorado City taken her in charge she would have starved.
After the Indians left, she was moved into a log cabin in Colorado City
and provided with all she needed until her death, which occurred a few
months later. The Utes seemed to think nothing of this heartless act,
and even the abandoned squaw did not seem to resent it. It was a very
common occurrence for the Indians of most of the tribes to abandon the
aged and disabled, as in moving around, they did not wish to be burdened
with those who were incapable of taking care of themselves.
In the winter of 1866-1867, a thousand or more Utes camped for several
months below Manitou, between the Balanced Rock and the Fountain. Game was
very scarce in this region during that winter and the Indians suffered
for want of food. Finally, they reached such a strait that their chiefs
made a demand upon the citizens of Colorado City for twenty sacks of
flour, and intimated that unless it was produced forthwith, they would
be compelled to march into town and take it by force. The citizens,
realizing their utter helplessness in the matter, obtained the flour
without delay and turned it over to the Indians. This was the only time
in all the early period that Colorado City suffered from the presence
of the Utes.
Chaveno and Colorow were the principal chiefs of this band. Chaveno was
an Indian of a good deal of intelligence. When visiting the whites he
always went about dressed in an army officer's uniform of dark blue which
had been given him by an officer at Fort Garland. Chaveno was always
strutting around, and seemed very proud of himself in his uniform, of
which he took the greatest possible care. In the matter of dress, Colorow
was the reverse. He seemed to have no liking whatever for the white man's
costume. His physique was like that of Ouray, short, but of powerful
build. He had been a noted warrior in his early days and delighted in
telling of his exploits in the various battles with the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes in which he had taken part. Colorow was treacherous by nature
and his friendship for the whites was not always to be depended upon.
In the winter of 1874-1875, Ouray, with a band of six hundred Utes,
camped at Florissant for several months. One day a Mr. Marksberry, living
on Tarryall Creek, rode up to the Post Office at Florissant, tied his
horse, and went into the building. The pony attracted the attention of
an Indian named Antelope, who claimed the animal as his own; he slipped
off the saddle and bridle, and, jumping on the pony's back, rode away.
Marksberry and a friend, being determined to recover the pony, followed
the band to their camp in Beaver Park, south of Pike's Peak. Marksberry
found his pony with the Indian herd, caught it, and was turning away,
when Antelope, hidden behind a tree, shot and instantly killed him. Chief
Ouray, always ready to "travel the white man's road," gave up Antelope
to justice. Upon trial of the case in the courts of Arapahoe County,
some months later, he was acquitted.
The Utes, by treaties made in March, 1868, April, 1874, and March, 1880,
ceded to the general government all the lands claimed by them within the
boundaries of the present State of Colorado, except a small reservation
retained for their own use in the southwestern part of the State.
CHAPTER III
THE INDIAN TROUBLES OF 1864
As I have before mentioned, war parties of Cheyennes and Arapahoes
continued to make occasional trips through the Ute Pass to the mountains
in search of their enemies, the Utes, until 1864. As these war parties
seldom tarried long in this vicinity, their presence was not seriously
objected to during the first two or three years, but after rumors of
impending trouble with them became current, their visits were looked upon
with a good deal of apprehension. From the year 1859 to the beginning of
1863, the wagon trains that brought supplies from the Missouri River to
Colorado came and went without molestation, but it was noticed, from the
latter part of 1862 on, that the Indians of the plains were anxious to
secure guns and ammunition, and were acquiring more than was necessary
for their ordinary hunting. Early in 1863, they began to attack and
rob wagon trains, steal horses, and threaten exposed settlements, but
nothing occurred to cause any great alarm in the immediate Pike's Peak
region, until the spring of 1864. During a very considerable portion of
the next four years, however, the people of El Paso County experienced
all the horrors of Indian warfare.
My story of the Indian troubles of that period will necessarily be much
in the nature of a personal narrative. At the time hostilities began, I
was little more than eighteen years old, and as fond of excitement and
adventure as boys at that age usually are. I had a part in many of the
occurrences which I shall mention, and was personally familiar with the
details of most of the others.
About the 20th of June, 1864, word reached Colorado City that a day or
two previously, the Hungate family, living on Running Creek about forty
miles northeast of Colorado City, had been murdered by the Indians.
The father and mother had been shot down and mutilated with horrible
brutality, and the children who had tried to escape had been pursued
and killed, so that not one of the family was left alive. This news made
the people of Colorado City, and the settlers along the Fountain and on
the Divide, very uneasy, and of course, after that, they were constantly
on the lookout, not knowing where the savages might next appear. Two or
three weeks after the murder of the Hungate family, some cattle herders
came into Colorado City late one evening and told of having seen near
Austin's Bluff, a half a dozen mounted Indians who seemed to be acting
mysteriously. Following the killing of the Hungate family, and other acts
of hostility at various places on the plains, this was indeed alarming
news. Consequently, early the following morning an armed party went to the
place where the Indians had been seen, found their trail, and followed
it. In this way it was discovered that, some time during the previous
night, the Indians had been on the hill that overlooks Colorado City on
the north, and that the trail from that point led into the mountains.
The direction from which these Indians came, their mysterious movements
after they were discovered, taken in connection with the recent acts
of hostility, and the knowledge that the tribes of the plains had been
attempting during the previous winter to make a coalition for the purpose
of annihilating the settlements along the eastern base of the mountains,
seemed convincing proof that this band was here for no good purpose.
At that time I was living with my father on the west side of Camp Creek,
about half-way between Colorado City and the Garden of the Gods. I
had been in town during the forenoon and had heard the alarming news,
and as a result, after that father and I kept a sharp lookout for the
savages. However, the day passed without anything further having been
seen or heard of them. Shortly after sundown, my brothers Edgar and
Frank, who were small boys, brought our cattle in from the neighborhood
of the Garden of the Gods, and while I was helping to drive them into
the corral adjacent to our house, I happened to look up the valley of
Camp Creek, and there, about three-quarters of a mile away, I saw six
mounted Indians leading an extra horse. They were going easterly along
the old Indian trail, which I have heretofore described, that ran just
south of the Garden of the Gods. As soon as I saw these Indians, I was
sure that they were the party which had been trailed into Colorado City
the night before. Without delay I strapped on a revolver, took my gun,
and rode to Colorado City as fast as my pony could travel, to report
what I had seen. The people had been greatly agitated during the day
and, consequently, the news I brought caused much excitement.
It was at once decided that the Indians must be followed, and if possible
the purpose of their visit ascertained. In less than three-quarters of an
hour, ten mounted and well-armed men were ready for the pursuit. Those
forming the party were Anthony Bott, Dr. Eggleston, William J. Baird,
A. T. Cone, Ren Smith, myself, and four others whose names I cannot
now recall. By a quarter of eight we were traveling along the trail
taken by the Indians across the Mesa east of the Garden of the Gods.
We appreciated the necessity of making as little noise as possible, and
all talking was carried on in an undertone. The trail led from the Mesa
down to Monument Creek, about a mile above the present site of Colorado
Springs, and then crossed the stream over a bed of gravel that extended
to the bluff on the eastern side. Thick clumps of willows enclosed the
trail on both sides. It was a starlight night without clouds, but not
light enough for us to see an object any distance away.
We suspected nothing, as we believed the Indians to be far ahead of us.
But just as we came up on the first rise out of the willows on the east
side of the creek we were startled to see them huddled together on the
left of us, under the bank, apparently getting ready to start a small
camp-fire, while to the right were their ponies, which had been turned
out to graze. The Indians were just as much surprised as we were, and
for an instant the situation was extremely tense. As we refrained from
firing, the Indians, knowing that they were at a disadvantage in not
being able to reach their ponies, evidently with the hope of making
us believe that they were friendly, began calling out "How! How!" as
Indians usually do on meeting the whites. We then questioned them,
hoping to ascertain the object of their presence in this locality. Some
of our people had a slight knowledge of Spanish, with which the Indians
seemed somewhat conversant, and in this way and by signs, we told them
that we were there only for the purpose of ascertaining their object in
visiting this region, and not to do them harm; that if they could show
that they were here for no hostile purpose, we would permit them to go
on their way unmolested, but in order to establish this fact it would
be necessary for them to go with us to Colorado City, where competent
interpreters could be found, and meanwhile we should require them to
give up their arms. They apparently assented to this proposition, and
at once surrendered such of their arms as were in sight. Six of us then
dismounted, and each took an Indian in charge while he was securing his
pony. The Indian I had in charge was a tall, slim fellow, fully six feet
in height and probably not much over twenty years of age. He appeared to
take the situation quietly and I had no reason to apprehend any trouble
with him. I allowed him to lead his pony to the camp, where he put on
the saddle and bridle and mounted the animal, as all were permitted to
do. We then formed the Indians in ranks of twos, placing a file of our
men on each side of them, each white man having charge of the Indian
next to him, which left two extra whites for the front and two to guard
the rear. I was in charge of the Indian on the left side of the rear
rank and had hold of his bridle with my right hand. The order was given
to march and we started east towards the plateau on which Colorado
Springs is now built. We had proceeded only eight or ten feet when the
Indians suddenly halted. From the time they mounted they had been talking
animatedly with one another in their own language. Just then someone
happened to see that one of the Indians had a knife in his hand. This
was taken from him and then we made a systematic search of the others
and found that most of them had knives, and one a spear concealed under
his blanket. It was with great difficulty that we twisted these weapons
from their hands, but finally, as we thought, secured everything of that
nature. The order was again given to march. Immediately following this,
the Indians gave a tremendous war-whoop, shook their blankets, and were
out from between us before we realized what was happening. The bridle
rein in my hand was jerked away before I knew it. We were all so dazed
that the Indians probably were seventy-five to one hundred feet away
before our people began shooting. Meantime, my pony, which was of Indian
breed, had become almost unmanageable. He seemed to be determined to go
off with the other Indian ponies and I had the greatest difficulty in
restraining him. Before I succeeded, I was so far in front that I was in
great danger of being shot by our own people. By the time I could get my
pony under control, the Indians were too far away for me to shoot with
hope of doing any execution, but during this time the others had been
making such good use of their weapons that in a few minutes the affair
was over, and five of the Indians had fallen from their ponies. Whether
they had been killed or wounded we did not know until some years later.
We only knew that their ponies were running riderless over the plains. It
was now about ten o'clock, and quite dark; consequently we made little
effort to locate the dead and wounded. We rounded up the ponies, there
being six of them, one a pack animal, and after gathering up such of
the belongings of the Indians as they had dropped in their flight, we
started on our return to Colorado City.
The whole occurrence made one of the weirdest scenes that it has ever
been my fortune to witness. First the sudden discovery of the Indians
in the darkness of the night; the group formed of the Indians with the
whites surrounding them; the mounting of the ponies; the shrill war-whoop
of six savages ringing out in the solitude, followed by the shots, and
then the riderless horses running hither and thither over the plain.
The dramatic scene was completed a few minutes later by the rounding
up of these riderless ponies and the beginning of the march back to
Colorado City over the present town site of Colorado Springs, the only
inhabitants of which at that time were the antelope and the coyotes.
Our road led us over the present College reservation, down what is now
Cascade Avenue to a ford crossing the Monument Creek, just west of the
present Rio Grande freight station.
On the way home, the thought came to us whether we could have done
differently under the circumstances. We knew the tribes to which these
Indians belonged were at war with the whites, and that, unless they were
on their way to fight the Utes, they were here on no peaceable errand
so far as our people were concerned. Their course in going only to the
foot of the mountains, showed that they were not seeking the Utes, and
their actions under cover of the previous night, and afterward, up to
the time they were captured, proved conclusively that they were here as
scouts of a larger party, to ascertain and to report the strength of the
town and its surrounding settlements. When first discovered, they were
in an out-of-the-way spot, and from that time on until their capture,
they traveled over abandoned roads and trails, probably hoping in this
way to fulfill their mission without detection. These things convinced
us that we had accomplished an important work, and the only regret we
had was that we had not been able to bring the captives into town.
Early the following morning several of our party returned to the scene
of the occurrence of the night before, hoping to find the bodies of the
Indians who unquestionably had been killed in the mêlée, but there was
nothing to indicate the struggle excepting a few articles of clothing
and personal adornment, and marks upon the ground showing where the dead
and wounded had evidently lain. Several years afterward, we learned
from the Cheyennes that three of this scouting party had been killed
outright, one was so seriously wounded that he died shortly afterward,
another was slightly wounded, and one had escaped unhurt. The last, with
the aid of the one slightly wounded, had carried off and buried the dead
during the night.
News of our evening's experience spread rapidly and created intense
excitement in Colorado City and throughout the county. The people of El
Paso County now realized that they were face to face with Indian troubles
of the most serious nature, and that arrangements for the defense of
the town and surrounding country must immediately be made. The fighting
strength of the Pike's Peak region was exceedingly limited, as compared
with the great horde of savages that occupied our eastern frontier.
Probably there were not over three hundred men of all ages in El Paso
County at that time. And, as further showing the precarious position of
the community, I wish to call attention to the fact that the frontier
settlements of the United States at that time extended but little west
of the Missouri River, leaving the narrow belt of settlements along the
eastern base of the mountains in Colorado separated from the nearest
communities to the east by a stretch of plains at least four hundred miles
in width, inhabited only by wild and savage tribes of nomadic Indians.
The same condition existed on the north to the British possessions,
and to the west the Ute Indians held undisputed sway to the Great Salt
Lake valley. To the south, with the exception of a small part of New
Mexico sparsely settled by feeble and widely scattered communities of
Spanish-speaking people, wild tribes roamed over every portion of the
country for hundreds of miles. From the foregoing, it will be seen that
the settlements of Colorado were but a small island of civilization in a
sea of savagery. Our settlements were at times completely cut off from
civilization in every direction by this cordon of savage tribes; their
very existence was now threatened, with no hope of assistance from the
National Government, because of the civil war which was then at its most
critical stage, demanding every resource of the nation. Threatened as
they were by hordes of hostile savages and under conditions that would
have had a disheartening effect upon a people not inured to frontier
life, our settlers had no thought of allowing themselves to be driven
out or overwhelmed.
Warning was at once sent to every family living down the Fountain and
on the Divide, the result being that within a day or two almost every
ranch in the county was abandoned. The people for fifteen miles down
the valley below Colorado City came to that town. Those living below
gathered at the extreme lower edge of the county and there built a place
of defense. In Colorado City the work of constructing a fort around
an old log hotel was started at once. Green pine logs, ten to fifteen
inches in diameter and about fifteen feet long, were cut on the adjacent
mountains, brought in, and set in the ground close together, entirely
surrounding the building, making a defensive structure about twelve
feet high. At intervals through these logs portholes were made for use
in repelling an attack. During the next month or two all the women and
children of the town as well as those who had congregated there from
the country slept at night in this fortification. Throughout this time a
picket force of three or four mounted men was maintained night and day
on the flat east of the town, and out on the present site of Colorado
Springs. There was scarcely a day during this period in which Indians
were not seen at various points in the country to the east of Colorado
City, and on the borders of the settlements along the Fountain, but as
the people everywhere were watchful, the savages had little opportunity
of catching any one unawares.
About two weeks after the occurrence on Monument Creek, a messenger
arrived at Colorado City, sent by Governor Evans to warn the people of an
impending attack upon the settlements of the Territory by the Cheyennes,
Arapahoes, and other hostile Indians. It appears that the Governor had
received information from Elbridge Gerry, one of his secret agents, that
eight hundred warriors belonging to the Cheyenne, Arapahoe, and other
hostile Indian tribes, were in camp at the Point of Rocks near the head
of Beaver Creek in eastern Colorado, and had planned a simultaneous
attack upon the frontier settlements of Colorado extending from a point
in the valley of the Platte River one hundred miles below Denver, to
the Arkansas River at the mouth of the Fontaine qui Bouille. According
to the program agreed upon by the Indians, one hundred warriors were to
go to the valley of the Platte, two hundred and fifty to the head of
Cherry Creek, and the remainder of the eight hundred to the valley of
the Fountain and Arkansas rivers. On reaching the appointed localities,
these parties were to be divided into small bands, each one of which
was to attack a farmhouse, kill the occupants, loot the property, and
run off the stock.
Elbridge Gerry, from whom the information of the proposed raid was
received, was the grandson of a signer of the Declaration of Independence,
and although an educated man, had lived with the Indians for a good many
years and had married a Cheyenne woman. At this time, he was living with
his Indian wife on a stock ranch in the valley of the Platte River, sixty
to seventy miles below Denver. It was here that the information reached
him, through two Cheyenne chiefs, who came to warn him of the impending
danger. Gerry received the word about midnight and early next morning
started on horseback for Denver to notify Governor Evans, arriving there
about eleven o'clock that night, having ridden the sixty or seventy
miles without resting. As the date set for the raid was but a day or
two off, Governor Evans at once dispatched messengers in every direction
to notify the people. The one sent to Colorado City reached that place
the next afternoon, and warning was immediately sent by messengers to
the few ranchmen down the Fountain and east of Colorado City, who for
urgent reasons had been compelled temporarily to return to their homes.
The following day, small bands of Indians appeared along the entire
frontier of El Paso County, but their raid was a failure, as the warnings
given through the occurrence on Monument Creek, and that of the Governor,
had put every one on guard; consequently the savages found that the
settlers at every point had either fled, or were fully prepared to defend
themselves.
That the information given by Gerry was absolutely correct, was shown
by the fact that at the appointed time the Indians appeared along the
entire frontier of Colorado, from the Platte to the Arkansas River.
However, in almost every locality, as in El Paso County, they found the
settlers on the lookout, consequently, the wholesale slaughter planned
did not take place. After killing one man near Fort Lupton, below Denver,
two or three near the head of Cherry Creek, and stealing many cattle,
the larger part of the Indians returned to their rendezvous out on the
plains, leaving a few warriors along the borders to harass the settlers
during the remainder of the summer.
The Point of Rocks on Beaver Creek, where the eight hundred Indians were
in camp, is about one hundred miles northeast of Colorado City. It is
practically certain that the Indians we captured on Monument Creek two or
three weeks previous were from that camp and had been sent out to secure
information concerning the settlers of this region, preparatory to the
raid they were then planning. There is every probability that an awful
calamity would have befallen the settlers of this county had not the
discovery, capture, and escape of these scouts aroused our people to a
full realization of their impending danger. Had the news brought by the
messenger from the Governor been our first warning, it would have been
impossible after his arrival to have brought any considerable portion
of our scattered settlers into Colorado City before the appearance of
the Indians.
Governor Evans, in telling of this incident in his evidence before
the Committee on the Conduct of the War, in March, 1865, expressed the
opinion that had the plan of the Indians been carried out without previous
notice having been given to the settlers, it would have resulted in the
most wholesale and extensive massacre that has ever been known. It was
most fortunate for our people that timely notice was given in such an
effective manner, because in those days news traveled slowly. Weekly
mails were then the only method of disseminating news, as telegraph
lines had not yet reached this part of the Territory, nor was there a
newspaper published in the county; consequently news of Indian raids
and outbreaks in other parts of the Territory often was a week or more
in reaching El Paso County. Early realizing that they must depend upon
their own resources, so far as I can see, the people of El Paso County
took all necessary precautions, and acted wisely in every emergency.
One day early in September, 1864, a company of the First Colorado Cavalry
on its way from one of the forts in New Mexico to Denver stopped for
the noon meal at Jimmy's Camp, about ten miles east of Colorado City.
Not having seen any Indians on the march, both officers and men were
exceedingly skeptical as to there being any in this region, and had made
sport of the settlers for being so unnecessarily alarmed. Upon making
camp, the soldiers turned their horses, numbering from seventy-five to
one hundred, out to graze, placing only one trooper in charge of them.
The horses in their grazing gradually drifted farther and farther away
from camp, until finally when they were almost half a mile distant, a
band of Indians suddenly came tearing out of the timber just above and
almost before the soldiers realized it they had rounded up the herd
and were off over the hills, yelling back taunts as they rode away.
The soldiers came marching into Colorado City on foot the next day, a
dejected lot, and as they passed, it gave the settlers great pleasure
to jeer at them.
CHAPTER IV
THE THIRD COLORADO AND THE BATTLE OF SAND CREEK
It may be asked why we did not receive protection from the territorial
authorities. The reason for this was that the Territory was without
funds or a military organization. The Governor had repeatedly called the
attention of the General Government to the helpless condition of our
settlements, and asked that government troops be sent to protect them
from the raids of the Indians; but at this time the entire military force
of the nation was employed in suppressing the Rebellion, and little aid
could be given. It is true that the companies of the First Regiment of
Colorado Cavalry were distributed along the frontier, seldom more than
one company in a place. Scattered in this way over a wide extent of
country, they were of little or no use in the way of defense.
Meanwhile, the Indians were in virtual possession of the lines of travel
to the east. Every coach that came through from the Missouri River to
Denver had to run the gauntlet. Some were riddled with bullets, others
were captured and their passengers killed. Instances were known where
the victims were roasted alive, shot full of arrows, and subjected to
every kind of cruelty the savages could devise. Finally, after many
urgent appeals, the Governor of Colorado was permitted to organize a
new regiment to be used in protecting the frontier settlements and in
punishing the hostile Cheyennes and Arapahoes. The term of service was
to be one hundred days; it was thought that by prompt action signal
punishment could be inflicted on the savages in that time. Lieut. George
L. Shoup, of the First Colorado, was commissioned as Colonel of the
new regiment, which was designated as the Third Regiment of Colorado
Volunteer Cavalry. Colonel Shoup had already proved himself to be a
very able and efficient officer. He was afterward for many years United
States Senator from the State of Idaho. From the day he received his
appointment, he proceeded with great activity to organize his command.
Recruiting officers had already been placed in almost every town in the
Territory, and in less than thirty days eight or nine hundred men had
been enlisted. Eight or ten others from El Paso County besides myself
joined the regiment at the first call. Among them were Anthony Bott,
Robert Finley, Henry Coby, Samuel Murray, John Wolf, A. J. Templeton,
Henry Miller, and a number of others whose names I do not now remember.
The recruits from El Paso County were combined with those from Pueblo
County and mustered in as Company G at Denver on the 29th day of August,
1864. Our officers were O. H. P. Baxter of Pueblo, Captain; Joseph
Graham of the same county, First Lieutenant; and A. J. Templeton of El
Paso County, Second Lieutenant. Within a short time after we had been
mustered in at Denver, we marched back through El Paso County and south
to a point on the Arkansas River, five miles east of Pueblo, where we
remained for the next two months, waiting for our equipment. Meanwhile,
we were being drilled and prepared for active military duty.
On the last day of October and the first day of November of that year
there was a tremendous snow-storm all over the region along the eastern
base of the Rocky Mountains. The snowfall at our camp was twenty inches
in depth; at Colorado City it was over two feet on the level, and on the
Divide still deeper. All supplies for the company had to be brought to
our camp by teams, from the Commissary Department at Denver. The depth of
the snow now made this impossible; consequently, in a few days we were
entirely out of food. As there seemed to be no hope of relief within
the near future, our Captain instructed every one who had a home to go
there and remain until further notice. Half a dozen of us from El Paso
County started out the following morning before daylight, and tramped
laboriously all day and well into the night through deep snow along the
valley of the Fountain. For a portion of the way a wagon or two had gone
over the road since the storm, making it so rough that walking along it
was almost impossible. As a result, we were so tired by dusk that we
would have traveled no farther could we have found a place where food
and shelter were to be obtained; but it was eleven o'clock that night
before we could get any accommodations at all, and by that time we were
utterly exhausted. We resumed our tramp the next morning, but I was two
days in reaching my home in Colorado City, twenty-five miles distant.
Two weeks later we were notified by our Captain that provisions had
been obtained and that we should return to camp at once. We had already
been clothed in the light blue uniform then used by the cavalry branch
of the United States Army. Soon after our return to camp we received
our equipment of arms, ammunition, and the necessary accouterments. The
guns were old, out-of-date Austrian muskets of large bore with paper
cartridges from which we had to bite off the end when loading. These
guns sent a bullet rather viciously, but one could never tell where it
would hit. A little later on, our horses arrived. They were a motley
looking group, composed of every kind of an equine animal from a pony to
a plow horse. The saddles and bridles were the same as were used in the
cavalry service and were good of the kind. I had the misfortune to draw
a rawboned, square-built old plow horse, upon which thereafter I spent
a good many uncomfortable hours. If the order came to trot, followed
by an order to gallop, I had to get him well underway on a trot and he
would be going like the wind before I could bring him into the gallop.
Meanwhile his rough trot would be shaking me to pieces. From what I have
said, it will be seen that our equipment, as to arms and mounts, was of
the poorest kind.
The main part of the regiment had been in camp near Denver during all
this time. This inactivity had caused a great deal of complaint among
the officers and enlisted men. For the most part, the regiment had been
enlisted from the ranchmen, miners, and business men of the State, and
it was the understanding that they were to be given immediate service
against the hostile Indians. The delay was probably unavoidable, being
caused by the inability of the Government to promptly furnish the
necessary horses and equipment, as the animals had to be sent from east
of the Missouri River. The horses and equipment were received about the
middle of November. A few days later, under command of Colonel Shoup, the
main part of the regiment, together with three companies of the First
Colorado, started on its way south, towards a destination known only
to the principal officers. The combined force was under command of Col.
John M. Chivington, commander of the military district of Colorado. The
company to which I belonged joined the regiment as it passed our camp,
about the 25th of November, and from that time on our real hardships
began. We marched steadily down the valley of the Arkansas River, going
into camp at seven or eight o'clock every night, and by the time we had
eaten supper and had taken care of our horses, it was after ten o'clock.
We were called out at four o'clock the next morning and were on the move
before daylight. In order that no news of our march should be carried
to the Indians, every man we met on the road was taken in charge, and,
for the same purpose, guards were placed at every ranch.
About four o'clock in the evening of November 28th, we arrived at Fort
Lyon, to the great surprise of its garrison. No one at the fort even knew
that the regiment had left the vicinity of Denver. A picket guard was
thrown around the fort to turn away any Indians that might be coming in,
and also to prevent any of the trappers or Indian traders who generally
hung around there from notifying the savages of our presence.
Soon after our arrival at camp, we were told that the wagon train would
be left behind at this point, and each man was instructed to secure
from the commissary two or three pounds of raw bacon and sufficient
"hardtack" to last three or four days, which he was to carry in his
saddlebags. At eight o'clock that night, the regiment took up its line
of march across the prairie, in a direction almost due north from Fort
Lyon. Each company was formed into fours, and we pushed on rapidly. All
night long it was walk, trot, gallop, dismount and lead. I had had very
little sleep for two or three nights previously, and, consequently,
this all-night march was very exhausting. During the latter part of
the night, I would willingly have run the risk of being scalped by the
Indians for a half-hour's sleep. Some time after midnight, our guide,
intentionally as we thought, led us through one of the shallow lakes
that are so plentiful on the plains of that region. He was understood
to be more friendly to the Indians than to the whites, and perhaps he
hoped our ammunition would get wet, and thus become ineffective in the
anticipated engagement. During the night, in order to keep awake, we
had been nibbling on our hardtack, which in the morning, much to our
disgust, we found to be very much alive.
It was a bright, clear, starlight night; the air was crisp and
uncomfortably cool, as might be expected at that time of year. Just as
the sun was coming up over the eastern hills, we reached the top of a
ridge, and away off in the valley to the northwest we saw a great number
of Indian tents, forming a village of unusual size. We knew at once that
this village was our objective point. Off to the left, between us and
the village, was a large number of Indian ponies.
Two or three minutes later, orders came directing our battalion to capture
the herd. Under command of a Major of the regiment, we immediately started
on the run in order to get between the ponies and the Indian camp before
our presence was discovered. We had not proceeded any great distance
before we saw half a dozen Indians coming toward the herd from the
direction of the camp, but, on seeing our large force, they hesitated a
moment and then started back as fast as their ponies could take them. We
were not long in securing the herd, which consisted of between five and
six hundred ponies. The officer in command placed from twenty to thirty
men in charge of the ponies, with instructions to drive them away to
some point where they would be in no danger of recapture. The remainder
of the battalion then started directly for the Indian camp, which lay
over a little ridge to the north of us. Meanwhile, the main part of
the command had marched at a rapid rate down the slope to Sand Creek,
along the northern bank of which the Indian camp was located. Crossing
the creek some distance to the eastward of the village, they marched
rapidly westward along the north bank until near the Indian village,
where they halted, and the battle began. At the same time our battalion
was coming in from the south. This left an opening for the Indians to
the westward, up the valley of Sand Creek, and also to the northward,
across the hills towards the Smoky Hill River. Before our battalion had
crossed the low ridge which cut off the view of the village at the point
where we captured the ponies, and had come in sight of the village again,
the firing had become general, and it made some of us, myself among the
number, feel pretty queer. I am sure, speaking for myself, if I hadn't
been too proud, I should have stayed out of the fight altogether.
When we first came in sight of the Indian camp there were a good many
ponies not far away to the north of it, and now when we came in sight
of the camp again, after we had captured the other herd, we saw large
numbers of Indians, presumably squaws and children, hurrying northward on
these ponies, out of the way of danger. After the engagement commenced,
the Indian warriors concentrated along Sand Creek, using the high banks
on either side as a means of defense. At this point, Sand Creek was about
two hundred yards wide, the banks on each side being almost perpendicular
and from six to twelve feet high. The engagement extended along this creek
for three or four miles from the Indian encampment. Our capture of the
ponies placed the Indians at a great disadvantage, for the reason that
an Indian is not accustomed to fighting on foot. They were very nearly
equal to us in numbers, and had they been mounted, we should have had
great difficulty in defeating them, as they were better armed than we
were, and their ponies were much superior for military purposes to the
horses of our command.
From the beginning of the engagement our battery did effective work, its
shells, as a rule, keeping the Indians from concentrating in considerable
numbers at any one point. However, at one place, soon after getting into
the fight, I saw a line of fifty to one hundred Indians receive a charge
from one of our companies as steadily as veterans, and their shooting
was so effective that our men were forced to fall back. Returning to
the charge soon after, the troopers forced the Indians to retire behind
the banks of the creek, which they did, however, in a very leisurely
manner, leaving a large number of their dead upon the field. Our own
company, Company G, became disorganized early in the fight, as did many
of the other companies, and after that fought in little groups wherever
it seemed that they could be most effective. After the first few shots,
I had no fear whatever, nor did I see any others displaying the least
concern as to their own safety. The fight soon became general all up and
down the valley, the Indians continuously firing from their places of
defense along the banks, and a constant fusillade being kept up by the
soldiers, who were shooting at every Indian that appeared. I think it was
in this way that a good many of the squaws were killed. It was utterly
impossible, at a distance of two hundred yards, to discern between the
sexes, on account of their similarity of dress.
As our detachment moved up the valley, we frequently came in line of
the firing, and the bullets whizzed past us rather unpleasantly, but
fortunately none of us was hurt. At one point we ran across a wounded
man, a former resident of El Paso County, but then a member of a company
from another county. A short time previously, as he passed too near the
bank, a squaw had shot an arrow into his shoulder, inflicting a very
painful wound. He was being cared for by the members of his own company.
A little farther up the creek we crossed over to the north side, and
then moved leisurely up the valley, shooting at the Indians whenever
any were in sight. By this time, most of them had burrowed into the soft
sand of the banks, which formed a place of defense for them from which
they could shoot at the whites, while only slightly exposing themselves.
Soon after, we joined a detachment which was carrying on a brisk
engagement with a considerable force of Indians, some of whom were hidden
behind one of the many large piles of driftwood along the banks of Sand
Creek, while others were sheltered behind a similar pile in the center of
the creek, which was unusually wide at that point. Our men were posted
in a little depression just back from the north bank, from which some
of them had crawled forward as far as they dared go, and were shooting
into the driftwood, in the hope of driving the Indians from cover. Soon
after I reached this point, a member of the company from Boulder, who
had stepped out a little too far, and then turned around to speak to one
of us, was shot in the back, the bullet going straight through his lungs
and chest. Realizing at once that he was badly wounded, probably fatally
so, he asked to be taken to his company. I volunteered to accompany
him and, after helping him on his horse, we started across the prairie
to where his company was supposed to be. With every breath, bubbles of
blood were coming from his lungs and I had little hope that he would
reach his comrades alive. Just as we reached the company, he fainted and
was caught by his captain as he was falling from his horse. I returned
immediately to the place that I had left and found the battle still going
on. During my absence, our little force had been considerably increased
by soldiers from other parts of the battlefield. It was now decided to
make it so hot for the savages by continuous firing, that they would
be compelled to leave their places of cover. Soon two or three of the
Indians exposed themselves and were instantly shot down. In a short time,
the remainder started across the creek towards its southern bank. They
ran in a zigzag manner, jumping from one side to the other, evidently
hoping by so doing that we would be unable to hit them, but by taking
deliberate aim, we dropped every one before they reached the other bank.
About this time, orders came from the commanding officer directing us
to return at once to the Indian camp, as information had been received
that a large force of Indians was coming from the Smoky Hill River to
attack us. Obeying this order, we marched leisurely down the creek, and
as we went we were repeatedly fired at by Indians hidden in the banks
in the manner I have described heretofore. We returned the fire, but
the savages were so well protected that we had no reason to think any
of our shots had proved effective. At one place, an Indian child, three
or four years of age, ran out to us, holding up its hands and crying
piteously. From its actions we inferred that it wished to be taken up.
At first I was inclined to do so, but changed my mind when it occurred
to me that I should have no means of taking care of the little fellow.
We knew that there were Indians concealed within a couple of hundred
yards of where we were, who certainly would take care of him as soon as
we were out of the way; consequently we left him to be cared for by his
own people. Every one of our party expressed sympathy for the little
fellow, and no one dreamed of harming him.
As we neared the Indian camp, we passed the place where the severest
fighting had occurred earlier in the day, and here we saw many dead
Indians, a few of whom were squaws. At the edge of the camp, we came
upon our own dead who had been brought in and placed in a row. There
were ten of them, and we were informed that there were forty wounded in
a hospital improvised for the occasion. Among the dead I expected to find
the Boulder man whom I had taken to his company, but, strange to relate,
he survived his wound, and I saw him two or three years afterwards,
apparently entirely recovered. The number of our dead and wounded showed
that the Indians had offered a vigorous defense, and as I have before
stated, if they had been mounted, it is questionable whether the result
would have been the same—had they remained to fight.
We reached the Indian camp about four o'clock in the afternoon, the battle
having continued without cessation from early morning until that time. The
companies were immediately placed in position to form a hollow square,
inside of which our horses were picketed. I was so utterly exhausted
for want of sleep and food, as were many others of our company, that I
hunted up a buffalo robe, of which there were large numbers scattered
around, threw myself down on it, and was asleep almost as soon as I
touched the ground. The next thing I remember was being awakened for
supper, about dusk. We were told that we must sleep with our guns in
our hands, ready for use at any moment. Near midnight, we were awakened
by a more than vigorous call of our officers, ordering us to fall into
line immediately to repel an attack. We rushed out, but in our sleepy
condition had difficulty in forming a line, as we hardly knew what we
were doing. In the evening, by order of the commanding officer, all the
Indian tents outside of our encampment had been set on fire and now were
blazing brightly all around us. We heard occasional shots in various
directions, and in the light of the fire saw what looked to be hundreds
of Indian ponies running hither and thither. We saw no Indians, but we
knew that savages in an encounter always lie on the side of their ponies
opposite from the enemies they are attacking. From the number of what
seemed to be horses that could be seen in every direction, we thought
that we should surely be overwhelmed. After forming in line, and while
waiting for the attack, we discovered that what in our sleepy condition
we had imagined to be ponies, was nothing but the numerous dogs of the
Indian camp, which, having lost their masters, were running wildly in
every direction. Nevertheless, it was evident that Indians were all around
us, as our pickets had been fired upon and driven in from every side of
the camp. After remaining in line for a considerable length of time,
without being attacked, the regiment was divided into two divisions,
one of which was marched fifty feet in front of the other. We were then
instructed to get our blankets, and, wrapping ourselves in them, with
our guns handy, we lay down and slept the remainder of the night.
In the Indian camp we found an abundance of flour, sugar, bacon, coffee,
and other articles of food, sufficient for our maintenance, had we needed
it, for a time. In many of the tents there were articles of wearing
apparel and other things that had been taken from wagon-trains which
the Indians had robbed during the previous summer. In these same tents
we found a dozen or more scalps of white people, some of them being
from the heads of women and children, as was evidenced by the color
and fineness of the hair, which could not be mistaken for that of any
other race. One of the scalps showed plainly from its condition that
it had been taken only recently. Certain members of our regiment found
horses and mules in the Indian herd that had been stolen from them by
the hostiles in their various raids during the preceding year. The camp
was overflowing with proof that these Indians were among those who had
been raiding the settlements of Colorado during the previous summer,
killing people, robbing wagon-trains, burning houses, running off stock,
and committing outrages of which only a savage could be guilty; this
evidence only corroborated in the strongest possible manner what we
already knew. Among the members of our regiment, there were many who
had had friends and relatives killed, scalped, and mutilated by these
Indians, and almost every man had sustained financial loss by reason of
their raids; consequently it is not surprising they should be determined
to inflict such punishment upon the savages as would deter them from
further raids upon our settlements. Notwithstanding the fact that this
grim determination was firmly fixed in the mind of every one, I never
saw any one deliberately shoot at a squaw, nor do I believe that any
children were intentionally killed.
About noon of the day following the battle, our wagon-train came up,
and was formed into a hollow square in the center of our camp, the
lines being drawn in, so that if necessary the wagons could be used as
a means of defense. We knew that on the Smoky Hill River, from fifty to
seventy-five miles distant, there was another large body of Cheyennes
and Arapahoes which might attack us at any time. In every direction
throughout the day, many Indians were seen hovering around our camp.
Scouting parties were seldom able to get very far away from camp without
being fired upon, and several of our men were killed and a number wounded
in the skirmishes that took place. During the second night of our stay
on the battle ground, we were kept in line continuously, with our arms
ready for use at a moment's notice. At intervals during the entire night,
there was an exchange of shots at various points around the camp.
I never understood why we did not follow up our victory by an attack
upon the hostile bands camped on the Smoky Hill River, but I assume it
was on account of our regiment's inferior horses, arms, and equipment.
Probably Colonel Chivington, taking this into consideration, thought
his force not strong enough to fight such a large party successfully.
The following day, the command took up its line of march down the Big
Sandy and followed it to the Arkansas River, then easterly, along the
north side of that stream to the western boundary of Kansas. Soon after
we reached the Arkansas River, we found the trail of a large party of
Indians traveling down the valley. They seemed to be in great haste to get
away from us, as they had thrown away their camp kettles, buffalo robes,
and everything that might impede their flight. Realizing that the Indians
could not be overtaken with the whole command, on account of the poor
condition of many of the horses, our officers specially detailed three
hundred of our best mounted and best armed men, and sent them forward
in pursuit under forced march; but even this plan was unsuccessful, and
the pursuit was finally abandoned when near the Kansas line. The term
of enlistment of our regiment had already expired, for which reason the
command was reluctantly faced about, and the return march to Denver begun.
From the time we left the Sand Creek battle ground, it had been very
cold and disagreeable. Sharp, piercing winds blew from the north almost
incessantly, making us extremely uncomfortable during the day, and even
more so at night. Being without tents and compelled to sleep on the
open prairie, with no protection whatever from the wind, at times we
found the cold almost unbearable. The thin, shoddy government blankets
afforded only the slightest possible protection against the bitter winds;
consequently those were fortunate indeed who could find a gully in which
to make their bed. Our march back to Denver was leisurely and uneventful.
We reached there in due course and were mustered out of service on the
29th day of December, 1864. We dispersed to our homes, convinced that we
had done a good work and that it needed only a little further punishment
of the savages permanently to settle the Indian troubles so far as this
Territory was concerned.
CHAPTER V
A DEFENSE OF THE BATTLE OF SAND CREEK
Few events in American history have been the subject of so much
misrepresentation as the battle of Sand Creek. It has gone down into
history as an indefensible massacre of peaceable Indians, and perhaps
nothing that can now be said will change this erroneous impression of the
world at large, notwithstanding the fact that the accusation is unjust
and a libel upon the people of Colorado. Worst of all, it was given wide
publicity through the reports of two Congressional committees following
unfair, one-sided, and prejudiced investigations. Unfortunately, at that
time, Colorado, being a Territory, had no Senators or Representatives
in Congress to defend the good name of its people, and to add to the
bad features of the situation, its people at home realized but dimly
what was taking place at Washington, until after the mischief was done;
consequently to a great extent the Congressional investigations went by
default, so far as the people of Colorado were concerned.
It should be kept in mind that Colorado, comparatively speaking, was more
remote from the rest of the world at that time than Alaska is to-day, and
the means of disseminating news throughout the Territory were exceedingly
limited. From early in November of 1864 until March, 1865, the coaches
that carried the mail between the Missouri River towns and Denver ceased
running on account of the hostility of the Indians, and all this time
Colorado was cut off from the rest of the world, except for a limited
telegraph service that did not reach any point in the Territory outside
of Denver. Consequently, the enemies of Colonel Chivington and the Third
Colorado Cavalry, had full sway in their efforts to blacken the reputation
of these representative citizens of Colorado. I wish to emphasize the
fact that a large majority of the members of the Third Colorado Cavalry
were high-class men, whatever may be said to the contrary. Colorado had
been settled less than six years and most of its inhabitants had come
to the Territory in 1860, only four years previously. These people were
from every part of the United States, many of them farmers, merchants,
and professional men, and the men who enlisted in the Third Colorado
were largely of this class.
The accusations on which the various Congressional and military
investigations were based had their origin in the jealousy of military
officers. It was the same kind of spirit that caused the loss of more
than one battle in the Civil War. However, at Sand Creek, on account
of the secrecy of preparations, the victory could not be prevented, but
the good effects could be, and were, completely nullified, to the great
detriment of the people of Colorado; and this was done by officers who
had been former residents of the Territory and were indebted to it for
their official positions. But fully to understand the animus of these
officers, it is necessary for the reader to know something of their
personality, as well as that of the other officers involved in the
controversy.
Colonel John M. Chivington, who was in command at the battle of
Sand Creek, and who was the principal target throughout the various
investigations, was the Rev. John M. Chivington, who from 1860 to 1862
was in charge of the Methodist missions in the region now forming the
State of Colorado. He was a member of the Kansas-Nebraska Conference,
and had been selected for this mission work because of his unusual
energy, ability, and force of character. The commanding position that the
Methodist Church early assumed in the Territory under his administration
confirmed the wisdom of his appointment.
[Illustration: John M. Chivington
Colonel First Colorado Volunteer Cavalry]
Upon the organization of the First Colorado Volunteer Cavalry in the
early part of 1862, Mr. Chivington resigned his position as presiding
elder of the Rocky Mountain District, and was commissioned Major of the
new regiment. He at once became the regiment's most influential officer.
He was the most prominent figure in its wonderful march to New Mexico,
and the remarkable victories won by it over the invading Confederates
were largely due to his brilliant leadership. By the end of the active
campaign, which was a short one, Major Chivington had become so popular
with the officers and enlisted men that upon the resignation of John
P. Slough, the Colonel of the regiment, soon after, he was promoted to
that position over Lieutenant-Colonel Samuel F. Tappan on petition of
every commissioned officer of the regiment. Here was the beginning of
all his troubles, as will be seen farther along in my narrative. Later,
Colonel Chivington was appointed by General Canby to the command of the
military district of Southern New Mexico, and was afterward transferred
to the command of the military district of Colorado, which position he
held at the time of the battle of Sand Creek.
Colonel Chivington was a man of commanding personality, and possessed
marked ability both as a preacher and as an army officer. I can do no
better than quote what General Frank Hall says of him in his _History
of Colorado_:
Though wholly unskilled in the science of war, with but
little knowledge of drill and discipline, Major Chivington, of
Herculean frame and gigantic stature, possessed the courage
and exhibited the discreet boldness, dash, and brilliancy in
action which distinguished the more illustrious of our volunteer
officers during the war. His first encounter with the Texans
at Apache Cañon was sudden and more or less of a surprise.
The occasion demanded not only instantaneous action, but such
disposition of his force as to render it most effective against
superior numbers and the highly advantageous position of the
enemy. He seemed to comprehend at a glance the necessities
of the situation and handled his troops like a veteran.
His daring and rapid movement across the mountains and the
total destruction of the enemy's train, simultaneously with
the battle of Pigeon's Ranch, again attested his excellent
generalship. It put an end to the war by forcing the invaders
to a precipitate flight back to their homes. He hesitated at
nothing. Sure of the devotion and gallantry of his men, he
was always ready for any adventure, however desperate, which
promised the discomfiture of his adversaries.
We cannot but believe that had his application for the transfer
of his regiment to the Army of the Potomac, or to any of the
great armies operating under Grant, been acceded to, he would
have made a still prouder record for himself, the regiment,
and the Territory. That he was endowed with the capabilities
of a superior commander, none who saw him in action will deny.
I fully concur in General Hall's estimate of Colonel Chivington's marked
ability. I knew him well, as he was a frequent visitor at our house in the
mining town of Hamilton, in the early days. The overshadowing reputation
made by Colonel Chivington in the campaign against the Texas invaders
of New Mexico, and his subsequent promotion to the colonelcy of the
regiment over Lieutenant-Colonel Samuel F. Tappan, although apparently
acquiesced in at the time, aroused a spirit of jealousy, envy, and
antagonism against him on the part of a small group of officers headed by
Lieutenant-Colonel Tappan and Major E. W. Wynkoop, which was participated
in by Captain Soule, Lieutenant Cramer, and other subordinates. This
antagonism manifested itself on every later occasion. It was the jealousy
of mediocrity manifested against superior ability and worth; for one can
search the records of the First Colorado in vain for anything noteworthy
ever accomplished by either Tappan, Wynkoop, or Soule. After their return
from New Mexico, these officers never allowed an opportunity to pass for
discrediting and injuring the "Preacher Colonel," and after the battle
of Sand Creek they never tired of referring to it as an evidence of his
unfitness.
Lieutenant-Colonel Tappan had been a professional newspaper correspondent
before entering the army, consequently, he had no trouble in filling
the Eastern publications with exaggerated and distorted accounts of the
battle. In his crusade he had the active aid of Major Wynkoop, of S. G.
Colley, the Indian agent at Fort Lyon, and of all the Indian traders,
interpreters, half-breeds, and others of similar character congregated
around the Indian agency. He also had the support of the Indian Bureau
at Washington, which usually took the sentimental side of every question
affecting the Indians.
Prior to 1864 Indians who had been on the warpath during the summer
were permitted to make peace in the fall, remain unmolested during the
winter, receive annuities, rest up, and accumulate ammunition for the
coming summer's raids; but in that year the overtures of the Cheyennes
and Arapahoes were rejected, except upon the condition that they deliver
up their arms and submit to the military authorities. This they not only
refused to do, but continued their depredations at places convenient to
their winter camps, and received from Colonel Chivington's command the
punishment they so richly deserved. Naturally this meant great financial
loss to the Indian agents, traders, and hangers-on around the Indian
agency; and, as a result, these people actively joined in the attack
upon Colonel Chivington.
This crusade resulted in two Congressional investigations of the battle,
and also in a hearing by a military commission. Before the Joint Special
Committee of the two Houses of Congress the principal witnesses were
Major Wynkoop, Captain Soule, Lieutenant Cramer, two Indian agents, two
Indian traders, two half-breeds, and one interpreter to sustain the
accusations, and only Governor Evans and three minor officers of the
Third Colorado regiment for the defense. Aside from Governor Evans and
the three minor officers just mentioned, the witnesses were extremely
hostile to Colonel Chivington and were ready to go to any length in
their testimony in order to blacken his reputation and that of the
Third Colorado. In the investigation before the Joint Special Committee,
neither Colonel Chivington nor Colonel Shoup was present or represented
in any way. In the hearing before the Committee on the Conduct of the
War, Colonel Shoup was not represented, and Colonel Chivington only
by means of a deposition. As a result of these partial and one-sided
investigations, both committees condemned Chivington and pronounced the
battle a massacre. The most unjust and absurd investigation of all was
that made by the military commission, which was composed of three officers
of the First Colorado Cavalry, all subordinates of Colonel Chivington,
headed by his inveterate enemy Lieutenant-Colonel Samuel F. Tappan.
[Illustration: Hon. John Evans
Governor of Colorado, 1862-1865]
The accusation made at each hearing was that the Cheyenne and Arapahoe
Indians attacked by Colonel Chivington's command at Sand Creek were not
only friendly to the whites, but were under the protection of the military
authorities at Fort Lyon, and that the battle was, by the consent, if
not by the direction of Colonel Chivington, an indiscriminate massacre.
All of this I believe is proved to be untrue, to the satisfaction of
any reasonable person, by the facts related in my account of the battle,
and of the hostilities in El Paso County and elsewhere preceding it. In
corroboration of my statements as to the hostile character of the Indians
punished at Sand Creek, and to show the conditions existing elsewhere
in the Territory previous thereto, I quote from Governor Evans's reply
to the report of the Committee on the Conduct of the War, dated August
6, 1865.
In the Territorial days of Colorado, the Governor was ex-officio
Superintendent of Indian Affairs. At the time of the Sand Creek battle,
the Hon. John Evans, formerly of Illinois, was Governor of Colorado,
and had held that office since the spring of 1862. Governor Evans
was a personal friend of President Lincoln, and had been appointed
Governor because of his high character, great ability, and efficiency in
administrative affairs. Governor Evans's supervision of Indian affairs
in Colorado during 1862, 1863, and 1864 made him a better qualified
witness as to the conditions existing among the various tribes during
these years than any man living. The following extracts from his reply
to that part of the report of the Committee on the Conduct of the War,
which, under the heading, "Massacre of the Cheyenne Indians," refers to
his responsibility in the matter, tells of the attitude of the Indians
towards the whites during that period and of his own strenuous efforts
to avert hostilities.
EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT AND SUPERINTENDENCY OF INDIAN
AFFAIRS, C. T.
DENVER, August 6, 1865.
TO THE PUBLIC:
I have just seen, for the first time, a copy of the report of
the Committee on the Conduct of the War, headed, "Massacre of
Cheyenne Indians."
As it does me great injustice, and by its partial, unfair, and
erroneous statements will mislead the public, I respectfully
ask a suspension of opinion in my case until I shall have time
to present the facts to said committee or some equally high
authority, and ask a correction. In the meantime, I desire to
lay a few facts before the public. The report begins:
"In the summer of 1864 Governor Evans, of Colorado Territory,
as acting Superintendent of Indian Affairs, sent notice to the
various bands and tribes of Indians within his jurisdiction,
that such as desired to be considered friendly to the whites
should repair to the nearest military post in order to be
protected from the soldiers who were to take the field against
the hostile Indians."
This statement is true as to such notice having been sent,
but conveys the false impression that it was at the beginning
of hostilities, and the declaration of war. The truth is, it
was issued by authority of the Indian Department months after
the war had become general, for the purpose of inducing the
Indians to cease hostilities, and to protect those who had
been, or would become, friendly from the inevitable dangers to
which they were exposed. This "notice" may be found published
in the report of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs for 1864,
page 218.
The report continues:
"About the close of the summer some Cheyenne Indians, in the
neighborhood of the Smoky Hill, sent word to Major Wynkoop,
commanding at Fort Lyon, that they had in their possession,
and were willing to deliver up, some white captives they had
purchased of other Indians. Major Wynkoop, with a force of
over one hundred men, visited these Indians and recovered the
white captives. On his return he was accompanied by a number
of the chiefs and leading men of the Indians, whom he had
brought to visit Denver for the purpose of conferring with
the authorities there in regard to keeping the peace. Among
them were Black Kettle and White Antelope, of the Cheyennes,
and some chiefs of the Arapahoes. The council was held, and
these chiefs stated that they were friendly to the whites and
always had been."
Again they say:
"All the testimony goes to show that the Indians under the
immediate control of Black Kettle and White Antelope, of the
Cheyennes, and Left Hand of the Arapahoes, were, and had always
been, friendly to the whites, and had not been guilty of any
acts of hostility or depredations."
This word, which the committee say was sent to Major Wynkoop,
was a letter to United States Indian Agent, Major Colley,
which is published in the report of the Commissioner of Indian
Affairs for 1865, page 233, and is as follows:
"CHEYENNE VILLAGE, August 29, 1864.
"MAJOR COLLEY:
"We received a letter from Bent wishing us to make
peace. We held a council in regard to it. All come
to the conclusion to make peace with you, providing
you make peace with the Kiowas, Comanches, Arapahoes,
Apaches, and Sioux. We are going to send a messenger
to the Kiowas and to the other nations about our
going to make peace with you. We heard that you have
some [prisoners] in Denver. We have seven prisoners
of yours which we are willing to give up, providing
you give up yours. There are three war parties out
yet, and two of Arapahoes. They have been out some
time, and expected in soon. When we held this council
there were few Arapahoes and Sioux present.
"We want true news from you in return. This is a
letter.
"BLACK KETTLE and the other Chiefs."
Compare the above extract from the report of the committee
with this published letter of Black Kettle, and the admission
of the Indians in the council at Denver.
The committee say the prisoners proposed to be delivered up
were _purchased of other Indians_. Black Kettle, in his letter,
says: "We have seven prisoners of yours, which we are willing
to give up, providing you give up yours." They say nothing
about prisoners whom they had _purchased_. On the other hand,
in the council held in Denver, Black Kettle said:
"Major Wynkoop was kind enough to receive the letter and visited
them in camp, to whom they delivered four white prisoners,
one other (Mrs. Snyder) having killed herself; that there
are two women and one child yet in their camp whom they will
deliver up as soon as they can get them in; Laura Roper, 16
or 17 years; Ambrose Asher, 7 or 8 years; Daniel Marble, 7
or 8 years; Isabel Ubanks, 4 or 5 years. The prisoners still
with them [are] Mrs. Ubanks and babe, and a Mrs. Norton who
was taken on the Platte. Mrs. Snyder is the name of the woman
who hung herself. The boys were taken between Fort Kearney
and the Blue."
Again: They did not deny having captured the prisoners, when
I told them that having the prisoners in their possession was
evidence of their having committed the depredations when they
were taken. But White Antelope said: "We (the Cheyennes) took
two prisoners west of Kearney, and destroyed the trains." Had
they _purchased_ the prisoners, they would not have been slow
to make it known in this council.
The committee say the chiefs went to Denver to confer with
the authorities about _keeping the peace_. Black Kettle says:
"All come to the conclusion to _make peace_ with you providing
you will _make peace_ with the Kiowas, Comanches, Arapahoes,
Apaches, and Sioux."
Again the committee say:
"All the testimony goes to show that the Indians under the
immediate control of Black Kettle and White Antelope, of the
Cheyennes, and Left Hand, of the Arapahoes, _were, and had
been friendly to the whites, and had not been guilty of any
acts of hostility or depredations_."
Black Kettle says in his letter: "We received a letter from
Bent, wishing us to make peace." Why did Bent send a letter
to _friendly_ Indians, and want to make peace with Indians
_who had always been friendly_? Again they say: "We have held
a council in regard to it." Why did they hold a council in
regard to making peace, when they were already peaceable? Again
they say: "All come to the conclusion to _make peace_ with
you _providing_ you make peace with the Kiowas, Comanches,
Arapahoes, Apaches, and Sioux. We have seven prisoners of
yours, which we are willing to give up, providing you give up
yours. There are three _war_ [not _peace_] _parties_ out yet,
and two of Arapahoes."
Every line of this letter shows that they were and had been at
war. I desire to throw additional light upon this assertion of
the committee that these Indians "were and had been friendly
to the whites, and had not been guilty of any acts of hostility
or depredations"; for it is upon this point that the committee
accuses me of prevarication.
In the council held at Denver, White Antelope said: "We [the
Cheyennes] took two prisoners west of Kearney and destroyed
the trains." This was one of the most destructive and bloody
raids of the war. Again, Neva (Left Hand's brother) said: "The
Comanches, Kiowas, and Sioux have done much more harm than we
have."
The entire report of this council shows that the Indians had
been at war, and had been "guilty of acts of hostility and
depredations."
As showing more fully the status and disposition of these
Indians, I call your attention to the following extract from
the report of Major Wynkoop, published in the report of the
Commissioner of Indian Affairs for 1864, page 234, and a letter
from Major Colley, their agent; same report, page 230. Also
statement of Robert North; same report, page 224:
"FORT LYON, COLORADO, Sept. 18, 1864.
"SIR:
"... Taking with me under strict guard the Indians I
had in my possession, I reached my destination and
was confronted by from six to eight hundred Indian
warriors, drawn up in line of battle and prepared
to fight.
"Putting on as bold a front as I could under the
circumstances I formed my command in as good order as
possible for the purpose of acting on the offensive
or defensive, as might be necessary, and advanced
towards them, at the same time sending forward one
of the Indians I had with me, as an emissary, to
state that I had come for the purpose of holding a
consultation with the chiefs of the Arapahoes and
Cheyennes, to come to an understanding which might
result in mutual benefit; that I had not come desiring
strife, but was prepared for it if necessary, and
advised them to listen to what I had to say, previous
to making any more warlike demonstrations.
"They consented to meet me in council, and I then
proposed to them that if they desired peace to
give me palpable evidence of their sincerity by
delivering into my hands their white prisoners.
I told them that I was not authorized to conclude
terms of peace with them, but if they acceded to my
proposition I would take what chiefs they might choose
to select to the Governor of Colorado Territory,
state the circumstances to him, and that I believed
it would result in what it was their desire to
accomplish—'peace with their white brothers.' I had
reference particularly to the Arapahoe and Cheyenne
tribes.
"The council was divided—undecided—and could not
come to an understanding among themselves. I told
them that I would march to a certain locality,
distant twelve miles, and await a given time for
their action in the matter. I took a strong position
in the locality named, and remained three days. In
the interval they brought in and turned over four
white prisoners, all that was possible for them
at the time being to turn over, the balance of the
seven being (as they stated) with another band far
to the northward.
* * * * *
"I have the principal chiefs of the two tribes with
me, and propose starting immediately to Denver, to
put into effect the aforementioned proposition made
by me to them.
"They agree to deliver up the balance of the prisoners
as soon as it is possible to procure them, which can
be done better from Denver City than from this point.
"I have the honor, Governor, to be your obedient
servant,
"E. W. WYNKOOP,
"Major First Col. Cav. Com'd'g
Fort Lyon, C. T.
"His Excellency, JOHN EVANS,
"Governor of Colorado, Denver, C. T."
"FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, July 26, 1864.
"SIR:
"When I last wrote you, I was in hopes that our
Indian troubles were at an end. Colonel Chivington
has just arrived from Larned and gives a sad account
of affairs at that post. They have killed some ten
men from a train, and run off all the stock from
the post.
"As near as they can learn, all the tribes were
engaged in it. The colonel will give you the
particulars. There is no dependence to be put in any
of them. I have done everything in my power to keep
the peace; I now think a little powder and lead is
the best food for them.
"Respectfully, your obedient servant,
"S. G. COLLEY,
United States Indian Agent.
"HON. JOHN EVANS,
"Governor and Superintendent Indian Affairs."
The following statement by Robert North was made to me:
"November 10, 1863.
"Having recovered an Arapahoe prisoner (a squaw) from the
Utes, I obtained the confidence of the Indians completely. I
have lived with them from a boy and my wife is an Arapahoe.
"In honor of my exploit in recovering the prisoner, the Indians
recently gave me a 'big medicine dance' about fifty miles
below Fort Lyon, on the Arkansas River, at which the leading
chiefs and warriors of several of the tribes of the plains met.
"The Comanches, Apaches, Kiowas, the northern band of
Arapahoes, and all of the Cheyennes, with the Sioux, have
pledged one another to go to war with the whites as soon as
they can procure ammunition in the spring. I have heard them
discuss the matter often, and the few of them who opposed it
were forced to be quiet, and were really in danger of their
lives. I saw the principal chiefs pledge to each other that
they would be friendly and shake hands with the whites until
they procured ammunition and guns, so as to be ready when they
strike. Plundering to get means has already commenced; and the
plan is to commence the war at several points in the sparse
settlements early in the spring. They wanted me to join them in
the war, saying that they would take a great many white women
and children prisoners, and get a heap of property, blankets,
etc.; but while I am connected with them by marriage, and live
with them, I am yet a white man, and wish to avoid bloodshed.
There are many Mexicans with the Comanche and Apache Indians,
all of whom urge on the war, promising to help the Indians
themselves, and that a great many more Mexicans would come up
from New Mexico for the purpose in the spring."
In addition to the statement showing that all the Cheyennes
were in the alliance, I desire to add the following frank
admission from the Indians in the council:
"Governor Evans explained that smoking the war-pipe was a
figurative term, but their conduct had been such as to show
that they had an understanding with other tribes.
"Several Indians: We acknowledge that our actions have given
you reason to believe this."
In addition to all this, I refer to the statement of Mrs.
Ewbanks. She is one of the prisoners that Black Kettle, in
the council, said they had. Instead of _purchasing_ her, they
first _captured_ her on the Little Blue, and then _sold_ her
to the Sioux.
Mrs. Martin, another rescued prisoner, was _captured_ by the
_Cheyennes_ on Plum Creek, _west of Kearney_, with a boy nine
years old. These were the prisoners of which White Antelope
said, in the council, "We took two prisoners west of Kearney,
and destroyed the trains." In her published statement she says
the party who captured her and the boy killed eleven men and
destroyed the trains and were mostly _Cheyennes_.
Thus I have proved by the Indian chiefs named in the report, by
Agent Colley and Major Wynkoop, to whom they refer to sustain
their assertion to the contrary, that these Indians had "been
at war, and had committed acts of hostility and depredations."
In regard to their status prior to their council at Denver,
the foregoing public documents which I have cited show how
utterly devoid of truth or foundation is the assertion that
these Indians "had been friendly to the whites, and had not
been guilty of any acts of hostility or depredations."
The next paragraph of the report is as follows:
"A northern band of Cheyennes, known as the 'Dog Soldiers,' had
been guilty of acts of hostility; but all the testimony goes
to prove that they had no connection with Black Kettle's band,
and acted in spite of his authority and influence. Black Kettle
and his band denied all connection with, or responsibility
for, the Dog Soldiers, and Left Hand and his band were equally
friendly."
The committee and the public will be surprised to learn the
fact that these Dog Soldiers, on which the committee throws the
_slight_ blame for acts of hostility, were really among Black
Kettle's and White Antelope's own warriors, in the "_friendly_"
camp to which Major Wynkoop made his expedition, and their head
man, Bull Bear, was one of the prominent men of the deputation
brought in to see me at Denver. By reference to the report of
the council with the chiefs, to which I referred the committee,
it will be observed that Black Kettle and all present based
their propositions to _make peace_ upon the assent of _their
bands_, and that these Dog Soldiers were especially referred
to.
The report continues:
"These Indians, at the suggestion of Governor Evans and Colonel
Chivington, repaired to Fort Lyon and placed themselves under
the protection of Major Wynkoop, etc."
The connection of my name in this is again wrong. I simply
left them in the hands of the military authorities, where I
found them, and my action was approved by the Indian Bureau.
The following extracts from the report of the council will
prove this conclusively. I stated to the Indians:
"... Another reason that I am not in a condition to make a
treaty is, that the war is begun, and the power to make a
treaty of peace has passed from me to the great war chief."
I also said: "Again, whatever peace they may make must be with
the soldiers and not with me."
And again, in reply to White Antelope's inquiry, "How can we
be protected from the soldiers on the plains?" I said: "You
must make that arrangement with the military chief."
The morning after this council, I addressed the following
letter to the agent of these Indians, which is published in
the report of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs for 1864,
page 220:
"COLORADO SUPERINTENDENCY INDIAN AFFAIRS,
DENVER, September 29, 1864.
"SIR:
"The chiefs brought in by Major Wynkoop have been
heard. I have declined to make any peace with them,
lest it might embarrass the military operations
against the hostile Indians on the plains. The
Arapahoe and Cheyenne Indians being now at war with
the United States Government, must make peace with
the military authorities. Of course this arrangement
relieves the Indian Bureau of their care until peace
is declared with them; and as these tribes are yet
scattered, and all except Friday's band are at war,
it is not probable that it will be done immediately.
You will be particular to impress upon these chiefs
the fact that my talk with them was for the purpose
of ascertaining their views, and not to offer them
anything whatever. They must deal with the military
authorities until peace, in which case, alone,
they will be in proper position to treat with the
government in relation to the future.
"I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your
obedient servant,
"JOHN EVANS,
"Governor Colorado Territory and
"ex-officio Superintendent of Indian Affairs.
"MAJOR S. G. COLLEY, "United States Indian Agent, Upper
Arkansas."
It will thus be seen that I had, with the approval of the Indian
Bureau, turned the adjustment of difficulties with the hostile
Indians entirely over to the military authorities; that I had
instructed Agent Colley, at Fort Lyon, that this would relieve
the Bureau of further care of the Arapahoes and Cheyennes,
until peace was made, and having had no notice of such peace,
or instructions to change the arrangement, the status of these
Indians was in no respect within my jurisdiction, or under my
official inspection.
It may be proper for me to say further, that it will appear in
evidence that I had no intimation of the direction in which the
campaign against the hostile Indians was to move, or against
what bands it was to be made, when I left the Territory last
fall, and that I was absent from Colorado when the Sand Creek
battle occurred.
The report continues:
"It is true that there seems to have been excited among the
people inhabiting that region of country a hostile feeling
towards the Indians. Some had committed acts of hostility
towards the whites, but no effort seems to have been made by
the authorities there to prevent these hostilities, other than
by the commission of even worse acts."
"_Some_ had committed acts of hostility towards the whites!"
Hear the facts: In the fall of 1863 a general alliance of the
Indians of the plains was effected with the Sioux, and in the
language of Bull Bear, in the report of the council, "Their
plan is to clean out all this country."
The war opened early in the spring of 1864. The people of
the East, absorbed in the greater interest of the rebellion,
know but little of its history. Stock was stolen, ranches
destroyed, houses burned, freight trains plundered, and their
contents carried away or scattered upon the plains; settlers
in the frontier counties murdered, or forced to seek safety
for themselves and families in blockhouses and interior towns;
emigrants to our Territory were surprised in their camps,
children were slain, and wives taken prisoners; our trade and
travel with the States were cut off; the necessities of life
were at starvation prices; the interests of the Territory
were being damaged to the extent of millions; every species
of atrocity and barbarity which characterizes savage warfare
was committed. This is no fancy sketch, but a plain statement
of facts of which the committee seem to have had no proper
realization. All this history of war and blood—all this history
of rapine and ruin—all this story of outrage and suffering
on the part of our people—is summed up by the committee, and
given to the public in one mild sentence, "_Some_ had committed
acts of hostility against the whites."
The committee not only ignore the general and terrible character
of our Indian war, and the great sufferings of our people,
but make the grave charge that "no effort seems to have been
made by the authorities there to prevent all these hostilities."
Had the committee taken the trouble, as they certainly should
have done before making so grave a charge, to have read the
public documents of the government, examined the record and
files of the Indian Bureau, of the War Department, and of this
superintendency, _instead of adopting the language of some
hostile and irresponsible witness, as they appear to have done_,
they would have found that the most earnest and persistent
efforts had been made on my part to prevent hostilities. The
records show that early in the spring of 1863, United States
Indian Agent Loree, of the Upper Platte Agency, reported to me
in person that the Sioux under his agency, and the Arapahoes
and Cheyennes, were negotiating an alliance for war on the
whites. I immediately wrote an urgent appeal for authority to
avert the danger, and sent Agent Loree as special messenger
with the dispatch to Washington. In response authority was
given, and an earnest effort was made to collect the Indians
in council. The following admission, in the report of the
council, explains the result:
"Governor Evans: '... Hearing last fall that they were
dissatisfied, the Great Father at Washington sent me out on
the plains to talk with you and make it all right. I sent
messengers out to tell you that I had presents, and would
make you a feast; but you sent word to me that you did not
want to have anything to do with me, and to the Great Father
at Washington that you could get along without him. Bull Bear
wanted to come in to see me, at the head of the Republican,
but his people held a council and would not let him come.'
"Black Kettle: 'That is true.'
"Governor Evans: 'I was under the necessity, after all my
trouble, and all the expense I was at, of returning home
without seeing them. Instead of this, your people went away
and smoked the war-pipe with our enemies.'"
Notwithstanding these unsuccessful efforts, I still hoped to
preserve peace.
The records of these offices also show that, in the autumn of
1863, I was reliably advised from various sources that nearly
all the Indians of the plains had formed an alliance for the
purpose of going to war in the spring, and I immediately
commenced my efforts to avert the imminent danger. From
that time forward, by letter, by telegram, and personal
representation to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, the
Secretary of War, the commanders of the department and district;
by traveling for weeks in the wilderness of the plains; by
distribution of annuities and presents; by sending notice
to the Indians to leave the hostile alliance; by every means
within my power, I endeavored to preserve peace and protect
the interests of the people of the Territory. And in the face
of all this, which the records abundantly show, the committee
say: "No effort seems to have been made by the authorities there
to prevent these hostilities, other than by the commission of
even worse acts."
They do not point out any of these acts, unless the continuation
of the paragraph is intended to do so. It proceeds:
"The hatred of the whites to the Indians would seem to
have been inflamed and excited to the utmost. The bodies of
persons killed at a distance—whether by Indians or not is
not certain—were brought to the capital of the Territory and
exposed to the public gaze, for the purpose of inflaming still
more the already excited feelings of the people."
There is no mention in this of anything that was done by
authority, but it is so full of misrepresentation, in apology
for the Indians, and unjust reflection on a people who have a
right from their birth, education, and ties of sympathy with
the people they so recently left behind them, to have at least
a just consideration. The bodies referred to were those of
the Hungate family, who were brutally murdered by the Indians,
within twenty-five miles of Denver. No one here ever doubted
that the Indians did it, and it was admitted by the Indians
in the council. This was early in the summer, and before the
notice sent in June to the friendly Indians. Their mangled
bodies were brought to Denver for decent burial. Many of our
people went to see them, as any people would have done. It
did produce excitement and consternation, and where are the
people who could have witnessed it without emotion? Would the
committee have the people shut their eyes to such scenes at
their very doors?
The next sentence, equally unjust and unfair, refers to my
proclamation, issued two months after this occurrence, and
four months before the "attack" they were investigating, and
having no connection with it or with the troops engaged in
it. It is as follows:
"The cupidity was appealed to, for the Governor, in a
proclamation, calls upon all, either individually, or in such
parties as they may organize, to kill and destroy as enemies
of the country, wherever they may be found, all such hostile
Indians; authorizing them to hold, to their own use and benefit,
all the property of said hostile Indians they may capture.
What Indians he would ever term friendly, it is impossible to
tell."
I offer the following statement of the circumstances under
which this proclamation was issued by the Hon. D. A. Chever.
It is as follows:
"EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT, COLORADO TERRITORY,
August 21, 1865.
"I, David A. Chever, Clerk in the office of the
Governor of the territory of Colorado, do solemnly
swear that the people of said territory, from
the Purgatoire to the Cache la Poudre rivers, a
distance of over two hundred miles, and for a like
distance along the Platte river, being the whole
of our settlements on the plains, were thrown into
the greatest alarm and consternation by numerous
and almost simultaneous attacks and depredations
by hostile Indians early last summer; that they
left their unreaped crops, and collecting into
communities built blockhouses and stockades for
protection at central points throughout the long line
of settlements; that those living in the vicinity of
Denver City fled to it, and that the people of said
city were in great fear of sharing the fate of New
Ulm, Minnesota; that the threatened loss of crops,
and the interruption of communication with the states
by the combined hostilities, threatened the very
existence of the whole people; that this feeling
of danger was universal; that a flood of petitions
and deputations poured into this office, from the
people of all parts of the territory, praying for
protection, and for arms and authority to protect
themselves; that the defects of the militia law and
the want of means to provide for defense was proved
by the failure of this department, after the utmost
endeavors, to secure an effective organization under
it; that reliable reports of the presence of a large
body of hostile warriors at no great distance east
of this place were received, which reports were
afterwards proved to be true, by the statement of
Elbridge Gerry (page 232, Report of Commissioner of
Indian Affairs for 1864); that repeated and urgent
applications to the War Department for protection
and authority to raise troops for the purpose had
failed; that urgent applications to department and
district commanders had failed to bring any prospect
of relief, and that in the midst of this terrible
consternation and apparently defenseless condition,
it had been announced to this office, from district
headquarters, that all the Colorado troops in the
service of the United States had been peremptorily
ordered away, and nearly all of them had marched
to the Arkansas River, to be in position to repel
the threatened invasion of the rebels into Kansas
and Missouri; that reliable reports of depredations
and murders by the Indians, from all parts of our
extended lines of exposed settlements, became daily
more numerous, until the simultaneous attacks on
trains along the overland stage line were reported
by telegraph, on the 8th of August, described in the
letter of George K. Otis, superintendent of overland
stage line, published on page 254 of Report of
Commissioner of Indian Affairs for 1864. Under these
circumstances, on the 11th of August, the Governor
issued his proclamation to the people, calling upon
them to defend their homes and families from the
savage foe; that it prevented anarchy; that several
militia companies immediately organized under it,
and aided in inspiring confidence; that under its
authority no act of impropriety has been reported,
and I do not believe that any occurred; that it had
no reference to or connection with the third regiment
of one-hundred-days men that was subsequently raised
by authority of the War Department, under a different
proclamation, calling for volunteers, or with any
of the troops engaged in the Sand Creek Affair, and
that the reference to it in such connection in the
report of the Committee on the Conduct of the War
is a perversion of the history and facts in the case.
"DAVID A. CHEVER."
"Territory of Colorado, Arapahoe County, City of
Denver, SS.: Subscribed and sworn to before
me this 21st day of August, A.D. 1865. ELI M.
ASHLEY, Notary Public."
I had appealed by telegraph, June 14th, to the War Department
for authority to call the militia into the United States
service, or to raise one-hundred-day troops; also had written
to our delegate in Congress to see why I got no response,
and had received his reply to the effect that he could learn
nothing about it; had received a notice from the department
commander, declining to take the responsibility of asking the
militia for United States service, throwing the people entirely
on the necessity of taking care of themselves.
It was under these circumstances of trial, suffering, and
danger on the part of the people, and of fruitless appeal
upon my part to the general government for aid, that I issued
my proclamation of the 11th of August, 1864, of which the
committee complains.
Without means to mount or pay militia, and failing to get
government authority to raise forces, and under the withdrawal
of the few troops in the Territory, could any other course be
pursued?
The people were asked to fight on their own account—at their
own expense—and in lieu of the protection the government
failed to render. They were authorized to kill only the Indians
that were murdering and robbing them in hostility, and to
keep the property captured from them. How the committee would
have them fight these savages, and what other disposition
they would make of the property captured, the public will be
curious to know. Would they fight without killing? Would they
have the captured property turned over to the government, as
if captured by United States troops? Would they forbid such
captures? Would they restore it to the hostile tribes?
The absurdity of the committee's saying that this was an
"appeal to the cupidity," is too palpable to require much
comment. Would men leave high wages, mount and equip themselves
at enormous expense, as some patriotically did, for the poor
chance of capturing property, as a mere speculation, from the
prowling bands of Indians that infested the settlements and
were murdering their families? The thing is preposterous.
For this proclamation I have no apology. It had its origin
and has its justification in the imperative necessities of the
case. A merciless foe surrounded us. Without means to mount or
pay militia, unable to secure government authority to raise
forces, and our own troops ordered away, again I ask, could
any other course be pursued?
Captain Tyler's and other companies organized under it, at
enormous expense, left their lucrative business, high wages,
and profitable employment, and served without other pay than
the consciousness of having done noble and patriotic service;
and no act of impropriety has ever been laid to the charge
of any party acting under this proclamation. They had all
been disbanded months before the "attack" was made that the
committee were investigating.
The third regiment was organized under authority from the War
Department, subsequently received by telegraph, and under a
subsequent proclamation issued on the 13th of August, and were
regularly mustered into the service of the United States about
three months before the battle the committee were investigating
occurred.
Before closing this reply, it is perhaps just that I should
say that when I testified before the committee, the chairman
and all its members except three were absent, and I think, when
the truth becomes known, this report will trace its parentage
to a single member of the committee.
I have thus noticed such portions of the report as refer to
myself, and shown conclusively that the committee, in every
mention they have made of me, have been, to say the least,
mistaken.
First: The committee, for the evident purpose of maintaining
their position that these Indians had not been engaged in war,
say the prisoners they held were purchased. The testimony is
to the effect that they captured them.
Second: The committee say that these Indians were and always
had been friendly, and had committed no acts of hostility
or depredations. The public documents to which I refer show
conclusively that they had been hostile, and had committed
many acts of hostility and depredations.
Third: They say that I joined in sending these Indians to
Fort Lyon. The published report of the Commissioner of Indian
Affairs, and of the Indian council, show that I left them
entirely in the hands of the military authorities.
Fourth: They say nothing seems to have been done by the
authorities to prevent hostilities. The public documents and
files of the Indian Bureau, and of my superintendency, show
constant and unremitting diligence and effort on my part to
prevent hostilities and protect the people.
Fifth: They say that I prevaricated for the purpose of avoiding
the admission that these Indians "were and had been actuated
by the most friendly feelings towards the whites." Public
documents cited show conclusively that the admission they
desired me to make was false, and that my statement, instead
of being a prevarication, was true, although not in accordance
with the preconceived and mistaken opinions of the committee....
This report, so full of mistakes which ordinary investigation
would have avoided; so full of slander, which ordinary care of
the character of men would have prevented, is to be regretted,
for the reason that it throws doubt upon the reliability of
all reports which have emanated from the same source, during
the last four years of war.
I am confident that the public will see, from the facts herein
set forth, the great injustice done me; and I am further
confident that the committee, when they know these and other
facts I shall lay before them, will also see this injustice,
and, as far as possible, repair it.
Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
JOHN EVANS, Governor of the Territory of
Colorado, and ex-officio Superintendent
of Indian Affairs.
CHAPTER VI
A DEFENSE OF THE BATTLE OF SAND CREEK (_Continued_)
If anything in addition to Governor Evans's statement were needed to
prove the hostility of the Indians attacked at Sand Creek, it will be
found in the admission of the Indians themselves at the council held by
Governor Evans with the Cheyenne and Arapahoe chiefs in Denver about
sixty days prior to the battle. At this council, there were present
Black Kettle, leading chief of the Cheyennes, White Antelope, chief of
the central band of the Cheyennes, Bull Bear, leader of the Cheyenne
Dog Soldiers, Neva, sub-chief of the Arapahoes, and several other minor
chiefs of that tribe. These chiefs admitted that their people had been,
and were still committing depredations, as the following extract from
the report of the council, taken down at the time, conclusively shows:
GOV. EVANS: Who committed the murder of
the Hungate family on Running
Creek?
NEVA: The Arapahoes, a party of the northern
band who were passing north.
It was the Medicine Man, or
Roman Nose, and three others.
I am satisfied from the time he
left a certain camp for the north,
that it was this party of four
persons.
AGT. WHITLEY: That cannot be true.
GOV. EVANS: Where is Roman Nose?
NEVA: You ought to know better than me,
you have been nearer to him.
GOV. EVANS: Who killed the man and boy at the
head of Cherry Creek?
NEVA: (After consultation) Kiowas and
Comanches.
GOV. EVANS: Who stole the horses and mules
from Jimmy's Camp twenty-seven
days ago?
NEVA: _Fourteen Cheyennes and Arapahoes
together._
GOV. EVANS: What were their names?
NEVA: Powder Face and Whirlwind, _who
are now in our camp, were the
leaders_.
COL. SHOUP: I counted twenty Indians on that
occasion.
GOV. EVANS: Who stole Charlie Autobee's
horses?
NEVA: Raven's son.
GOV. EVANS: I suppose you acknowledge the depredations
on the Little Blue,
as you have the prisoners then
taken in your possession?
WHITE ANTELOPE: We [the Cheyennes] took two
prisoners west of Ft. Kearney
and destroyed the trains.
It will be seen from the foregoing, that these Indians, although
pretending to be friendly, had to admit that their people stole the
horses from the soldiers at Jimmy's Camp, near Colorado City, an account
of which I have already given, and that the Indians who did it were in
their camp at Sand Creek at the time the council was being held. They
lied concerning the man and boy killed at the head of Cherry Creek, for
they knew that the Kiowas and Comanches never came this far north, and
that the murders were committed by their own people. Neva's admission
that Raven's son stole Charlie Autobee's horses proved the hostility of
the Arapahoes, as Raven was the head chief of that tribe.
At the time the council was being held, General S. R. Curtis, commanding
the military district, sent the following telegram to Colonel Chivington,
evidently fearing that peace would be made prematurely.
FT. LEAVENWORTH,
September 28th, 1864.
TO COLONEL CHIVINGTON:
I shall require the bad Indians delivered up; restoration of
equal numbers of stock; also hostages to secure. I want no peace
till the Indians suffer more. Left Hand is said to be a good
chief of the Arapahoes but Big Mouth is a rascal. I fear the
Agent of the Indian Department will be ready to make presents
too soon. It is better to chastise before giving anything but
a little tobacco to talk over. No peace must be made without
my direction.
S. R. CURTIS, Major-General.
On November 2, 1864, Major Wynkoop was relieved of the command at Fort
Lyon, and Major Anthony, of the First Regiment of Colorado Cavalry,
was appointed his successor. The reason given for the removal of Major
Wynkoop was that he was inclined to temporize with the hostile Indians,
contrary to the orders of his superior officers.
In a report made by Major Anthony to his superior officer from Fort
Lyon, under date of November 6, 1864, he says:
Nine Cheyenne Indians to-day sent in wishing to see me. They
state that six hundred of that tribe are now thirty-five miles
north of here coming toward the post, and two thousand about
seventy-five miles away waiting for better weather to enable
them to come in.
I shall not permit them to come in even as prisoners, for
the reason that if I do, I shall have to subsist them upon a
prisoner's rations. I shall, however, demand their arms, all
stolen stock, and the perpetrators of all depredations. I am
of the opinion that they will not accept this proposition,
but that they will return to the Smoky Hill.
They pretend that they want peace, and I think they do now, as
they cannot fight during the winter, except where a small band
of them can fight an unprotected train or frontier settlement.
I do not think it is policy to make peace with them until all
perpetrators of depredations are surrendered up to be dealt
with as we may propose.
This report was dated only twenty-three days before the battle of Sand
Creek occurred. The Indians Major Anthony mentions as camped thirty-five
miles away were those that were attacked by Colonel Chivington. That they
were not, and had not been under Major Anthony's protection, and that
he considered them hostile, is clearly shown by the above report as well
as by the testimony given by him March 14, 1865, in an investigation of
the battle of Sand Creek made by the Joint Committee on the Conduct of
the War, as is shown by the following extracts:
"You say you held a conference with the Indians. State what
occurred?"
"At the time I took command of the post, there was a band of
Arapahoe Indians encamped about a mile from the post, numbering,
in men, women, and children, 652. They were visiting the post
almost every day. I met them and had a talk with them. Among
them was Left Hand, who was a chief among the Arapahoes. He
with his band was with the party at the time. I talked with
them and they proposed to do whatever I said; whatever I said
for them to do, they would do. I told them that I could not
feed them; that I could not give them anything to eat; that
there were positive orders forbidding that; that I could not
permit them to come within the limits of the post. At the same
time they might remain where they were and I would treat them
as prisoners of war if they remained; that they would have to
surrender to me all their arms, and turn over to me all stolen
property they had taken from the government or citizens. These
terms they accepted. They turned over to me some twenty head
of stock, mules and horses, and a few arms, but not a quarter
of the arms that report stated they had in their possession.
The arms they turned over to me were almost useless. I fed
them for some ten days. At the end of that time I told them
that I could not feed them any more; that they better go out
to the buffalo country where they could kill game to subsist
upon. I returned their arms to them and they left the post.
But before leaving they sent word out to the Cheyennes that
I was not very friendly towards them."
"How do you know that?"
"Through several of their chiefs: Neva, an Arapahoe chief,
Left Hand, of the Arapahoes; then Black Kettle and War Bonnet,
of the Cheyennes."
"What property did they turn over?"
"Fourteen head of mules and six head of horses."
"Was it property purporting to have been stolen by them?"
"Yes, sir."
"From whom?"
"They did not say, yet some of it was recognized; some of it
was branded 'U. S.' Some was recognized as being stock that
belonged to citizens. It was generally understood afterwards—I
did not know it at the time—that the son of the head chief of
the Arapahoes, Little Raven, and I think another, had attacked
a small government train and killed one man...."
"Who was the chief of that band?"
"Little Raven was the chief of those I held as prisoners....
"A delegation of the Cheyennes, numbering, I suppose, fifty or
sixty men, came in just before the Arapahoes left the post.
I met them outside the post and talked with them. They said
they wanted to make peace; that they had no desire to fight
against us any longer. I told them that I had no authority
from department headquarters to make peace with them; that I
could not permit them to visit the post and come within the
lines; that when they had been permitted to do so at Fort
Larned, while the squaws and children of the different tribes
that visited the post were dancing in front of the officers'
quarters and on the parade ground, the Indians had made an
attack on the post, fired on the guard, and run off the stock,
and I was afraid the same thing might occur at Fort Lyon. I
would not permit them to visit the post at all. I told them
I could make no offers of peace to them until I heard from
district headquarters. I told them, however, that they might go
out and camp on Sand Creek, and remain there if they chose to
do so; but they should not camp in the vicinity of the post;
that if I had authority to go out and make peace with them,
I would go out and let them know of it.
"In the meantime I was writing to district headquarters
constantly, stating to them that there was a band of Indians
within forty miles of the post—a small band—while a very
large band was about 100 miles from the post. That I was strong
enough with the force I had with me to fight the Indians on
Sand Creek, but not strong enough to fight the main band. That
I should try to keep the Indians quiet until such time as I
received reinforcements; and that as soon as reinforcements
did arrive we should go further and find the main party.
"But before the reinforcements came from district headquarters,
Colonel Chivington came to Fort Lyon with his command, and I
joined him and went out on that expedition to Sand Creek. I
never made any offer to the Indians. It was the understanding
that I was not in favor of peace with them. They so understood
me, I suppose; at least I intended they should. In fact, I
often heard of it through their interpreters that they did
not suppose we were friendly towards them....
"This is the way in which we had been situated out there. I
have been in command of a body of troops at Fort Larned or Fort
Lyon for upwards of two years. About two years ago in September
the Indians were professing to be perfectly friendly. These
were the Cheyennes, the Comanches, the Apaches, the Arapahoes,
the Kiowas, encamped at different points on the Arkansas
River between Fort Larned and Fort Lyon. Trains were going up
to Fort Lyon frequently and scarcely a train came in but had
some complaint to make about the Indians. I recollect that one
particular day three trains came in to the post and reported
to me that the Indians had robbed them of their provisions.
We at the post had to issue provisions to them constantly.
Trains that were carrying government freight to New Mexico
would stop there and get their supplies replenished on account
of the Indians having taken theirs on the road.
"At one time I took two pieces of artillery and 125 men, and
went down to meet the Indians. As soon as I got there they
were apparently friendly. A Kiowa chief perhaps would say to
me that his men were perfectly friendly, and felt all right
towards the whites, but the Arapahoes were very bad Indians. Go
to the Arapahoe camp, and they would perhaps charge everything
upon the Comanches; while the Comanches would charge it upon
the Cheyennes; yet each band there was professing friendship
towards us....
"When the Indians took their prisoners (in fact, however,
they generally took no prisoners) near Simmering Spring, they
killed ten men. I was told by Captain Davis, of the California
volunteers, that the Indians cut off the heads of the men after
they had scalped them, and piled them in a pile on the ground,
and danced around them, and kicked their bodies around over
the ground, etc. It is the general impression of the people of
that country that the only way to fight Indians is to fight
them as they fight us; if they scalp and mutilate the bodies
we must do the same.
"I recollect one occasion, when I had a fight on Pawnee fork
with the Indians there, I had fifty-nine men with me, and the
Indians numbered several hundred. I was retreating and they
had followed me about five miles. I had eleven men of my party
shot at that time. I had with my party then a few Delaware
Indians, and one Captain Fall Leaf, of the Delaware tribe, had
his horse shot; we had to stop every few minutes, dismount, and
fire upon the Indians to keep them off. They formed a circle
right around us. Finally we shot down one Indian very close
to us. I saw Fall Leaf make a movement as though he wanted
to scalp the Indian. I asked him if he wanted that Indian's
scalp and he said he did. We kept up a fire to keep the Indians
off, while he went down and took off his scalp, and gave his
Delaware war-whoop. That seemed to strike more terror into
those Indians than anything else we had done that day. And I
do think if it had not been for that one thing, we should have
lost a great many more of my men. I think it struck terror to
them so that they kept away from us."
"Did the troops mutilate the Indians killed at Sand Creek?"
"_They did in some instances that I know of, but I saw nothing
to the extent I have since heard stated._"
"Did you not feel that you were bound in good faith not to
attack those Indians after they had surrendered to you and
after they had taken up a position which you yourself had
indicated?"
"I did not consider that they had surrendered to me; I never
would consent that they should surrender to me. My instructions
were such that I felt in duty bound to fight them wherever I
found them; provided I considered it good policy to do so. I
did not consider it good policy to attack this party of Indians
on Sand Creek unless I was strong enough to go on and fight
the main band at the Smoke Hills, some seventy miles further.
If I had had that force, I should have gone out and fought
this band on Sand Creek...."
"You think the attack made upon those Indians, in addition to
the other characteristics which it possesses, was impolitic?"
"I do, very much so. I think it was the occasion of what
has occurred on the Platte since that time. I have so stated
in my report to the headquarters of the district and of the
department. I stated before Colonel Chivington arrived there
that the Indians were encamped at this point; that I had a
force with me sufficiently strong to go out and fight them;
but that I did not think it policy to do so, for I was not
strong enough to fight the main band. If I fought this band,
the main band would immediately strike the settlements. But so
soon as the party should be strong enough to fight the main
band, I should be in favor of making the war general against
the Indians. I stated to them also that I did not believe we
could fight one band without fighting them all; that in case
we fought one party of Indians and whipped them, those that
escaped would go into another band that was apparently friendly
and that band would secrete those who had been committing
depredations before. As it was with Little Raven's band; his
own sons attacked a train a short distance above Fort Lyon,
killed one soldier, took a government wagon and mules, some
horses, and took some women prisoners. One woman they afterwards
outraged and she hung herself; the other one, I think, they
still hold. Some of the Indians have married her, as they call
it, and she is still in their camp, as I have understood;
not now in the camp of those who took her prisoner, but she
has been sold to the Sioux and Cheyennes. The instructions we
constantly received from the headquarters both of the district
and the department, were that we should show as little mercy
to the Indians as possible...."
In another part of his testimony, Major Anthony said referring to the
Arapahoes, "I considered them differently from the Cheyennes," and
when asked if they were with the Cheyennes at Sand Creek, replied, "I
understood, afterwards, that some six or eight or ten lodges of the
Arapahoes were there."
Major S. G. Colley, the Indian agent, said in his testimony, "Left Hand's
band had gone out to Sand Creek," and when asked how many were in Left
Hand's band, replied, "About eight lodges of about five to the lodge."
If there were no other evidence, the following telegrams from General
Curtis, Commander of the Department of Missouri, are in themselves
sufficient proofs of the hostility of both Cheyennes and Arapahoes:
FT. LEAVENWORTH, April 8th, 1864.
TO COLONEL CHIVINGTON:
I hear that Indians have committed depredations on or near
Platte River. Do not let district lines prevent pursuing and
punishing them.
S. R. CURTIS, Major-General.
FT. LEAVENWORTH, May 30th, 1864.
TO COLONEL CHIVINGTON:
Some four hundred Cheyennes attacked Lieut. Clayton on Smoky
Hill. After several hours fight the Indians fled, leaving
twenty-eight killed. Our loss four killed and three wounded.
Look out for Cheyennes everywhere. Especially instruct troops
in upper Arkansas.
S. R. CURTIS, Major-General.
FT. LEAVENWORTH, October 7, 1864.
MAJOR-GENERAL HALLECK, Chief of Staff:
General Blunt came upon a party of Arapahoes and other hostile
Indians supposed to be four thousand, with fifteen hundred
warriors, on the twenty-fifth ultimo. This was about one hundred
miles west of Larned on Pawnee fork. The Indians overpowered
the advance, but the main force coming up routed and pursued
them. Ninety-one dead Indians were left and we lost two killed
and seven wounded. General Blunt's force was less than five
hundred. He pursued for several days.
S. R. CURTIS, Major-General.
The place where this battle occurred was about one hundred and thirty
miles east of the Sand Creek battle-ground, and probably some of the
same Indians were in both encounters.
The telegrams I have quoted indicate that General Curtis was fully alive
to the situation. Evidently he believed the Cheyennes and Arapahoes were
hostile and was not in favor of making peace with them until they had
been punished.
On account of his limited force, Colonel Chivington could do little more
than protect the lines of travel; consequently, all that summer and
fall the frontier settlers were compelled to take care of themselves.
And it was not until after the Third Colorado had been organized and
equipped that he was able to strike a decisive blow. In his deposition
presented at the investigation by the Joint Committee on the Conduct of
the War, among other things, Colonel Chivington has the following to say
concerning the battle of Sand Creek and the conditions leading up to it.
"On the 29th day of November, 1864, the troops under my command
attacked a camp of Cheyenne and Arapahoe Indians at a place
known as Big Bend of Sandy, about forty miles north of Fort
Lyon, Colorado Territory. There were in my command at that time
about (500) five hundred men of the Third Regiment Colorado
cavalry, under the immediate command of Colonel George L.
Shoup, of said Third Regiment, and about (250) two hundred
and fifty men of the First Colorado cavalry; Major Scott J.
Anthony commanded one battalion of said First regiment, and
Lieutenant Luther Wilson commanded another battalion of said
First regiment. The Third regiment was armed with rifled
muskets, and Star's and Sharp's carbines. A few of the men of
that regiment had revolvers. The men of the First regiment
were armed with Star's and Sharp's carbines, and revolvers.
The men of the Third regiment were poorly equipped; the supply
of blankets, boots, hats, and caps was deficient. The men of
the First regiment were well equipped; all of these troops
were mounted. I had four 12-pound mountain howitzers, manned
by detachments from cavalry companies; they did not belong to
any battery company.
"From the best and most reliable information I could obtain,
there were in the Indian camp, at the time of the attack, about
eleven or twelve hundred Indians; of these about seven hundred
were warriors and the remainder were women and children. I am
not aware that there were any old men among them. _There was
an unusual number of males among them, for the reason that
the war chiefs of both nations were assembled there, evidently
for some special purpose...._"
"What number did you lose in killed, and what number in wounded
and what number in missing?"
"There were seven men killed, forty-seven wounded, and one
was missing.
"From the best information I could obtain, I judge that
there were five or six hundred Indians killed; I cannot state
positively the number killed, nor can I state positively the
number of women and children killed. Officers who passed over
the field, by my orders, report that they saw but few women
and children dead, no more than would certainly fall in an
attack upon a camp in which they were. I myself passed over
some portions of the field after the fight, and _I saw but one
woman who had been killed, and one who had hanged herself; I
saw no dead children. From all I could learn, I arrived at the
conclusion that but few women or children had been slain. I
am of the opinion that when the attack was made on the Indian
camp the greater number of squaws and children made their
escape, while the warriors remained to fight my troops._
"I do not know that any Indians were wounded that were not
killed; if there were any wounded, I do not think they could
have been made prisoners without endangering the lives of the
soldiers; Indians usually fight as long as they have strength
to resist. Eight Indians fell into the hands of the troops
alive, to my knowledge; these with one exception were sent to
Fort Lyon and properly cared for....
"My reason for making the attack on the Indian camp was that
I believed the Indians in the camp were hostile to the whites.
That they were of the same tribes with those who had murdered
many persons and destroyed much valuable property on the Platte
and Arkansas rivers during the previous spring, summer, and
fall was beyond a doubt. When a tribe of Indians is at war with
the whites, it is impossible to determine what party or band
of the tribe or the name of the Indian or Indians belonging
to the tribe so at war, are guilty of the acts of hostility.
The most that can be ascertained is that Indians of the tribe
have performed the acts. During the spring, summer, and fall
of the year 1864, the Arapahoe and Cheyenne Indians, in some
instances assisted or led on by Sioux, Kiowas, Comanches, and
Apaches, had committed many acts of hostility in the country
lying between the Little Blue and the Rocky Mountains and
the Platte and Arkansas rivers. They had murdered many of the
whites and taken others prisoners, and had destroyed valuable
property, probably amounting to $200,000 or $300,000. Their
rendezvous was on the headwaters of the Republican, probably
one hundred miles from where the Indian camp was located. I
had every reason to believe that these Indians were either
directly or indirectly concerned in the outrages that had been
committed upon the whites. I had no means of ascertaining what
were the names of the Indians who had committed these outrages
other than the declarations of the Indians themselves; and
the character of Indians in the western country for truth and
veracity, like their respect for the chastity of women who may
become prisoners in their hands, is not of that order which
is calculated to inspire confidence in what they may say.
In this view I was supported by Major Anthony, 1st Colorado
Cavalry, commanding at Fort Lyon, and Samuel G. Colley, United
States Indian Agent, who, as they had been in communication
with these Indians, were more competent to judge of their
disposition toward the whites than myself. Previous to the
battle they expressed to me the opinion that the Indians should
be punished. We found in the camp the scalps of nineteen white
persons. One of the surgeons informed me that one of these
scalps had been taken from the victim's head not more than
four days previously. I can furnish a child captured at camp
ornamented with six white women's scalps. These scalps must
have been taken by these Indians or furnished to them for
their gratification and amusement by some of their brethren,
who, like themselves, were in amity with the whites.
"I had no reason to believe that Black Kettle and the Indians
with him were in good faith at peace with the whites. The day
before the attack Major Scott J. Anthony, 1st Colorado Cavalry,
then commander at Fort Lyon, told me that these Indians were
hostile; that he had ordered his sentinels to fire on them if
they attempted to come into the post, and that the sentinels
had fired on them; that he was apprehensive of an attack from
these Indians and had taken every precaution to prevent a
surprise. Major Samuel G. Colley, United States Indian Agent
for these Indians, told me on the same day that he had done
everything in his power to make them behave themselves, and
that for the last six months he could do nothing with them;
that nothing but a sound whipping would bring a lasting peace
with them. These statements were made to me in the presence
of the officers of my staff whose statements can be obtained
to corroborate the foregoing....
"Since August, 1863, I had been in possession of the most
conclusive evidence of the alliance, for the purposes of
hostility against the whites, of the Sioux, Cheyennes,
Arapahoes, Comanche, Kiowa and Apache Indians.
"Their plan was to interrupt, or, if possible, entirely prevent
all travel on the routes along the Arkansas and Platte rivers,
from the states to the Rocky Mountains, and thereby depopulate
this country....
"With very few troops at my command, I could do little to
protect the settlers, except to collect the latest intelligence
from the Indians' country, communicate it to General Curtis,
commanding department of Missouri, and warn the settlers of
the relations existing between the Indians and the whites,
and the probability of trouble, all of which I did....
"Commanding only a district with very few troops under my
control, with hundreds of miles between my headquarters and
the rendezvous of the Indians, with a large portion of the
Santa Fe and Platte routes, besides the sparsely settled and
distant settlements of this Territory to protect, I could not
do anything till the 3rd regiment was organized and equipped,
when I determined to strike a blow against this savage and
determined foe. When I reached Fort Lyon, after passing over
from three to five feet of snow, and greatly suffering from
the intensity of the cold, the thermometer ranging from 28 to
30 degrees below zero, I questioned Major Anthony in regard
to the whereabouts of hostile Indians. He said there was a
camp of Cheyennes and Arapahoes about fifty miles distant;
that he would have attacked before, but did not consider his
force sufficient; that these Indians had threatened to attack
the post, etc., and ought to be whipped, all of which was
concurred in by Major Colley, Indian agent for the district
of the Arkansas, which information with the positive orders
of Major-General Curtis, commanding the department, to punish
these Indians, decided my course, and resulted in the battle
of Sand Creek, which has created such a sensation in Congress
through the lying reports of interested and malicious parties.
"On my arrival at Fort Lyon, in all my conversations with Major
Anthony, commanding the post, and Major Colley, Indian Agent,
I heard nothing of this recent statement that the Indians were
under the protection of the government, etc., but Major Anthony
repeatedly stated to me that he had at different times fired
upon these Indians, and that they were hostile, and, during
my stay at Fort Lyon, urged the necessity of my immediately
attacking the Indians before they could learn of the number of
troops at Fort Lyon, and so desirous was Major Colley, Indian
agent, that I should find and also attack the Arapahoes, that
he sent a messenger after the fight at Sand Creek nearly forty
miles to inform me where I could find the Arapahoes and Kiowas;
yet, strange to say, I have learned recently that these men,
Anthony and Colley, are the most bitter in their denunciations
of the attack upon the Indians at Sand Creek. Therefore, I
would, in conclusion, most respectfully demand, as an act of
justice to myself and the brave men whom I have had the honor
to command in one of the hardest campaigns ever made in this
country, whether against white men or red, that we be allowed
the right guaranteed to every American citizen, of introducing
evidence in our behalf to sustain us in what we believe to
have been an act of duty to ourselves and to civilization."
Colonel George L. Shoup, in a deposition presented to the military
commission investigating the battle of Sand Creek, among other things,
says:
On or about the 12th of November, 1864, I left Denver for Fort
Lyon, with Companies C, D, and F of my regiment and Company
H of the First Colorado Cavalry, and on or about the 18th of
November joined Major Sayre at Boonville with that portion of
the regiment which had been left at Bijou Basin (he having been
ordered to precede me), consisting of Companies A, B, and E,
and I and M. On or about the 20th Captain Baxter joined the
command with Company G, and the day following Colonel John M.
Chivington, commander of the district of Colorado, arrived and
assumed command of the column, I still commanding my regiment.
On or about the 22d the column, consisting of my regiment
and a battalion of the first, marched from Boonville towards
Fort Lyon and reached Fort Lyon on the 28th, and went into
camp. On the evening of the 28th I received orders from the
colonel commanding to prepare three days' cooked rations, and
be ready to march at eight o'clock the same evening. At eight
o'clock the column marched in the following order: the first
regiment on the right, my regiment on the left. I had under
my immediate command between five hundred and fifty and six
hundred men mounted. My transportation was left at Fort Lyon.
The column marched all night in a northerly direction. About
daylight the next morning came in sight of an Indian village.
Colonel Chivington and myself being about three-fourths of a
mile in advance of the column, it was determined to make an
immediate attack. Lieutenant Wilson, commanding a battalion of
the first, was ordered to cut off the ponies of the Indians at
the northeast of the village. By order of Colonel Chivington,
I was ordered to send men to the southwest of the village, to
cut off the ponies in that direction, and then to immediately
engage the Indians.
"Did Colonel Chivington make any remarks to the troops, in
your hearing?"
"He did not."
"Did you approach the camp of the Indians in line of battle
with your men mounted, or dismounted?"
"Kept my men in columns of fours till I arrived at the village,
when I formed them in line of battle, and to the left of a
battalion of the first, commanded by Lieutenant Wilson, my
men mounted."
"At what distance was your command from the village when you
commenced fire upon it?"
"I did not allow my men to fire when I formed my first line;
the battalion on my right was firing. I wheeled my men into
column of fours and marched to the rear of the battalion on
my right, to the right of that battalion, to obtain a better
position. I marched up Sand Creek some distance, following the
Indians who were retreating up the creek. When opposite the
main body of Indians, wheeled my men into line, dismounted,
and opened fire."
"Did you know what band of Indians it was at the time of the
attack?"
"I heard while at Fort Lyon that Left Hand, of the Arapahoes,
and Black Kettle, of the Cheyennes, were at the village."
"Did you, at any time prior to the attack, hear Colonel
Chivington say that he was going to attack Black Kettle's band?"
"I did not."
"How long did the fight last?"
"The fighting did not entirely cease until about three o'clock
in the afternoon."
"Did you camp with your regiment near the battle-ground?"
"We camped on ground occupied by the Indians before the battle."
"What was done with the Indians and other property?"
"The lodges were burned. The ponies, numbering, as I was told,
five hundred and four, were placed in charge of the provost
marshal. A few remained in the hands of the troops."
"What were the casualties of your regiment?"
"Ten killed, one missing, about forty wounded."
"In your opinion how many Indians were killed?"
"From my own observation I should say about three hundred."
"Were they men, or women and children?"
"Some of each."
"Did you witness any scalping or other mutilation of the dead
by your command?"
"I saw one or two men who were in the act of scalping, but I
am not positive."
* * * * *
"Were you present in council with some Indian chiefs in Denver,
some time last summer or fall?"
"I was."
"Who were present—whites and Indians?"
"Governor Evans, Colonel Chivington, Captain S. M. Robbins,
Major Wynkoop, Major Whiteley, Amos Steck, J. Bright Smith,
Nelson Sargent, Captain John Wanless, Black Kettle, White
Antelope, and five or six other Indians, and John Smith and
Sam Ashcroft, interpreters."
"Did the Indians express a desire for peace with the whites?"
"Yes."
"Upon what terms did they desire peace?"
"That they have protection and supplies while the war was
carried on against hostile Indians."
"Was peace guaranteed to them on any terms?"
"They were told by Colonel Chivington that if they would come
in and surrender themselves, he would then tell them what to
do."
"What did the governor tell them?"
"That as they had violated all treaties they would have to
treat with the military authorities, to whom he had given up
all the authority."
"Did Colonel Chivington tell them that he would guarantee them
peace only on condition that they would come into the post
and lay down their arms?"
"Colonel Chivington did not guarantee them peace upon any terms,
but if they would come into the post, surrender themselves,
and lay down their arms, he would tell them what to do."
"Did the Indians say that they would do so?"
"They said that they would go back to their people, tell them
and advise them to do so."
* * * * *
"Did you have any conversation with Major Colley, Indian
agent for the Arapahoes and Cheyennes of the Upper Arkansas,
respecting the disposition of the Indians and the policy that
ought to be pursued towards them? If so, state what he said."
"I had an interview with Major Colley, on the evening of the
28th of November, in which he stated to me that these Indians
had violated their treaty; that there were a few Indians that he
would not like to see punished, but as long as they affiliated
with the hostile Indians we could not discriminate; that no
treaty could be made that would be lasting till they were all
severely chastised; he also told me where these Indians were
camped."
"State what you heard Major Scott J. Anthony say in reference
to these Indians on the 28th of November last."
"He said he would have fought these Indians before if he had
had a force strong enough to do so, and left a sufficient
garrison at Fort Lyon, he being at the time in command of Fort
Lyon."
The Hon. S. H. Elbert, Acting Governor of Colorado, in a message to
the Legislature, a few months after the affair, reflects the general
attitude of the people toward the battle, and those participating in
it. The following is an extract from it:
The before unbroken peace of our Territory has been disturbed
since the last spring, by an Indian war. Allied and hostile
tribes have attacked our frontier settlements, driven in our
settlers, destroyed their homes, attacked, burned, and plundered
our freight and emigrant trains, and thus suspended agricultural
pursuits in portions of our country, and interrupted our trade
and commerce with the States. This has for the time seriously
retarded the prosperity of our Territory.
At the commencement of the war the General Government, taxed
to the utmost in subduing the rebellion, was unable to help
us, and it became necessary to look to our own citizens for
protection. They everywhere responded with patriotism and
alacrity. Militia companies were organized in the frontier
counties and secured local protection. Much credit is due
to Captain Tyler's company of militia for the important
service they rendered in opening and protecting our line of
communication with the States.
In response to the call of the governor for a regiment of
cavalry for one hundred day service, over a thousand of
our citizens—the large majority of them leaving lucrative
employment—rapidly volunteered, and in that short time, despite
the greatest difficulties in securing proper equipments,
organized, armed, made a long and severe campaign amid the
snows and storms of winter, and visited upon these merciless
murderers of the plains a chastisement smiting and _deserved_.
The gratitude of the country is due to the men who thus
sacrificed so largely their personal interests for the public
good, and rendered such important service to the Territory;
and their work, if it can be followed up with a vigorous winter
campaign, would result in a permanent peace.
The necessity of such a campaign, and the imperative demand for
immediate and complete protection for our line of communication
with the States has been, and is now being, earnestly urged on
the Government at Washington, and with a prospect of success.
These efforts should be seconded by your honorable body with
whatever influence there may be in resolution or memorial,
setting forth the facts and necessities of our situation.
The testimony of Governor Evans, Major Anthony, Colonel Chivington,
Colonel Shoup, and Acting Governor Elbert covers every phase of the
matter in controversy. Governor Evans's statement proves beyond question
that the Cheyennes and Arapahoes were viciously hostile during the
entire summer preceding the battle of Sand Creek, and this was admitted
by Black Kettle in his letter to Major Colley, the Indian agent, and
by the other chiefs in the council at Denver. Governor Evans also makes
it plain that he refused to consider the question of making peace, and
turned the Indians over to the military. The telegram of General Curtis,
commander of the Military Department, sent at the time the council was
being held, says, "No peace must be made without my direction." And peace
had not been made when the battle was fought. Major Anthony, commander
of the military post of Fort Lyon, near the Cheyenne and Arapahoe Indian
agency, says that the Indians attacked were hostile and not under his
protection, and that he would have punished them had his force been
strong enough to fight also the large band on the Smoky Hill River.
Colonel Chivington's testimony confirms the statement of Governor Evans
as to the hostility of both Cheyennes and Arapahoes, and both he and
Colonel Shoup say that this was corroborated by Major Anthony, and Major
Colley, the Indian agent, each of whom told them, while at Fort Lyon
prior to the battle, that the Indians camped on Sand Creek were hostile
and should be punished. Major Anthony admits that there were Arapahoes
camped near the Fort when he assumed command, and that, in compliance
with his demand, they surrendered twenty head of stock, stolen from the
whites, and a few worthless guns; and added that a week or two later he
returned the guns, and told the Indians that he could no longer feed
them and ordered them to go out on the plains, where they could kill
buffalo for food; whereupon they left.
The only Arapahoes that by any stretch of the imagination could be said
to have been under the protection of the military were the small part
of the tribe under the control of Left Hand, a sub-chief; while there
is no doubt whatever as to the hostility of the head chief Raven and
his followers, who constituted a large majority of the tribe. It is
generally conceded that the chief Left Hand and a few of his adherents
were peaceably inclined. But, unfortunately, he and the occupants of six
or eight lodges of his people, about forty persons in all, including women
and children, were in the camp of the hostile Cheyennes and Arapahoes at
the time the attack was made, and suffered accordingly. Left Hand knew
that the Cheyennes and a very large part of his own people were at war
with the whites, and of the chance he was taking in being in company with
the hostiles. If it resulted disastrously, he had no one but himself to
blame. It was utterly impossible to discriminate between Indians in the
midst of the battle. In those days, Indians seldom permitted themselves
to be taken prisoners in battle, and an attempt to do so, even if the
Indian was badly wounded, was a dangerous undertaking. This was the
reason that no prisoners were taken at Sand Creek. Major Anthony, who was
not friendly to Colonel Chivington, says that while in some instances
the Indians killed at Sand Creek were mutilated, he saw nothing to the
extent since stated.
Colonel Chivington's statement concerning the matter is:
Officers who passed over the field by my orders after the
battle, for the purpose of ascertaining the number of Indians
killed, report that they saw but few women and children dead;
no more than would certainly fall in an attack upon a camp in
which they were. I myself passed over some portions of the
field after the fight, and saw but one woman who had been
killed and one who had hanged herself. I saw no dead children.
In this connection, I wish to refer back to my own statement concerning
the matter, as Colonel Chivington's observations were identical with mine.
All this shows that the charge that the battle was merely a massacre is
as untruthful as are most of the other statements made by the coterie
of disgruntled army officers, Indian agents, traders, interpreters,
and half-breeds. Much of the testimony given at the Congressional and
military hearings was hearsay evidence of statements said to have been
made by persons who claimed to have been in the battle. Possibly, some
such statements may have been made by irresponsible braggarts belonging to
the two regiments that formed the command, for in every regiment during
the Rebellion, Eastern as well as Western, there were a few men who were
no credit to their comrades, and who have since told of many fictitious
happenings, or those having only the slightest basis of truth. Statements
of this character may, perhaps, have been made by irresponsible members
of the First and Third Colorado regiments.
It is inconceivable to any one who knew the members of the latter
regiment that either its officers or enlisted men, with possibly a rare
exception, would have approved of, and much less have participated
in, the wanton acts of cruelty claimed to have been perpetrated. No
unprejudiced person can believe a charge of such a character against
Colonel Shoup, afterwards for many years an honored United States Senator
from the State of Idaho; or of Major Hal Sayre, one of Colorado's most
respected mining engineers; or of Captain Harper Orahood, who, later,
was for many years a law partner of Senator H. M. Teller; or of Captain
Baxter of Pueblo, or Captain Nichols of Boulder, both afterwards members
of the Legislature of Colorado and honored citizens in the community in
which they lived; or in fact against any of the officers of the Third
Colorado, as practically all of them were men of high standing in their
respective communities.
I was on the battle-field within fifteen minutes after the fight began,
and during the day, with a part of our company, I went along the south
side of Sand Creek from the scene of one engagement to another, until
I had covered the full length of the battle-field on that side of the
creek. We then crossed over to the north side and followed up the creek
as far as the engagement had extended. On our return to camp, we went
over the entire length of the scene of the fighting on the north side
of the creek, thus covering almost the entire battle-field, as after the
first half-hour in the morning there was but little fighting except near
the banks of the creek. During that time I saw much of the battle, but
not once did I see any one shoot at a squaw or a child, nor did I see
any one take a scalp, although it is true that scalps were taken, for
as I returned to camp I saw a number of dead Indians whose scalps had
been taken, and among them a few squaws. They had probably been scalped
by some of the reckless persons referred to, or possibly by some of the
many men in the regiment whose relatives or friends had been killed
and brutally mutilated by the savages during the preceding summer. I
am not apologizing for the acts of these people, but every fair-minded
person must admit that there may have been extenuating circumstances
connected with the offense, and no one unfamiliar with the horrors of
savage warfare can appreciate the feelings of those who have suffered
from their attacks. I did not see a dead or wounded child, and it is
inconceivable that any were killed during the fight except accidentally.
The incident of the child who wished me to take it up as I was returning
to the camp indicates the sympathetic attitude of our men towards the
innocent non-combatants.
I think the proof I have presented shows conclusively that every one of
the charges made by the enemies of Colonel Chivington was untrue; that,
on the contrary, the Indians attacked at Sand Creek were, and had been
during the previous summer, viciously hostile to the whites; that they
were not under the protection of the military authorities at Fort Lyon,
and that the battle was not a wanton massacre.
The adverse criticism of this whole affair was but one of the many acts
of injustice experienced by the frontier settlers. From the formation
of the Government, up to the time when the Indians were finally placed
upon reservations, the frontier settlements, in addition to defending
themselves from the savages, always had to contend with the sentimental
feeling in favor of the Indians that prevailed in the East. The people
of the East had apparently forgotten the atrocities perpetrated on their
ancestors by the savages, and, resting secure in the safety of their
own homes, they could not realize the privations and dangers that those
who were opening up the regions of the West had to endure. And to add
to the difficulties of the situation, the Indian Department was usually
dominated by sentimental people who apparently never had any conception
of a proper and humane method of dealing with the Indians.
The Government continued to recognize each one of the tribes as a separate
nation, and entered into treaties with them, as though they had the
standing of an independent and responsible power. Broken down and often
corrupt men were appointed as agents to represent the Government. The
salaries received by the agents were so small that no one could afford
to take the position unless he intended to increase his remuneration
by corrupt methods. As a part of this machinery for dealing with the
Indians, disreputable white men were employed as interpreters, who, often
by reason of some crime committed in the States, had for safety's sake
exiled themselves among the Indians, had married squaws, and, virtually,
had become Indians in habits and sympathy. The result was that when the
Government made treaties with the Indians, accompanied by an issue of
annuities, it frequently happened that the agent and the interpreter
would apply a considerable portion of such annuities to their own use.
The Indians, knowing this, would become angry and take vengeance upon
the white settler.
No effort seems to have been made to study the nature and character of
the Indian, nor the inherited traits that governed him in his dealings
with others. The nomadic Indian of the central and western part of the
United States was, in most matters, merely a child. His sole occupation
from youth to old age was following the chase and fighting his enemies.
Almost the sole topic of conversation in their tents and around their
camp-fires was the details of their hunting expeditions and of their
battles; and from his earliest days, every Indian boy was taught that his
one hope of glory and the making of a reputation depended upon his ability
to kill other human beings. Every tribe had its hereditary enemies with
whom it was in a state of continuous warfare. During the summer-time,
it was one continuous round of war-parties going out to attack their
enemies, and parties returning, bringing with them the scalps of those
they had killed, together with squaws and children they had captured,
and frequently with large herds of horses they had stolen. If the raids
were against the whites, they would return with all sorts of plunder
taken from wagon-trains and ranch houses, and oftentimes with captive
white women and children. It must be understood that no white man who
understood the character of the Indian would ever permit himself to be
taken a prisoner, for that meant torture of the most horrible character.
For that reason, white men, engaged in battle with the Indians, seldom
failed to reserve one last shot in their revolvers, with which to end
their lives if capture was imminent, and in many instances men have
shot their wives and children rather than allow them to fall into the
hands of the Indians. The fate of the women captured by the Indians is
indescribable.
After a successful raid, there would ensue a series of scalp dances,
accompanied by a period of frenzied rejoicing, in which unspeakable
cruelties were perpetrated upon their captive victims. The fiendishness
of these cruelties it is almost impossible to describe. In these orgies
the squaws always participated, and as a rule were even more diabolical
than the warriors. With such examples and with such mothers, how could
an Indian child grow up to be anything but fiendish? The Indians had no
conception of such a thing as mercy, compassion, or humane treatment of
their enemies. Any exhibition of sentiment of that sort would have been
considered an evidence of weakness, and any act of forbearance shown
toward them by the whites served only to make them more difficult to
control thereafter. They gave no quarter and they asked no quarter.
As showing their contempt for the army, I saw upon more than one of the
Indian tents that we captured at Sand Creek rude paintings portraying
their fights with the soldiers of the United States Army. In every case
the soldiers were running at the top of their speed, pursued by Indians
who were firing at them and scalping those who had been killed. The
Indians knew no law, nor did the Government attempt to teach them any.
From the first they were permitted to go on year by year educating their
young in savagery, while at the same time the agents of the Government
were dealing dishonestly with them; and in every case it was the frontier
settler who had to pay the penalty.
The savages soon found out that they could kill the whites, steal or
destroy their property throughout the summer, and then upon their
professing penitence, the Government would permit them to remain
unmolested during the winter and at other times would make a treaty of
peace with them and give them large quantities of annuities. After this,
they could rest in security until their ponies were in condition to start
upon the war-path again the following spring. Was there ever anything
in the history of the dealings of any nation with its savage neighbors
more absurd or more disreputable? The period I have referred to was
certainly a "Century of Dishonor," not only because of the attitude of
the Government in its dealings with the Indians, but in the treatment of
those of its own people who were opening up frontier lands for settlement.
The Indians could have been easily handled had the Government studied
their nature and formulated a system of laws for their control, compelling
them to regard the rights of the whites as well as of their neighboring
tribes, and had at the same time protected them from wrongs perpetrated
upon them by thieving and disreputable white men; in short, have treated
them with justice in all things, and have required the same from them in
their dealing with the whites. Had this policy been pursued, it would
have been of infinite benefit to the Indians, and would have saved
the lives of thousands of white men along the frontier settlements. In
this connection, I assert, from my personal knowledge, that more than
ninety-five per cent. of the frontier settlers treated the Indians with
the utmost fairness and used every possible endeavor to avoid difficulties
with them.
As I have already said, the Indian is at a great disadvantage in carrying
on warfare during the winter. He has no trouble in this direction in
his warfare with his own race, as every tribe is alike in this respect.
In this way the white people had a great advantage, and it would have
required only a few cases of summary punishment such as we gave them
at Sand Creek, to have settled Indian troubles for all time. We who
inhabited the frontier in the early sixties knew this and realized that
nothing struck such terror to the Indian tribes as to be attacked in the
winter, and had the battle of Sand Creek been followed up as it should
have been, the frontier settlements of Colorado would thereafter have
had little trouble with any of the Indians of the plains.
Four years later, the absurdity of the policy of permitting the Indians
to murder and rob during the summer, make peace in the fall, and remain
unmolested during the winter, accumulating ammunition for the following
summer's warfare, finally dawned upon the military authorities and a new
policy was adopted. As a result, on the 27th of November, 1868, General
Custer, under the direction of General Sheridan, commander of the military
division of the Missouri, made an attack upon the Cheyennes camped on
the Washita, south of the Arkansas River, in which one hundred and three
Indians (a number of whom were squaws) were killed, fifty-three squaws
and children were captured, and 875 ponies were taken. This attack was
at the same time of year and was almost identical with that made by
Chivington at Sand Creek. General Sheridan says in his report:
The objects of the winter's operations were to strike a hard
blow and force them on to the reservation set apart for them,
or if this could not be accomplished, to show to the Indian
that the winter season would not give him rest; that he, with
his village and stock, could be destroyed; that he would have
no security winter or summer except in obeying the laws of
peace and humanity.
As in the case of Chivington, Custer was attacked viciously for this
affair by Wynkoop and others, but, fortunately, Custer had the backing
of the commanding officers of the army and nothing his enemies could do
affected him in the least.
What a fortunate thing it would have been for the frontier people if
this policy had been adopted a few years sooner!
CHAPTER VII
THE INDIAN WAR OF 1868
During the three years following the battle of Sand Creek there was little
trouble with the Indians in El Paso County; consequently the people of
that section of Colorado, while keeping a sharp lookout, felt fairly
safe upon their ranches. During the summer season of each of these years,
however, the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes continued their raids upon
the exposed settlements and the lines of travel to the East.
In the meantime, the Government was following its usual temporizing policy
with the savages. In the spring of 1867, agents of the Indian Bureau
attempted to negotiate a new treaty with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, and
for that purpose visited them at their camp on Pawnee Fork, near Fort
Larned, Kansas. But spring was not the time of year when the Indians
wanted to negotiate treaties, and as a result, after making several
appointments for councils, none of which was kept, the savages suddenly
disappeared, and were next heard of raiding the frontier settlements
of Kansas and Nebraska, and the lines of travel between Colorado and
the Missouri River. These raids were continued during the next five or
six months, but, after killing and robbing the whites all summer, these
Cheyennes and Arapahoes came in again professing penitence; whereupon,
following the usual custom, a new treaty was made with them, by the
terms of which both tribes consented to give up their lands in Colorado
and settle upon a reservation elsewhere. Under the treaty, they agreed
that "hereafter they would not molest any coach or wagon, nor carry
off any white woman or child, nor kill or scalp any white man." For
this and the lands ceded by them, these tribes were to receive twenty
thousand dollars annually, and a suit of clothes for each Indian; and,
in addition, teachers, physicians, farmers' implements, etc., were to
be provided, in order to help them to acquire the habits of civilization.
While it was not expressly stated in the treaty, it was understood that
the Cheyennes and Arapahoes were to be supplied with arms and ammunition.
The treaty seems to have been entered into by the agents of the Indian
Bureau with all the outward semblance of good faith, although if those
responsible of the facts they must have realized that the promise of
these Indians to remain peaceable was utterly worthless, as had been
proved year after year for a long period of time. Not only did the
treaty turn out to be worthless, but that part of it giving the savages
arms and ammunition was particularly reprehensible, as was shown by the
results. The savages remained quiet during the winter, as usual, but in
the spring they demanded the arms and ammunition that had been promised
to them, and the Indian agents urged the Bureau to grant the request,
making the plea that the Indians would starve unless these were given
to them, so that they might be able to hunt the buffalo and other game
of the plains.
Evidently the Government hesitated, but, finally, influenced by these
statements, the issue of the arms and ammunition was authorized. At this
juncture, Major Wynkoop, who after the battle of Sand Creek had proved
himself an enemy of the people of Colorado, again showed that he had
no regard for their welfare. He had by this time been taken into the
service of the Indian Bureau, presumably as a reward for his services
in aid of the Bureau in connection with the Sand Creek investigation,
and had been appointed an Indian agent. He was one of those who had been
urging that arms and ammunition be given to the Indians, and it was he
who finally delivered them to the savages. On August 10, 1868, he wrote
to the Department:
I yesterday made the whole issue of annuity, goods, arms, and
ammunition to the Cheyenne chiefs and people of their nation.
They were delighted in receiving the goods, _particularly the
arms and ammunition_, and never before have I known them to
be better satisfied and express themselves as being so well
contented previous to the issue. They have now left for their
hunting grounds and I am perfectly satisfied that there will
be no trouble with them this season.
On the very day that Wynkoop sent this letter, a body of two hundred
and fifty Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Sioux were raiding the settlements
on the Saline River in Kansas, killing settlers, burning buildings, and
committing unspeakable outrages on many defenseless women. Before the
end of the month, according to the report of General Sheridan for that
year, forty white men had been killed by the savages on the frontiers of
Kansas and Colorado, many were wounded, and a large amount of property
destroyed.
I must, however, confine my narrative to events that occurred in El
Paso County and the counties adjoining. About ten days after the Wynkoop
letter was written, a party of seventy-five Cheyennes and Arapahoes, all
well mounted, marched in from the plains and passed up through Colorado
City. Most of the savages had modern guns and were well supplied with
ammunition,—presumably issued by the Government. They bore letters
from Indian agents and peace commissioners, which stated that they were
peaceably disposed and should not be feared nor molested; but our people,
not being satisfied with that kind of testimony, telegraphed to the
Governor at Denver, who replied, reiterating that they were not hostile
and must not be interfered with. At the time of their visit to Colorado
City, the Indians were noticeably sullen in their demeanor, and appeared
to be observing everything in a suspicious manner. However, they left
without committing any overt act, and, apparently, went on leisurely up
the Ute Pass into the mountains to fight the Utes, which they claimed
was their intention.
A day or two later they surprised a small band of Utes who were camped
a few miles south of the Hartsell ranch in the South Park, and in the
fight that followed claimed to have killed six of the Utes including
two or three squaws, and to have carried off a small boy. On the day of
this occurrence Samuel Hartsell, owner of the ranch above referred to,
had gone over to the mountains that form the eastern border of the South
Park, looking for wild raspberries. While on one of the low mountains
of that locality, he saw a group of mounted men in the valley below, a
mile or so away. He had not heard of any Cheyennes or Arapahoes being
in that neighborhood, consequently he very naturally concluded that the
horsemen were Utes. Having been on friendly terms with that tribe for
many years, and well acquainted with many of its members, he decided
to ride down the mountain to meet them. But as he came near the group,
he noticed that they were not dressed as the Utes usually were, nor
did they look like the people of that tribe; however, it was now too
late to retreat, as almost immediately afterward he was discovered and
surrounded by the savages. By that time Hartsell, through his general
knowledge of the Indians of this Western country, knew that his captors
were Cheyenne and Arapahoe warriors, tribes that had been hostile to the
whites during the past four years, and were still hostile, so far as he
knew. Consequently, he was very much alarmed, realizing that he was in a
very dangerous situation. Evidently, the savages were not yet ready to
begin hostilities, as was proved by their efforts to reassure Hartsell
by showing him their certificates from Indian agents, telling of their
peaceable character; but this did not prevent them from at once taking
his revolver, ammunition, and pocket knife.
Hartsell estimated that there were about seventy Indians in the band, all
of whom were fully armed and amply supplied with ammunition. The savages
told him of their victory over the Utes, showed him the scalps they had
taken, and the boy they had captured. Finally, after keeping Hartsell
in suspense for more than three hours, the Indians allowed him to go
without injury, and then departed eastward in the direction of Colorado
City. The people of Colorado City and its vicinity knew nothing of this
occurrence until some time afterwards. Notwithstanding the assurance of
the Governor and the Indian agents, the settlers continued to be very much
alarmed at the presence of the savages, and knowing their treacherous
nature, maintained a sharp lookout in order to prevent being attacked
unawares. About eleven o'clock in the morning three or four days after
the savages disappeared up Ute Pass, three Indians appeared at H. M.
Teachout's ranch on Monument Creek, eight miles northeast of Colorado
City. They claimed to be friendly Utes, but Teachout, being familiar
with the Indian tribes of the region, knew that they were not Utes.
After staying five or ten minutes, during which time they seemed to be
intent on taking in the surroundings, and especially the corral where
Teachout's large herd of horses was kept at night, they left, following
the main road towards Colorado City. Mr. Teachout and his brother, who
lived on the Divide, owned about one hundred and fifty horses, all of
which were kept at this Monument Creek ranch.
After the Indians had disappeared, Teachout, being alarmed, rounded up
his horses and drove them into the corral, where he kept them during the
daytime thereafter, letting them out to graze only at night, thinking
that the safest plan. Apparently, the Indians, having obtained all the
information they desired concerning the settlements around Colorado City,
disappeared, and a day or two later were heard of raiding the frontier
settlements east of Bijou Basin and on the headwaters of Kiowa, Bijou,
and Running creeks, during which raid they killed several people and
ran off much stock.
On August 27, 1868, the Cheyennes and Arapahoes killed Mrs. Henrietta
Dieterman and her five-year-old son on Comanche Creek, about twenty-five
miles northeast of Colorado City, in a peculiarly atrocious manner. The
Dieterman household consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Dieterman, a daughter about
twelve years old, a son of five years, a sister of Mr. Dieterman's, and
a hired man. The sister was soon to marry the hired man, and he and Mr.
Dieterman had gone to Denver to buy furniture for the new household,
leaving a German farmhand temporarily in charge. On the morning of
the 27th, something happened to alarm Mrs. Dieterman. She evidently
believed the Indians were near, for she hurriedly started with her
sister-in-law and the two children for a neighbor's house some distance
away. After having gone a few hundred yards she remembered that she
had left a considerable sum of money in the house, and with her small
son went back to get it. They reached the house, got the money, and
started away again, but had gone only a short distance when they were
overtaken by the Indians, who at once shot and killed both of them. The
savages shot the boy repeatedly and finally broke his neck. The mother
was shot through the body, stabbed, and scalped, and the bodies of both
were dreadfully mutilated. Those who afterwards saw the victims said
that it was one of the most horrible sights they had ever looked upon.
Meanwhile, the sister-in-law and daughter ran to where the German was
working in the field near by. He stood the Indians off by pointing the
handle of his hoe at them, making them believe it was a gun. In that
way he covered the retreat of himself and the others to a neighbor's
house. Mrs. Dieterman had formerly lived near the northern line of El
Paso County, and was well known to many of the old settlers. The awful
tragedy of her death created a great sensation, not only in that county,
but also in Denver and throughout the entire State. News of the killing
of Mrs. Dieterman and of the other outrages perpetrated by the Indians
in that region reached Colorado City late in the evening, a day or two
afterwards. As there was a possibility of the savages appearing at any
moment, messengers were at once sent throughout the county notifying the
people of the great danger that confronted them. At that time I happened
to be at home with my father and other members of the family on our Bear
Creek ranch. About eleven o'clock at night, we were aroused from sleep
by the messenger sent to warn us and were advised to go immediately to
Colorado City for protection. We appreciated the danger of our situation
and quickly hitched up our team, put a few necessary articles of wearing
apparel and bedding into the wagon, and started for town, three miles
distant. It was a dark night, which made the trip a weird as well as
an anxious one. With my sisters and younger brothers in the wagon, my
father and I marched along behind, each with a rifle in hand, knowing
that there was a possibility that the Indians had already stolen into
this region, and that every bush or rock on the way might conceal a
savage; but nothing happened and we reached town in safety. It was an
incident that made one appreciate to the fullest extent the disagreeable
and dangerous features of frontier life. We rented a house in Colorado
City, moved our household effects from the ranch, and remained in town
until after the Indian troubles were over.
Early in the morning of September 1st, Mr. Teachout, accompanied by
his hired man, went out to bring in his herd of horses, as had been his
custom since the visit of the three Indians a few days previous. They
went down Monument Creek a mile or two, then up Cottonwood Creek, where
they found the herd scattered along the valley for a mile or more above
the point where the Santa Fé Railway now crosses that creek, which is
about six miles north of the present city of Colorado Springs. The two
rode leisurely through the herd up the valley on the south side of the
stream, and had gone about half a mile above the point just mentioned,
when they saw a half dozen mounted Indians come over the hill to the
north and dash at full speed in the direction of the herd. Following
them, other Indians came in sight, until there were at least twenty-five
in the band. In a very short time the savages had rounded up most of
the horses and were driving them up the creek at a furious speed. They
passed Teachout, who was on the other side of the creek, expecting every
minute to be attacked. Neither he nor his hired man had guns, but as
they did not run, the Indians evidently thought they were armed, and
kept some distance away. As they went by, one of the Indians who could
speak English yelled: "Damn you, we are going to take your horses!"
Soon after this, Teachout saw that the Indians had missed a bunch of
fifteen to twenty colts that were grazing off to one side, and he and
his hired man started after them, thinking to save at least that part
of the herd. But the Indians soon discovered what they were after and
started in pursuit, firing as they went. When affairs took this turn,
there was nothing left for Teachout and his man to do but ride for their
lives, and get back to the ranch as quickly as possible, which they did.
The Indians rounded up the colts and soon disappeared to the eastward
up Cottonwood Creek with the entire herd. Less than an hour afterward,
they passed a ranch near the head of the creek, traveling rapidly. At
this place the Indians attempted to add to their herd, but failed, as
the horses they were after happened to be picketed close to the house,
and a few shots from two well-armed ranchmen entrenched behind the walls
of their log cabin drove the savages off.
Upon reaching home, Teachout immediately sent a messenger to his brother
on the Divide, with an account of the raid and a request that he enlist
as large an armed force as could quickly be gotten together, to follow
the Indians and, if possible, recover the horses. The brother acted
promptly, and that evening a party consisting of Dow and Bale Simpson,
Jim Sims, "Wild Bill," and others, whose names I have been unable to
obtain, twenty-eight in all, started in pursuit of the savages. The
party camped that night at a ranch about three miles southeast of C.
R. Husted's saw-mill, and at this point were joined by a Mr. Davis and
Job Talbert, a brother-in-law of Mr. Husted. These two men had expected
to get horses and arms at this ranch. Failing in this, however, they
started back to the mill the following morning, but had gone only a
short distance when the Indians overtook them, killed and scalped both
leaving their mutilated bodies in the road, where they were found by
their friends a few hours afterward.
The Simpson party, as it afterwards was called, started again early in
the morning, soon found the trail of the captured herd, and followed
it rapidly along the south side of the pinery, then eastward across
Squirrel Creek and down the Big Sandy to the mouth of a creek coming in
from the north, the size of the herd making the trail plain and easy to
follow. So far no Indians had been seen, and the indications were that
the Indians with the stolen horses were so far ahead as to make further
pursuit useless. But instead of returning directly home, they decided
to follow up this creek and scout the country to the east of Bijou
Basin. A few miles up the creek they came to a ranch, which they found
deserted. The house was open and had been thoroughly ransacked, but the
owner nowhere appeared. After considerable search, his dead body was
found some distance away. He had been killed and scalped by the Indians,
and, as in every other case, the body had been horribly mutilated, the
house looted, and all his stock driven off. After burying the body, the
party continued in a northerly direction until it reached the old Smoky
Hill road. Here they met a party of eighteen men from the country to the
north of Bijou Basin, and it was decided to combine the two forces for
further scouting in that region. A short distance away from their camp
that night, they found and buried the bodies of two men who had been
killed by the Indians a day or two before. The combined parties camped
together that night, and the following morning started towards Bijou
Basin. During all this time no Indians had been seen, and it seemed
probable that the savages had returned to their villages on the plains.
Under this impression, the men marched rather carelessly along, strung
out over the prairie for a considerable distance. Early in the afternoon
the party of eighteen, having decided that there was nothing further they
could accomplish, left the Simpson party and started off northwesterly,
in the direction of their homes. Hardly were they out of sight when
two of Simpson's men, who were some distance ahead of the main party,
saw a few Indians on a hill not very far away. Word was at once sent
back to the stragglers, and the party closed up in double-quick time.
Meanwhile other Indians appeared, until in a short time they greatly
outnumbered the Simpson party. This made it imperative that a place for
defense should be found without delay. Apparently, the most favorable
position in sight was the extreme point of a short and rather isolated
ridge near by, at which place the ground dropped off rather abruptly on
three sides. The men rushed to this point, formed a circle, and began
to throw up temporary entrenchments with butcher knives and such other
implements as they had at hand. By this time the Indians, under cover
of a ridge to the south, had opened a sharp fire. Bullets were whizzing
around in a lively fashion and in a few minutes several of the horses
had been wounded. However, an encouraging feature of the situation
was that many of the shots fired by the Indians struck the ground some
distance away. The whites returned the fire at every opportunity, and
had reason to believe that their shots had been effective in a number
of instances, although the Indians kept under cover as much as possible.
Before darkness came on, a number of Simpson's men had been wounded and
several of the horses killed. By this time, notwithstanding the strong
defense that was being made, it became more and more a question whether
the party could withstand a vigorous charge by the Indians.
Night coming on, the firing of the Indians slackened a little and the
men were enabled to give some consideration to their situation. It
was realized that neither their location nor resources were favorable
for a long siege, and for that reason help must be obtained as soon as
possible. Among the party was a dare-devil sort of fellow known by the
name of "Wild Bill," who volunteered to take the fastest horse, and
in the darkness endeavor to break through the Indian line, which now
completely surrounded the hill. Then, if successful, he was to hurry on
to the settlements at Bijou Basin, fifteen miles away, and bring back
reinforcements as quickly as possible. This suggestion met with the
approval of every one, and arrangements were immediately made to carry
it into effect. About nine o'clock Wild Bill, mounted on Dow Simpson's
race horse, stole out from the entrenchments and quietly rode away.
The night being moderately dark, he succeeded in getting some distance
away before he was discovered by the Indians. He then put spurs to his
horse and dashed away at the best speed the animal was capable of, the
Indians following in a frantic endeavor to cut him off, shooting at him
as they ran. Fortunately neither he nor the horse was hit, and in a short
time he had left the Indians far behind. After that, he was not long in
reaching Bijou Basin, where arrangements were at once made to dispatch
couriers to Colorado City and elsewhere for reinforcements.
Meanwhile, those surrounded on the hill were most anxious for the
safety of their messenger. They heard the shots and knew that he had
been discovered, and that the Indians were in pursuit of him, but had
no means of telling whether or not he had escaped. The only reassuring
circumstance was that soon after this the firing gradually slackened,
finally stopping altogether; and when daylight came there were no Indians
in sight. The besieged men realized that this might be only a ruse, and
that possibly the Indians were lurking near, ready to take advantage of
them after they had left their entrenchments. However, on account of their
critical position, being entirely without water for themselves and their
horses, they determined to make a dash and take a chance of reaching the
settlements. This being decided upon, they started at once, and without
further molestation reached Holden's ranch in Bijou Basin before noon,
no Indians having been seen on the way. In the engagement none of the
party had been killed and no one seriously wounded, probably because of
the poor ammunition issued to the Indians by the Government—for which
I suppose the white people of this region should have been duly thankful.
While this engagement had been going on, stirring events had been
happening in the neighborhood of Colorado City and elsewhere in the
county. As I have already stated, within the next few days after the
killing of Mrs. Dieterman, and the raid upon Teachout's horses, most
of the ranchmen down the Fountain Valley had brought their families to
Colorado City for protection. The people of the Divide gathered for
defense at McShane's ranch near Monument, at John Irion's on Cherry
Creek, and at Husted's mill in the pinery. The air was full of rumors
of Indian depredations in every direction; but, as it was harvest time,
it was imperative that the gathering of the crops be attended to. This
made it necessary that some chances be taken, and it so happened that,
when the crisis came, many of the men of Colorado City were out in the
harvest fields of the surrounding country.
About noon on September 3, 1868, a band of forty to fifty Indians came
dashing down the valley of Monument Creek, capturing all loose horses
in their path. The first white man they ran across was Robert F. Love,
of Colorado City, who was riding along the higher ground to the east
of Monument Creek, not far from the present town of Roswell. As soon
as Love saw the Indians, instead of trying to get away, which he knew
would be useless, he dismounted, keeping his pony between himself and
the savages, and, by keeping his revolver pointed in their direction,
showing them that he was armed. After maneuvering around him for a time,
the Indians passed on, apparently convinced that some of them would get
hurt if they remained. It was not their policy to take many chances, as
was evidenced throughout their entire stay in this region. They seldom
troubled people who seemed to offer any serious resistance, seeking rather
defenseless men, women, and children. Soon after leaving Love, a few of
the Indians crossed Monument Creek to the house of David Spielman, which
stood on the west side, about half a mile above the Mesa Road Bridge in
the present city of Colorado Springs. Spielman had just finished moving
his family and household effects to Colorado City, and being tired, had
lain down behind the open front door, and had gone to sleep. The Indians
looked in at the open door, but fortunately did not see him. They then
went to the corral and took from it a horse that Spielman had purchased
only the day before. After that they recrossed Monument Creek and joined
the main body, which continued rapidly along the low ground east of the
creek, crossing the present Washburn Athletic Field, on the way, and
coming out on to the higher ground a few hundred yards south of Cutler
Academy, near where the Hagerman residence now stands.
A short time previously, Charley Everhart, a young man about eighteen
years of age, had started from his home just west of Monument Creek and
near the present railway bridge above the Rio Grande station, to look
after his father's cattle, that were grazing on the plain now covered
by the city of Colorado Springs. After crossing Monument Creek, he
followed a trail that led eastward along the south rim of the high bank
north of what is now known as Boulder Crescent. Everhart knew there were
Indians in the country, and was no doubt on the lookout for them. He
was mounted on a small pony, and had probably gone as far east as the
present location of Tejon Street, when he evidently saw the Indians as
they came out into open view to the north of him. He at once turned his
pony toward home and urged it to its highest speed, making a desperate
effort to escape from the savages; but his horse was no match for those
of the Indians, and they soon overtook him. Everhart had reached a point
near the intersection of what is now Platte and Cascade Avenues, when
a shot from one of the savages caused him to fall from his horse. One
of the Indians then came up to him, ran a spear through his body, and
scalped him, taking all the hair from his head except a small fringe
around the back part. The whole occurrence was witnessed from a distance
by several persons. An hour or so afterward, when the Indians had gone
and it was safe to do so, a party went out to where his mutilated body
lay, and brought it to Colorado City.
After killing Everhart, the Indians saw farther down the valley, a quarter
of a mile or so away, a lone sheep herder, who was generally known as
"Judge" Baldwin, and the whole band immediately started after him. When
Baldwin saw the Indians coming, he tried to escape. Having no spurs or
whip, he took off one of his long-legged boots and used it to urge his
mount to its utmost speed. This, however, was ineffectual, as his horse
was inferior to those of the Indians, and they had no difficulty in
overtaking him before he had gone very far. They shot him, and he fell
from his horse near the site of the present Fourth Ward Schoolhouse.
The bullet struck Baldwin in the shoulder, and as he was leaning forward
at the time, it passed upward through his neck and came out through the
jaw. He dropped from his horse completely dazed, but in his delirium he
used the boot to fight off the Indians. The latter evidently thought
the wound mortal, so without wasting any more ammunition upon him one
of their number proceeded to take his scalp. The savage ran the knife
around the back part of Baldwin's head, severing the scalp from the
skull, and then discovered that he had been scalped at some previous
time. For some reason, probably superstition of some kind, the Indians
then abandoned the idea of scalping him, and the entire band rode off,
leaving their victim, as they supposed, to die on the prairie. It was
a fact that Baldwin had been scalped by Indians in South America some
years before.
After leaving Baldwin, the Indians divided into two bands, one of which
went in a northeasterly direction and crossed Shooks Run near the point
where Platte Avenue now intersects it. Near this place they were joined
by other Indians who had evidently been in concealment near by. It is
said that during all this time two or three Indians stationed on the
hill where the Deaf and Blind Institute is now located, apparently by
the use of flags, directed the movements of those doing the killing,
wigwagging in a manner similar to that in use in the army at that time,
and that these signal men fell in with the others as they came along;
after which they all rode rapidly to the eastward and soon disappeared
on the plains. The other party continued down the valley of the Fountain,
and at a point just below where the Rio Grande bridge now crosses Shooks
Run, they came upon two small boys, the sons of Thomas H. Robbins, who
lived on the south side of the Fountain, not far away. These two boys,
eight and ten years of age respectively, were looking after their father's
cattle. They had evidently seen the Indians coming when some distance
away, as they were using every possible endeavor to escape; but they had
not gone far when the savages were upon them. It is said that one of the
boys fell upon his knees and lifted up his hands, as though begging the
Indians to spare his life, but the savages never heeded such appeals.
Two Indians reached down, each seized a boy by the hair, held him up
with one hand, and, using a revolver, shot him with the other and then
flung the quivering, lifeless body to the ground.
The savages then continued rapidly down along the edge of the bluffs, to
the north of Fountain Creek, and when at the south side of the present
Evergreen Cemetery, attempted to capture some horses at the Innis ranch,
in the valley a short distance away, but the presence of a number of
armed men there caused them to desist after two or three futile dashes
in that direction. Half a mile below this point, they met Solon Mason, a
ranchman from the lower end of the county, accompanied by two or three
other men. These men were all armed and, after two or three shots were
exchanged, the Indians gave them a wide berth. At a ranch just below,
occupied by George Banning, the Indians secured a few horses, after
which they struck out over the plains to join the other band.
As I have already said, armed parties were going out every day from
Colorado City to harvest the grain that had been ripe for some time.
On that morning, I had joined a group that was to assist Bert Myers, a
merchant of Colorado City, in harvesting a field of wheat on land now
occupied by the town of Broadmoor. I was binding wheat behind a reaper,
at a point not very far from the present Country Club buildings, when,
about two o'clock in the afternoon, I saw a horseman coming from the
east riding furiously in our direction. When he reached us we found that
it was a Mr. Riggs, who lived near the mouth of Cheyenne Creek. He told
us that the Indians were raiding the settlements in every direction,
and were killing people, mentioning of his own knowledge Everhart,
Baldwin, and the Robbins boys, and he thought a good many more; and
also had run off a large number of horses. My first thought was that the
Indians had come in during the previous night, concealed themselves in
the underbrush along the creeks, and taken advantage of the time when
most of the men were out in the fields, to attack, rob, and murder. I
knew such a thing was possible, as there was no one living between our
settlement and the Indian country to give us notice of the approach of
a hostile band. It then occurred to me that my three small brothers,
Edgar, Frank, and Charles, were looking after our cattle near the mouth
of Bear Creek, and certainly were in great danger, if indeed they had
not already been killed. I immediately secured permission to take one
of the horses from the reaper, in order to ride in search of the boys.
I quickly stripped off all the harness except the blind bridle, mounted
the horse, and tore away in the direction of Bear Creek. As a matter
of precaution, I had taken a revolver with me to the harvest-field as
at this time few went out unarmed. After a ride at top speed, I met the
boys about three-quarters of a mile south of Bear Creek.
My brothers told me that while eating their luncheon in the milk house
near our dwelling on Bear Creek, they were alarmed by the excited barking
of their dog. They ran out to see what was the matter, and, looking
across on the present site of Colorado Springs, saw a group of horsemen
whom they immediately knew to be Indians, pursuing another horseman, whom
they at once conjectured was Charley Everhart. A moment later the band
seemed to be grouped around some object, which doubtless was the time
when the Indians were scalping young Everhart. The boys witnessed the
savages race down over the flat in their pursuit of Baldwin, and while
this was in progress, they counted the horsemen and found that there were
thirty-five in the band. The boys then ran up the hill to the east of
the house, heard the shot, and witnessed what I have already described
concerning the shooting of Baldwin. They then saw the band divide, one
party going out on the plains and the other down the creek. Becoming
alarmed for their own safety, they had started to run to some of the
neighbors on Cheyenne Creek, when I met them. As soon as I had heard
their story, which assured me that the Indians had gone off to the east
and that there was no immediate danger to the boys, I rode back to the
harvest-field where we had abandoned the reaper, hitched to the wagon,
and drove to town. Later in the afternoon, the Robbins family, whose two
boys had been killed, as I have related, came by our Bear Creek ranch
on their way to Colorado City, and took my brothers to town with them.
By the time we reached Colorado City, the bodies of Everhart and the
two Robbins boys had been brought in. The party that went after Baldwin
found him alive, but supposed him to be mortally wounded. It was thought
that he could not possibly live more than a day or two at most, but, to
the surprise of everybody, in a short time he began to recover and in
a month or so was apparently well again.
Of course, the excitement in Colorado City and throughout the county was
intense. We knew that the Territorial authorities were unable to give
us any help whatsoever, and that the general Government had turned a
deaf ear to our appeals for protection. Consequently, we realized that
we must again, as in 1864, rely solely upon ourselves. In this emergency
we repaired the old fort around the log hotel, and organized our forces
to the best possible advantage, in order to be prepared for any further
attacks that the Indians might make. Only a few hours after the raid, a
messenger came in from Bijou Basin, asking that men be sent to the relief
of the Simpson party, which was surrounded by Indians near that point, as
I have already told. After consideration of the matter, it was decided
that our force was strong enough to spare a few men for that purpose.
Accordingly, that night ten of us volunteered to go to the assistance
of the besieged. For this expedition a Mr. Hall, who lived on what has
since been known as the Pope ranch, loaned me an excellent horse and a
Colt's rifle, a kind of gun I had never seen before nor have I seen one
like it since. It was a gun built exactly on the principle of a Colt's
revolver, the only trouble with it being that one never knew just how
many shots would go off at once.
Early the following morning we started out, following up Monument Creek
to the mouth of Cottonwood; thence up that creek over the ground where
Teachout's herd of horses had been captured. We stopped a few minutes
at the Neff ranch, which we found deserted, and then went east along
the route taken by the Indians when running off the Teachout herd.
An hour later, while we were riding along in a leisurely manner, and had
reached within about half a mile of the pinery, we saw to our right a
band of about twenty-five mounted Indians, half a mile away on the south
bank of Cottonwood Creek. We had been so wrought up by the murders of
the previous day, that without a moment's hesitation we wheeled about
and made for the Indians as fast as our horses could go. We had no sooner
started than I realized that we might be running into an ambuscade, and
I warned our people not to cross the ravine at the place where we had
first seen the savages, but to go on one side or the other; however,
our men were in such a state of frenzy, that they would not listen, so
we rushed headlong to the bank of the ravine through which the creek
ran. The bank was so steep that we had to dismount and lead our horses.
Fortunately for us, there were no Indians at that moment at the point
where we were crossing the ravine, but we had not gone a quarter of a mile
before a mounted Indian appeared on the bank, almost at that identical
place, and probably there were others hidden near the same point.
As soon as the Indians on the south bank saw us coming, they started
on the run in a southeasterly direction, and, when some distance away,
gradually turned to the eastward. By this time our party began to think
a little of the desirability of keeping a way of retreat open, in case of
defeat in the expected engagement. For that reason, we veered a little to
the right, and kept on until we were directly between them and Colorado
City. By this time, the Indians had dismounted on a large open flat, about
three-quarters of a mile to the eastward of us, and, forming a circle with
their ponies, seemed to be awaiting our attack. We could see their guns
flashing in the sunshine, and while we were surprised at this movement,
so contrary to the usual custom of the Indians, we did not hesitate a
moment, but started toward them as fast as our ponies could take us.
Evidently changing their minds upon seeing this, the Indians remounted
and started in the direction of the pinery as rapidly as they could go.
Their horses were better and fleeter than ours, so we were unable to head
them off, and when they entered the edge of the timber we knew it would
only be inviting disaster to follow farther. We then resumed our march
in the direction of Bijou Basin. An hour or two later, we went by the
extreme eastern edge of the pinery, at the point where the old government
road crossed Squirrel Creek. Here, judging by the great number of fresh
pony tracks, a large number of Indians must have passed only a short time
previously. After a short rest at this point, we rode steadily on and
reached Bijou Basin that evening just before dark. On our arrival, we
found that the besieged party had come in the day before, and that all
the men, except the wounded, had returned to their homes. The wounded
were being cared for at Mr. D. M. Holden's ranch. There being nothing
further for us to do, we started for home early the following morning.
Upon our way, we found many Indian pony tracks at various places along
the eastern and southern edge of the pinery, showing that the Indians
were still around in considerable numbers, but we saw none during the
day. After leaving the pinery, we followed the wagon road that came down
through what is now known as the Garden Ranch. As we came down the hill,
two or three miles to the northeast of the ranch houses, we noticed a
number of horsemen congregated near that point. From their actions we
knew that they were very much excited, and evidently mistook us for a
band of Indians. They gathered around some tall rocks a little way to
the eastward of the gateway, and seemed to be preparing for defense. We
tried by signaling and otherwise to make ourselves known to them, but
were unsuccessful until we were almost within gun-shot distance. They
were greatly relieved when they ascertained who we were. We then joined
them and reached Colorado City without further incident.
Events of a similar character were of almost daily occurrence while the
Indians remained in this region. Every animal on a distant hill became
an Indian horseman to the excited imagination of the ranchman or cowboy,
and without further investigation he rushed off to town to give the
alarm. No lone man on horseback allowed another horseman to approach
him without preparing for defense, and every object at a distance that
was not clearly distinguishable was viewed with alarm.
For two weeks following the raid upon the present town-site of Colorado
Springs, the Indians had virtual possession of the northern and eastern
portions of the county. During this time they raided Gill's ranch, east
of Jimmy's Camp, and ran off his herd of horses, taking them out of the
corral near his house in the night, although the horses were being guarded
by armed men. It appears that the Indians stole up to the corral on the
opposite side from where the guards were posted, made an opening in it,
let the horses out, and were off with them before the men realized what
was going on.
About the same time, the Indians killed a demented man named Jonathan
Lincoln, at the Lincoln ranch in Spring Valley on Cherry Creek, just
north of the El Paso County line. Lincoln and a Mexican were out in the
harvest-field binding oats when they saw the Indians approaching. The
Mexican saved himself by flight, but Lincoln folded his arms and calmly
awaited the coming of the savages. Without hesitation they killed him,
took his scalp, and departed again into the recesses of the adjacent
pinery. They also killed John Choteau, on east Cherry Creek, John Grief
and Jonathan Tallman on east Bijou, and raided the John Russell ranch
at the head of East Cherry Creek, from which place they ran off sixteen
horses.
About this time, a small band of Indians, while prowling around near
the town of Monument, threatened the house of David McShane at a time
when all the men were away, Mrs. McShane and some neighboring women and
children being the only occupants. Having the true pioneer spirit, the
women, under the leadership of Mrs. McShane, put up such a strong show of
defense that the savages abandoned the attack in short order, apparently
glad to get away unharmed. Soon after, they burned Henry Walker's house,
which stood about a mile east of the present Husted station on the Denver
and Rio Grande Railroad.
The Indians seemed to have established a camp at some secluded place
in the timber of the Divide, from which they went out in small parties
in every direction, killing and robbing when opportunity offered. Every
day during these two weeks, Indians were seen at various places on the
Divide and the eastern part of the county. By this time, however, our
people had taken their families out of danger and were so constantly on
the alert that the Indians, while having many opportunities for looting
and robbing the deserted ranches, had few chances for surprising and
killing defenseless people, who were the only ones they cared to attack.
Throughout the raid, those who had been able to make any kind of a defense
had been let alone. The Indians seemed unwilling to take any chances or
to waste their ammunition, unless they were certain of results.
A week or two after the beginning of the Indian troubles, the people
of El Paso County took steps to form a military company to be regularly
employed against the Indians, its members to serve without pay. It was
the intention to keep this company in the field until the Indians were
driven out of the region. About the fifteenth of September, eighty
mounted and well-armed men, who had enlisted for the purpose, and of
whom I was one, met at Husted's saw-mill on the Divide and perfected
a military organization by the election of the usual company officers,
A. J. Templeton being elected captain. The company took up its line of
march through the pinery to Bijou Basin; thence eastward past the place
where Simpson's party had been besieged two or three weeks before.
After examining with much interest the scene of this fight, we went
southeasterly to Big Sandy Creek, thence down the valley of that creek
to Lake Station on the Smoky Hill wagon road, about ten miles east of
the present town of Limon. On our march we saw no Indians, and, judging
from their trails and from other indications, we decided that they were
leaving the country. As we marched down the valley of the Big Sandy, in
the vicinity of the present towns of Ramah and Calhan, we saw hundreds
of dead cattle, most of them cows that had been killed by the Indians
only a day or two before. That these cattle had been wantonly killed,
was shown by the fact that no part of the animals had been taken for
food. In almost every instance they had been shot with arrows, many
of which were at the time sticking in the carcasses. Besides the dead
cattle, we saw hundreds of live ones scattered all over the hills and
down the valley, which had evidently been driven off by the Indians
from the ranches in El Paso and the surrounding counties. At a point
about ten miles down the valley from the present station of Limon, on
the Rock Island Railway, the trail of the Indians left the valley and
turned northeastward. At this place we were about seventy-five miles
southwest from the Beecher Island battle ground, on the Arickaree fork
of the Republican River, where Colonel George A. Forsyth and his fifty
followers were at that very time making their heroic defense against an
overwhelming number of Indians under the command of the famous chief Roman
Nose, although we knew nothing of the affair until some time later. The
trail of the Indians led across the country in a direct line toward the
battle ground. No doubt they had been summoned by runners to aid their
people, and probably this was the reason for their leaving El Paso County.
Upon discovering the course taken by the Indians, Captain Templeton, on
account of his small force, deemed it imprudent to pursue them farther.
An additional reason for facing about was that our supply of provisions
was about exhausted, and had we gone farther we should have had to
subsist on the wild game of the region, which would have been a risky
thing to attempt. As it was, on our way homeward we had to live entirely
on the meat of cattle we killed. Having no camp outfit, we broiled the
meat on sticks before our camp fires and then ate it without salt. To
me this fare was about the nearest to a starvation diet that I have
ever experienced. We reached Colorado City in due time, without having
seen an Indian during our whole campaign. Whether we were the cause of
the Indians leaving this region, or whether it was a coincidence that
they were just ahead of us, I do not know, but it was evident that the
Indians were gone, and on account of approaching winter we had little
to fear from them during the remainder of the year. There apparently
being no further use for its services, the company was disbanded.
It had been a strenuous period for the settlers from the first appearance
of the Indians about the 20th of August until this time. At least a
dozen persons had been killed in El Paso County and the country adjacent
thereto on the Divide. Many houses had been destroyed; crops had been
lost through inability to harvest the grain; probably five hundred horses
and at least one thousand head of cattle had been driven off, making
an aggregate loss of property that was extremely heavy for a sparsely
populated county such as El Paso was at that time. The contest was an
unequal one from the start. The settlers were armed with a miscellaneous
lot of guns, most of which were muzzle-loading hunting rifles, while
the Indians were armed with breech-loading guns using metal cartridges.
Fortunately for the settlers, the ammunition of the Indians was of a poor
quality, as was proved in the fight east of Bijou Basin and elsewhere,
and, judging by the careful manner in which they used their ammunition,
it is probable that the supply was not very large. This undoubtedly saved
the lives of many of our people. It was noticed from the first that the
Indians never wasted their ammunition and seldom attacked an armed person.
During all the time the savages were going up and down the county
murdering people, stealing stock, and destroying the property of the
settlers, the general Government did not make the slightest attempt to
give our people protection, although attention was repeatedly called
to their desperate condition. It is true that a week or two after the
Indian troubles began, the Territorial authorities at Denver supplied our
people with a limited number of old Belgian muskets, together with the
necessary ammunition, but these guns were so much inferior to those in
the hands of the Indians, that they were of very little use. With this
one exception, the early settlers of this county were left entirely to
their own resources from the beginning of the Indian troubles, in 1864,
until the end, which did not come until the building of the railroads
into the Territory. Every appeal to the general Government for protection
was received either with indifference or insult.
In September, 1866, General William T. Sherman, Commander-in-Chief of the
United States Army, on his way north from an inspection of the forts in
New Mexico, accompanied by a large number of staff officers and a strong
escort, stopped overnight in Colorado City. Having been in constant danger
from the Indians since the beginning of the trouble in 1864, our people
thought this an opportune time to lay the matter before him and ask that
proper means of protection be provided. My father, the Rev. Wm. Howbert,
was appointed spokesman of the committee that waited upon the General.
In his speech, father explained our exposed and defenseless condition,
and suggested that a force of government troops be permanently stationed
at some point on our eastern frontier, in order to intercept any Indians
that might be attempting a raid upon the people of this region. General
Sherman received the appeal with utter indifference, and replied that
he thought we were unnecessarily alarmed; that there were no hostile
Indians in the neighborhood; and then sarcastically remarked that it
probably would be a very profitable thing for the people of this region
if we could have a force of government troops located near here, to whom
our farmers might sell their grain and agricultural products at a high
price. With this remark he dismissed the committee, the members of which
left the room very indignant at the manner in which their appeal had been
received. Later in the year, General Sherman evidently was of the opinion
that there _were_ hostile Indians in the western country and that they
needed severe punishment, for after the massacre of Lieut.-Col. Fetterman
and his entire command near Fort Phil Kearny, Wyoming, he telegraphed
General Grant, saying: "We must act with vindictive earnestness against
the Sioux, even to their extermination, men, women, and children; nothing
else will reach the root of the case."
Two years later, in 1868, the General came to Denver along the line of
the Kansas-Pacific Railway, at that time under construction, and was glad
to have a strong escort to guard him through the region of the hostile
Indians. Following this trip, he made a strenuous effort to punish the
savages elsewhere, but apparently made no attempt to protect the settlers
on the eastern borders of Colorado.
I venture to say that no civilized nation ever gave less attention to
protecting its frontier people from the incursion of savages than did
our general Government. It was always a question of the influence that
could be brought to bear upon the government officials at Washington.
After the outbreak of the Indians in Minnesota, in 1862, the Government
took prompt measures and punished the savages unmercifully. However,
this was due to the fact that Minnesota at that time had two Senators
and several members of Congress who were able to bring the necessary
influence to bear. During all of our Indian troubles, Colorado had only
one delegate in Congress, who had no vote and very little influence.
Consequently, we were left to protect ourselves as best we could.
The whole eastern frontier of El Paso County faced upon the territory
occupied by the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, the most crafty and
bloodthirsty savages upon the American continent. There were at all
times bands of these Indians roaming around on the headwaters of the
Republican and Smoky Hill rivers, and it was easy for them to reach the
settlements of this county without being observed. Considering these
facts, it now seems a wonder that we were not wiped off the face of the
earth. Doubtless, as I have said before, the reason that we were not
exterminated was the fact of our contiguity to the country of their
hereditary enemies, the Utes, for whom, on account of their fighting
ability, they had a wholesome respect.
During the Indian troubles, a few settlers left the county and sought
places of safety elsewhere, but the great majority of our people pluckily
stood their ground. The ranchmen who had brought their families to
Colorado City for protection left them there until the trouble was over,
but went to their homes as often as they could get two or three armed men
to accompany them, to harvest their grain and take care of their stock.
Every time they did this, it was at the risk of their lives, for no one
could tell when or where the savages might next appear. The people who
now live in the cities and on the ranches of El Paso County can have no
true conception of the dangers and the anxieties of the early settlers
of the Pike's Peak region. As soon as it was definitely known that the
Indians had left the county, most of the ranchmen moved their families
back to their homes. From previous experience it was known that, as
winter was coming on, there was little danger to be apprehended until
the following spring.
By the spring of 1869, the Government, in a winter campaign with troops
under the command of General Custer, had administered such severe
punishment to the Cheyennes and Arapahoes in the battle of Washita and
in other engagements that thereafter the people of El Paso County were
unmolested by them, although spasmodic outbreaks occurred at various
places out on the plains for several years afterward.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
The following possible archaic spellings or typos were noted by
readers, but retained as printed:
Mescalaros
Sante Fé
employes
Tabaguache and Tabeguache.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Indians of the Pike's Peak Region - Including an Account of the Battle of Sand Creek, and of Occurrences in El Paso County, Colorado, during the War with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, in 1864 and 1868" ***
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