USA > Kansas > Ford County > Dodge City > Dodge City, the cowboy capital, and the great Southwest in the days of the wild Indian, the buffalo, the cowboy, dance halls, gambling halls and bad men > Part 8
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and then lie behind him. How many times I wished I had not left my good horse in camp, as I could easily have run away from the Indians; and I further cursed my luck that I was so foolish as to give up my rifle also. After waiting and waiting in the rain, until I was com- pletely soaked and tired out, expecting them to be on me every minute, I thought I would go back to the trail along the rough breaks by the river and take my chances. When I got back the last time, up they jumped again; but the wind and rain had let up a little and I saw what I had taken for Indians was nothing but a flock of blue cranes. You see the wind and rain were so blinding- one of those awfully cold, misty storms-that when I approached the river the birds would rise and merely skim along through the willows, one after another, and so I kept chasing them down stream a mile or more every time I scared them up; but they scared me worse than I scared them; they chased me back to the main road nearly frightened to death. We had many a hearty laugh over my fright from the cranes.
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CHAPTER VI. Wild Days with the Soldiers
AS has been stated, the site of Fort Dodge was an old camping ground for trains going to New Mexico. The government was obliged to erect a fort here, but even then the Indians struggled for the mastery, and made many attacks, not only on passing trains, but on the troops themselves. I witnessed the running off of over one hundred horses, those of Captain William Thompson's troop of the Seventh United States Cavalry. The savages killed the guard and then defied the garrison, as they knew the soldiers had no horses on which to follow them. Several times have I seen them run right into the fort, cut off and gather up what loose stock there was around, and kill and dismount and deliberately scalp one or more victims, whom they had caught outside the garrison, before the soldiers could mount and follow.
Early one very foggy morning they made a descent on a large body of troops, mostly infantry, with a big lot of transportation. At this time the government was preparing for a campaign against them. It was a bold thing to do, but they made a brave dash right into and among the big mule trains. It was so dark and foggy that nothing was seen of them until they were in the camp, and they made a reign of bedlam for a short time. They succeed in cutting about fifty mules loose from the wagons and getting away with them, and killing, scalp- ing, and mutilating an old hunter named Ralph, just as he was in the act of killing a coyote he had caught in a steel trap, not three hundreds yards from the mule camp. Of course they shot him with arrows, and then speared him, so that no report should be heard from the camp. "Boots and saddles" was soon sounded, and away went two companies of cavalry, some scouts following or at
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least acting as flankers, I among the latter. The cavalry kept to the road while we took to the hills. In the course of time we came up to the Indians-the fog still very heavy-and were right in among them before we knew it. Then came the chase. First we ran them, and then they turned and chased us. They outnumbered us ten to one. More than once did we draw them down within a mile or two of the cavalry, when we would send one of our num- ber back and plead with the captain to help us; but his reply was that he had orders to the contrary, and could not disobey. I did not think he acted from fear or was a coward, but I told him afterward he lost an opportunity that day to make his mark and put a feather in his cap; and I believe he thought so, too, and regretted he had not made a charge regardless of orders.
In a previous chapter, the account was given of the massacre of the little Mexican train and the scattering of their flour and feather beds upon the bluffs near the site of Fort Dodge, but before the fort was established. On the bottom immediately opposite is where Colonel Thompson's horses of the troop of the Seventh Cavalry were run off by the Indians. One of the herds on duty jumped into the river and was killed; the other unfortun- ately or fortunately was chased by the savages right into the parade ground of the fort before the last Indian leav- ing him, grabbing at his bridle-rein in his determined effort to get the soldier's horse. The persistent savage had fired all his arrows at the trooper, and the latter, when taken to the hospital, had two or three of the cruel shafts stuck in his back, from the effect of which wounds he died in a few hours.
Major Kidd, or Major Yard, I do not remember which just now, was in command at Fort Larned, and had received orders from department headquarters not to permit less than a hundred wagons to pass the fort at one time, on account of the danger from Indians, all of whom were on the warpath. One day four or five ambulances
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from the Missouri River arrived at the fort filled with New Mexico merchants and traders on the way home to their several stations. In obedience to his orders, the commanding officer tried to stop them. After laying at Larned a few days, the delay became very wearisome; they were anxious to get back to their business, which was suffering on account of their prolonged absence. They went to the commanding officer several times, beg- ging and pleading with him to allow them to proceed. Finally he said: "Well, old French Dave, the guide and interpreter of the post, is camped down the creek; go and consult him; I will abide by what he says." So, armed with some fine old whisky and the best brand of cigars, which they had brought from St. Louis, they went in a body down to French Dave's camp, and, after filling him with their elegant liquor and handing him some of the cigars, they said: "Now, Dave, there are twenty of us here, all bright young men who are used to the frontier; we have plenty of arms and ammunition, and know how to use them; don't you think it safe for us to go through ?" Dave was silent; they asked the question again, but he slowly puffed away at his fine cigar and said nothing. When they put the question to him for a third time, Dave deliberately, and without looking up, said: "One man go troo twenty time; Indian no see you. Twenty mans go troo one time and Indian kill every s- o- b- of you."
General Sheridan was at Fort Dodge in the summer of 1886, making every preparation to begin an active and thorough campaign against the Indians. One day he perceived, at a long distance south, something approaching the post which, with the good field-glass, we took to be a flag of truce-the largest flag of the kind, I suppose, that was ever employed for a like purpose. Little Raven had procured an immense white wagon-sheet and nailed it to one of his long, straight tepee poles, and lashed it upright to his ambulance. He marched in with a band
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of his warriors to learn whether he was welcome, and to tell the big general he would be in the next sleep with all his people to make a treaty. Sheridan told him that maybe he could get them in by the next night, and maybe he had better say in two or three sleeps from now. Little Raven said: "No; all we want is one sleep." The time he asked for was granted by the general, but this was the last Sheridan ever saw of him until the band made its usual treaty that winter. The wary old rascal used this ruse to get the women and children out of the way before using hostilities. The first time he came after peace was declared he was minus his ambulance. I asked him what had become of it. He replied: "Oh, it made too good a trail for the soldiers; they followed us up day after day by its tracks. Then I took it to pieces, hung the wheels in a tree, hid the balance of it here and there, and every- where, in the brush, and buried part of it."
During the same expedition, after the main com- mand had left the fort with all the guides and scouts, there were some important dispatches to be taken to the command. Two beardless youths volunteered to carry them. They had never seen a hostile Indian, or slept a single night on a lonely plain, but were fresh from the states. I knew that it was murder to allow them to go, and I pitied them from the bottom of my heart. They were full of enthusiasm, however, and determined to go. I gave them repeated warnings and advice as to how they should travel, how they should camp, and what precautions to take, and they started. They never reached the command, but were captured in the brush on Beaver creek about dusk one evening-taken alive without ever firing a shot. The savages had been closely watching them, and when they had unsaddled their horses and gone into the brush to cook their supper (having laid down their arms on their saddles), the Indians jumped them, cut their throats, scalped them, and stripped them naked.
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Drunken Tom Wilson, as he was called, left a few days afterward with dispatches for the command, which he reached without accident, just as French Dave had in- timated to the New Mexico merchants about one man going through safely. It made Tom, however, too rash and brave. Give him a few canteens of whisky and he would go anywhere. I met him after his trip at Fort Larned one day when he was about starting to Fort Dodge. I said: "Tom, wait until tonight and we will go with you," but he declined; he thought he was invulner- able and left for the post. On the trail that night, as I and others were going to Fort Dodge, under cover of darkness, our horses shied at something lying in the road as we were crossing Coon creek. We learned after- wards that it was the body of drunken Tom and his old white horse. The Indians had laid in wait for him there under the bank of the creek, and killed both him and his horse, I suppose, before he had a chance to fire a shot.
Two scouts, Nate Marshall and Bill Davis, both brave men, gallant riders, and splendid shots, were killed at Mulberry creek by the Indians. It was supposed they had made a determined fight, as a great many cartridge shells were found near their bodies, at the foot of a big cotton- wood tree. But it appears that was not so. I felt a deep interest in Marshall, because he had worked for me for several years; he was well acquainted with the sign language, and terribly stuck on the Indian ways-I reckon the savage maidens, particularly. He was so much of an Indian himself that he could don breech-clouts and live with them for months at a time; in fact, so firmly did he think he had ingratiated himself with them, that he be- lieved they would never kill him. Ed. Gurrier, a half- breed and scout, had often written him from Fort Lyon not to be too rash; that the Indians would kill anyone when they were at war; they knew no friends among the white men. Marshall and Davis were ordered to carry dispatches to General Sheridan, then in the field. They
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arrived at Camp Supply, where the general was at that time, delivered their dispatches, and were immediately sent back to Fort Dodge with another batch of dispatches and a small mail. When they had ridden to within twenty miles of Fort Dodge, they saw a band of Arapa- hoes and Cheyennes emerging from the brush on the Mulberry. They quickly hid themselves in a deep cut on the left of the trail as it descends the hill going south- west, before the Indians got a glimpse of them, as the ravine was deep enough to perfectly conceal both them and their horeses, and there they remained until, as they thought, the danger had passed.
Unfortunately for them, however, one of the savages, from some cause, had straggled a long way behind the main body. Still the scouts could have made their escape, but Marshall very foolishly dismounted, called to the Indian, and made signs for him to come to him; they would not hurt him; not to be afraid; they only wanted to know who were in the party, where they were going, and what they were after. Marshall imposed such im- plicit confidence in the Indians that he never believed for a moment that they would kill him, but he was mis- taken. The savage to whom Marshall had made the sign to come to him was scared to death; he shot off his pistol, which attracted the attention of the others, who immedi- ately came dashing back on the trail, and were right upon the scouts before the latter saw them. It was then a race for the friendly shelter of the timber on the creek bot- tom. But the fight was too unequal; the savages getting under just as good a cover as the scouts. The Indians fired upon them from every side until the unfortunate men were soon dispatched, and one of their horses killed; the other, a splendid animal, was captured by the Chey- ennes, but the Arapahoes claimed him because they said there were twice as many of them. Consequently, there arose a dispute over the ownership of the horse, when one of the more deliberate savages pulled out his six-shooter
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and shot the horse dead. Then he said: "Either side may take the horse that wants him." This is generally the method employed by the Indians to settle any dispute re- garding the ownership of live property.
As an example of the encounters the soldiers had so frequently with the Indians, in frontier days, there cannot be a better than that of the battle of Little Coon creek, in 1868. I did not take part in this fight, but I was at Fort Dodge at the time, knew the participants, and was present when the survivors entered the fort, after the fray was over. One of the scouts who took part, Mr. Lee Herron, still lives, at Saint Paul, Nebraska, and I am indebted to him for the following account of the fight and the copy of the accompanying song, which he com- piled for me, very recently, with his own hand.
FIGHT AT LITTLE COON CREEK
During 1868 the Indians were more troublesome than at any previous time in the history of the old Santa Fe Trail-so conceded by old plainsmen, scouts and Indian fighters at that time. It was a battle ground from old Fort Harker to Fort Lyon, or Bent's Old Fort at the mouth of the Picketware, near where it empties into the Arkansas River. The old Santa Fe Trail had different out- fitting points at the east, and at different periods. At one time it started at Westport, now Kansas City, at an earlier date at Independence, Missouri, and at one time- in the fore part of the nineteenth century-at St. Louis, Missouri; but from 1860 to 1867 the principal outfitting point was at Leavenworth, Kansas, and its principal des- tination in the west was Fort Union and Santa Fe, New Mexico. But Fort Dodge and vicinity was the central point from which most of the Indian raids culminated and depredations were committed. The Indians became so annoying in 1868 that the Barlow Sanderson stage line, running from Kansas City, Missouri, to Santa Fe, New Mexico, found it necessary to abandon the line as
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there were not enough soldiers to escort the stages through. Also the Butterfield stage line on the Sinoky Hill route was abandoned. Several of the southern tribes of Indians consisted of Kiowas, Comanches, Arapahoes, Cheyennes, Apaches and Dog Soldiers. The Dog Soldiers consisted of renegades of all the other tribes and were a desperate bunch, with Charley Bent as their leader. Also the Sioux, a northern tribe, was on the warpath and allied themselves with the southern tribes. In all some five thousand or more armed Indians joined forces to drive the white people off the plains, and it almost looked for a time as though they would succeed, for they were in earnest and desperate. Had they been better armed, our losses would have been much heavier than they were as they greatly outnumbered us. It was a common occur- rence for us to fight them one to ten, and often one to twenty or more, but the Indians frequently had to depend entirely upon their bows and arrows, as at times they had no ammunition. This placed them at a disadvantage at long range as their bows and arrows were not efficient over two hundred feet, but at close range, from twenty- five to one hundred feet, their arrows were as deadly as bullets, if not more so. So after the stage line was dis- continued, a detail was made of the most fearless and determined men of the soldiers stationed at Fort Dodge, as a sort of pony express, which was in commission at night time, as it would be impossible to travel in the day- time with less than a troop of cavalry or a company of infantry, and they had no assurance of getting through without losing a good part of the men, or perhaps the entire troop, and the entire troop would stand a big chance of being massacred. Indeed, in the fall of 1868- October, I think-I joined Tom Wallace's scouts and went with the Seventh United States Cavalry and several companies of infantry, Wallace's scouts and a company of citizen scouts, with California Joe in command, all un- der command of General Alfred Sully, a noted Indian
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fighter of the early days. The command started south, crossing the Arkansas River just above Fort Dodge. From the time we left the Arkansas River it was a constant skirmish until we reached the Wichita mountains, the winter home of the southern tribes. After we got into the mountains, the Indians crowded us so hard that the whole command was compelled to retreat, and had not the com- mand formed in a hollow square, with all non-combat- ants in the center, it might have proved disastrous. As it was, a number were killed and some were taken prisoners and burned at the stake and terribly tortured. A very interesting article could be written about this expedition, and I think but a very little is known of it, as there is but a sentence relating to it in history.
Fort Dodge was the pivot and distributing base of supplies in 1868, and thrilling events were taking place all the time. All trains were held up and some captured and burned, and all who were with the train were killed or captured, and the captured were subjected to the most excruciating torture and abuse. I saw one party which was massacred up west of Dodge. Not a soul was left to tell who they were or where they were going, and no doubt their friends looked for them for many years, and at last gave up in despair. I served in the Civil War in Company C Eighty-Third Pennsylvania Volunteers, and we sustained the heaviest losses, numerically of any regiment in the entire Union army, except the Fifth New Hampshire. This is according to war records compiled by Colonel Fox. But there were many times along the old Santa Fe trail where the percentage of losses was greater than in the Civil War. However, there is no record kept of it that I am aware of. Of course in these fights there were but a few men engaged, where in the Civil War there were tens of thousands and many thou- sands lost their lives, and a few hundred men who lost their lives out on the great plains was scarcely known
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except to those in the vicinity-hundreds of miles from civilization.
On the night of September first 1868, I was coming from Fort Larned with mail and dispatches when I met a mule team and government wagon loaded with wood, going to Big Coon creek, forty miles east of Fort Dodge, as there was a small sod fort located there, garrisoned with a sergeant and ten men. These few men could hold this place against twenty times their number as it was all earth and sod, with a heavy clay roof, and port-holes all around, and they could kill off the Indians about as fast as they would come up, as long as their ammunition held out. But they were not safe outside a minute. They had been depending on buffalo chips for fuel, as there was no other fuel available, and as soon as the men would attempt to go out to gather buffalo chips, the Indians lying in little ravines of which there was a number close by, would let a shower of arrows or bullets into them. The reason why the men with the wagon whom I have men- tioned were going to Big Coon Creek was to take them wood. I told the boys who were with the wagon to under no consideration leave Big Coon creek, or Fort Coon as we called it, until a wagon train came by, and if they would not wait for a wagon train, by all means to wait until it got good and dark, as the Indians are inclined to be suspicious at night time, and not so apt to attack as in daytime. The men, whose names were Jimmy Goodman, Company B, Eleventh United States Cavalry, Hartman and Tolen, Company F, Third United States Infantry, and Jack O'Donald, Company A, Third United States Infantry, imagined I was over-cautious, and started back the afternoon of September fourth, 1868.
I, after parting with them, continued on towards Fort Dodge, where I arrived just before daylight, the morning of September second. After lying down and having a much needed sleep, and rest, I, in the evening, went up to Tapan's sutler store. I noticed the Indian's signals of
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smoke in different directions, and I knew this foreboded serious trouble. They signaled by fire at night and smoke by day, and could easily communicate with one another fifty or sixty miles. I had not been at the sutler store long, where I was in conversation with some of the scouts. There were a number of famous scouts at Fort Dodge at that time consisting of such men as California Joe, Wild Bill Hickok, Apache Bill, Bill Wilson and quite a number of others whose names I have forgotten, but I noticed the enlisted men had to stand the brunt of the work. I never could understand why this was and it is a mystery to me, except those scouts of fame were too precious, and soldiers didn't count for much for there were more of them. While I was standing talking, an orderly came up to me and said the commanding officer wanted to see me at once. It was nearly night at this time. I at once reported to the commanding officer. He informed me that he wanted me to select a reliable man and be ready to start with dispatches for Fort Larned, seventy-five miles east on the wet route, or sixty-five miles east on the dry route. As I had just come in that morning, I thought it peculiar he did not select some of those noble spirits I had just left at the sutler's store, but it was possible he was saving them up for extreme emergency, but I could not see from the outlook of the surroundings as the emergency would be any more acute than at the present time, as the terms of the dispatch we were to take, if I remember right, were for reinforcements. I selected a man of Company B, Troop Seven, United States Cavalry, named Paddy Boyle, who had no superior for bravery and determination when in dangerous quarters, on the whole Santa Fe Trail. Paddy sleeps under the sod of old Kentucky. For many years he had no peer and few equals as a staunch, true friend and brave man. As luck would have it on this night Boyle selected one of the swiftest and best winded horses at the fort, and only for that I would not have been permitted to ever see Fort Dodge again, for that
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horse, as later will be seen, saved our lives. We had our canteens filled with government whisky before we started. as a prevention for rattlesnake bites, as rattlesnakes were thick in those days, or any other serious event which might occur, and often did occur in those strange days on the Great Plains.
I felt a premonition unusual and Boyle did too, and several of our friends came and bade us good-bye, which was rather an unusual occurrence. I don't think the com- manding officer thought we would ever get through, for Indian night signals were going up in all directions, which indicated that they were very restless.
When we arrived near Little Coon creek we heard firing and yelling in front of us. We went down into a ravine leading in the direction we were going, cautiously approaching nearer where the firing was going on, and made the discovery that the Indians had surrounded what we supposed to be a wagon train. We knew somebody was in trouble and could at this time see objects seated all around on the nearby plains, which proved to be Indians, but as yet we had not been seen by the Indians or, if they did see us, they took us for some of their own party as it was night. They were so busy with the wagon train that they didn't know we were whites until we went dashing through their midst, whooping and yelling like Comanches, and firing right and left. Instead of being a wagon train as we thought it was, it proved to be the party we last met at or near Big Coon creek with the wood wagon, and we arrived just in time to save them from being massacred. At this time the Indians made a desperate charge, but were repulsed and driven back in good style. When I looked the ground over and saw what a poor place it was to make a fight against such odds, I knew that as soon as it got daylight we were sure to lose our scalps, and that at any moment they might get in some good shots on one of their desperate charges, and disable or kill all of us. I suggested that either Boyle
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or myself try and cut his way through the Indians and go to the fort for assistance. As Boyle had the best horse in the outfit-a fine dapple-grey, the same horse prev- iously mentioned in this article-Boyle said he would make the attempt.
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