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 9
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He took a sip from his canteen and then handed it to me, saying we would probably need it more than he would, as he didn't propose to be taken alive and that if he got through he could drink at the other end of the line. It always seemed to me this noble horse understood the sit- uation and knew what was wanted of him. Our horses had a terrible dread of Indians. When Boyle started it needed no effort to induce the noble dapple-grey to go, for he darted away like a shot out of a gun. When Boyle left us, he had to go down in a deep ravine which was the bed of Little Coon creek, and where the main trail weaved to the right for a distance of perhaps two hundred yards in order to again get out of the ravine, as the banks were very steep and not practicable to go straight across. At this time some of the Indians attempted to head him off, and did so far as following the main trail was concerned, as I had a fairly good view of the top of the hill where Boyle should come out. At this time several shots were fired at Boyle, and not seeing him come out I supposed he was killed and told the men so, and there was no possible chance of us ever getting out that I could see. Up to this time we had been behind the wagon, but the Indians were circling all around us, and I could see we had to get into more secure shelter as all the protection we had was the wagon which was very poor protection from arrows and bullets. Within a short distance of us there was a deep buffalo wallow. When the Indians had quieted down a little, we, by strenuous efforts, pushed the wagon so it stood over the buffalo wallow. After getting into the wallow we found conditions much improved so far as shelter from the firing was concerned and if our ammuni- tion was more plentiful we would have felt much more
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encouraged, but we knew unless relief came before day- light they would get us. But I will mention a little mat- ter that perhaps many of the good people of Kansas would not approve of, as Kansas is a prohibition state. The canteen full of whisky did a lot to keep up our spirits. Occasionally I would give each one a small amount and did not neglect myself. This little bit of stimulant, under these extremely unpleasant conditions had a very good effect, and I believe our aim was more steady and effective.
The Indians charged repeatedly, uttering the most blood curdling yells. Most of the time they would be on the side of their horses so we could not see them, but hit- ting their ponies, the bullets would go through and occasionally get one of them. They several times charged up within a few feet of the wagon, but the boys were calm and took deadly aim and would drive them back every time. There were some of their ponies lying dead close to the wagon. It was seldom the Indians would make such desperate and determined efforts when there was nothing to gain except to get a few scalps, but I think at that time, in fact, at all times when they were on the warpath, a scalp-lock was more desirable to an Indian warrior than anything else their imagination could con- ceive. It was the ones who got the most scalps that were the most honored, and promotion to chiefs depended on the amount of scalps secured while out on expeditions on the warpath. I have known Indians to be cornered when they would make the most desperate fight, and fight until all were killed.
At this time our ammunition was getting low and we saw we couldn't hold out much longer. Goodman had been wounded seven times by arrows and bullets, Jack O'Donald had been struck with a tomahawk and received other wounds, Nolan was wounded with arrows and bul- lets. This left Hartman and myself to stand off the Indians, and towards the last Hartman was wounded but
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DODGE CITY IN 1872-SOUTH SIDE
not seriously disabling him. I would load my Remington revolver and hand it to Nolan, who was obliged to fire with his left hand, his right arm being shattered. The Indians charged right up to the wagons more than once. At one time O'Donald had a hand to hand encounter with one, and was struck on the head with a tomahawk. It was only by the most desperate exertions that anyone escaped. The party were entirely within their power more than once, but they would cease action to carry off their dead-which lost the Indians many a fight, as they thought if one of their number lost his scalp he could not enter the Happy Hunting Grounds.
Finally we saw the Indians apparently getting ready for another rush from a different direction, fully expect- ing that they would get us if they did. At about the same time I noticed a body of horsemen coming out of a ravine in another direction. We supposed this was an- other tactful dodge of the Indians and they would come at us from two ways. At this time we hadn't any prospect or hope of saving our lives. Had we had plenty of am- munition we could have probably held them off for awhile, but ammunition we did not have, perhaps not over a dozen rounds. It was understood by all of us that we would not be taken alive, but that each one's last shot was to be used on himself.
What seemed extremely mysterious was when the body of horsemen, just previously mentioned, came out of the ravine, the men on the horses seemed to be dressed in white, and as they came on to high ground, deployed a skirmish line. I had seen Indians form a line of battle occasionally, but it was not common for them to do so. After they had advanced within three hundred or four hundred feet of us we were still undecided who they were, but they acted and had more the appearance of white men than Indians. But relief we hadn't the least hope of. It was hard to realize that any assistance could possibly reach us, as there were no scouting parties out that we
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knew of, and we had every reason to believe Boyle was killed and never reached the fort. This body of men dressed in white halted about three hundred feet from us and stood there like a lot of ghosts. (The reader must remember this was in the night time and we could not make out objects plainly. Had it been daytime we could of course readily have seen who they were).
The suspense at this time was becoming very acute. I told the men I would risk one shot at them and end the suspense. But at this Goodman raised his head and look- ing in the direction of the horsemen remarked, "I believe they are our own men; don't fire." I was about of the same opinion, but the Indians were always resorting to some trickery. I had about made up my mind they were trying to deceive us and make us think they were white men. Finally one of them hollered, speaking in English, that they were friends. But that didn't satisfy me as the renegade Bent boys were with the Dog Soldiers and could speak good English, and were always resorting to every conceivable form of fraudulent devices to get the advant- age of white people. They had been the means of causing the deaths of scores of people in this way.
At this time each one of our party was prepared to take his own life if necessary, rather than to be taken prisoner, for being captured only meant burning at the stake, with the most brutal torture conceivable. We knew we did not have sufficient ammunition to resist another charge, and if we fired what little ammunition we had we would have none to take our own lives with. I hollered to one of the horsemen for one of them to advance. At once a horseman came riding up with his carbine held over his head, which those days was a friendly sign. After he came up within about fifty feet, I recognized Paddy Boyle, as though he had risen from the dead. The whole command advanced then and it was a squadron of the Seventh United States cavalry. The joy experienced in being relieved from our perilous position may be imagin-
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ed. Shaking hands and cheering and congratulations were in full force. Soon after the cavalry arrived, it might have been an hour, another command of infantry came in on a run with wagons and ambulances, and accompanying them was a government doctor; I think his name was Degraw, post surgeon, and a noble man he was. He had the wounded gently cared for and placed in the ambu- lances and they received the kindest of attention and care in the hospital at Fort Dodge until able to be around, but I don't think any of them ever recovered fully.
It might be of interest to the reader to know why these horsemen were dressed in white, as I have previously mentioned. It was an ironclad custom in those strenuous and thrilling times for every man to take his gun to bed with him or "lay on their arms," as the old army term gives it, loaded and ready for action at a moment's notice, with their cartridge box and belt within their reach. The men those days were issued white cotton flannel under- clothes, and as the weather was warm, no time was taken to put on their outside clothes, but every man immediately rushed to the stables at the first sound of the bugle which sounded to horses, and mounted at one blast. When this call was sounded it was known that an extreme emergency was at hand and men's lives in jeopardy. This white underclothing accounts for the mysterious look of the troopers when they made their appearance at Little Coon Creek, and the mysterious actions of the squadron in not advancing up to us when they first arrived, can be ex- plained that they did not know the situation of affairs, as there was no firing at that particular time, and they were using extreme caution for fear they would run into an ambush, of part of the Indians. I think, if I remember rightly, there were four Indians who followed Boyle right up to the east picket line at the fort, and had he had to go a mile farther he never could have made it to the fort. The noble dapple-grey horse, if I remember rightly, died from the effects of the fierce run he made to save our lives.
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General Alfred Sully who was at that time in com- mand of the troops in the Department, and who was an old and successful Indian fighter, issued an order com- plimenting the party on their heroic and desperate de- fense that they made and also for mine and Boyle's action in charging through the Indians to their assistance. As there were scores of little skirmishes, and some big ones taking place on the old Santa Fe trail all the time at some portion of it, it was generally conceded that the Little Coon Creek engagement was the most desperate fight for anyone to come out alive. There were probably as desperate ones fought, but none ever lived to tell it. This is the only instance I know of where a General United States Officer had an order issued and read publicly to the troops of the different forts in the Department, com- mending the participants of a small party in an Indian fight for herioc action. How any of the party ever escaped is a mystery to me today and always has been. It was reported after peace was declared that Satanta, head chief of the Kiowas, admitted that in the Little Coon Creek fight the Indian warrior losses were twenty-two killed be- sides a number wounded. I did not count the number of times the wagon was struck with arrows and bullets, but parties who said they did count them reported the wagon was struck five hundred times, and I have not a doubt that this is true, for arrows were sticking out like quills on the back of a porcupine, and the sideboards and end of the wagon was perforated with bullets. The mules were riddled with bullets. Two pet prairie dogs which the boys had in the wagon in a little box were both killed. The general order which was issued by General Alfred Sully, only mentions four Indians being killed, but these being left on the ground were all that could be seen. It is well known among old Indian fighters that Indians on the war-path and losing their warriors in battle will always carry off their dead if possible. It is very often their custom to tie their buffalo hide lariats
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around their body or connect with a belt and the other end fastened to their saddle when going into battle, and then if they are shot off their ponies, their ponies were trained to drag them off, or at least until some of their brother warriors came to his assistance, then two would come up, one on each side, on a dead run, reach down and grab him. If he was attached to a lariat, they would cut it in an instant and off they would go, but it was a common thing for the rescuers to get shot in their herioc efforts to save their comrades. I have witnessed proceed- ings of this kind a number of times, and there have been many instances where two or three warriors would be shot trying to rescue a comrade.
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The writer saw the above-mentioned wagon after it was brought into Fort Dodge, and it was literally filled with arrows and bullet holes, and the bottom of the wagon bed was completely covered with blood as were the ends and sides where the wounded leaned over and up against them. I never saw a butcher's wagon that was any bloodier.
Mr. Herron concludes the story of the fight as fol- lows:
SONG
Calm and bright shone the sun on the morning,
That four men from Fort Dodge marched away, With food and supplies for their comrades-
They were to reach Big Coon Creek that day; "Tis a day we shall all well remember,
That gallant and brave little fight,
How they struggled and won it so bravely-
Though wounded, still fought through the night. Chorus:
So let's give three cheers for our comrades, That gallant and brave little band, Who, against odds, would never surrender,
But bravely by their arms did they stand.
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Fifty Indians surprised them while marching, Their scalps tried to get, but in vain; The boys repulsed them at every endeavor,
They were men who were up to their game.
"Though the red-skins are ten times our number, We coolly on each other rely."
Said the corporal in charge of the party,
"We'll conquer the foe or we'll die!"
Still they fought with a wit and precision; Assistance at last came to hand,
Two scouts on the action appearing, To strengthen the weak little band. Then one charged right clear through the Indians, To Fort Dodge for help he did go,
While the balance still kept up the fighting, And gallantly beat off the foe.
A squadron of cavalry soon mounted, Their comrades to rescue and save.
General Sully, he issued an order, Applauding their conduct so brave. And when from their wounds they recover, Many years may they live to relate,
The fight that occured in September, In the year eighteen sixty-eight.
This song was composed by Fred Haxby, September, 1868, on the desperate fight at Little Coon creek, about thirty miles east of Fort Dodge, on the dry route, Sep- tember second, 1868. Fred Haxby, or Lord Haxby, as he was called, was from England, and at the time of the fight was at Fort Dodge.
The song gives fifty Indians comprising the attacking party. This was done to make the verses rhyme, as I am sure there were many more than this.
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The tune this song was sung by, nearly a half a century ago, was the same as the one which went with the song commonly known at that time, "When Sherman Marched Down to the Sea." Not, "Sherman's March Through Georgia." "Sherman's March Through Geor- gia," and "Sherman's March to the Sea," were different songs and different airs.
The author of this work is further indebted to Mr. Herron for another interesting story of soldier life in the wild days. It runs as follows:
CAPTURING THE BOX FAMILY
Capturing the Box family from the Indians was one of the interesting events which took place at Fort Dodge, although the rescue of the two older girls took place south of Fort Dodge near the Wichita mountains, per- haps near two hundred miles. But the idea of getting the girls away from the Indians originated at Fort Dodge, with Major Sheridan, who, at the time, October, 1866, was in command of the fort. At this time, the troops garrisoning the fort consisted of Company A, Third United States infantry, of which I was a member, holding a non-commissioned officer's rank.
On a sunshiny day about the first of October, 1866, the sentinel reported what appeared to be a small party of mounted men, approaching the fort from the south side of the Arkansas river, perhaps two miles away, and just coming into sight out of a range of bluffs which ran parallel with the river. They proved to be Indians and the glittering ornaments with which each was deco- rated could be seen before either the Indians or their ponies. After the Indians came down to the river and were part way across, a guard, consisting of a corporal and two men, met them at the north bank of the river, just below the fort, and halted them. It was noticed they carried a pole to which was attached an old piece of what
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had one time been a white wagon cover, but which at this time was a very dirty white. This was to repre- sent a flag of truce and a peaceful mission, which idea they had got from the whites, though the Indians were very poor respectors of flags of truce. When approached with one by white men, they, on several occasions, killed the bearers of the flag, scalped them, and used their scalps to adorn their wigwams. They considered the flag a kind of joke and rated the bearer as an easy mark.
The guard learned from the Indians that they were Kiowas, old chief Satanta's tribe. Fred Jones, who was Indian interpreter at Fort Dodge, was requested to come down and ascertain what was wanted The Indians in- formed Jones that they had two pale-faced squaws whom they wished to trade for guns, ammunition, coffee, sugar, flour-really, they wanted about all there was in the fort, as they set a very high value on the two girls.
By instructions of the commanding officer, they were permitted to come into the fort to talk the matter over. After passing the pipe around and each person in council taking a puff, which was the customary manner of pro- cedure, they proceeded to negotiate a "swap," as the In- dians termed it. The Indians wanted everything in sight, but a trade or swap was finally consummated by promis- ing the Indians some guns, powder and lead, some coffee, sugar, flour and a few trinkets, consisting mainly of block tin, which was quite a bright, glittering tint. This was used to make finger rings, earrings and bracelets for the squaws. The bracelets were worn on both ankles and arms of the squaws and, when fitted out with their buck- skin leggings and short dresses, covered with beads, they made a very attractive appearance.
The Indians knew they had the advantage and drove a sharp bargain-at least, they thought they did. They insisted on the goods being delivered to their camp near the Wichita mountains, which was quite an undertaking,
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considering that a white man had never been in that sec- tion except as a prisoner, a renegade, or possibly an in- terpreter. Two wagons and an ambulance were ordered to be got ready, and the wagons were loaded. Our party consisted of Lieutenant Heselberger of Company A. Third United States infantry, an old experienced Indian fighter, one non-commissioned officer, (myself), and seven pri- vates, with Fred Jones as interpreter. We crossed the river about a half mile below Fort Dodge and took a southerly course, traveling for days before we came to the Kiowa camp. One evening, just as the sun was going down, we came to a high hill, and as we gained the crest, going in a southeasterly direction, I witnessed the most beautiful sight I ever saw.
The whole Kiowa tribe, several thousands in number, were camped on the banks of a beautiful sheet of water, half a mile away. The sun setting and the sun's rays reflecting on the camp, gave it a fascinating appearance. Hundreds of young warriors, mounted on their beautiful ponies, and all dressed in their wild, barbaric costume, bedecked with glittering ornaments, were drilling and going through artistic maneuvers on the prairie, making a scene none of us will ever forget. There were about three hundred lodges, all decorated as only an Indian could decorate them, being painted with many gaudy colors. Many papooses were strapped upon the more docile ponies, and, under the guidance of some warriors, were getting their first initiation into the tactics neces- sary to become a warrior; while squaws were engaged in tanning buffalo skins and going through the different movements necessary to a well-organized wild Indian camp. Small fires were in commission in different parts of the camp, with little ringlets of smoke ascending from them, which, in the calm, lovely evening, made an exceed- ingly interesting scene, while off on the distant hills thousands of buffalo were peacefully grazing.
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Right here let me say that I have seen the Russian Cossacks on the banks of the river Volga, in southern Russia, and, while they have the reputation of being the finest and most graceful riders in the world, they did not compare, for fine horsemanship, with the American In- dian of fifty years ago.
As we halted and took in this beautiful panorama, a bugle call sounded, clear and distinct, in the Kiowa camp. Three or four hundred young warriors mounted their ponies, the charge was sounded, and they came dashing towards us. On they came, keeping as straight a line as any soldiers I ever saw. When about three hundred feet from us and just as we were reaching for our carbines (for everything had the appearance of a massacre of our little party, and we had determined when starting on this venturesome errand that if the Indians showed treachery, we would inflict all the punishment on them we possibly could before they got us, and would shoot ourselves rather than be captured alive; for being captured meant burning at the stake and the most ex- cruciating torture), the bugle sounded again, the Indians made a beautiful move and filed to right and left of us, half on each flank, and escorted us to their camp which was but a short distance away. The bugler was a pro- fessional but we never knew who he was as he never showed himself close enough to us to be recognizable, but he was supposed to be some renegade. On other occasions, when a battle was going on, these bugle calls were heard. At the battle of the Arickaree where Roman Nose, head chief of the Cheyennes attacked Forsythe's scouts, the bugle was heard sounding the calls all through the battle.
The night we arrived at the Kiowa camp we were located on the banks of a creek. The young warriors commenced to annoy us in all manner of ways, trying to exasperate us to resent their annoyances so they could
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have an excuse to make an attack on us. At this time, Fred Jones and Lieutenant Heselberger, who had been up to Satanta's lodge, came to our camp and, seeing the taunts and annoyances to which we were being subjected, admonished us not to resent them, for if we did the whole party would be massacred or made prisoners and burned at the stake. Jones, the interpreter, immediately went back to Satanta and reported the situation. Satanta, at once, had a guard of old warriors thrown around us and thus saved us from further annoyances. Not that Satanta was any too good or had any love for us that he should protect us, but at that immediate period it was not policy for him to make any rash movements.
All night long the Indian drums were continually thumping and the Indians were having a big dance in their council chamber, which was always a custom, among the wild Indian tribes, when any unusual event was taking place. The next morning we were up bright and early, teams were hitched to the wagons and pro- ceeded to the center of the Indian camp in front of the council chamber, where the goods were unloaded. The two young girls were then turned over to us by one of the chiefs. They were a pitiful looking sight. They had been traded from one chief to another for nearly a year, and had been subjected to the most cruel and degrading treatment. The eldest girl gave birth to a half-breed a short time after their rescue. One of the girls was seven- teen and the other fourteen years old. They had been captured near the Texas border and had been with the Indians some time, according to the story told us. The father, a man by the name of Box, the mother, and their four children were returning to their home, when they were overtaken by a band of Indians. The Indians killed Mr. Box because he refused to surrender; the youngest child was taken by the heels and its brain beaten? out against a tree; the mother and three children were taken back to the main camp. The mother and youngest child
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were taken to the Apache camp, an Apache chief pur- chasing them from the Kiowas. We felt confident that, later on, we would get possession of the mother and youngest child, for the Apaches would want to trade too, when they learned how the Kiowas had succeeded. But the articles which were traded to the Kiowas were of very poor quality. The guns were old, disused muzzle- loading rifles; the powder had but little strength, having lost its strength and a man would be quite safe, fifty feet away from it when discharged; the lead was simply small iron bars, with lead coating; but the Indians seemed to think it was all right, as they didn't do much kicking, but people who, in a trade, would take a ten-cent "shin- plaster" in preference to a twenty-dollar bill, were easy marks to deal with.
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