A DAY OF ANXIETY AND TERROR.
When the air became milder it was a delight, after our long housing,
to be able to dawdle on the piazza. The valley below us was beginning
to show a tinge of verdure. Several hundred mules belonging to the
supply-wagon train dotted the turf and nibbled as best they could the
sprouting grass. Half a dozen citizens lounged on the sod, sleepily
guarding the herd, for these mules were hired by the Government from a
contractor. One morning we were walking back and forth, looking, as we
never tired of doing, down the long, level plain, when we were startled
by shouts. We ran to the edge of the piazza, and saw the prisoners,
who had been working outside the post, and the guard who had them in
charge, coming in at a double-quick. A hatless and breathless herder
dashed up to the officer on an unsaddled mule. With blanched face and
protruding eyeballs he called out that the Indians were running off the
herd.
The general came hastily out, just in time to see a cloud of dust
rising through a gap in the bluffs, marking the direction taken by
the stampeded mules. Instantly he shouted with his clear voice to the
bugler to sound the call, “Boots and saddles,” and keep it up until he
told him to stop. The first notes of the trumpet had hardly sounded
before the porches of the company quarters and the parade were alive
with men. Every one, without stopping to question, rushed from the
barracks and officers’ quarters to the stables. The men threw their
saddles on their horses and galloped out to the parade-ground. Soldiers
who were solely on garrison duty, and to whom no horse was assigned,
stole whatever ones they could find, even those of the messengers tied
to the hitching-posts. Others vaulted on to mules barebacked. Some
were in jackets, others in their flannel shirt-sleeves. Many were
hatless, and occasionally a head was tied up with a handkerchief. It
was anything but a military-looking crowd, but every one was ready for
action, and such spirited-looking creatures it is rarely one’s lot to
see. Finding the reason for the hasty summons when they all gathered
together, they could hardly brook even a few moments’ delay.
The general did not tarry to give any but brief directions. He detailed
an officer to remain in charge of the garrison, and left him some
hurried instructions. He stopped to caution me again not to go outside
the post, and with a hasty good-bye flung himself into the saddle and
was off. The command spurred their horses towards the opening in the
bluff, not a quarter of a mile away, through which the last mules
had passed. In twenty minutes from the first alarm the garrison was
emptied, and we women stood watching the cloud of dust that the hoofs
of the regimental horses had stirred as they hurled themselves through
the cleft in the hills.
We had hardly collected our senses before we found that we were almost
deserted. As a rule, there are enough soldiers on garrison duty, who
do not go on scouts, to protect the post, but in the mad haste of
the morning, and impelled by indignant fury at having the herd swept
away from under their very noses as it were, all this home-guard had
precipitately left without permission. Fortunately for them, and his
own peace of mind regarding our safety, the general did not know of
this until he returned. Besides, the officers never dreamed the pursuit
would last for more than a mile or so, as they had been so quick in
preparing to follow.
After our gasping and wild heart-beating had subsided a little, we
realized that, in addition to our anxiety for those who had just left
us, we were in peril ourselves. The women, with one instinct, gathered
together. Though Indians rarely attack a post directly, the pickets
that were stationed on the low hills at the rear of the garrison had
been fired upon previously. We also feared that the buildings would be
set on fire by the wily, creeping savages. It was even thought that
the running off of the herd was but a ruse to get the garrison out, in
order to attack the post. Of course we knew that only a portion of the
Indians had produced the stampede, and we feared that the remainder
were waiting to continue the depredations, and were aware of our
depleted numbers.
Huddled together in an inner room, we first tried to devise schemes for
secreting ourselves. The hastily-built quarters had then no cellars.
How we regretted that a cave had not been prepared in the hill back
of us for hiding the women in emergencies. Our means of escape by the
river were uncertain, as the ferry-boat was in a shocking condition;
besides, the citizens in charge would very naturally detain the boat
upon some pretext on the safe side of the river. Finally, nervous and
trembling over these conferences, we returned to the piazza, and tried
to think that it was time for the return of the regiment. Our house
being the last in the line, and commanding an extended view of the
valley, we kept our lookout there. Each of us took turns in mounting
the porch railing, and, held there in place by the others, fixed the
field-glass on the little spot of earth through which the command had
vanished. With a plaintive little laugh, one of our number called
out the inquiry that has symbolized all beleaguered women from time
immemorial, “Sister Anne, do you see any one coming?”
All of us scanned the horizon unflaggingly. We knew the Indian mode
of taking observation. They pile a few stones on the brow of the hill
after dark; before dawn they creep up stealthily from the farther
side, and hiding behind the slight protection, watch all day long with
unwearying patience. These little picket posts of theirs were scattered
all along the bluffs. We scarcely allowed ourselves to take our eyes
off them. Once in a while one of our group on watch called out that
something was moving behind the rocks. Chairs were brought out and
placed beside her, in order that a second pair of eyes might confirm
the statement. This threw our little shivering group into new panics.
There was a window in the servants’ room at the rear of the house, to
and from which we ascended and descended all day long. I do not think
the actual fear of death was thought of so much as the all-absorbing
terror of capture. Our regiment had rescued some white women from
captivity in Kansas, and we never forgot their stories. One of our
number became so convinced that their fate awaited us, that she called
a resolute woman one side to implore her to promise that, when the
Indians came into the post, she would put a bullet through her heart,
before she carried out her determination to shoot herself. We sincerely
discussed whether, in extreme danger, we could be counted upon to load
and fire a carbine.
It would be expected that army women would know a great deal about
fire-arms; I knew but few who did. I never even went into the corner
of my husband’s library, where he kept his stand of unloaded arms,
if I could help it. I am compelled to confess that the holster of a
pistol gave me a shiver. One of our ladies, however, had a little of
the Mollie Pitcher spirit. She had shot at a mark, and she promised
to teach us to put in the cartridges and discharge the piece. We were
filled with envy because she produced a tiny Remington pistol that
heretofore she had carried in her pocket when travelling in the States.
It was not much larger than a lead-pencil, and we could not help
doubting its power to damage. She did not insist that it would kill,
but even at such a time we had to laugh at the vehement manner in which
she declared that she could disable the leg of an enemy. She seemed to
think that sufficient pluck would be left to finish him afterwards.
The officer who had remained in command was obliged to see that the
few troopers left were armed, and afterwards he visited the pickets.
Then he came to us and tried to quiet our fears, and from that time his
life became a burden.
We questioned twenty times his idea as to _where_ he thought the
command had gone, _when_ it would come back, and such other aimless
queries as only the ingenuity of frightened women can devise. He was
driven almost desperate. In assuring us that he hoped there was no
immediate danger, he asked us to remember that the infantry post was
near enough to give assistance if we needed it. Alas, that post seemed
miles away, and we believed the gulleys that intervened between the two
garrisons would be filled with Indians. After a prolonged season of
this experience, the officer tried to escape and go to his quarters. We
were really so anxious and alarmed that he had not the heart to resist
our appeals to him to remain near.
And so that long day dragged away. About five o’clock in the afternoon
a faint haze arose on the horizon. We could hardly restrain our
uneasy feet. We wanted to run up over the bluff to discover what it
meant. We regretted that we had given our word of honor that we would
not leave the limits of the post. Soon after the mules appeared,
travelling wearily back through the same opening in the bluffs through
which so many hours before they had rushed headlong. We were bitterly
disappointed to find only a few soldiers driving them, and they gave
but little news. When the regiment overtook the stock these men had
been detailed to return with the recaptured animals to the garrison;
the command had pushed on in pursuit of the Indians.
The night set in, and still we were in suspense. We made a poor attempt
to eat dinner; we knew that none of the regiment had taken rations with
them, and several of the officers had not even breakfasted. There was
nothing for us to do but to remain together for the night.
From this miserable frame of mind we were thrown into a new excitement,
but fortunately not of fear: we heard the sound of the band ringing out
on the still evening air. Every woman was instantly on the piazza. From
an entirely different direction from that in which they had left, the
regiment appeared, marching to the familiar notes of “Garryowen.”
Such a welcome as met them! The relief from the anxiety of that
unending day was inexpressible. When the regiment was nearing the post,
the general had sent in an orderly to bring the band out to meet them.
He cautioned him to secrecy, because he wished us to have a joyous
release from the suspense he knew we had endured.
The regiment had ridden twenty miles out, as hard as the speed of the
horses would allow. The general, and one other officer mounted like
himself on a Kentucky thorough-bred, found themselves far in advance,
and almost up to some of the Indians. They seeing themselves so closely
pressed, resorted to the cunning of their race to escape. They threw
themselves from their ponies, and plunged into the underbrush of a
deep ravine where no horse could follow. The ponies were captured, but
it was useless to try any further pursuit. All the horses were fagged,
and the officers and men suffering from the want of food and water.
When the herders were questioned next day, it was found that the
Indians had started the stampede by riding suddenly up from the river
where they had been concealed. Uttering the wildest yells, they each
swung a buffalo robe about the ears of the easily excited mules.
An astonishing collection of maimed and halt appeared the next morning;
neither men nor officers had been in the saddle during the winter.
This sudden ride of so many miles, without preparation, had so bruised
and stiffened their joints and flesh that they could scarcely move
naturally. When they sat down it was with the groans of old men. When
they rose they declared they would stand perpetually until they were
again limber and their injuries healed.
As to the officer who had been left behind, he insisted that their fate
was infinitely preferable to his. We heard that he said to the others
in confidence, that should he ever be detailed to command a garrison
where agitated women were left, he would protest and beg for active
duty, no matter if his life itself were in jeopardy.