CAPTURE AND RELEASE OF JOE BROWN'S INDIAN FAMILY.
We knew Major Brown well. He was known to nearly all early settlers,
because he came to Minnesota when the white people were very few. He felt
that it was not well for man to live alone, a white man especially, and
so he took unto himself a dusky bride. He was in government employ and a
big white chief among his new found wife's people and to whom he was a
friend.
As he grew in years his family grew also, and the dusky mother's
household cares increased. Yes, they lived in a fine stone house,
elegantly furnished, down on the Yellow Medicine below the agency,
but which came in the way of his red brother's vengeance, and it was
destroyed. The Brown family lived happily in their rather modern home.
The Major attended to his official duties, and the wife and boys
cultivated the land; but in common with all the others during these sad
days, their only safety was in flight. Their home, including books and
furniture, was totally destroyed. The father was a fugitive and his
family prisoners. They did not suffer as some others did, because the
wife and mother was a full blood and was related to the Sisseton tribe
and had powerful friends among them. Their capture, captivity, and final
release, as related by Samuel Brown, the fifteen-year-old boy, is an
interesting recital. He says:
On Monday, the 18th day of August, I went to Yellow Medicine with my
sister Ellen upon an errand. We met on the way an Indian named Little
Dog, who told us that the Indians had killed a family at Beaver Creek,
and were going to kill the whites as far as St. Paul, and that we must
not tell any one about it, or they would kill us. He said he warned us
at the risk of his own life. This was about noon. Soon after our arrival
at Yellow Medicine an old squaw told us that we had better be getting
away, as there would be trouble. We asked many of the other Indians
about it, but they said they had heard of nothing of the kind. Another
squaw afterward told us that she thought it must be the Yanktonais
who were coming down to take the agency. We left them about half-past
three o'clock. George Gleason had just left with Mrs. Wakefield and her
children for below. When we reached home we told mother what we heard.
She was very much scared and did not sleep any that night. About four
o'clock next morning I heard some one outside calling in a loud voice
a number of times for my mother, and then I heard Charles Blair, my
brother-in-law (a white man), ask what was the matter, and the man, who
was a half-breed named Royer, said that four hundred Yanktonais had
arrived at the upper agency and were killing everybody. We then became
very much alarmed, and had our oxen yoked at once to the wagon, put
everything in we could, and started for Fort Ridgely. We had all the
neighbors warned, and they went with us. They had three wagons, with
ox teams. Four or five white men overtook us on the road, among them
Garvey's cook (Garvey was the trader wounded at the agency, and who
afterward died at Hutchinson.)
When we had gone about five miles we saw some men two miles ahead, near
the bank of the river, but supposed they were farmers. The Yanktonais,
whom we were afraid of, lived above us. We thought nothing about the men
until we saw an Indian on a hill ahead of us. He beckoned to others, and
before we knew it we were surrounded. De-wa-nea, of Crow's band, and
Cut-Nose and Shakopee, three of the worst among the Lower Indians, came
to us first. We were in the head wagon. Mother told them who we were,
and they said we must follow them, and that we were all as good as dead.
De-wa-nea said that the whites had taken him prisoner a good many times
and that it was now his turn. He wanted the rest of the Indians to kill
us all. There was an Indian in the party, John Moore's brother-in-law,
who took our part, and he and his friends saved us from the others. This
Indian had once come to our house when he was freezing and my mother took
him in and warmed him. He told the other Indians that he remembered this,
and that we should live. They insisted that my brother Angus should shoot
one of the white men, but he refused to do so. Each of the Indians had
one of the whites picked out to shoot as they came up. My mother said
they were poor men and it would do no good to kill them. John Moore's
brother-in-law said they should live if she wanted them to. The Indians
made a great fuss about it, and said she ought to be satisfied with what
she had got, but afterwards consented and told the men to start off.
The women stayed with us. After the men had got off a little, Leopold
Wohler, who had a lime-kiln at the agency, came back to the wagon after
his boots, and an Indian told him if he didn't go away he would kill him.
He started off with one boot, and came back again for the other, and
the Indian drove him away again with the same threat. He went a short
distance and came back again to kiss his wife. The Indians then became
very much enraged, and acted so fiercely that he was glad to escape
without further difficulty. There were ten Indians close to us, and
twenty-five or thirty near, running into the houses. They made Angus and
Charles Blair, who were riding horses, give them up. De-wa-nea put on my
sister's bonnet and began singing a war song. He was very merry. He said
the Indians were now going to have a good time, and if they got killed it
was all right; that the whites wanted to kill them off, and were delaying
the payment in order to do it by starvation, and that he preferred to be
shot. We saw three men and a woman on the road terribly hacked up. This
party had committed the murders. The men had been mowing together; their
scythes and pitchforks were lying near by. Cut-nose showed us his thumb,
from which a piece had been bitten near the nail, and he said it was done
by one of these men while he was working the knife around in his breast;
that he was very hard to kill, and he thought he would never die.
Cut-nose afterward went to a wagon and told a Scotch girl who was in
it that he wanted her for his wife, and to get out and follow him. She
refused, and he then drew his knife and flourished it over her, and she
got out and went away with him. That was the last I saw of him until we
got to camp. He was called Cut-nose because one of his nostrils had been
bitten out. This was done by Other Day in a quarrel.
When we reached the camp of the Red Creek Indians, four miles above the
Redwood River, they told us that the Agency Indians had sent word for all
to come down there, and that those who did not come would be taken care
of by the "Soldiers' Lodge." They were then about starting, and an Indian
made Augus and myself hitch up a mule team which he said he had taken
from Captain Marsh's men the day before. He said they had just heard a
cannon at the fort and they wanted to go down and whip the whites there.
This was about noon. We then went down to John Moore's house (this was
where Other Day's horse was stolen), and they put us upstairs, where they
had two or three women captives. We were there about an hour, when three
Indians told us to come up to their camp on the hill, where we were to
stop with John Moore's mother, or grandmother. We followed them, and when
we got halfway up suddenly missed them. We supposed they hid from us, and
we wandered on. We met a German woman who had seven or eight children
with her, all under eight years of age,--two on her back, one under each
arm and two following behind. They came along with us. We went to Moore's
relative, but she said she knew nothing about us and couldn't take us,
and that we had better go down to Crow's Village. We started, not knowing
where to go, when a squaw, who was crying about the troubles, met us,
and took us home with her. The Indians sent our team back to camp. They
gave Augus and I blankets and moccasins, and we put them on and went down
to see Little Crow. He told us to bring our folks down there, and no
one should hurt us. This was Tuesday evening, about seven o'clock. He
was in his own house, and the camp was pitched around it. We went back
and brought our folks down. Little Crow put us up in the top room of the
house, and gave us buffalo robes and everything to make us comfortable.
He brought us a candle as soon as it was dark; he was very kind to us; he
said he would take as good care of us as he could, but he didn't believe
he could keep Charley Blair alive until morning. He gave him a breech
clout and leggings, which he put on.
During the night an Indian or a half-breed came in the room downstairs
where Crow was, and told him that we ought to be killed. We overheard
what they said. The man was very ugly, and said no prisoners ought to be
taken, and that we were related to the Sissetons, and had no claim on the
Lower Indians, and there was no reason why we should be spared. He said
he wanted Crow to call a council about it immediately. Crow told him that
he saved us because we were his friends, and that he would protect us;
that it was too late to hold a council that night, and he compelled him
to leave.
He gave us plenty to eat, and came up several times during the night to
see how we were getting along. We begged him to let Charley Blair go. He
said he couldn't; that the Indians knew he was there, and would kill him
(Crow) if he allowed it. We coaxed him for a couple of hours, when he
consented, and brought an Indian, who took Charley down to the river and
left him in the brush. He made his escape from there to the fort. Crow
told us not to say anything about it, for the Indians would kill him, and
that he did it because he had known our folks so long. He said the young
men started the massacre, and he could not stop them. A week after that
Akipu, an Upper Indian, came down from the Yellow Medicine Agency and
took us up with him. From that time until our deliverance we remained
with our relatives, and were well treated by them.
The foregoing recital is just as the boy gave it, and in subsequent
conversations with the father it was substantially verified.
Major Brown, after recovering his family, lived for a few years, and
did much toward assisting the Government in adjusting the many claims
brought against it by persons who had suffered so much at the hands of
the Indians. He died a number of years ago, but the members of his family
live and are much respected in the community in which they live.