THREE THOUSAND DEAD INDIANS.--A DETECTIVE FROM CHICAGO.--HE GOES
HOME WITH AN OLD MORMON'S YOUNGEST WIFE AND GETS INTO TROUBLE.--
THE FLIGHT.
Gen. Connor offered me a position as scout, which I accepted, and
on the sixth day after my arrival at Fort Douglas, in company with
two other scouts, I struck out in advance of the command. In the
forenoon of the eighth day from the fort we found the Indians on a
tributary of Cash Valley in a deep canyon and fortified. They had
cut logs and rolled them down the hill, piling them on each side
of the canyon, several feet high and had intermingled them with
brush. This was the first fortification I had ever seen built by
Indians.
We returned and met the command that night, and when we were
making our report to the General he asked me what the
fortifications looked like. I told him that I could not think of
anything to compare them to, but that I thought they could be
swept very easily by a Howitzer from above and below. He asked me
if I would accompany one of his commissioned officers that night
to see the fortifications, and I told him I would. After supper
that evening a Captain came to me, whose name I am sorry to say I
have forgotten, and asked me if I was the man that was to
accompany him to the Indian fortifications. I told him that I was,
and he asked what time we had better start. I told him we had
better start at once as there would be a moon in the fore part of
the night, but that the after part would be very dark. So we
mounted our horses and were off.
We rode to within about three-quarters of a mile of the
fortifications and there we remained until it was light enough to
see, and then the Captain took out his glasses and scanned the
whole country as well as the fortifications. After looking about
half an hour the Captain asked me what I thought of it, and what
would be my plan of attack. I told him that I had no idea, as I
had never seen Indians fortified before. He said it would be a
bloody fight, I said yes, but I thought the blood would all be on
one side. "Yes," replied the Captain, "we ought to clean them out
without losing ten men."
We went to our horses, mounted, and rode back to the command as
quick as we could, meeting it about four miles from the
fortifications, piloted by the two scouts that had been out with
me the day before.
The Captain and Gen. Connor had a long conversation as we moved
along. When within a mile of the mouth of this canyon Gen. Connor
formed his men in line, one half to go on each side of the canyon
in which the Indians were fortified, and the cannon were placed at
the mouth of the canyon.
I did not see any Indians of any account until the command to fire
was given. When the soldiers commenced to fire--there being about
twelve hundred--it frightened the Indians so that they came
running out from under those logs and brush like jack rabbits and
were shot down like sheep. In all my experience in the Western
wilds I never saw such a slaughtering as there.
The Indians had been taught by the Mormons that if they would
fortify themselves in that way the whites could not harm them,
teaching them also, that the Lord would protect them, which was a
great thing for the white people, for it came so near cleaning the
Utes up that there was only a little remnant left, and they never
gave the white people any more trouble. Thus white people were
enabled to pass through that country unmolested. Heretofore it had
been one of the most dangerous parts of the country. For all this
I have ever since believed that the Mormons, unintentionally, did
the Gentiles a great favor.
After the battle was over, and as scouts are at liberty to go
where they please, I rode over the battle-field in company with
the other scouts and I never in all my life saw such a mangled up
mass as was there. Men, women and children were actually lying in
heaps, and I think all that got away were a few that hid among the
logs and brush.
I n this battle the Captain told me they did not lose a man, and
had only four wounded, while he counted over three thousand dead
Indians.
When I returned to Salt Lake City I was astonished to see the
manner in which the Salt Lake papers abused Gen. Connor for
slaughtering the Indians in the manner he had, when they (the
Mormons) had planned the slaughter, although not meaning for it to
be a slaughter of Indians.
Gen. Connor said that the Mormons had thought that the Indians
would fortify themselves, and when attacked by the soldiers, they
would wipe them (the soldiers) off the face of the earth. The idea
had been so thoroughly instilled into the minds of the Indians by
the Mormons that the Lord would protect them if only fortified in
this manner that they depended most altogether on the Lord to
protect them.
The third day on our return trip we came to a little place called
Ogden. Here the General made preparations to leave the command and
go ahead, accompanied by one company, of cavalry. When they were
ready I was directed to accompany him, which I did. He and I rode
in the rear of the company. After riding some little distance Gen.
Connor said: "Drannan, I think I can put you on the track of a
good thing if it would suit you." I asked him in what way. He
asked me if I had not heard of the Mountain Meadow massacre in
Utah. I said: "Certainly, many times." He said: "Now be honest
with me and tell me who you think did that horrible work." I told
him the Mormons, and the Mormons alone.
He then told me there was a man at the fort from Chicago trying to
work up the case and if possible to find out just by whose
authority the Mormons had massacred those emigrants, and he said:
"From what I have seen of you, I think you would be just the man
to help him work up the case."
I said: "General, I think you are mistaken. I never did any
detective work among the white people, and I fear I am not good
enough a talker to obtain the desired information." The General
said: "All right, we'll see."
We reached the Fort that night at dark, having ridden forty miles
that day. That evening the General told me to come to his quarters
the following day at ten o'clock and he would introduce me to the
gentleman referred to.
I went to the General's quarters and the gentleman was present.
His name was Howard. By whose authority he was working up this
case I never learned, but, however, after questioning me for some
time as to what I knew of the Mormons, he asked me what I would
charge him per month to go along with him, play the hypocrite, and
try to help work up the case. I told him it was all new work to
me; that I knew nothing of detective work whatever. I said that if
it were a case of Indians it would be quite different, but I did
not think I would be of much service to him working among the
Mormons.
He proposed that he would furnish me a suit of clothes suitable
for the part I was to play, furnish money to pay my expenses, such
as hotel bills, whiskey bills, ball-room bills, and pay me fifty
dollars per month, I to do as he told me, or as near as I could.
"And, at the end of one month," said he, "if your work does not
suit me, or if I don't suit you, I can pay you off and you can go
your way; or if you stay and we work up this case as I anticipate,
as soon as the work is completed I will pay you one hundred
dollars per month instead of fifty."
Under these conditions I went to work for him, and the next two
days were spent in drilling me on Mormon phrases, their customs
And so on, he having been there some three months, had got pretty
well posted on the Mormon doctrine.
When I got my new suit of clothes on and he got my hair fixed up
just to suit him I looked in the mirror, and I could hardly
believe that it was Will Drannan.
The third day we mounted our horses and started across the country
to a little town called Provo, which is about forty miles from
Salt Lake, if I have not forgotten. Here, we are both Mormons, are
brothers, and our business buying cattle; looking around to see
who has cattle to sell. We arrived at Provo on Sunday evening and
made the acquaintance of two young men who were Mormons. They
asked us to go to church with them. "All right," said Mr. Howard,
"but where will my brother and I stay to-night?" The eldest of the
two young men said: "One of you can stay with me and the other can
stay with Jim," referring to his chum. So it fell to my lot to go
with Jim after church.
On our way to church, naturally enough the boys asked our names,
and Howard spoke up and said: "My name is George Howard, and this
is my brother Frank." And I will tell you now with all candor I
did not feel right over this, for it was the first time in my life
that I had ever lived under an assumed name, but I had agreed to
do what I could, and although I would have given the best horse I
had to have been out of the scrape, yet I was into it and I was
determined to go through with it if possible. That evening when we
came out of church Jim gave me an introduction to his two sisters
and they asked me to walk home with them from church, and I did
so.
After conversing with them for some time and getting a little
acquainted with them, I asked the girl on my left how old she was,
and she said she was seventeen. I asked her how long she had lived
in this country. She said: "My father was one of the first
settlers in this country. He came here among the first emigrants
and I was raised here in this country."
"Is that so?" I asked. "Then you were here in this part of the
country at the time of the Mountain Meadow massacre?" "Yes," said
she, "but you know we must not talk about that." "Well," said I,
"you know they were all Gentiles that were killed and what's the
difference?" "Well," she said, "I think it was all wrong any way."
I asked her if her father was in that fight and she said: "Let's
don't talk about that, please don't ask me any more questions
about it."
By this time we had reached the gate, and the conversation stopped
for that time. The next day I tried to get a chance to talk to
her, but my efforts were all in vain. That afternoon I met Howard
and told him of the conversation I had with the young lady, and he
insisted on my working on her father if I could get a chance to
have a private conversation with her.
On Wednesday night there was to be a big dance at the church, and
it being free to all, we attended it. In the mean time I had
engaged the company of those two young ladies for the dance. I
paid all due respect to the young lady, but did not mention the
affair of which I was desirous of obtaining information until we
were returning from supper to the church, when I again made
mention of the affair in such a manner that I did not think she
would suspect anything wrong. But she gave me to understand in
plain language that she would not converse on that subject under
any circumstances.
I saw there was no use to waste any more time with her and did not
mention the subject again.
We remained in this place ten days, during which time I formed the
acquaintance of an old man by the name of Snyder, who had five
wives, three of them living at his residence in the town and the
other two on his farm in the country. Being a brother Mormon, Mr.
Snyder one day during my stay there invited me home with him for
dinner, and on entering the dining room he introduced me to his
three wives, the youngest of the three being about twenty years
old, while Snyder was sixty-one years old.
That afternoon Howard and myself were taking a walk, and by chance
met this young Mrs. Snyder, whom I introduced to my brother. He
asked to accompany her on her walk, to which proposition she
unhesitatingly assented, and he walked on home with him.
Her husband was not at home, but before Howard left the gate he
heard one of Snyder's other wives say to her: "I'll tell on you,
and you will not get to go out again."
This convinced him that there was a great deal of jealousy
existing between Mr. Snyder's wives. He said she was well posted
in everything pertaining to the Mormon doctrine, and at the same
time bitterly opposed to their proceedings.
The afternoon following George Howard and I took a stroll down to
Salt Lake City, which was a distance of three miles.
We had been in the city but a short time and were walking up Main
street, when on casting my eyes across the street I saw old man
Snyder standing talking to Porter Rockwell and Bill Hickman. They
were just across Main street immediately opposite us, and George
had not yet got sight of them. Those two men were supposed to be
Brigham Young's "destroying angels," and their business was to put
any one out of the way who had fallen under the ban of the Mormon
Church.
These two men had been pointed out to me before, and as soon as I
got sight of them I said in a low tone: "There are the leaders of
the Danites."
When he looked across at them old man Snyder was pointing his
finger direct at us, and Rockwell and Hickman seemed to be very
eager to get a good look at us.
George said: "This is no place for us. Let's get back to the
Fort." And all the talking I could do I could not make him believe
that we were perfectly safe there in the city in broad daylight.
His very countenance showed uneasiness to extremity. He had been
there long enough to be thoroughly posted in all their laws,
customs, etc., and didn't seem to think it would be healthy for us
there from that time on. However, I can truthfully say that we
made the trip to the Fort in much less time than we did from the
Fort to town, notwithstanding it was all up grade.
On our arrival at the Fort we went to Gen. Connor's quarters and
told him the whole story just as it occurred. The General said:
"The thing is up with you now Howard, you might as well quit and
go home. You can do no more good here now. You are perfectly safe
here in the Fort, but the moment you are out of sight of it you
are in danger of your life. But you will have one company of
cavalry to protect you when you go to leave the Fort."
It was really laughable to see the way Howard would tremble and
shake while Gen. Connor was talking to him, and he was anxious to
get out of the country and wanted me to go with him, it being the
wrong time of year to catch a train going East. He thought if he
could get to Fort Bridger, which was one hundred miles east of
Fort Douglas, he would be safe from the Mormons, and would stand
equally as good a show to strike a train going eastward as he
would at Salt Lake.
Before we were ready to start for Fort Bridger there came a man to
Fort Douglas who had been wagon boss for Maj. Russell the year
before. He had just received a letter from his former employer
requesting him to come at once to Fort Kearney. He was anxious to
find some one to travel with, as it was not safe for one to travel
alone in that country, and it was a long and tedious trip this
time of year.
The Pony Express was then running, but outside of that we were not
likely to see any one on the trip.
They insisted on me accompanying them, and being anxious to cross
over on the other side of the mountains, I agreed to join them.
Having two saddle horses myself I told them three horses between
them would be enough, for in case of emergency I would use one of
my horses for a pack animal. The next two days were spent in
getting ready for the trip, Mr. Damson, the wagon boss, having
procured three horses for himself and Howard, Mr. Howard thinking
it might not be conducive to his health to leave the Fort to look
for horses.
Getting everything in readiness, we made the start just at dark,
going the Emigrant canyon route, striking Echo canyon fifty miles
from Salt Lake City, making the trip that far without stopping to
let our horses feed or even to eat anything ourselves. We did this
because we wished to get beyond the Mormon settlements without
being discovered by them. We reached Fort Bridget the third day
and there took in two more companions, John Scudder and John
Korigo, who had been at work at the Fort all winter hauling wood
for the Government. They had earned a little money and were
returning to their respective homes, one living in Missouri and
the other in Pennsylvania. We were now five in number and
calculated to make Fort Kearney in fifteen days, which, if I
remember rightly, is called six hundred miles from Fort Bridger.
We crossed Green river and took the Bitter creek route, thinking
that would be the safest from hostile Indians; but when we got to
the head of Bitter creek the Pony Express rider informed us that
the Indians were very bad on the North Platte river, having killed
two express riders the week before.
This frightened the boys badly, for not one of them had ever been
engaged in an Indian fight, and all were free to admit that they
were not hankering after experience of that kind.
After we struck North Platte we saw considerable Indian sign every
day, but it was evident that the reds were in little bands.
From now on we made a dry camp every night, always stopping in the
middle of the afternoon to let our horses graze while we did our
cooking to avoid building our fire after dark. Then we would mount
and ride until after dark and make a dry camp. This was done in
order to avoid an attack while in camp, but we made the entire
trip without seeing an Indian.
On my arrival at Fort Kearney I met my old friend Jim Bridger, who
was waiting there for a man by the name of Jim Boseman, who was on
his way with a large train of emigrants to the eastern part of
Montana, the same country that Bridger, Kit Carson, Beckwith and I
passed through in 1856 when the Indians were so bad.
Jim Bridger had met Boseman the fall before and had promised to
pilot him through to that part of Montana, for which he was to
receive five hundred dollars, it also being understood that, there
would be at least fifty men in the train and all well armed.
Bridger was just in receipt of a letter from Boseman stating that
he would be there on or about a certain date with two hundred men,
most all of whom had families.
Jim was very anxious to have me join him, offering to divide the
spoils.
I told him it would be folly for me to accompany him, as he would
be able to handle the train alone and would then have the five
hundred dollars himself, and furthermore, I did not care for work
of that kind that summer, as I would rather return to Taos and buy
a band of sheep and settle down, for I thought I had enough money,
if properly handled, to make me a good living.
At this Jim laughed heartily and said: "Yes, you'll settle down
with a band of sheep when you are too old to straddle a horse and
your eyes too dim to take in an Indian. I have often thought of
the same thing," he continued. "I have a place picked out now
about fifteen miles east of Fort Bridger on Black's Fork, near the
lone tree. There is where I am going to settle down after I make
this trip. I can then sit in my door and with a good glass I can
see Fort Bridger that was named for me and which I feel proud of
to-day."
Jim Bridger made this trip north with Boseman's train into the
valley where the town of Boseman now stands, without the loss of a
man or beast on the entire trip, and returning to South Platte,
married an Indian woman of the Arappahoe tribe, went to Black's
Fork and took up a ranch within five miles of the lone pine tree.
Here he lived with his Indian wife for about five years, when she
died, leaving two children, a girl and a boy, which I have been
told he sent to school, gave them a good education, and they now
live, I think, in the state of Missouri.