[This legend, like others of its kind, is on all sides asserted to have
come down from the earliest pioneers. When, less than a century ago,
settlers first moved into any part of Texas where there is a cliff,
what was their initial act: to get a meal, to start out hunting for
buried treasure, or to christen the cliff with a tale of lovers? At any
rate, thirty years ago, in 1894, Mary J. Jaques, an English lady who
had resided for a time on a ranch in the Llano country, saw in London
the fresh pages of her book, Texan Ranch Life; and in that book on page
255 is a version of the legend of Lover’s Leap in Kimble County:
“The lover of Leona, a beautiful Indian girl, having been sent on a
distant raid, she promised to light a beacon fire on the cliff each
night of his absence. But alas! weeks grew to months, but he didn’t
return, and the old chief, her father, ordered her to marry
‘another.’ In despair one night Leona threw herself down the
precipice, ever after known as ‘Lover’s Leap.’ The gorge below is
still haunted by her restless spirit.”
Slightly different in detail is a version that was given to me in the
summer of 1923 by Miss Grenade Farmer of Junction City, in Kimble
County, a form of the legend from the same source having been written
out by Miss Velma Crank. Miss Farmer’s father was a pioneer settler on
the upper Llano and he has often told this legend to her, Miss Farmer
says.
About seventy years ago there was an Indian village at the base of the
bluff now called Lover’s Leap. The chief had a brave and handsome son;
he fell in love with a maiden of his tribe “who was beautiful and good
but who was not his equal in rank or fortune.” The father forbade the
marriage desired by the lovers. In the obedient way of Indian youth,
the son obeyed his father, but he continued to meet his love in secret,
always under the bluff. In some way the unchanging nature of that great
pile of rocks seemed to have an influence on the souls of the lovers.
They, like it, would be unchanging in their devotion. So, when one day
the youth received an order from his father that he must marry in order
to perpetuate the noble line, he resolved with his sweetheart to
preserve their fidelity by death.
They climbed the cliff and cast themselves into the gorge below. A few
days later their bodies were found and were buried on top of the
bluff.—Editor.]
The cliff called “Lover’s Leap” by the inhabitants of the Llano Valley
stands today a rock-bound sentinel and watchtower, even as it stood
during the legendary times of Texas. At its foot flows the cool,
sparkling mountain stream that joins the Llano only a short distance
beyond. Its sheer face forms a perpendicular wall that is one of the
least accessible in a land of inaccessible cliffs.
Legends concerning the days of the Indians cluster about this sentinel
rock. They are still told by pioneers to their children and are often
related to the summer tourists of Junction, the little town that lies
almost within the shadow of Lover’s Leap. Perhaps the most beautiful
and plausible of these legends is the one that tells of the Indian
maid, Winona, and her lover, Mewanee, both of the Comanche tribe.
In those days there was an Indian encampment at the foot of this cliff.
No other situation for miles about was so well adapted to the needs of
the tribe. Fish teemed in the clear stream; deer and other game roamed
in the woods; the climate was mild at nearly all times of the year, and
in winter the camp was protected from the fierce norther by the sheer
wall behind it. It was mainly because of this shelter that the place
had been chosen by the scouts of the party; but they had also another
reason. This particular cliff reared its head higher than any of its
sister cliffs along the river and therefore afforded a more distinct
view of the surrounding country. In fact, it was the veritable sentinel
of the valley. And such a watchtower was then a prime necessity.
The quiet beauty of the inclosing hills and the calmness of the deep
pools of the stream were not reflected in the hearts of the Indians,
who had, indeed, much cause for disquiet. Forty miles to the north the
hated Spaniards had reared a hastily-built wooden structure to serve as
a mission, and had filled it with soldiers and priests. This mission
and all those connected with it were bitterly hated by the remnants of
the tribes of Comanches, Cheyennes, Apaches, and Arapahoes. The priests
endeavored to dissuade them from their age-old religion and to force
new beliefs and institutions upon them. The soldiers, in jest and in
earnest, treated them with brutal cruelty. [113]
The band of Comanches in the Llano Valley had special reason to
distrust and hate the Spaniards at Menard, for Don Juan, one of the
boldest of the soldiers there, had looked upon Winona, the fairest
maiden of the Comanches, with lust and desire in his eyes. This evil
look had not escaped the eye of the chief, White Cloud, whose daughter
Winona was, nor of Mewanee, Winona’s favored lover. Therefore, the
departure of the tribe from the mission had been abrupt. A double vow
of vengeance was solemnly sworn as the councilmen gathered about the
council fire in the chief’s tent there on the Llano. It was a vow to
revenge the insult upon Winona and to destroy the mission which menaced
the peace of the red men.
Many councils were held and the plans were carefully laid. The date of
the attack was chosen in accordance with the Indian belief in time and
season. Mewanee, as one of the most stalwart warriors, held an honored
place in these councils. Meanwhile, high upon the cliff, the scouts
kept a steady watch for the Spanish, who were believed to be on the
trail of the rebellious Comanches.
Of all the sad, heavy hearts in that camp, Winona’s heart was the
saddest and heaviest. It was partly because of her that the attack was
being planned. Furthermore, Mewanee, she knew, in the zeal of his rage
against Don Juan, would be heedless of the most perilous danger.
Winona’s dark eyes plainly showed the anguish in her heart. Mewanee’s
solemn and dignified mien reflected the gravity of the situation. The
pain of parting was heavy upon them both.
To add to their grief, White Cloud issued an order forbidding marriages
while the tribe was preparing for its attack of vengeance, for the most
cherished plan of the lovers was that they should be married on the day
preceding Mewanee’s departure. Now, however, their plans were broken.
All Winona’s pleadings were in vain. White Cloud, her father, shook his
head in obstinate refusal of their marriage. At their farewell meeting,
even Mewanee allowed his love for Winona to show as he comforted her
and promised eternal faith. His love, he told her, would reach out to
her from the Happy Hunting Grounds and beckon her to him. And Winona
whispered that she would come at his slightest call. As their lips met
in a last, long, unaccustomed kiss, the drum signaled the inevitable
separation.
And so, among the other braves, Mewanee rode away to the north to begin
the raid on the mission. Winona was left at camp—to wait. Days passed
with no word of the warriors or of the result of their undertaking.
Then suddenly, just at noon, when the watcher on the summit of the
cliff could see farthest over the valley toward hated Menard, he gave a
mighty shout. He could discern the returning warriors. They traveled
swiftly, and in a short time reached the camp. Even at a distance the
watchers perceived that the raid from which their braves were returning
had been successful. Each was weighted with plunder from the soldiers
and from the mission. But their faces and their scanty number gave the
lie to all these signs of success. It was at once evident that fewer
men, by far, were returning than had gone out. Winona’s quick eye gave
her instant proof that her lover had not returned.
His companions told her of his death at the hands of a Spanish soldier
who had stabbed him in the back while he was engaged in a violent
hand-to-hand combat with his enemy, Don Juan. Winona heard the story as
in a dream. More real to her was a spirit voice calling, calling
insistently.
When the moon rose over the cliff that night it outlined a solitary
figure upon the bluff. Only for an instant, however, did the silhouette
remain stationary. With a gesture of grief and longing, the figure
flung out its arms and dropped over the edge into the vast darkness
below. The water flowed on, lapping against the rocks upon which Winona
lay, broken and lifeless. Her soul had answered the call from the Happy
Hunting Grounds. And to this day the cliff, called “Lover’s Leap”
because of this wild plunge, stands as an everlasting monument to the
exceeding love and faith of the simple Indian maiden.
Some facts relative to the legend follow. 1. The headwaters of the
Llano River were once a refuge for Indians. 2. There was a mission near
Menard. It was destroyed by Indians. 3. Evidences of the camp at the
foot of the cliff are plain. 4. In tribal emergencies marriage was
sometimes (perhaps rarely) forbidden. I realize that there are slight
grounds for such a statement, but it is a part of the legend as given
by my informants. 5. The legend is given as told me by Frank H. Wilson
and N. R. Skaggs (about seventy-five years old) of Junction.