THE INDIAN WAR OF 1868
During the three years following the battle of Sand Creek there was little
trouble with the Indians in El Paso County; consequently the people of
that section of Colorado, while keeping a sharp lookout, felt fairly
safe upon their ranches. During the summer season of each of these years,
however, the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes continued their raids upon
the exposed settlements and the lines of travel to the East.
In the meantime, the Government was following its usual temporizing policy
with the savages. In the spring of 1867, agents of the Indian Bureau
attempted to negotiate a new treaty with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, and
for that purpose visited them at their camp on Pawnee Fork, near Fort
Larned, Kansas. But spring was not the time of year when the Indians
wanted to negotiate treaties, and as a result, after making several
appointments for councils, none of which was kept, the savages suddenly
disappeared, and were next heard of raiding the frontier settlements
of Kansas and Nebraska, and the lines of travel between Colorado and
the Missouri River. These raids were continued during the next five or
six months, but, after killing and robbing the whites all summer, these
Cheyennes and Arapahoes came in again professing penitence; whereupon,
following the usual custom, a new treaty was made with them, by the
terms of which both tribes consented to give up their lands in Colorado
and settle upon a reservation elsewhere. Under the treaty, they agreed
that "hereafter they would not molest any coach or wagon, nor carry
off any white woman or child, nor kill or scalp any white man." For
this and the lands ceded by them, these tribes were to receive twenty
thousand dollars annually, and a suit of clothes for each Indian; and,
in addition, teachers, physicians, farmers' implements, etc., were to
be provided, in order to help them to acquire the habits of civilization.
While it was not expressly stated in the treaty, it was understood that
the Cheyennes and Arapahoes were to be supplied with arms and ammunition.
The treaty seems to have been entered into by the agents of the Indian
Bureau with all the outward semblance of good faith, although if those
responsible of the facts they must have realized that the promise of
these Indians to remain peaceable was utterly worthless, as had been
proved year after year for a long period of time. Not only did the
treaty turn out to be worthless, but that part of it giving the savages
arms and ammunition was particularly reprehensible, as was shown by the
results. The savages remained quiet during the winter, as usual, but in
the spring they demanded the arms and ammunition that had been promised
to them, and the Indian agents urged the Bureau to grant the request,
making the plea that the Indians would starve unless these were given
to them, so that they might be able to hunt the buffalo and other game
of the plains.
Evidently the Government hesitated, but, finally, influenced by these
statements, the issue of the arms and ammunition was authorized. At this
juncture, Major Wynkoop, who after the battle of Sand Creek had proved
himself an enemy of the people of Colorado, again showed that he had
no regard for their welfare. He had by this time been taken into the
service of the Indian Bureau, presumably as a reward for his services
in aid of the Bureau in connection with the Sand Creek investigation,
and had been appointed an Indian agent. He was one of those who had been
urging that arms and ammunition be given to the Indians, and it was he
who finally delivered them to the savages. On August 10, 1868, he wrote
to the Department:
I yesterday made the whole issue of annuity, goods, arms, and
ammunition to the Cheyenne chiefs and people of their nation.
They were delighted in receiving the goods, _particularly the
arms and ammunition_, and never before have I known them to
be better satisfied and express themselves as being so well
contented previous to the issue. They have now left for their
hunting grounds and I am perfectly satisfied that there will
be no trouble with them this season.
On the very day that Wynkoop sent this letter, a body of two hundred
and fifty Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and Sioux were raiding the settlements
on the Saline River in Kansas, killing settlers, burning buildings, and
committing unspeakable outrages on many defenseless women. Before the
end of the month, according to the report of General Sheridan for that
year, forty white men had been killed by the savages on the frontiers of
Kansas and Colorado, many were wounded, and a large amount of property
destroyed.
I must, however, confine my narrative to events that occurred in El
Paso County and the counties adjoining. About ten days after the Wynkoop
letter was written, a party of seventy-five Cheyennes and Arapahoes, all
well mounted, marched in from the plains and passed up through Colorado
City. Most of the savages had modern guns and were well supplied with
ammunition,—presumably issued by the Government. They bore letters
from Indian agents and peace commissioners, which stated that they were
peaceably disposed and should not be feared nor molested; but our people,
not being satisfied with that kind of testimony, telegraphed to the
Governor at Denver, who replied, reiterating that they were not hostile
and must not be interfered with. At the time of their visit to Colorado
City, the Indians were noticeably sullen in their demeanor, and appeared
to be observing everything in a suspicious manner. However, they left
without committing any overt act, and, apparently, went on leisurely up
the Ute Pass into the mountains to fight the Utes, which they claimed
was their intention.
A day or two later they surprised a small band of Utes who were camped
a few miles south of the Hartsell ranch in the South Park, and in the
fight that followed claimed to have killed six of the Utes including
two or three squaws, and to have carried off a small boy. On the day of
this occurrence Samuel Hartsell, owner of the ranch above referred to,
had gone over to the mountains that form the eastern border of the South
Park, looking for wild raspberries. While on one of the low mountains
of that locality, he saw a group of mounted men in the valley below, a
mile or so away. He had not heard of any Cheyennes or Arapahoes being
in that neighborhood, consequently he very naturally concluded that the
horsemen were Utes. Having been on friendly terms with that tribe for
many years, and well acquainted with many of its members, he decided
to ride down the mountain to meet them. But as he came near the group,
he noticed that they were not dressed as the Utes usually were, nor
did they look like the people of that tribe; however, it was now too
late to retreat, as almost immediately afterward he was discovered and
surrounded by the savages. By that time Hartsell, through his general
knowledge of the Indians of this Western country, knew that his captors
were Cheyenne and Arapahoe warriors, tribes that had been hostile to the
whites during the past four years, and were still hostile, so far as he
knew. Consequently, he was very much alarmed, realizing that he was in a
very dangerous situation. Evidently, the savages were not yet ready to
begin hostilities, as was proved by their efforts to reassure Hartsell
by showing him their certificates from Indian agents, telling of their
peaceable character; but this did not prevent them from at once taking
his revolver, ammunition, and pocket knife.
Hartsell estimated that there were about seventy Indians in the band, all
of whom were fully armed and amply supplied with ammunition. The savages
told him of their victory over the Utes, showed him the scalps they had
taken, and the boy they had captured. Finally, after keeping Hartsell
in suspense for more than three hours, the Indians allowed him to go
without injury, and then departed eastward in the direction of Colorado
City. The people of Colorado City and its vicinity knew nothing of this
occurrence until some time afterwards. Notwithstanding the assurance of
the Governor and the Indian agents, the settlers continued to be very much
alarmed at the presence of the savages, and knowing their treacherous
nature, maintained a sharp lookout in order to prevent being attacked
unawares. About eleven o'clock in the morning three or four days after
the savages disappeared up Ute Pass, three Indians appeared at H. M.
Teachout's ranch on Monument Creek, eight miles northeast of Colorado
City. They claimed to be friendly Utes, but Teachout, being familiar
with the Indian tribes of the region, knew that they were not Utes.
After staying five or ten minutes, during which time they seemed to be
intent on taking in the surroundings, and especially the corral where
Teachout's large herd of horses was kept at night, they left, following
the main road towards Colorado City. Mr. Teachout and his brother, who
lived on the Divide, owned about one hundred and fifty horses, all of
which were kept at this Monument Creek ranch.
After the Indians had disappeared, Teachout, being alarmed, rounded up
his horses and drove them into the corral, where he kept them during the
daytime thereafter, letting them out to graze only at night, thinking
that the safest plan. Apparently, the Indians, having obtained all the
information they desired concerning the settlements around Colorado City,
disappeared, and a day or two later were heard of raiding the frontier
settlements east of Bijou Basin and on the headwaters of Kiowa, Bijou,
and Running creeks, during which raid they killed several people and
ran off much stock.
On August 27, 1868, the Cheyennes and Arapahoes killed Mrs. Henrietta
Dieterman and her five-year-old son on Comanche Creek, about twenty-five
miles northeast of Colorado City, in a peculiarly atrocious manner. The
Dieterman household consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Dieterman, a daughter about
twelve years old, a son of five years, a sister of Mr. Dieterman's, and
a hired man. The sister was soon to marry the hired man, and he and Mr.
Dieterman had gone to Denver to buy furniture for the new household,
leaving a German farmhand temporarily in charge. On the morning of
the 27th, something happened to alarm Mrs. Dieterman. She evidently
believed the Indians were near, for she hurriedly started with her
sister-in-law and the two children for a neighbor's house some distance
away. After having gone a few hundred yards she remembered that she
had left a considerable sum of money in the house, and with her small
son went back to get it. They reached the house, got the money, and
started away again, but had gone only a short distance when they were
overtaken by the Indians, who at once shot and killed both of them. The
savages shot the boy repeatedly and finally broke his neck. The mother
was shot through the body, stabbed, and scalped, and the bodies of both
were dreadfully mutilated. Those who afterwards saw the victims said
that it was one of the most horrible sights they had ever looked upon.
Meanwhile, the sister-in-law and daughter ran to where the German was
working in the field near by. He stood the Indians off by pointing the
handle of his hoe at them, making them believe it was a gun. In that
way he covered the retreat of himself and the others to a neighbor's
house. Mrs. Dieterman had formerly lived near the northern line of El
Paso County, and was well known to many of the old settlers. The awful
tragedy of her death created a great sensation, not only in that county,
but also in Denver and throughout the entire State. News of the killing
of Mrs. Dieterman and of the other outrages perpetrated by the Indians
in that region reached Colorado City late in the evening, a day or two
afterwards. As there was a possibility of the savages appearing at any
moment, messengers were at once sent throughout the county notifying the
people of the great danger that confronted them. At that time I happened
to be at home with my father and other members of the family on our Bear
Creek ranch. About eleven o'clock at night, we were aroused from sleep
by the messenger sent to warn us and were advised to go immediately to
Colorado City for protection. We appreciated the danger of our situation
and quickly hitched up our team, put a few necessary articles of wearing
apparel and bedding into the wagon, and started for town, three miles
distant. It was a dark night, which made the trip a weird as well as
an anxious one. With my sisters and younger brothers in the wagon, my
father and I marched along behind, each with a rifle in hand, knowing
that there was a possibility that the Indians had already stolen into
this region, and that every bush or rock on the way might conceal a
savage; but nothing happened and we reached town in safety. It was an
incident that made one appreciate to the fullest extent the disagreeable
and dangerous features of frontier life. We rented a house in Colorado
City, moved our household effects from the ranch, and remained in town
until after the Indian troubles were over.
Early in the morning of September 1st, Mr. Teachout, accompanied by
his hired man, went out to bring in his herd of horses, as had been his
custom since the visit of the three Indians a few days previous. They
went down Monument Creek a mile or two, then up Cottonwood Creek, where
they found the herd scattered along the valley for a mile or more above
the point where the Santa Fé Railway now crosses that creek, which is
about six miles north of the present city of Colorado Springs. The two
rode leisurely through the herd up the valley on the south side of the
stream, and had gone about half a mile above the point just mentioned,
when they saw a half dozen mounted Indians come over the hill to the
north and dash at full speed in the direction of the herd. Following
them, other Indians came in sight, until there were at least twenty-five
in the band. In a very short time the savages had rounded up most of
the horses and were driving them up the creek at a furious speed. They
passed Teachout, who was on the other side of the creek, expecting every
minute to be attacked. Neither he nor his hired man had guns, but as
they did not run, the Indians evidently thought they were armed, and
kept some distance away. As they went by, one of the Indians who could
speak English yelled: "Damn you, we are going to take your horses!"
Soon after this, Teachout saw that the Indians had missed a bunch of
fifteen to twenty colts that were grazing off to one side, and he and
his hired man started after them, thinking to save at least that part
of the herd. But the Indians soon discovered what they were after and
started in pursuit, firing as they went. When affairs took this turn,
there was nothing left for Teachout and his man to do but ride for their
lives, and get back to the ranch as quickly as possible, which they did.
The Indians rounded up the colts and soon disappeared to the eastward
up Cottonwood Creek with the entire herd. Less than an hour afterward,
they passed a ranch near the head of the creek, traveling rapidly. At
this place the Indians attempted to add to their herd, but failed, as
the horses they were after happened to be picketed close to the house,
and a few shots from two well-armed ranchmen entrenched behind the walls
of their log cabin drove the savages off.
Upon reaching home, Teachout immediately sent a messenger to his brother
on the Divide, with an account of the raid and a request that he enlist
as large an armed force as could quickly be gotten together, to follow
the Indians and, if possible, recover the horses. The brother acted
promptly, and that evening a party consisting of Dow and Bale Simpson,
Jim Sims, "Wild Bill," and others, whose names I have been unable to
obtain, twenty-eight in all, started in pursuit of the savages. The
party camped that night at a ranch about three miles southeast of C.
R. Husted's saw-mill, and at this point were joined by a Mr. Davis and
Job Talbert, a brother-in-law of Mr. Husted. These two men had expected
to get horses and arms at this ranch. Failing in this, however, they
started back to the mill the following morning, but had gone only a
short distance when the Indians overtook them, killed and scalped both
leaving their mutilated bodies in the road, where they were found by
their friends a few hours afterward.
The Simpson party, as it afterwards was called, started again early in
the morning, soon found the trail of the captured herd, and followed
it rapidly along the south side of the pinery, then eastward across
Squirrel Creek and down the Big Sandy to the mouth of a creek coming in
from the north, the size of the herd making the trail plain and easy to
follow. So far no Indians had been seen, and the indications were that
the Indians with the stolen horses were so far ahead as to make further
pursuit useless. But instead of returning directly home, they decided
to follow up this creek and scout the country to the east of Bijou
Basin. A few miles up the creek they came to a ranch, which they found
deserted. The house was open and had been thoroughly ransacked, but the
owner nowhere appeared. After considerable search, his dead body was
found some distance away. He had been killed and scalped by the Indians,
and, as in every other case, the body had been horribly mutilated, the
house looted, and all his stock driven off. After burying the body, the
party continued in a northerly direction until it reached the old Smoky
Hill road. Here they met a party of eighteen men from the country to the
north of Bijou Basin, and it was decided to combine the two forces for
further scouting in that region. A short distance away from their camp
that night, they found and buried the bodies of two men who had been
killed by the Indians a day or two before. The combined parties camped
together that night, and the following morning started towards Bijou
Basin. During all this time no Indians had been seen, and it seemed
probable that the savages had returned to their villages on the plains.
Under this impression, the men marched rather carelessly along, strung
out over the prairie for a considerable distance. Early in the afternoon
the party of eighteen, having decided that there was nothing further they
could accomplish, left the Simpson party and started off northwesterly,
in the direction of their homes. Hardly were they out of sight when
two of Simpson's men, who were some distance ahead of the main party,
saw a few Indians on a hill not very far away. Word was at once sent
back to the stragglers, and the party closed up in double-quick time.
Meanwhile other Indians appeared, until in a short time they greatly
outnumbered the Simpson party. This made it imperative that a place for
defense should be found without delay. Apparently, the most favorable
position in sight was the extreme point of a short and rather isolated
ridge near by, at which place the ground dropped off rather abruptly on
three sides. The men rushed to this point, formed a circle, and began
to throw up temporary entrenchments with butcher knives and such other
implements as they had at hand. By this time the Indians, under cover
of a ridge to the south, had opened a sharp fire. Bullets were whizzing
around in a lively fashion and in a few minutes several of the horses
had been wounded. However, an encouraging feature of the situation
was that many of the shots fired by the Indians struck the ground some
distance away. The whites returned the fire at every opportunity, and
had reason to believe that their shots had been effective in a number
of instances, although the Indians kept under cover as much as possible.
Before darkness came on, a number of Simpson's men had been wounded and
several of the horses killed. By this time, notwithstanding the strong
defense that was being made, it became more and more a question whether
the party could withstand a vigorous charge by the Indians.
Night coming on, the firing of the Indians slackened a little and the
men were enabled to give some consideration to their situation. It
was realized that neither their location nor resources were favorable
for a long siege, and for that reason help must be obtained as soon as
possible. Among the party was a dare-devil sort of fellow known by the
name of "Wild Bill," who volunteered to take the fastest horse, and
in the darkness endeavor to break through the Indian line, which now
completely surrounded the hill. Then, if successful, he was to hurry on
to the settlements at Bijou Basin, fifteen miles away, and bring back
reinforcements as quickly as possible. This suggestion met with the
approval of every one, and arrangements were immediately made to carry
it into effect. About nine o'clock Wild Bill, mounted on Dow Simpson's
race horse, stole out from the entrenchments and quietly rode away.
The night being moderately dark, he succeeded in getting some distance
away before he was discovered by the Indians. He then put spurs to his
horse and dashed away at the best speed the animal was capable of, the
Indians following in a frantic endeavor to cut him off, shooting at him
as they ran. Fortunately neither he nor the horse was hit, and in a short
time he had left the Indians far behind. After that, he was not long in
reaching Bijou Basin, where arrangements were at once made to dispatch
couriers to Colorado City and elsewhere for reinforcements.
Meanwhile, those surrounded on the hill were most anxious for the
safety of their messenger. They heard the shots and knew that he had
been discovered, and that the Indians were in pursuit of him, but had
no means of telling whether or not he had escaped. The only reassuring
circumstance was that soon after this the firing gradually slackened,
finally stopping altogether; and when daylight came there were no Indians
in sight. The besieged men realized that this might be only a ruse, and
that possibly the Indians were lurking near, ready to take advantage of
them after they had left their entrenchments. However, on account of their
critical position, being entirely without water for themselves and their
horses, they determined to make a dash and take a chance of reaching the
settlements. This being decided upon, they started at once, and without
further molestation reached Holden's ranch in Bijou Basin before noon,
no Indians having been seen on the way. In the engagement none of the
party had been killed and no one seriously wounded, probably because of
the poor ammunition issued to the Indians by the Government—for which
I suppose the white people of this region should have been duly thankful.
While this engagement had been going on, stirring events had been
happening in the neighborhood of Colorado City and elsewhere in the
county. As I have already stated, within the next few days after the
killing of Mrs. Dieterman, and the raid upon Teachout's horses, most
of the ranchmen down the Fountain Valley had brought their families to
Colorado City for protection. The people of the Divide gathered for
defense at McShane's ranch near Monument, at John Irion's on Cherry
Creek, and at Husted's mill in the pinery. The air was full of rumors
of Indian depredations in every direction; but, as it was harvest time,
it was imperative that the gathering of the crops be attended to. This
made it necessary that some chances be taken, and it so happened that,
when the crisis came, many of the men of Colorado City were out in the
harvest fields of the surrounding country.
About noon on September 3, 1868, a band of forty to fifty Indians came
dashing down the valley of Monument Creek, capturing all loose horses
in their path. The first white man they ran across was Robert F. Love,
of Colorado City, who was riding along the higher ground to the east
of Monument Creek, not far from the present town of Roswell. As soon
as Love saw the Indians, instead of trying to get away, which he knew
would be useless, he dismounted, keeping his pony between himself and
the savages, and, by keeping his revolver pointed in their direction,
showing them that he was armed. After maneuvering around him for a time,
the Indians passed on, apparently convinced that some of them would get
hurt if they remained. It was not their policy to take many chances, as
was evidenced throughout their entire stay in this region. They seldom
troubled people who seemed to offer any serious resistance, seeking rather
defenseless men, women, and children. Soon after leaving Love, a few of
the Indians crossed Monument Creek to the house of David Spielman, which
stood on the west side, about half a mile above the Mesa Road Bridge in
the present city of Colorado Springs. Spielman had just finished moving
his family and household effects to Colorado City, and being tired, had
lain down behind the open front door, and had gone to sleep. The Indians
looked in at the open door, but fortunately did not see him. They then
went to the corral and took from it a horse that Spielman had purchased
only the day before. After that they recrossed Monument Creek and joined
the main body, which continued rapidly along the low ground east of the
creek, crossing the present Washburn Athletic Field, on the way, and
coming out on to the higher ground a few hundred yards south of Cutler
Academy, near where the Hagerman residence now stands.
A short time previously, Charley Everhart, a young man about eighteen
years of age, had started from his home just west of Monument Creek and
near the present railway bridge above the Rio Grande station, to look
after his father's cattle, that were grazing on the plain now covered
by the city of Colorado Springs. After crossing Monument Creek, he
followed a trail that led eastward along the south rim of the high bank
north of what is now known as Boulder Crescent. Everhart knew there were
Indians in the country, and was no doubt on the lookout for them. He
was mounted on a small pony, and had probably gone as far east as the
present location of Tejon Street, when he evidently saw the Indians as
they came out into open view to the north of him. He at once turned his
pony toward home and urged it to its highest speed, making a desperate
effort to escape from the savages; but his horse was no match for those
of the Indians, and they soon overtook him. Everhart had reached a point
near the intersection of what is now Platte and Cascade Avenues, when
a shot from one of the savages caused him to fall from his horse. One
of the Indians then came up to him, ran a spear through his body, and
scalped him, taking all the hair from his head except a small fringe
around the back part. The whole occurrence was witnessed from a distance
by several persons. An hour or so afterward, when the Indians had gone
and it was safe to do so, a party went out to where his mutilated body
lay, and brought it to Colorado City.
After killing Everhart, the Indians saw farther down the valley, a quarter
of a mile or so away, a lone sheep herder, who was generally known as
"Judge" Baldwin, and the whole band immediately started after him. When
Baldwin saw the Indians coming, he tried to escape. Having no spurs or
whip, he took off one of his long-legged boots and used it to urge his
mount to its utmost speed. This, however, was ineffectual, as his horse
was inferior to those of the Indians, and they had no difficulty in
overtaking him before he had gone very far. They shot him, and he fell
from his horse near the site of the present Fourth Ward Schoolhouse.
The bullet struck Baldwin in the shoulder, and as he was leaning forward
at the time, it passed upward through his neck and came out through the
jaw. He dropped from his horse completely dazed, but in his delirium he
used the boot to fight off the Indians. The latter evidently thought
the wound mortal, so without wasting any more ammunition upon him one
of their number proceeded to take his scalp. The savage ran the knife
around the back part of Baldwin's head, severing the scalp from the
skull, and then discovered that he had been scalped at some previous
time. For some reason, probably superstition of some kind, the Indians
then abandoned the idea of scalping him, and the entire band rode off,
leaving their victim, as they supposed, to die on the prairie. It was
a fact that Baldwin had been scalped by Indians in South America some
years before.
After leaving Baldwin, the Indians divided into two bands, one of which
went in a northeasterly direction and crossed Shooks Run near the point
where Platte Avenue now intersects it. Near this place they were joined
by other Indians who had evidently been in concealment near by. It is
said that during all this time two or three Indians stationed on the
hill where the Deaf and Blind Institute is now located, apparently by
the use of flags, directed the movements of those doing the killing,
wigwagging in a manner similar to that in use in the army at that time,
and that these signal men fell in with the others as they came along;
after which they all rode rapidly to the eastward and soon disappeared
on the plains. The other party continued down the valley of the Fountain,
and at a point just below where the Rio Grande bridge now crosses Shooks
Run, they came upon two small boys, the sons of Thomas H. Robbins, who
lived on the south side of the Fountain, not far away. These two boys,
eight and ten years of age respectively, were looking after their father's
cattle. They had evidently seen the Indians coming when some distance
away, as they were using every possible endeavor to escape; but they had
not gone far when the savages were upon them. It is said that one of the
boys fell upon his knees and lifted up his hands, as though begging the
Indians to spare his life, but the savages never heeded such appeals.
Two Indians reached down, each seized a boy by the hair, held him up
with one hand, and, using a revolver, shot him with the other and then
flung the quivering, lifeless body to the ground.
The savages then continued rapidly down along the edge of the bluffs, to
the north of Fountain Creek, and when at the south side of the present
Evergreen Cemetery, attempted to capture some horses at the Innis ranch,
in the valley a short distance away, but the presence of a number of
armed men there caused them to desist after two or three futile dashes
in that direction. Half a mile below this point, they met Solon Mason, a
ranchman from the lower end of the county, accompanied by two or three
other men. These men were all armed and, after two or three shots were
exchanged, the Indians gave them a wide berth. At a ranch just below,
occupied by George Banning, the Indians secured a few horses, after
which they struck out over the plains to join the other band.
As I have already said, armed parties were going out every day from
Colorado City to harvest the grain that had been ripe for some time.
On that morning, I had joined a group that was to assist Bert Myers, a
merchant of Colorado City, in harvesting a field of wheat on land now
occupied by the town of Broadmoor. I was binding wheat behind a reaper,
at a point not very far from the present Country Club buildings, when,
about two o'clock in the afternoon, I saw a horseman coming from the
east riding furiously in our direction. When he reached us we found that
it was a Mr. Riggs, who lived near the mouth of Cheyenne Creek. He told
us that the Indians were raiding the settlements in every direction,
and were killing people, mentioning of his own knowledge Everhart,
Baldwin, and the Robbins boys, and he thought a good many more; and
also had run off a large number of horses. My first thought was that the
Indians had come in during the previous night, concealed themselves in
the underbrush along the creeks, and taken advantage of the time when
most of the men were out in the fields, to attack, rob, and murder. I
knew such a thing was possible, as there was no one living between our
settlement and the Indian country to give us notice of the approach of
a hostile band. It then occurred to me that my three small brothers,
Edgar, Frank, and Charles, were looking after our cattle near the mouth
of Bear Creek, and certainly were in great danger, if indeed they had
not already been killed. I immediately secured permission to take one
of the horses from the reaper, in order to ride in search of the boys.
I quickly stripped off all the harness except the blind bridle, mounted
the horse, and tore away in the direction of Bear Creek. As a matter
of precaution, I had taken a revolver with me to the harvest-field as
at this time few went out unarmed. After a ride at top speed, I met the
boys about three-quarters of a mile south of Bear Creek.
My brothers told me that while eating their luncheon in the milk house
near our dwelling on Bear Creek, they were alarmed by the excited barking
of their dog. They ran out to see what was the matter, and, looking
across on the present site of Colorado Springs, saw a group of horsemen
whom they immediately knew to be Indians, pursuing another horseman, whom
they at once conjectured was Charley Everhart. A moment later the band
seemed to be grouped around some object, which doubtless was the time
when the Indians were scalping young Everhart. The boys witnessed the
savages race down over the flat in their pursuit of Baldwin, and while
this was in progress, they counted the horsemen and found that there were
thirty-five in the band. The boys then ran up the hill to the east of
the house, heard the shot, and witnessed what I have already described
concerning the shooting of Baldwin. They then saw the band divide, one
party going out on the plains and the other down the creek. Becoming
alarmed for their own safety, they had started to run to some of the
neighbors on Cheyenne Creek, when I met them. As soon as I had heard
their story, which assured me that the Indians had gone off to the east
and that there was no immediate danger to the boys, I rode back to the
harvest-field where we had abandoned the reaper, hitched to the wagon,
and drove to town. Later in the afternoon, the Robbins family, whose two
boys had been killed, as I have related, came by our Bear Creek ranch
on their way to Colorado City, and took my brothers to town with them.
By the time we reached Colorado City, the bodies of Everhart and the
two Robbins boys had been brought in. The party that went after Baldwin
found him alive, but supposed him to be mortally wounded. It was thought
that he could not possibly live more than a day or two at most, but, to
the surprise of everybody, in a short time he began to recover and in
a month or so was apparently well again.
Of course, the excitement in Colorado City and throughout the county was
intense. We knew that the Territorial authorities were unable to give
us any help whatsoever, and that the general Government had turned a
deaf ear to our appeals for protection. Consequently, we realized that
we must again, as in 1864, rely solely upon ourselves. In this emergency
we repaired the old fort around the log hotel, and organized our forces
to the best possible advantage, in order to be prepared for any further
attacks that the Indians might make. Only a few hours after the raid, a
messenger came in from Bijou Basin, asking that men be sent to the relief
of the Simpson party, which was surrounded by Indians near that point, as
I have already told. After consideration of the matter, it was decided
that our force was strong enough to spare a few men for that purpose.
Accordingly, that night ten of us volunteered to go to the assistance
of the besieged. For this expedition a Mr. Hall, who lived on what has
since been known as the Pope ranch, loaned me an excellent horse and a
Colt's rifle, a kind of gun I had never seen before nor have I seen one
like it since. It was a gun built exactly on the principle of a Colt's
revolver, the only trouble with it being that one never knew just how
many shots would go off at once.
Early the following morning we started out, following up Monument Creek
to the mouth of Cottonwood; thence up that creek over the ground where
Teachout's herd of horses had been captured. We stopped a few minutes
at the Neff ranch, which we found deserted, and then went east along
the route taken by the Indians when running off the Teachout herd.
An hour later, while we were riding along in a leisurely manner, and had
reached within about half a mile of the pinery, we saw to our right a
band of about twenty-five mounted Indians, half a mile away on the south
bank of Cottonwood Creek. We had been so wrought up by the murders of
the previous day, that without a moment's hesitation we wheeled about
and made for the Indians as fast as our horses could go. We had no sooner
started than I realized that we might be running into an ambuscade, and
I warned our people not to cross the ravine at the place where we had
first seen the savages, but to go on one side or the other; however,
our men were in such a state of frenzy, that they would not listen, so
we rushed headlong to the bank of the ravine through which the creek
ran. The bank was so steep that we had to dismount and lead our horses.
Fortunately for us, there were no Indians at that moment at the point
where we were crossing the ravine, but we had not gone a quarter of a mile
before a mounted Indian appeared on the bank, almost at that identical
place, and probably there were others hidden near the same point.
As soon as the Indians on the south bank saw us coming, they started
on the run in a southeasterly direction, and, when some distance away,
gradually turned to the eastward. By this time our party began to think
a little of the desirability of keeping a way of retreat open, in case of
defeat in the expected engagement. For that reason, we veered a little to
the right, and kept on until we were directly between them and Colorado
City. By this time, the Indians had dismounted on a large open flat, about
three-quarters of a mile to the eastward of us, and, forming a circle with
their ponies, seemed to be awaiting our attack. We could see their guns
flashing in the sunshine, and while we were surprised at this movement,
so contrary to the usual custom of the Indians, we did not hesitate a
moment, but started toward them as fast as our ponies could take us.
Evidently changing their minds upon seeing this, the Indians remounted
and started in the direction of the pinery as rapidly as they could go.
Their horses were better and fleeter than ours, so we were unable to head
them off, and when they entered the edge of the timber we knew it would
only be inviting disaster to follow farther. We then resumed our march
in the direction of Bijou Basin. An hour or two later, we went by the
extreme eastern edge of the pinery, at the point where the old government
road crossed Squirrel Creek. Here, judging by the great number of fresh
pony tracks, a large number of Indians must have passed only a short time
previously. After a short rest at this point, we rode steadily on and
reached Bijou Basin that evening just before dark. On our arrival, we
found that the besieged party had come in the day before, and that all
the men, except the wounded, had returned to their homes. The wounded
were being cared for at Mr. D. M. Holden's ranch. There being nothing
further for us to do, we started for home early the following morning.
Upon our way, we found many Indian pony tracks at various places along
the eastern and southern edge of the pinery, showing that the Indians
were still around in considerable numbers, but we saw none during the
day. After leaving the pinery, we followed the wagon road that came down
through what is now known as the Garden Ranch. As we came down the hill,
two or three miles to the northeast of the ranch houses, we noticed a
number of horsemen congregated near that point. From their actions we
knew that they were very much excited, and evidently mistook us for a
band of Indians. They gathered around some tall rocks a little way to
the eastward of the gateway, and seemed to be preparing for defense. We
tried by signaling and otherwise to make ourselves known to them, but
were unsuccessful until we were almost within gun-shot distance. They
were greatly relieved when they ascertained who we were. We then joined
them and reached Colorado City without further incident.
Events of a similar character were of almost daily occurrence while the
Indians remained in this region. Every animal on a distant hill became
an Indian horseman to the excited imagination of the ranchman or cowboy,
and without further investigation he rushed off to town to give the
alarm. No lone man on horseback allowed another horseman to approach
him without preparing for defense, and every object at a distance that
was not clearly distinguishable was viewed with alarm.
For two weeks following the raid upon the present town-site of Colorado
Springs, the Indians had virtual possession of the northern and eastern
portions of the county. During this time they raided Gill's ranch, east
of Jimmy's Camp, and ran off his herd of horses, taking them out of the
corral near his house in the night, although the horses were being guarded
by armed men. It appears that the Indians stole up to the corral on the
opposite side from where the guards were posted, made an opening in it,
let the horses out, and were off with them before the men realized what
was going on.
About the same time, the Indians killed a demented man named Jonathan
Lincoln, at the Lincoln ranch in Spring Valley on Cherry Creek, just
north of the El Paso County line. Lincoln and a Mexican were out in the
harvest-field binding oats when they saw the Indians approaching. The
Mexican saved himself by flight, but Lincoln folded his arms and calmly
awaited the coming of the savages. Without hesitation they killed him,
took his scalp, and departed again into the recesses of the adjacent
pinery. They also killed John Choteau, on east Cherry Creek, John Grief
and Jonathan Tallman on east Bijou, and raided the John Russell ranch
at the head of East Cherry Creek, from which place they ran off sixteen
horses.
About this time, a small band of Indians, while prowling around near
the town of Monument, threatened the house of David McShane at a time
when all the men were away, Mrs. McShane and some neighboring women and
children being the only occupants. Having the true pioneer spirit, the
women, under the leadership of Mrs. McShane, put up such a strong show of
defense that the savages abandoned the attack in short order, apparently
glad to get away unharmed. Soon after, they burned Henry Walker's house,
which stood about a mile east of the present Husted station on the Denver
and Rio Grande Railroad.
The Indians seemed to have established a camp at some secluded place
in the timber of the Divide, from which they went out in small parties
in every direction, killing and robbing when opportunity offered. Every
day during these two weeks, Indians were seen at various places on the
Divide and the eastern part of the county. By this time, however, our
people had taken their families out of danger and were so constantly on
the alert that the Indians, while having many opportunities for looting
and robbing the deserted ranches, had few chances for surprising and
killing defenseless people, who were the only ones they cared to attack.
Throughout the raid, those who had been able to make any kind of a defense
had been let alone. The Indians seemed unwilling to take any chances or
to waste their ammunition, unless they were certain of results.
A week or two after the beginning of the Indian troubles, the people
of El Paso County took steps to form a military company to be regularly
employed against the Indians, its members to serve without pay. It was
the intention to keep this company in the field until the Indians were
driven out of the region. About the fifteenth of September, eighty
mounted and well-armed men, who had enlisted for the purpose, and of
whom I was one, met at Husted's saw-mill on the Divide and perfected
a military organization by the election of the usual company officers,
A. J. Templeton being elected captain. The company took up its line of
march through the pinery to Bijou Basin; thence eastward past the place
where Simpson's party had been besieged two or three weeks before.
After examining with much interest the scene of this fight, we went
southeasterly to Big Sandy Creek, thence down the valley of that creek
to Lake Station on the Smoky Hill wagon road, about ten miles east of
the present town of Limon. On our march we saw no Indians, and, judging
from their trails and from other indications, we decided that they were
leaving the country. As we marched down the valley of the Big Sandy, in
the vicinity of the present towns of Ramah and Calhan, we saw hundreds
of dead cattle, most of them cows that had been killed by the Indians
only a day or two before. That these cattle had been wantonly killed,
was shown by the fact that no part of the animals had been taken for
food. In almost every instance they had been shot with arrows, many
of which were at the time sticking in the carcasses. Besides the dead
cattle, we saw hundreds of live ones scattered all over the hills and
down the valley, which had evidently been driven off by the Indians
from the ranches in El Paso and the surrounding counties. At a point
about ten miles down the valley from the present station of Limon, on
the Rock Island Railway, the trail of the Indians left the valley and
turned northeastward. At this place we were about seventy-five miles
southwest from the Beecher Island battle ground, on the Arickaree fork
of the Republican River, where Colonel George A. Forsyth and his fifty
followers were at that very time making their heroic defense against an
overwhelming number of Indians under the command of the famous chief Roman
Nose, although we knew nothing of the affair until some time later. The
trail of the Indians led across the country in a direct line toward the
battle ground. No doubt they had been summoned by runners to aid their
people, and probably this was the reason for their leaving El Paso County.
Upon discovering the course taken by the Indians, Captain Templeton, on
account of his small force, deemed it imprudent to pursue them farther.
An additional reason for facing about was that our supply of provisions
was about exhausted, and had we gone farther we should have had to
subsist on the wild game of the region, which would have been a risky
thing to attempt. As it was, on our way homeward we had to live entirely
on the meat of cattle we killed. Having no camp outfit, we broiled the
meat on sticks before our camp fires and then ate it without salt. To
me this fare was about the nearest to a starvation diet that I have
ever experienced. We reached Colorado City in due time, without having
seen an Indian during our whole campaign. Whether we were the cause of
the Indians leaving this region, or whether it was a coincidence that
they were just ahead of us, I do not know, but it was evident that the
Indians were gone, and on account of approaching winter we had little
to fear from them during the remainder of the year. There apparently
being no further use for its services, the company was disbanded.
It had been a strenuous period for the settlers from the first appearance
of the Indians about the 20th of August until this time. At least a
dozen persons had been killed in El Paso County and the country adjacent
thereto on the Divide. Many houses had been destroyed; crops had been
lost through inability to harvest the grain; probably five hundred horses
and at least one thousand head of cattle had been driven off, making
an aggregate loss of property that was extremely heavy for a sparsely
populated county such as El Paso was at that time. The contest was an
unequal one from the start. The settlers were armed with a miscellaneous
lot of guns, most of which were muzzle-loading hunting rifles, while
the Indians were armed with breech-loading guns using metal cartridges.
Fortunately for the settlers, the ammunition of the Indians was of a poor
quality, as was proved in the fight east of Bijou Basin and elsewhere,
and, judging by the careful manner in which they used their ammunition,
it is probable that the supply was not very large. This undoubtedly saved
the lives of many of our people. It was noticed from the first that the
Indians never wasted their ammunition and seldom attacked an armed person.
During all the time the savages were going up and down the county
murdering people, stealing stock, and destroying the property of the
settlers, the general Government did not make the slightest attempt to
give our people protection, although attention was repeatedly called
to their desperate condition. It is true that a week or two after the
Indian troubles began, the Territorial authorities at Denver supplied our
people with a limited number of old Belgian muskets, together with the
necessary ammunition, but these guns were so much inferior to those in
the hands of the Indians, that they were of very little use. With this
one exception, the early settlers of this county were left entirely to
their own resources from the beginning of the Indian troubles, in 1864,
until the end, which did not come until the building of the railroads
into the Territory. Every appeal to the general Government for protection
was received either with indifference or insult.
In September, 1866, General William T. Sherman, Commander-in-Chief of the
United States Army, on his way north from an inspection of the forts in
New Mexico, accompanied by a large number of staff officers and a strong
escort, stopped overnight in Colorado City. Having been in constant danger
from the Indians since the beginning of the trouble in 1864, our people
thought this an opportune time to lay the matter before him and ask that
proper means of protection be provided. My father, the Rev. Wm. Howbert,
was appointed spokesman of the committee that waited upon the General.
In his speech, father explained our exposed and defenseless condition,
and suggested that a force of government troops be permanently stationed
at some point on our eastern frontier, in order to intercept any Indians
that might be attempting a raid upon the people of this region. General
Sherman received the appeal with utter indifference, and replied that
he thought we were unnecessarily alarmed; that there were no hostile
Indians in the neighborhood; and then sarcastically remarked that it
probably would be a very profitable thing for the people of this region
if we could have a force of government troops located near here, to whom
our farmers might sell their grain and agricultural products at a high
price. With this remark he dismissed the committee, the members of which
left the room very indignant at the manner in which their appeal had been
received. Later in the year, General Sherman evidently was of the opinion
that there _were_ hostile Indians in the western country and that they
needed severe punishment, for after the massacre of Lieut.-Col. Fetterman
and his entire command near Fort Phil Kearny, Wyoming, he telegraphed
General Grant, saying: "We must act with vindictive earnestness against
the Sioux, even to their extermination, men, women, and children; nothing
else will reach the root of the case."
Two years later, in 1868, the General came to Denver along the line of
the Kansas-Pacific Railway, at that time under construction, and was glad
to have a strong escort to guard him through the region of the hostile
Indians. Following this trip, he made a strenuous effort to punish the
savages elsewhere, but apparently made no attempt to protect the settlers
on the eastern borders of Colorado.
I venture to say that no civilized nation ever gave less attention to
protecting its frontier people from the incursion of savages than did
our general Government. It was always a question of the influence that
could be brought to bear upon the government officials at Washington.
After the outbreak of the Indians in Minnesota, in 1862, the Government
took prompt measures and punished the savages unmercifully. However,
this was due to the fact that Minnesota at that time had two Senators
and several members of Congress who were able to bring the necessary
influence to bear. During all of our Indian troubles, Colorado had only
one delegate in Congress, who had no vote and very little influence.
Consequently, we were left to protect ourselves as best we could.
The whole eastern frontier of El Paso County faced upon the territory
occupied by the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, the most crafty and
bloodthirsty savages upon the American continent. There were at all
times bands of these Indians roaming around on the headwaters of the
Republican and Smoky Hill rivers, and it was easy for them to reach the
settlements of this county without being observed. Considering these
facts, it now seems a wonder that we were not wiped off the face of the
earth. Doubtless, as I have said before, the reason that we were not
exterminated was the fact of our contiguity to the country of their
hereditary enemies, the Utes, for whom, on account of their fighting
ability, they had a wholesome respect.
During the Indian troubles, a few settlers left the county and sought
places of safety elsewhere, but the great majority of our people pluckily
stood their ground. The ranchmen who had brought their families to
Colorado City for protection left them there until the trouble was over,
but went to their homes as often as they could get two or three armed men
to accompany them, to harvest their grain and take care of their stock.
Every time they did this, it was at the risk of their lives, for no one
could tell when or where the savages might next appear. The people who
now live in the cities and on the ranches of El Paso County can have no
true conception of the dangers and the anxieties of the early settlers
of the Pike's Peak region. As soon as it was definitely known that the
Indians had left the county, most of the ranchmen moved their families
back to their homes. From previous experience it was known that, as
winter was coming on, there was little danger to be apprehended until
the following spring.
By the spring of 1869, the Government, in a winter campaign with troops
under the command of General Custer, had administered such severe
punishment to the Cheyennes and Arapahoes in the battle of Washita and
in other engagements that thereafter the people of El Paso County were
unmolested by them, although spasmodic outbreaks occurred at various
places out on the plains for several years afterward.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
The following possible archaic spellings or typos were noted by
readers, but retained as printed:
Mescalaros
Sante Fé
employes
Tabaguache and Tabeguache.