In the spring and summer of 1867 I was called upon to visit the bands
of Indians to the east of the settlements on the Rio Virgen, and
farther north. A number of settlements had been deserted on the Sevier
River, and it was desirable that the temper of the Indians should be so
modified that they could be re-established.
I went east seventy-five miles, to the present location of Kanab. After
gathering around me some of the Indians, and planting some corn and
vegetables, I crossed over the rim of the basin, north, and traveled
down the valley of the Sevier.
I sought out places where the Indians were gathered in the largest
numbers. I had many long talks with them, which seemed to have a good
effect. Although some of the bands were considered quite hostile and
dangerous to visit, I felt that I was laboring for good, and had
nothing to fear.
In the fall of 1867, as soon as the water in the Colorado was low
enough for the Navajos to ford it, I kept close watch of the eastern
frontiers of Southern Utah. I met with quite a number of young Piutes
when I first went into the country. They said they had dreamed that I
was coming out into their country, and they proposed to assist me in
watching the frontiers. They proved to be quite useful in watching the
passes, and waylaid and shot several raiders.
The season of 1868 was spent in a similar manner to that of 1867, in
visiting the Indians in southeastern Utah, and cultivating peace among
them.
In October, 1869, I was requested to make another trip to the Moqui
towns, to talk with the people, and learn, if possible, whether there
were other Indians besides the Navajos raiding on our borders.
I started with a company of forty men, twenty of the brethren and
twenty Piutes. We crossed the Colorado where Lee's Ferry now is. Our
luggage went over on rafts made of floatwood, fastened together by
withes.
On arriving at the Moqui towns, I thought some of the people received
us rather coldly. My old acquaintances told me that the Navajos
intended to make another raid on our people in a short time. I felt
like returning to our settlements immediately.
When we left the towns, I felt much impressed to take the old Ute
trail, and cross the river thirty miles above where we crossed going
out. Some of the company objected to this and made much of the
difficulties of the crossing.
When we came to where a trail led to each of the crossings, I told the
company that I did not know why, but I was satisfied that it was our
duty to go home by the old Ute trail. I was much surprised to find that
more than half of the brethren had made up their minds not to go that
way. I told them if I knew anything about the mind and will of the
Lord, it was for us to go that way.
The Piutes, to a man, were willing to go the way I desired. The
brethren took the lower trail, and on we went. I remarked to them that
our trip to the Moquis was a failure. When we arrived home, we learned
that the Navajos had been into the settlements north of where our
people had guarded, and driven off twelve or fifteen hundred head of
animals, among them many valuable horses and mules.
I afterwards learned from the Piutes, that if the company had taken
the Ute trail, we would have met the raiders with all these valuable
animals on the open plains, after they had crossed the river. I felt
vexed that I did not take the Piutes with me and save this valuable lot
of stock for our people.
I slept out many cold nights in the winter of 1869-70, watching and
guarding with the Piutes. One Navajo was shot when two or three hundred
yards ahead of his company, which was driving out a small band of
horses. The raiders were much frightened, threw down their luggage and
wanted the Piutes to let them go home. The Piutes consented to let the
Navajos go if they would leave what they had. They gladly accepted the
terms. This took place in the Pahreah Pass, about twenty miles east of
Kanab.
The Navajo that was shot was only wounded. I followed his trail the
next day, to see what had become of him. I found where he had been
picked up by his friends and carried two or three miles. Near him was
another camp of raiders, resting.
One of the Piutes who was with me at the time, and had been told in a
dream to go with me, shot two of this company, scalped one of them, and
said that the other had sandy hair, and he dare not scalp him, for he
seemed too much like a white man.
At another time, when Captain James Andrus, with a company of men from
St. George, was with us, a few animals passed us in the night. We
supposed there were three Navajos with them.
We followed them one day. By taking a circuitous route we came within
range of them unobserved. Some of the company fired before the others
were ready. Two of the raiders fell; the others, quick as thought,
drove the horses upon a sharp point of rocks, where they took shelter
in such a way that they could guard their horses without exposing
themselves.
We endeavored to approach them to advantage, but without success. I was
fired at several times, as also were several of the other brethren.
Once, as I was secreted behind a cedar tree, a Navajo crawled up behind
a sand rift, fired at me, and the bullet just missed my head.
Finding that the Indians had the advantage of us, we left them, only
getting one of the horses. The Navajos secured ten horses and lost
three of their men.
Captain Andrus and company returned to St. George, and left Brothers
John Mangum, Hyrum Judd, Jehiel McConnell, my son Lyman, myself and the
Piutes to watch the frontiers, as we had done through the winter.
The winter of 1869-70 was one of great hardship for the few brethren
who, with the Piutes, watched the frontier. They suffered with the
cold, and passed many sleepless nights. We crossed the Buckskin, or
Kibab Mountain several times, with the snow in some places waist deep.
This Navajo war caused me many serious reflections. I felt that there
was a better way to settle matters, and I made up my mind to go and see
the Navajos, and have a talk with them as soon as circumstances would
permit.
In the spring of 1870, President Brigham Young, his counselor, George
A. Smith, Apostle Erastus Snow and other leading men of the Church,
came to Kanab, accompanied by twenty men as a guard.
As we had been notified of this visit, we had things in as good order
as possible. The Piutes, seventy in number, washed off the dirt
and paint which usually besmeared their persons, and put on a fair
appearance for Indians.
President Young at first objected to sending out the animals of the
company to feed under an Indian guard, but afterwards consented to do
so. He expressed himself well satisfied with my labors and policy on
the frontiers.
I told him that I desired to visit the Navajos, and have a talk with
them; that there had been a number of raiders killed, and I never saw a
Navajo's bones on the ground, the flesh having been eaten off by wolves
and vultures, but what I felt sorrow for the necessity of such things;
that I always abhorred the shedding of blood, and desired to obtain
peace in some better way.
When President Young arrived at Toquerville, on his return journey, he
sent me a letter of instructions, directing me to do all I could to
prevent the shedding of blood; not to let the Indians have any firearms
or ammunition if I thought they would use them for killing miners or
other travelers; and, if it were possible, he wished the people to get
along without the killing of any more Navajos.