The Nine Mile Ridge Massacre.
During the coldest time in winter, in the month of January, 1863, nine
freight wagons left Santa Fe, New Mexico, on their way East. A few miles
before they reached the Nine Mile Ridge they encountered a band of
almost famished Indians, who hailed with delight the freight wagons,
thinking they could get some coffee and other provision. In this lonely
part of the world, seventy-five miles from Fort Larned, Kansas, and a
hundred and sixty-five miles from Fort Lyon, without even a settler
between, it was uncomfortable to even an Indian to find himself
without rations.
The Nine Mile Ridge was a high elevation above the Arkansas River road
running close to the river, on top of the ridge. The Indians followed
the wagons several miles, imploring the wagon boss to give them
something to eat and drink, which request he steadily refused in no
uncertain voice. When it was known by the red men that the wagon boss
was refusing their prayers for subsistence they knew of no other method
to enforce division other than to take it from the wagons.
The leader of the band went around to the head of the oxen and demanded
them to corral, stop and give them some provision. During the corraling
of the train one wagon was tipped partly over and the teamster shot an
Indian in his fright. Then the Indians picked up their wounded warrior,
placed him on a horse and left the camp, determined to return and take
an Indian's revenge upon the caravan. The wagon boss went into camp well
satisfied--but not long was his satisfaction to last.
After the Indians departed several teamsters who thought they knew what
was desired by the Indians reproached their wagon-boss for not having
complied with their request to give them food. His action in refusing
food resulted in a mutiny on the part of the teamsters, and after the
oxen were turned out to graze, the dispute between the teamsters and the
wagon-boss became so turbulent that if a few peaceably inclined drivers
had not arraigned themselves on the side of the wagon-boss he would have
been lynched.
Before daylight the Indians returned and attacked the wagons and killed
all the whites but one man who escaped down the bank into the river. He
floated down until he was out of hearing of the Indians. When he was
almost worn out and half frozen he got out of the river, wrung the water
from his clothing and started for Fort Larned, seventy-five miles
distant. After leaving the water he noticed a fire, and knew
instinctively that the Indians had set fire to their wagons, and
wondered how many, if any, of the company had escaped as he had so
far done.
Late in the afternoon of the next day a troop of soldiers discovered
this man several miles from Fort Larned in an almost exhausted
condition, dropping down and getting up again. The commanding officer
sent out some soldiers and brought him to the fort. I talked with this
man, and he told me that if the wagon-boss had given the Indians
something to eat, entertained them a little, or given them the smallest
hospitality, he believed they would all have been saved from
that massacre.
He said the Indians plead with the wagon-boss for food, and he thought
if the teamster had not lost his equanimity and made that first luckless
shot the massacre of the Nine Mile Ridge would never have become a thing
of history.
This tragedy created a great fright and made traveling across the plains
difficult. The Indians were hostile only because they did not know the
minds of the white men, and what their attitude toward them would be, if
they were not always prepared to defend themselves. Therefore the people
traveling on the plains in trains amassed themselves together for
protection, and the people at Fort Larned with their soldiers were very
much wrought up over the atrocious murders and the destruction of
property all along the whole Western frontier. In time of war one false
step may cause the death of hundreds. In this case the commanding
officer of the fort took the precaution to send out runners to call the
Indians together to the fort, in order to learn, if possible, the cause
of this fearful massacre and to get their statement concerning
their action.
The two Indians who came in verified the statement of the ox-driver, and
declared that if the teamster had not killed their inoffensive warrior
who only asked for something to eat there would have been no trouble at
all from them.
In defense of the Indian I will say that the people in general were all
the time seeking to abuse him. In almost all instances where I have read
of Indian troubles I have noticed that at all times it grew out of the
fact that the whites invariably raised the trouble and were always the
aggressors. Nevertheless, newspaper reports and any other report for
that matter, laid the blame at the door of the wigwam of the red man of
the forest.
It is my opinion that most of the trouble on the frontier was uncalled
for. The white man learned to fear the Indians always, when there was no
attempt on the part of the Indian to do him harm. Many times while I was
crossing the plains have bands of from thirty to forty Indians or more
come to us, catching up with us or passing us by. Had I not understood
them and their intentions as well as I did we would more than likely
have had trouble with them or have suffered severe inconvenience. We
never thought of fear when they were going along the road, and many
times I would call them when I would camp for meals to come and get a
cup of coffee. They would go back with us to camp. We did not care what
their number was, we would always divide our provisions with them. If
there were a large number of Indians, and our provisions were scarce, I
would tell them so, but also tell them that notwithstanding that fact I
still had some for them. Then if they only got a few sups of coffee
around and a little piece of bread they were always profoundly grateful
and satisfied that we had done our best.
In order to let them know we were scarce of bread, etc., I would say,
"poka te keta pan;" in the Mexican language that is interpreted "very
little bread." Bread, in the Mexican or Indian language, is "pan," and
when they understood they would say "si," which is interpreted "yes."
They showed us their appreciation for the little they received just as
though we had given them a whole loaf of bread apiece.
If we only had a few cups of coffee and had seventy or eighty Indian
guests we would give it to one of the Indians and he would divide it
equally among his number. He would place the cup so it would contain an
equal amount of the coffee. Then one of the Indians would get up from
the ground (they always sit on the ground grouped all about us when they
ate with us) and take the cups and hand them around to every fifth man,
or such a one as would make it average to every cup of coffee they had.
The Indians would break the bread and give to each one, according to
what his share equally divided would be. When they come to drink their
coffee every Indian who had a cup would raise it to their lips at once,
take a swallow of the beverage, then pass the cup on to the next one.
They did the bread the same way. After finishing their repast they
invariably thanked us profusely in their Indian style for what they had
been given. There were times when I had plenty of provisions to give
them all they needed or required to satisfy their hunger. At no time was
my coach surrounded with hostile intent without departing from it in
friendliness. At the same time I knew they had some great grievances.
[Illustration: The First William Penn, in 1670, Treating with the
Indians.
This picture is placed in the book for the purpose of drawing attention
to the methods employed by the First William Penn in connection with the
same methods employed by the Second William Penn to successful treaty
with the Indians. His friendliness overcame any hostilities which they
might have previously had.]