Recollections of Early Texas (4 page)

A
USTIN'S
L
ITTLE
C
OLONY
(
showing locations of homes of people mentioned
)

B
ASTROP,
T
EXAS
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showing location of homes in 1837
)

Upon moving to Texas it was natural to suppose that the old trouble was left at the old home in Tennessee, and the Burlesons settled in the western portion of our state. Gradually, the sons by their bravery and fidelity became “soul and center” of the defensive work which our country required from 1833 to 1845. Considerable trouble between the Indians and whites arose over in East Texas, around Angelina and Tyler Counties, and an appeal for help came to Edward Burleson, who now held command of quite a strong force from the Colorado.

Of course, he obeyed the call, being always ready at a moment's warning to act even unto death in behalf of Texas and her settlers. The Indians, whose depredations had given rise to this appeal to Burleson, proved to be none other than the old family foes—the Cherokees under Chief Bowles. They had moved to East Texas, and true to the inherent greed and treachery of their past lives, had become unendurable and dangerous to the white settlers, who everywhere learned to look to Edward Burleson for help and protection amid the suffering and dangers to which they were exposed. The Cherokees were defeated, and their old Chief Bowles was killed, so they struck out westward—still changing locality, but never changing character or habits.

Our frontier being a constant scene of trouble and danger from invasion and theft, Burleson concluded to make an invading raid against the invaders, and marched with his men to the San Saba—again never dreaming of coming in contact with the old Cherokee foes. He had a few Tonkawa Indians in his company, and through their native intuition they soon discovered Indian signs, whereupon they were sent out under Jonathan Burleson* to find the camps. Soon they came upon a solitary Indian, who at first would not venture near, but was finally decoyed by the Tonkawas to talk with
them. Seizing him, they took him to Burleson, who made him lead the way to their camps.

On Cherokee Creek, a branch of the San Saba, they found encamped a strong force of Cherokees under young Bowles, a son of the old chief—and the old foes met again. Burleson did not act hastily, however, but first sent the captive Indian into the Cherokee camps, bidding him to say to them that the whites did not come to fight the Cherokees—indeed would not harm them, unless they first made war. As soon as Burleson's company came within gunshot, however, before the Indian could deliver his message, the Cherokees fired upon them, instantly killing Captain [John L.] Lynch,* one of Burleson's men. The fight was a close one, but again the Cherokees were defeated—their young chief Bowles was killed and the entire Bowles family was captured.

Thus ended a feud in which circumstances seemed to combine in always bringing together the parties at enmity.

I will now return to our own lives in the new country. In the fall of 1829 [1830] we moved to what is still known as the “Jenkins League” of land—then called Jenkins Prairie, now known as Hills Prairie,
⁸
situated five miles south of Bastrop, and west of the Colorado.

A half-covered log cabin with a dirt floor had already been prepared for us by my father, and very near we had the luxury of a fine spring. Building cowpen, lot, and such things first busied the men, then the small stock of cattle was brought on from our first home on Barton's Creek.

Ah! What a country was West Texas then. It almost
“flowed with milk and honey,” and in truth nothing could be more beautiful than the broad plains covered with wild rye and the finest grass the world ever afforded. Feasting upon such luxuries the faithful old cows gave an abundance of milk the whole year round, and now when summer's drought or winter's blight comes upon us, and our stock suffer so much, despite every effort we make, it is no wonder that we wish for the
good old days,
when the land stood “dressed in living green.”

Our only neighbors were the two citizens whose coming I have already mentioned, Martin Wells, who lived where Bastrop now stands, and Moses Rousseau, from the Colorado, five and six miles distant from us.

Before we had been there long a message came from Barton's Prairie, our former home, that Indians were growing very troublesome, stealing horses, etc. Immediately the men all collected and went to see about it. They were gone about three weeks, but all efforts to catch the thieves or regain the horses were unsuccessful, though they trailed them to the mountains, and from grains of coffee and other signs of civilization, they concluded the thieves belonged To Whom It May Concern: the same band of Caddoes who had stolen corn from Woods' Prairie the previous year, as that tribe was less savage than most others who came through here at that time. They were very cunning and skillful in their thefts and retreats thereafter, and in this case fired the grass behind them as they went, thus destroying all trace.

CHAPTER II

Valuable Additions Arrive

From now until 1833 our new lives were comparatively quiet, so that we were gradually growing accustomed to the realities of the “western wilds.” The simplicity and limit of our farming operations in those days would at least be suggestive of rest and peace to the poor farmers of the present, who are trying so hard to make money under the rule of
King Cotton.
Our farms were comprised of about ten acres in all, most of which was planted in corn, with just a little cotton, only about ten or twelve rows!

In the meantime, the flow of immigration continued and up to date we had several new neighbors. Three families, those of [Reuben] Hornsby, [Solomon] Duty, and Dr. [Thomas J.] Gazley, had settled in Mina, and that of Major Robert M. Coleman on the east bank of the Colorado, a mile or two from the river. In that house more than fifty years ago I heard the first sermon ever preached in Bastrop County.

One evening in the spring of 1833, Martin Wells and son, riding a short distance out of Mina, returned in great haste, reporting Indians to be lurking in the hills, evidently intent upon mischief. After a brief council, the citizens planned to trap and catch the Indians. They were to stake horses on Gill's Branch, just out of Mina, where the Indians had been seen, then hide, and watch for them to try to steal the horses,
at which time their capture would be an easy matter. A nice plan if well executed, but by a little heedlessness or want of prudence they were caught in their own net. Having staked their horses, they imprudently left them without guards, and returned to Bastrop to eat supper, thinking the Indians would not attempt to take them until later in the night. They were greatly surprised upon going out after supper to find all the horses gone! The thieves in ambush had seen and seized their first opportunity. This theft left the little village almost destitute of horses, for nearly every horse owner rode his mount out to aid in the scheme. Being therefore on foot, the citizens made no pursuit, and the savages went on their way unmolested.
¹

Early in this year Col. James Neill, an old soldier under Jackson, came from Alabama and settled where old Mr. [Hugh King] McDonald* now lives. His bravery and experience won for him a hearty welcome in our midst, and he was of great service to us in subsequent years.

I come now to the first and most bitter experience in my life—my father's death—sudden, mysterious, and cruel. It is painful even to touch upon the calamity, which came like a pall over my whole life, so that, even now, when old age is creeping on, the memory of my father's death still looms up before me as most sad and harsh.

He was fast getting a comfortable start, owned a good many cattle; our home was being improved and we were just beginning to enjoy life when he was murdered—cruelly and unjustly. He was found by friends, killed and scalped under a large pecan tree out in a cornfield. It was said that Indians committed the dastardly deed, but no positive clue to the
real murderers was ever found.
²
I, the oldest male relative, was but a boy ten years old, and nothing was ever done to detect or bring to justice the killers. Suffice to say, Mother with her helpless family had to settle into a new life without my father, as best she might.

About now occurred the first scouting raid ever made by Edward Burleson against the Indians. An old man, Amos Alexander,* and his son were coming to these parts with a load of goods when they were waylaid and killed on the Gotier [Goacher] Trace where their bodies were found a few days afterward. Burleson raised a squad of men and after burying the bodies of the unfortunate father and son proceeded to examine the ground and everything near the scene in order to learn all he could as to the strength of the assaulting party and the direction of their flight.

From all signs the band had been quite small and on foot, but after trailing them about one hundred miles every trace was lost. The company was at a loss as to what course they should pursue. They were in camp deliberating matters when Bayt [John Bate] Berry, with one or two others, went out hunting. In the course of this hunt Berry found a solitary Caddo Indian whom he immediately brought to Burleson. The captive warrior claimed to be entirely honest and friend
ly, at the same time informing General Burleson that his friends in band were camping near. He was at once ordered to lead the way to their camps and very soon they came to an encampment of eight or ten warriors. The approach of Burleson's men caused terrible confusion and alarm amongst them and two of them started off apparently in great haste. Seeing this, Burleson dispatched men to follow them. They were led to two horses which being well shod and cared for were evidently horses belonging to citizens—Indian horses were seldom well shod or cared for in any respect.

Burleson captured the entire band, having considerable evidence that they were the murderers of the Alexanders and a strong suspicion that the horses were stolen from our citizens although they claimed that they had been hired to find and restore them to their rightful owners. A vote was taken as to what should be the fate of the captives and seven were killed. The eighth was a notorious glass-eyed Caddo who had before been caught with thieving parties. He was brought to Mina, where he was held under guard a while until his identity could be fully proved, and finally released.

Many on the Trinity and Brazos rivers, who had known these Caddoes only on their trading and hunting raids, censured Burleson for their being killed, but if they had known all the circumstantial evidence pointing to them as not only horse thieves but the wretches who murdered the Alexanders, they would have acquitted him of all the blame.
³

Soon after this, Major Coleman raised about eighteen men and made a raid over on the Navasota River, near Parker's Fort, where was situated a village of Waco Indians. A scheme was laid whereby the entire village might be taken. Under cover of darkness they crawled up into the very midst of the Indians, and there lay concealed, waiting for daylight.

Jessie Holderman [Jesse Halderman*] was appointed to give the signal for action. But matters were somewhat hastened. Some dogs commenced barking, and one of the Indians arose and walked out to see what was the matter. He soon showed that he discovered the concealed whites, so Holderman, realizing their danger, fired, thereby giving signal for the fight to begin. It was a fierce and heavy fight,
⁴
although Coleman's eighteen men were struggling against an entire tribe. He was at last forced to retreat; three men—Holderman, Bliss, and Wallace being badly wounded, and one Mr. Wallace being killed.

Soon after this defeat, Edward Burleson and Col. John H. Moore* raised a good force of men, and made another raid
against the Waco village, which they found lone and deserted, the Indians having evidently left in great fright, leaving the finest kind of corn crops growing in their fields.

Following their trail from the village for more than one hundred miles, they came upon a small encampment of Wacoes. They immediately opened fire and killed three, taking five or six captives. From these they learned that the main Indian force was encamped some distance on. It was already too late to see distinctly, so they concluded to wait until morning to pursue the trail. Starting at early daylight, they soon found, as the captives had stated, what had been the encampment of a large tribe, who had evidently left camp in great haste, for there were their own stake ropes
cut.
They would not tarry long enough to untie their horses! Men and horses were almost worn out, so it was thought best to come home, rest a while, and then make another effort.

So the men commenced their homeward march, bringing their captive Wacoes with them. Among these was one squaw with a bright little girl about three years old. This Indian child was much noticed and petted by the men, as she was not only bright, but very pretty. One night, while encamped on the Brazos River, a horrible incident occurred, which seems almost incredible. This savage mother, having by some means obtained possession of a knife, first killed her little daughter, and then attempted to kill herself. She was almost dead the next morning when first noticed, and there being no time for delay, Burleson called for a volunteer to kill her. Oliver Buckman came promptly forward, and volunteered to commit the deed, seemingly a brutal one, but in reality a mercy to the wretched woman, whose death was only a question of time. Taking her to the water's edge he drew a large hack knife, which he had made himself. As she gazed unflinchingly into his face, he severed with one stroke her
head from her body, both of which rolled into the water beneath.