Recollections of Early Texas (9 page)

Four men were sent ahead as spies and the rear guard of
the Indians, consisting of four warriors, turned and rode leisurely back to meet them. Slowly and deliberately they came on, making no sign or move for fight. When within twenty steps of our spies, Colonel Switzer
⁷
raised his gun and killed one, whereupon the others beat a hasty retreat for their main force. Burleson ordered us to “spur up,” and we rode very fast. We saw confusion in the Indian ranks, which we could not understand. A squad of men seemed to retreat in the face of a pursuing band of Indians. They were evidently divided against themselves or pursuing some other body of men.

At length, however, we were discovered by the main force of Indians, who immediately formed a line between us and their pack mules, stolen horses, and other plunder, and awaited our attack. When in one hundred and fifty yards of this line, we were ordered to dismount; one man of the double file held both horses, while his comrade shot.

It was a strange spectacle never to be forgotten, the wild, fantastic band as they stood in battle array, or swept around us with all strategy of Indian warfare. Twenty or thirty warriors, mounted upon splendid horses, tried to ride around us, sixty or eighty yards distant, firing upon us as they went. It was a superstition among them, that if they could thus run around a force they could certainly vanquish it. Both horses and riders were decorated most profusely, with all of the beauty and horror of their wild taste combined. Red ribbons streamed out from the horses' tails as they swept around us, riding fast, and carrying all manner of stolen goods upon their heads and bodies.

There was a huge warrior, who wore a stovepipe hat, and another who wore a fine pigeon-tailed cloth coat, buttoned
up
behind.
⁸
They seemed to have a talent for finding and blending the strangest, most unheard-of ornaments. Some wore on their heads immense buck and buffalo horns. One headdress struck me particularly. It consisted of a large white crane with red eyes.

In this run-around two warriors were killed, and also a fine horse. We were now ordered to reload, mount, and charge. They at once retreated, though a few stood until we were in fifteen steps of them before starting. In the meantime, the same warriors played around us at the right, trying to divide our attention and force, while the main body of Indians retreated, firing as they went. Soon, however, they struck a very boggy bayou, into which all of their pack mules and horses bogged down. A number of men halted to take charge of these, and such a haul they were making! The mules were literally loaded with all manner of goods, some even carrying hoop-irons to make arrow spikes. They bogged down so close together that a man could have walked along on their bodies
dry.

Still the Indians retreated while the whites advanced, though the ranks on both sides were constantly growing thinner, for at every thicket a savage left his horse and took to the brush, while every now and then a horse fell under one of our men. About twenty warriors kept up their play upon our right, while an equal number of our men kept them at bay. In this side play, Hutch Reid [Hutchinson Reed*] was wounded. He undertook to run up on an Indian and shoot him. As he passed, his gun snapped, and before he could check his horse, an arrow struck him just under the shoulder blade, piercing his lungs and lodging against his
breast bone. Then one of the most daring and best mounted of the warriors was killed by Jacob Burleson,
⁹
who was riding the notorious Duty roan, the race horse which a while back bore Matthew Duty to his death and which finally fell into Indian hands. This broke up the side play. Burleson, with about twenty-five men, pursued them to within a mile of the San Marcos River, where they separated, so we retraced our steps.

One instance of the hardness and cruelty of some men, even though not savage in form and color, was shown us on this raid. As was often the case, some squaws were marching in Indian ranks, and one of them had been shot, and lay breathing her last—almost dead, as we came by. French Smith,* with almost inhuman and unmanly cruelty, sprang upon her, stamped her, and then cut her body through with a lance. He was from the Guadalupe; indeed, I do not think there was a single man from Bastrop who would have stooped to so brutal a deed. Ah! Men almost forgot the meaning of love and mercy and forbearance amid the scenes through which we passed in those early days.

While halting to rest our horses, we heard a child cry, and upon going into the thicket, a Mr. Carter found a fine Indian baby, which had been left in the retreat.

Joe Hornsby* and I were riding about two hundred yards in front of Burleson's main army, watching for Indian signs and trails as we went. Suddenly we came in sight of about thirty Indians some distance ahead. At first Joe said they were Tonkawas, who were a friendly tribe living in our midst. Upon seeing their shields, however, we knew they were hostile. I galloped back to notify Burleson, while he kept his eye upon them. When we came up they immediately shied
off. We cut in ahead of them and advanced upon them. In thirty steps of them, Burleson ordered us to fire, and the action was simultaneous, though no one was hurt and only two horses killed. At one time here, I felt as if my “time” had come, sure enough. We had fired one round, and I was down loading my gun when I saw an Indian approaching me with gun presented. At this critical moment Joe Burleson
¹⁰
shot, killing him instantly. We discovered afterward that the Indian's gun was not loaded, and he was playing a “bluff.”

We had a hot race after another warrior on foot, who was unarmed except bow and arrow, but would turn and shoot as he ran. General Burleson rushed at him with pistol presented, when an arrow from the Indian would have killed him if he had not stepped back. Then the warrior made another shot at [Thomas] Monroe Hardeman,* which missed him, but was driven eight inches into his horse. The hardy warrior made a brave and persistent fight, and even after he was knocked down, drew his last arrow at me, the man nearest to him. I killed him just in time to save myself.

What fancies they had in the way of ornamenting themselves! This savage presented a strange picture as he lay decked in beads, etc., sleeping the “dreamless sleep” of death. He also carried around his neck a tiny whistle and tin trumpet.

The stolen horses, mules, and goods were divided among the soldiers, with the consent of the merchants, who could not satisfactorily identify the articles.
¹¹
Among other things, a
Comanche mule fell to my lot, and an odd specimen he was, with red ribbons on ears and tail.

On the return march, we found a Texan dead and scalped. The explanation of his death furnished an explanation of the confusion that was observed in the Indian ranks on the advance. It happened in this way: A squad of men on the Indian trail came upon the savages' advanced guard, and thinking they could easily manage so small a force, dismounted in a live oak grove and awaited them. Seeing the full force, however, they mounted and retreated. One man, the unfortunate one whom we found scalped, was left by his horse as well as his comrades, and thus had met his terrible fate.

We also found the body of Mrs. Crosby, whom they had killed when obliged to retreat, and nearby we found Mrs. Watts, whom they had also left for dead, having shot an arrow into her breast. A thick corset board had received and impeded its force, so that though wounded, she was still alive. She was a remarkably fine looking woman, but was sunburned almost to a blister.

In 1841, the Indians made a little raid into the Burleson neighborhood and stole a number of horses. A small squad of men was raised as quickly as possible, and pursuit was made. A run of fifteen miles brought them in sight of the thieves at Fort Ridgeway on the waters of the Yegua. The warriors were eating breakfast, and as our men approached,
made no move to retreat. As soon as we were near enough, they came forward to fight. When on the first fire we killed two and wounded one, they retreated. The whites escaped unhurt, though one horse was shot.

On their way from this skirmish, the Indians went to Brushy Creek, and coming to Kenney's Fort, pretended to be friendly, but killed Dr. Kenney and Castlebury.
¹²
No pursuit being made, very soon they came again into the same neighborhood on the same errand, and again they were successful. Among other horses stolen was General Burleson's celebrated horse, Scurry, a present from Richard Scurry, an intimate friend and valiant soldier, hence the horse's name. General Burleson, accompanied by eight or ten men, took their trail immediately, and having followed them to the middle Yegua, came upon them camped in the edge of a strip of timber about three-quarters of a mile distant. They had open prairie to run through, and all struck forward. Mr. Spaulding was riding a splendid horse, the fastest runner of the crowd, and he put out at full speed. The chase was exciting to all, but Burleson was almost wild in his eagerness to regain Scurry. Seeing Spaulding making the best speed, he called out, “Twenty-five dollars for Scurry, Spaulding!” Further on in a louder tone, he called, “Fifty Dollars for Scurry, Spaulding!!!” and then still further on, “One hundred dollars for Scurry!!!” Much to his joy, Scurry was regained.

Now Indian stealing became almost a constant thing. Sometimes they would make a raid in the [James] Standifer neighborhood, then on Wilbarger Creek, and then in our immediate vicinity, and along the Colorado. Indeed, their boldness and greed became not only remarkable, but alarming. A man was lying asleep in his wagon and they took his
horse which he had tied to one of the wheels, without awakening him. Then they would come in daytime, and once were in the act of trying to steal a little boy, when discovered.

A small company of men at length went out in pursuit. In Big Prairie on Wilbarger Creek, they saw a gang of mustangs feeding, while a solitary horse stood tied three or four hundred yards off. Their curiosity was excited; but they soon saw Indians crawling upon the Mustangs. They were so engrossed in trying to get the horses that they did not discover the whites until we rushed upon them. A running fight then commenced, the Indians retreated on foot, while we were riding. Only one man, Mike Young,* was wounded, but not fatally, while three of the Indians were killed and one old warrior crippled. It was touching to see the devotion of a young Indian, presumably a son, who lingered by him a long time, making every possible effort to reach Brushy Bottom with him. As the whites gained ground and he saw death would be the result of longer delay, he at last started off, but a few words from the old warrior recalled him. He tarried only long enough, however, to divide arrows and then left his father to his fate. The time lost in helping the old man cost him his life, for he was overtaken and killed before reaching the bottom. Three-quarters of a mile farther on, we discovered their camps, and from every sign, they had brought their families and temporarily lived there, for there was the print of a child's moccasin, as well as those of squaws. But they fled in alarm, and all was deserted.

The raids and persecutions of the Indians upon our vicinity became so frequent and constant now that it would be entirely superfluous to try to give them in detail, as well as impossible to chronicle them in regular order. After this raid occurred the killing of another of our best citizens, William Lentz,* who was waylaid and shot near where Furnash had been murdered some time before.

A little old cannon was used as a signal
¹³
for our men to collect at Bastrop. It was a relic of the Mexican war, having been dismounted and thrown into the San Antonio River by Filisola at the Battle of San Jacinto. Immediately upon the murder of Lentz, the cannon called together Burleson's little band which was promptly in pursuit, though as usual nothing was accomplished.

Mr. Handcock [William Hancock], one of our neighbors, brought eight or ten fine horses from Tennessee, and in two weeks all of them, together with mine and others, were stolen. A small squad of men under Captain Gillespie was soon in pursuit, and with every advantage this time. We came in sight of them on Onion Creek, at what is known as Manshack Springs. When about a half-mile off we charged upon them, whereupon they mounted. One of the warriors leading a very fine horse pretended to be leading a charge. Two came round toward us, evidently trying to draw us off. The leading Indian was cut off, and was chased about a mile up the creek by Campbell Taylor and James Patten. They hemmed him in and Patten discharged both barrels of his gun without effect. The horse fell, and the Indian left afoot and made his escape. In the meantime, Captain Gillespie with his body of men
hemmed the thieves so they were obliged to dismount and leave their horses, all of which were regained except three.

In the spring of 1842, William Perry, Henry Lentz, William Barton, and myself made arrangements for a camp hunt. We took provisions intending to stay two or three nights. We made our way toward the head of Lentz Branch intending to camp right at the Indian passway—although the Indians were still very troublesome. We were riding leisurely along in couples, about eight miles from home and near our destination. Perry was entertaining us with accounts of his numerous adventures among Indians on the Brazos, and we were all very much interested. No matter how absorbed or entertained I might be, however, I was always on the alert and wide-awake in the woods, though I would go, whatever dangers awaited me. In the midst of Perry's narrative, on looking to my left, I saw an Indian walking in the long grass, about two hundred yards off. I saw him just as a brush intervened, and rode up fast thinking to see him better, at the same time exclaiming, “Yonder's an Indian, now!” When we came past the brush, no Indian could be found. Seeing us, he had evidently crouched in the high grass, and my friends naturally argued that I was mistaken. I could have sworn if necessary that I saw an Indian and I would not go another step until we went over on the hill, and looked into the matter. We felt equal to a small force, so we planned what to do and primed our guns. We rode abreast looking cautiously around as we went.