A short distance from
the creek was a little gulley, and as Captain Cree was riding past it, he
heard sounds of a struggle somewhere in the gully. Turning in the
direction of the sounds he saw the Indian chief, Black Kettle, and
McFarland, in a hand to hand fight with knives.
It was a critical
time; each had his knife raised ready to strike; it was a question which
would fall, just owing to which knife could be plunged the quickest.
Captain Cree took in the situation at a glance, and whirling his horse,
darted toward the contestants. Drawing his sword, he ran it into Black
Kettle's side, but was just a fraction of a second too late; the Indian's
knife had done its deadly work. McFarland and Black Kettle both fell at
the same time mortally wounded.
Hughmel Rose had picked up a
little papoose that he intended to keep and raise, but when he saw the
fight in the gully, he dropped the baby and ran to McFarland's assistance;
arriving too late, he turned back to the scene of the main fight. When he
went to look for the papoose he found it dead; some of the flying bullets
had hit it.
Two soldiers, who had been taken prisoners with Major
Anthony's regiment at Fort Lyons, refused to fight the Indians. Once when
they were just riding along, they passed an old squaw, one of the soldiers
said, "No use to kill her; she is too old to do any more damage." He had
no more than said it until he had cause to change his mind. As soon as the
soldiers passed her the squaw drew a bow and arrow from under her buffalo
robe and sent an arrow into his thigh. He asked his companion to pull it
out, then jumping from his horse and picking up a tent pole, he went after
the squaw. At first he was going to shoot her, but decided that shooting
was too good.
The squaw did not run from him; on the contrary she
took her old rusty knife and started out to meet him. She was trembling
with rage, her little beadlike eyes were flashing with anger and she came
toward him dancing and flourishing her knife, at the same time chattering
off some of her lingo.
The soldier waited until she got quite
near, when he drew the pole back and struck her full force on the side of
the head, killing her instantly.
A young Indian chief came out in
the open and exchanged shot for shot with Joe Connors. After a few shots,
one of Joe's took effect and the Indian fell. Joe still remained in the
open, fully exposed to the arrows, without heeding the warnings of his
comrades. Some of the soldiers in the grass back of Connors saw a squaw
raise up out of the weeds where the young chief had fallen, and making a
target out of Joe. They raised their rifles, but before they could shoot,
the squaw's arrow had done its work, and Connors fell, pierced through the
lungs. Just as he went down, several reports rang through the air, and the
squaw fell in the grass back of where Connors had stood, a victim of one
of the rifles.
The killing of the squaws and children may seem
inhuman to those not accustomed to the life on the frontier, or not
familiar with the dangers and sufferings of the pioneers on account of the
savages.
When a squaw comes out and takes her place among the
warriors and shoots down the soldiers, should she not take the same
consequences'? The squaws urged on the massacres and helped to destroy the
homes of the settlers. As for the papooses, the soldiers remembered the
white children scalped and their brains dashed out and otherwise brutally
massacred throughout the country, and also Colonel Harley's quotation,
"Remember that mites make lice." If the squaws and papooses were spared it
would only be a few years until they would have an uprising and there
would be more serious Indian raids and troubles. The squaws of John Smith
and Bent were not harmed, as they were wives of white men and naturally
joined in with the white people.
Colonels Talbot and Chivington
were standing near together when suddenly Talbot fell, and Chivington
noticed bullets and arrows falling around him. Upon watching to see where
they were coming from, he noticed an Indian head rise up over a soap weed.
He shot without success. Finally Jim Beckwith, the noted guide and scout,
came along and said, "Let me try that gun, Colonel." Chivington handed him
the gun and just as the Indian cautiously and slowly raised his head above
the weed, Beckwith fired and struck him right between the eyes.
An
Indian medicine man had dug a hole in a sandbar and placed bags of
medicine around it. He would raise up and shoot an arrow at the soldiers;
before they could return the shots, he had sunk down in the hole and the
bullets would fly over him.
Lieutenant Wyman was sitting on his
horse, right in direct range of the medicine man, unconscious of the
poisoned arrow being aimed at him. John Patterson saw the lieutenant's
danger and called out, "Look out there, Lieutenant." Wyman whirled his
horse just in time. The arrow went hissing through the air and lodged in
the lieutenant's horse. Wyman was saved, but the horse had to be killed;
it was gradually becoming paralyzed from the effect of the poison on the
steel point of the arrow that had broken off in the bone of his leg, where
it had lodged. The following day, as they were searching among the dead,
they found the medicine man huddled up in the hole.
Several shots
aimed at him had taken effect, but he plugged the holes up to keep them
from bleeding and would go on fighting. The last shot had killed him
before he could get the tallow in.
When the fight was raging the
hardest, Jim Beckwith started across the flat and suddenly came face to
face with Bent. Forgetting the soldiers and Indians around them, or the
danger they were in, they only remembered that they were old and dear
friends and had never expected to meet again; so in Indian fashion they
ran right into each other's arms and wept, being so overcome with joy at
the unexpected meeting.
Just as the last sounds of the battle were
dying away, one of the soldiers saw a chief stretched out in the grass,
face downward. The soldier was anxious to get a scalp of a chief, so sat
down on him and began to take his scalp. He was just making good progress
when the Indian turned over and a hard struggle ensued, lasting for
several minutes, resulting in the soldier going into camp with the much
coveted scalp.
A squad of soldiers had charge of the ambulance and
went around gathering up the dead and wounded soldiers. They kept missing
Joe Connors and Frank Parks, two wounded soldiers. The)' were both old
friends and comrades of Alston Shaw, so when he saw them fall he had
hurried to their assistance and arranged them as comfortably as he could.
Long toward evening the soldiers were ordered into camp. Shaw refused to
leave Connors and Parks until the ambulance was ready to take his
companions. At last he saw an ambulance going up into the gully after
McFarland's body, so calling Cobbs over to guard the two wounded soldiers,
he went after the ambulance. Cobbs put his horse between them and where
any stray Indians might be hiding and he watched the other way. When Shaw
returned. Cobbs said, "I believe those Indians took advantage of me while
you were gone, and fired those shots." Just as much as to say that if Shaw
had been there, the Indians would have been afraid to shoot. Shaw and
Cobbs took Joe and Frank into the camp. While passing the bend in the
creek, they saw four Indians run up the opposite bank, dance the war
dance, and then hurry in the direction of Little Raven's band.
That night, in camp, Joe Connors heard the others talking of a probable
attack from Little Raven's band. He called Shaw over and made him promise
not to let him fall into the Indians' hands; that if the Indians attacked
them, for Shaw to shoot him before the Indians had a chance to get him.
Hard as it was to do, Shaw made the promise; but that night, between nine
and ten, the Angel of Death relieved him of his promise, and the soul of
Joe Connors was taken beyond the reach of fear or dread of any more
tortures at the hands of the savages.
Jack Smith, the half breed
leader of the raiding and murderous Indians, was taken prisoner and placed
in a tent made of elk hide. The lieutenant in charge made a candle stick
of a pocket knife and fastened a candle on the tent pole, so the soldiers
on guard could always see the prisoner. Scarcely a man among the
volunteers but wanted a chance to take a shot at the leader of the enemy,
for they had always remembered the horrible deeds that had been done by
his hands or order.
Some of the soldiers had cut a strip of the
hide out of the tent to make a pair of leggings; this left an opening in
the side of the tent. Alston Shaw crept up to the tent, decoyed the guards
away and was watching Smith through the opening in the tent and was just
waiting for a good chance to shoot him, when suddenly he was surprised by,
"What are you doing here, Shaw?"
"O, just wandering around because
I couldn't sleep."
"Now, see here, I know why you are just wandering
around; it is for a chance to kill Smith, and I wanted that job myself."
"Well, if you are sure you will do the job up fight, I will leave it
to you."
Shaw walked away and left the stranger, who was a soldier
of another company, to attend to the Indians. Before going very far Shaw
heard a shot and knew that the First regiment boy had done his job as he
promised. Jack Smith just gave one jump and a war whoop and then fell
dead, shot through the heart.
Colonel George Shoop was sitting on
some buffalo robes quite a distance from the tent when he heard the shot.
Jumping up and hurrying towards the prisoner, he met Shaw on the way and
asked him what that shot was. "I guess some of the boys' guns have gone
off accidentally." Just then the guard came running up and said, "Someone
has killed Jack Smith."
No one ever found out who did the job.
Shaw did not recognize the boy who was talking to him by Smith's tent; he
just noticed that he belonged to the First Company.
When old John
Smith, his father, was told of it, he just said, "Well, it serves him
right. I sent him East and had him educated. Instead of him coming back
and trying to help civilize the Indians, he led them into deeper and lower
raids of barbarisms. So he could expect nothing else."
While
gathering up the dead, Wise Osborn came upon a wounded Indian, who had his
back broke. He raised up the best he could and took a shot at Osborn. Wise
said, "I will show you fellows how to kill an Indian." He sat down on the
Indian and took him by the head to hold his head still; then raised the
knife to cut his throat, but the Indian knocked his arm and the knife
plunged into the ground beside the Indian's head. Wise drew it out and
said, "Now lay still, until I cut your throat." It looks brutal in a way,
but in another sense of the word it was a merciful act. The Indian was
suffering excruciating pain and there was no other help for him; his
people were all gone and it was only a question of time until he would die
of his injury. Osborn thought, "Why not put him out of his misery?"
Some of the Pioneers of Colorado
Source: True History of some of the Pioneers of Colorado, by Miss
Luella Shaw, Press of Carson Harper Co, Denver, Colorado, 1909 |
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