While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
During the three years following the
battle of Sand Creek there was little
trouble with the Indians in El Paso County;
consequently the people of that section of
Colorado, while keeping a sharp lookout,
felt fairly safe upon their ranches. During
the summer season of each of these years,
however, the Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho
continued their raids upon the exposed
settlements and the lines of travel to the
East.
In the meantime, the Government was
following its usual temporizing policy with
the savages. In the spring of 1867, agents
of the Indian Bureau attempted to negotiate
a new treaty with the Cheyenne and Arapaho,
and for that purpose visited them at their
camp on Pawnee Fork, near Fort Lamed,
Kansas. But spring was not the time of year
when the Indians wanted to negotiate
treaties, and as a result, after making
several appointments for councils, none of
which was kept, the savages suddenly
disappeared, and were next heard of raiding
the frontier settlements of Kansas and
Nebraska, and the lines of travel between
Colorado and the Missouri River. These raids
were continued during the next five or six
months, but, after killing and robbing the
whites all summer, these Cheyenne and
Arapaho came in again professing penitence;
whereupon, following the usual custom, a new
treaty was made with them, by the terms of
which both tribes consented to give up their
lands in Colorado and settle upon a
reservation elsewhere. Under the treaty,
they agreed that "hereafter they would not
molest any coach or wagon, nor carry off any
white woman or child, nor kill or scalp any
white man."
For this and the lands ceded by them, these
tribes were to receive twenty thousand
dollars annually, and a suit of clothes for
each Indian; and, in addition, teachers,
physicians, fanners' implements, etc., were
to be provided, in order to help them to
acquire the habits of civilization.
While it was not expressly stated in the
treaty, it was understood that the Cheyenne
and Arapaho were to be supplied with arms
and ammunition. The treaty seems to have
been entered into by the agents of the
Indian Bureau with all the outward semblance
of good faith, although if those responsible
knew anything of the facts they must have
realized that the promise of these Indians
to remain peaceable was utterly worthless,
as had been proved year after year for a
long period of time. Not only did the treaty
turn out to be worthless, but that part of
it giving the savages arms and ammunition
was particularly reprehensible, as was shown
by the results. The savages remained quiet
during the winter, as usual, but in the
spring they demanded the arms and ammunition
that had been promised to them, and the
Indian agents urged the Bureau to grant the
request, making the plea that the Indians
would starve unless these were given to
them, so that they might be able to hunt the
buffalo and other game of the plains.
Evidently the Government hesitated, but,
finally, influenced by these statements, the
issue of the arms and ammunition was
authorized. At this juncture, Major Wynkoop,
who after the battle of Sand Creek had
proved himself an enemy of the people of
Colorado, again showed that. he had no
regard for their welfare. He had by this
time been taken into the service of the
Indian Bureau, presumably as a reward for
his services in aid of the Bureau in
connection with the Sand Creek
investigation, and had been appointed an
Indian agent. He was one of those who had
been urging that arms and ammunition be
given to the Indians, and it was he who
finally delivered them to the savages. On
August 10, 1868, he wrote to the Department:
I yesterday made the whole
issue of annuity, goods, arms,
and ammunition to the Cheyenne
chiefs and people of their
nation. They were delighted in
receiving the goods,
particularly the arms and
ammunition, and never before
have I known them to be bet-ter
satisfied and express themselves
as being so well contented
previous to the issue. They have
now left for their hunting
grounds and I am perfectly
satisfied that there will be no
trouble with them this season.
On the very day that Wynkoop sent this
letter, a body of two hundred and fifty
Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Sioux were raiding
the settlements on the Saline River in
Kansas, killing settlers, burning buildings,
and committing unspeakable outrages on many
defenseless women. Before the end of the
month, according to the report of General
Sheridan for that year, forty white men had
been killed by the savages on the frontiers
of Kansas and Colorado, many were wounded,
and a large amount of property destroyed.
I must, however, confine my narrative to
events that occurred in El Paso County and
the counties adjoining. About ten days after
the Wynkoop letter was written, a party of
seventy-five Cheyenne and Arapaho, all well
mounted, marched in from the plains and
passed up through Colorado City. Most of the
savages had modem guns and were well
supplied with ammunition,-presumably issued
by the Government. They bore letters from
Indian agents and peace commissioners, which
stated that they were peaceably disposed and
should not be feared nor molested; but our
people, not being satisfied with that kind
of testimony, telegraphed to the Governor at
Denver, who replied, reiterating that they
were not hostile and must not be interfered
with. At the time of their visit to Colorado
City, the Indians were noticeably sullen in
their demeanor, and appeared to be observing
everything in a suspicious manner. However,
they left without committing any overt act,
and, apparently, went on leisurely up the
Ute Pass into the mountains to fight the
Ute, which they claimed was their intention.
A day or two later they surprised a small
band of Ute who were camped a few miles
south of the Hartsell ranch in the South
Park, and in the fight that followed claimed
to have killed six of the Ute including two
or three squaws, and to have carried off a
small boy. On the day of this occurrence
Samuel Hartsell, owner of the ranch above
referred to, had gone over to the mountains
that form the eastern border of the South
Park, looking for wild raspberries. While on
one of the low mountains of that locality,
he saw a group of mounted men in the valley
below, a mile or so away. He had not heard
of any Cheyenne or Arapaho being in that
neighbor-hood, consequently he very
naturally concluded that the horsemen were
Ute. Having been on friendly terms with that
tribe for many years, and well acquainted
with many of its members, he decided to ride
down the mountain to meet them. But as he
came near the group, he noticed that they
were not dressed as the Ute usually were,
nor did they look like the people of that
tribe; however, it was now too late to
retreat, as almost immediately afterward he
was discovered and surrounded by the
savages. By that time Hartsell, through his
general knowledge of the Indians of this
Western country, knew that his captors were
Cheyenne and Arapahoe warriors, tribes that
had been hostile to the whites during the
past four years, and were still hostile, so
far as he knew. Consequently, he was very
much alarmed, realizing that he was in a
very dangerous situation. Evidently, the
savages were not yet ready to begin
hostilities, as was proved by their efforts
to reassure Hartsell by showing him their
certificates from Indian agents, telling of
their peaceable character; but this did not
prevent them from at once taking his
revolver, ammunition, and pocket knife.
Hartsell estimated that there were about
seventy Indians in the band, all of whom
were fully armed and amply supplied with
ammunition. The savages told him of their
victory over the Ute, showed him the scalps
they had taken, and the boy they had
captured. Finally, after keeping Hartsell in
suspense for more than three hours, the
Indians allowed him to 'go without injury,
and then departed eastward in the direction
of Colorado City. The people of Colorado
City and its vicinity knew nothing of this
occurrence until some time afterwards.
Notwithstanding the assurance of the
Governor and the Indian agents, the settlers
continued to be very much alarmed at the
presence of the savages, and knowing their
treacherous nature, maintained a sharp
lookout in order to prevent being at-tacked
unawares. About eleven o'clock in the
morning three or four days after the savages
disappeared up Ute Pass, three Indians
appeared at H. M. Teachout's ranch on
Monument Creek, eight miles northeast of
Colorado City. They claimed to be friendly
Ute, but Teachout, being familiar with the
Indian tribes of the region, knew that they
were not Ute. After staying five or ten
minute, during which time they seemed to be
intent on taking in the surroundings, and
especially the corral where Teachout's large
herd of horses was kept at night, they left,
following the main road towards Colorado
City. Mr. Teachout and his brother, who
lived on the Divide, owned about one hundred
and fifty horses, all of which were kept at
this Monument Creek ranch.
After the Indians had disappeared, Teachout,
being alarmed, rounded up his horses and
drove them into the corral, where he kept
them during the daytime thereafter, letting
them out to graze only at night, thinking
that the safest plan. Apparently, the
Indians, having obtained all the information
they desired concerning the settlements
around Colorado City, disappeared, and a day
or two later were heard of raiding the
frontier settlements east of Bijou Basin and
on the head-waters of Kiowa, Bijou, and
Running creeks, during which raid they
killed several people and ran off much
stock.
On August 27, 1868, the Cheyenne and Arapaho
killed Mrs. Henrietta Dieterman and her
five-year-old son on Comanche Creek, about
twenty-five miles northeast of Colorado
City, in a peculiarly atrocious manner. The
Dieterman household consisted of Mr. and
Mrs. Dieterman, a daughter about twelve
years old, a son of five years, a sister of
Mr. Dieterman's, and a hired man. The sister
was soon to marry the hired man, and he and
Mr. Dieterman had gone to Denver to buy
furniture for the new house-hold, leaving a
German farmhand temporarily in charge. On
the morning of the 27th, something happened
to alarm Mrs. Dieterman. She evidently
believed the Indians were near, for she
hurriedly started with her sister-in-law and
the two children for a neighbor's house some
distance away. After having gone a few
hundred yards she remembered that she had
left a considerable sum of money in the
house, and with her small son went back to
get it. They reached the house, got the
money, and started away again, but had gone
only. a short distance when they were
overtaken by the Indians, who at once shot
and killed both of them. The savages shot
the boy repeatedly and finally broke his
neck. The mother was shot through the body,
stabbed, and scalped, and the bodies of both
were dreadfully mutilated. Those who
afterwards saw the victims said that it was
one of the most horrible sights they had
ever looked upon. Meanwhile, the
sister-in-law and daughter ran to where the
German was working in the field near by. He
stood the Indians off by pointing the handle
of his hoe at them, making them believe it
was a gun. In that way he covered the
retreat of himself and the others to a
neighbor's house. Mrs. Dieterman had
formerly lived near the northern line of El
Paso County, and was well known to many of
the old settlers. The awful tragedy of her
death created a great sensation, not only in
that county, but also in Denver and
throughout the entire State. News of the
killing of Mrs. Dieterman and of the other
out-rages perpetrated by the Indians in that
region reached Colorado City late in the
evening, a clay or two afterwards. As there
was a possibility of the savages appearing
at any moment, messengers were at once sent
throughout the county notifying the people
of the great danger that confronted them. At
that time I happened to be at home with my
father and other members of the family on
our Bear Creek ranch. About eleven o'clock
at night, we were aroused from sleep by the
messenger sent to warn us and were advised
to go immediately to Colorado City for
protection. We appreciated the danger of our
situation and quickly hitched up our team,
put a few necessary articles of wearing
apparel and bedding into the wagon, and
started for town, three miles distant. It
was a dark night, which made the trip a
weird as well as an anxious one. With my
sisters and younger brothers in the wagon,
my father and I marched along behind, each
with a rifle in hand, knowing that there was
a possibility that the Indians had already
stolen into this region, and that every bush
or rock on the way might conceal a savage;
but nothing happened and we reached town in
safety. It was an incident that made one
appreciate to the fullest extent the
disagree-able and dangerous features of
frontier life. We rented a house in Colorado
City, moved our household effects from the
ranch, and remained in town until after the
Indian troubles were over.
Early in the morning of September 1st, Mr.
Teachout, accompanied by his hired man, went
out to bring in his herd of horses, as had
been his custom since the visit of the three
Indians a few days previous. They went down
Monument Creek a mile or two, then up
Cottonwood Creek, where they found the herd
scattered along the valley for a mile or
more above the point where the Santa Fe
Railway now crosses that creek, which is
about six miles north of the present city of
Colorado Springs. The two rode leisurely
through the herd up the valley on the south
side of the stream, and had gone about half
a mile above the point just mentioned, when
they saw a half dozen mounted Indians come
over the hill to the north and dash at full
speed in the direction of the herd.
Following them, other Indians came in sight,
until there were at least twenty-five in the
band. In a very short time the savages had
rounded up most of the horses and were
driving them up the creek at a furious
speed. They passed Teachout, who was on the
other side of the creek, expecting every
minute to be at-tacked. Neither he nor his
hired man had guns, but as they did not
run., the Indians evidently thought they
were armed, and kept some distance away. As
they went by, one of the Indians who could
speak English yelled: "Damn you, we are
going to take your horses!" Soon after this,
Teachout saw that the Indians had missed a
bunch of fifteen to twenty colts that were
grazing off to one side, and he and his
hired man started after them, thinking to
save at least that part of the herd. But the
Indians soon discovered what they were after
and started in pursuit, firing as they went.
When affairs took this turn, there was
nothing left for Teachout and his man to do
but ride for their lives, and get back to
the ranch as quickly as possible, which they
did. The Indians rounded up the colts and
soon disappeared to the eastward up
Cottonwood Creek with the entire herd. Less
than an hour afterward, they passed a ranch
near the head of the creek, traveling
rapidly. At this place the Indians attempted
to add to their herd, but failed, as the
horses they were after happened to be
picketed close to the house, and a few shots
from two well-armed ranchmen entrenched
behind the walls of their log cabin drove
the savages off.
Upon reaching home, Teachout immediately
sent a messenger to his brother on the
Divide, with an account of the raid and a
request that he enlist as large an armed
force as could quickly be gotten together,
to follow the Indians and, if possible,
recover the horses. The brother acted
promptly, and that evening a party
consisting of Dow and Bale Simpson, Jim
Sims, "Wild Bill," and others, whose names I
have been unable to obtain, twenty-eight in
all, started in pursuit of the savages. The
party camped that night at a ranch about
three miles southeast of C. R. Husted's
saw-mill, and at this point were joined by a
Mr. Davis and Job Talbert, a brother-in-law
of Mr. Husted. These two men had expected to
get horses and arms at this ranch. Failing
in this, however, they started back to the
mill the following morning, but had gone
only a short distance when the Indians
overtook them, killed and scalped both
leaving their mutilated bodies in the road,
where they were found by their friends a few
hours afterward.
The Simpson party, as it afterwards was
called, started again early in the morning,
soon found the trail of the captured herd,
and followed it rapidly along the south side
of the pinery, then eastward across Squirrel
Creek and down the Big Sandy to the mouth of
a creek coming in from the north, the size
of the herd making the trail plain and easy
to follow. So far no Indians had been seen,
and the indications were that the Indians
with the stolen horses were so far ahead as
to make further pursuit useless. But instead
of returning directly home, they decided to
follow up this creek and scout the country
to the east of Bijou Basin. A few miles up
the creek they came to a ranch, which they
found deserted. The house was open and had
been thoroughly ransacked, but the owner
nowhere appeared. After' considerable
search, his dead body was found some
distance away.
He had been killed and scalped by the
Indians, and, as in every other case, the
body had been horribly mutilated, the house
looted, and all his stock driven off. After
burying the body, the party continued in a
northerly direction until it reached the old
Smoky Hill road. Here they met a party of
eighteen men from the country to the north
of Bijou Basin, and it was decided to
combine the two forces for further scouting
in that region. A short distance away from
their camp that night, they found and buried
the bodies of two men who had been killed by
the Indians a day or two before. The
combined parties camped together that night,
and the following morning started towards
Bijou Basin. During all this time no Indians
had been seen, and it seemed probable that
the savages had returned to their villages
on the plains. Under this impression, the
men marched rather carelessly along, strung
out over the prairie for a considerable
distance.
Early in the afternoon the party of
eighteen, having decided that there was
nothing further they could accomplish, left
the Simpson party and started off
northwesterly, in the direction of their
homes. Hardly were they out of sight when
two of Simpson's men, who were some distance
ahead of the main party, saw a few Indians
on a hill not very far away. Word was at
once sent back to the stragglers, and the
party closed up in double-quick time.
Meanwhile other Indians appeared, until in a
short time they greatly outnumbered the
Simpson party. This made it imperative that
a place for defense should be found without
delay. Apparently, the most favorable
position in sight was the extreme point of a
short and rather isolated ridge near by, at
which place the ground dropped off rather
abruptly on three sides. The men rushed to
this point, formed a circle, and began to
throw up temporary entrenchments with
butcher knives and such other implements as
they had at hand. By this time the Indians,
under cover of a ridge to the south, had
opened a sharp fire. Bullets were whizzing
around in a lively fashion and in a few
minute several of the horses had been
wounded. However, an encouraging feature of
the situation was that many of the shots
fired by the Indians struck the ground some
distance away. The whites returned the fire
at every opportunity, and had reason to
believe that their shots had been effective
in a number of instances, although the
Indians kept under cover as much as
possible. Before darkness came on, a number
of Simpson's men had been wounded an d
several of the horses killed. By this time,
not withstanding the strong defense that was
being made, it became more and more a
question whether the party could withstand a
vigorous charge by the Indians.
Night coming on, the firing of the Indians
slackened a little and the men were enabled
to give some consideration to their
situation. It was realized that neither
their location nor re-sources were favorable
for a long siege, and for that reason help
must be obtained as soon as possible. Among
the party was a dare-devil sort of fellow
known by the name of "Wild Bill, " who
volunteered to take the fastest horse, and
in the darkness endeavor to break through
the Indian line, which now completely
surrounded the hill. Then, if successful, he
was to hurry on to the settlements at Bijou
Basin, fifteen miles away, and bring back
reinforcements as quickly as possible. This
suggestion met with the approval of every
one, and arrangements were immediately made
to carry it into effect. About nine o'clock
Wild Bill, mounted on Dow Simpson's race
horse, stole out from the entrenchments and
quietly rode away. The night being
moderately dark, he succeeded in getting
some distance away before he was discovered
by the Indians. He then put spurs to his
horse and dashed away at the best speed the
animal, was capable of, the Indians
following in a frantic endeavor to cut him
off, shooting at him as they ran.
Fortunately neither he nor the horse was
hit, and in a short time he had left the
Indians far behind. After that, he was not
long in reaching Bijou Basin, where
arrangements were at once made to dispatch
couriers to Colorado City and elsewhere for
reinforcements.
Meanwhile, those surrounded on the hill were
most anxious for the safety of their
messenger. They heard the shots and knew
that he had been discovered, and that the
Indians were in pursuit of him, but had no
means of telling whether or not he had
escaped. The only reassuring circumstance
was that soon after this the firing
gradually slackened, finally stopping
altogether; and when daylight came there
were no Indians in sight. The besieged men
realized that this might be only a ruse, and
that possibly the Indians were lurking near,
ready to take advantage of them after they
had left their entrenchments. However, on
account of their critical position, being
entirely without water for themselves and
their horses, they determined to make a dash
and take a chance of reaching the
settlements. This being decided upon, they
started at once, and without further
molestation reached Holden's ranch in Bijou
Basin before noon, no Indians having been
seen on the way. In the engagement none of
the party had been killed and no one
seriously wounded, probably because of the
poor ammunition issued to the Indians by the
Government for which I suppose the white
people of this region should have been duly
thankful.
While this engagement had been going on,
stirring events had been happening in the
neighborhood of Colorado City and elsewhere
in the county. As I have already stated,
within the next few days after the killing
of Mrs. Dieterman, and the raid upon
Teachout's horses, most of the ranchmen down
the Fountain Valley had brought their
families to Colorado City for protection.
The people of the Divide gathered for
defense at McShane's ranch near Monument, at
John Irion's on Cherry Creek, and at
Husted's mill in the pinery. The air was
full of rumors of Indian depredations in
every direction; but, as it was harvest
time, it was imperative that the gathering
of the crops be attended to. This made it
necessary that some chances be taken, and it
so happened that, when the crisis came, many
of the men of Colorado City were out in the
harvest fields of the surrounding country.
About noon on September 3, 1868, a band of
forty to fifty Indians came dashing down the
valley of Monument Creek, capturing all
loose horses in their path. The first white
man they ran across was Robert F. Love, of
Colorado City, who was riding along the
higher ground to the east of Monument Creek,
not far from the present town of Roswell. As
soon as Love saw the Indians, instead of
trying to get away, which he knew would be
useless, he dismounted, keeping his pony
between himself and the savages, and, by
keeping his revolver pointed in their
direction, showing them that he was armed.
After maneuvering around him for a time, the
Indians passed on, apparently convinced that
some of them would get hurt if they
remained. It was not their policy to take
many chances, as was evidenced through-out
their entire stay in this region. They
seldom troubled people who seemed to offer
any serious resistance, seeking rather
defenseless men, women, and children. Soon
after leaving Love, a few of the Indians
crossed Monument Creek to the house of David
Spielman, which stood on the west side,
about half a mile above the Mesa Road Bridge
in the present city of Colorado Springs.
Spielman had just finished moving his family
and household effects to Colorado City, and
being tired, had lain down behind the open
front door, and had gone to sleep. The
Indians looked in at the open door, but
fortunately did not see him. They then went
to the corral and took from it a horse that
Spielman had purchased only the day before.
After that they recrossed Monument Creek and
joined the main body, which continued
rapidly along the low ground east of the
creek, crossing the present Washburn
Athletic Field, on the way, and coming out
on to the higher ground a few hundred yards
south of Cutler Academy, near where the
Hagerman residence now stands.
A short time previously, Charley Everhart, a
young man about eighteen years of age, had
started from his home just west of Monument
Creek and near the present railway bridge
above the Rio Grande station, to look after
his father's cattle, that were grazing on
the plain now covered by the city of
Colorado Springs. After crossing Monument
Creek, he followed a trail that led eastward
along the south rim of the high bank north
of what is now known as Boulder Crescent.
Everhart knew there were Indians in the
country, and was no doubt on the lookout for
them. He was mounted on a small pony, and
had probably gone as far east as the present
location of Tejon Street, when he evidently
saw the Indians as they came out into open
view to the north of him. He at once turned
his pony toward home and urged it to its
highest speed, making a desperate effort to
escape from the savages; but his horse was
no match for those of the Indians, and they
soon overtook him. Everhart had reached a
point near the intersection of what is now
Platte and Cascade Avenues, when a shot from
one of the savages caused him to fall from
his horse. One of the Indians then came up
to him, ran a spear through his body, and
scalped him, taking all the hair from his
head except a small fringe around the back
part. The whole occurrence was witnessed
from a distance by several persons. An hour
or so afterward, when the Indians had gone
and it was safe to do so, a party went out
to where his mutilated body lay, and brought
it to Colorado City.
After killing Everhart, the Indians saw
farther down the valley, a quarter of a mile
or so away, a lone sheep herder, who was
generally known as " Judge" Baldwin, and the
whole band immediately started after him.
When Baldwin saw the Indians coming, he
tried to escape. Having no spurs or whip, he
took off one of his long-legged boots and
used it to urge his mount to its utmost
speed. This, however, was ineffectual, as
his horse was inferior to those of the
Indians, and they had no difficulty in
overtaking him before he had gone very far.
They shot him, and he fell from his horse
near the site of the present Fourth Ward
Schoolhouse. The bullet struck Baldwin in
the shoulder, and as he was leaning forward
at the time, it passed upward through his
neck and came out through the jaw. He
dropped from his horse completely dazed, but
in his delirium he used the boot to fight
off the Indians. The latter evidently
thought the wound mortal, so with-out
wasting any more ammunition upon him one of
their number proceeded to take his scalp.
The savage ran the knife around the back
part of Baldwin's head, severing the scalp
from the skull, and then discovered that he
had been scalped at some previous time. For
some reason, probably superstition of some
kind, the Indians then abandoned the idea of
scalping him, and the entire band rode off,
leaving their victim, as they supposed, to
die on the prairie. It was a fact that
Baldwin had been scalped by Indians in South
America some years before.
After leaving Baldwin, the Indians divided
into two bands, one of which went in a
northeasterly direction and crossed Shooks
Run near the point where Platte Avenue now
intersects it. Near this place they were
joined by other Indians who had evidently
been in concealment near by. It is said that
during all this time two or three Indians
stationed on the hill where the Deaf and
Blind Institute is now located, apparently
by the use of flags, directed the movements
of those doing the killing, wigwagging in a
manner similar to that in use in the army at
that time, and that these signal men fell in
with the others as they came along; after
which they all rode rapidly to the eastward
and soon disappeared on the plains. The
other party continued down the valley of the
Fountain, and at a point just below where
the Rio Grande bridge now crosses Shooks
Run, they came upon two small boys, the sons
of Thomas H. Robbins, who lived on the south
side of the Fountain, not far away. These
two boys, eight and ten years of age
respectively, were looking after their
father's cattle. They had evidently seen the
Indians coming when some distance away, as
they were using every possible endeavor to
escape; but they had not gone far when the
savages were upon them. It is said that one
of the boys fell upon his knees and lifted
up his hands, as though begging the Indians
to spare his life, but the savages never
heeded such appeals. Two Indians reached
down, each seized a boy by the hair, held
him up with one hand, and, using a revolver,
shot him with the other and then flung the
quivering, lifeless body to the ground.
The savages then continued rapidly down
along the edge of the bluffs, to the north
of Fountain Creek, and when at the south
side of the present Evergreen Cemetery,
attempted to capture some horses at the
Innis ranch, in the valley a short distance
away, but the presence of a number of armed
men there caused them to desist after two or
three futile dashes in that direction. Half
a mile below this point, they met Solon
Mason, a ranchman from the lower end of the
county, accompanied by two or three other
men. These men were all armed and, after two
or three shots were exchanged, the Indians
gave them a wide berth. At a ranch just
below, occupied by George Banning, the
Indians secured a few horses, after which
they struck out over the plains to join the
other band.
As I have already said, armed parties were
going out every day from Colorado City to
harvest the grain that had been ripe for
some time. On that morning, I had joined a
group that was to assist Bert Myers, a
merchant of Colorado City, in harvesting a
field of wheat on land now occupied by the
town of Broadmoor. I was binding wheat
behind a reaper, at a point not very far
from the present Country Club buildings,
when, about two o'clock in the afternoon, I
saw a horse-man coming from the east riding
furiously in our direction. When he reached
us we found that it was a Mr. Riggs, who
lived near the mouth of Cheyenne Creek. He
told us that the Indians were raiding the
settlements in every direction, and were
killing people, mentioning of his own
knowledge Everhart, Baldwin, and the Robbins
boys, and he thought a good many more; and
also had run off a large number of horses.
My first thought was that the Indians had
come in during the previous night, concealed
themselves in the underbrush along the
creeks, and taken advantage of the time when
most of the men were out in the fields, to
attack, rob, and murder. I knew such a thing
was possible, as there was no one living
between our settlement and the Indian
country to give us notice of the approach of
a hostile band. It then occurred to me that
my three small brothers, Edgar, Frank, and
Charles, were looking after our cattle near
the mouth of Bear Creek, and certainly were
in great danger, if indeed they had not
already been killed. I immediately secured
permission to take one of the horses from
the reaper, in order to ride in search of
the boys. I quickly stripped off all the
harness except the blind bridle, mounted the
horse, and tore away in the direction of
Bear Creek. As a matter of precaution, I had
taken a revolver with me to the harvest
field as at this time few went out unarmed.
After a ride at top speed, I met the boys
about three-quarters of a mile south of Bear
Creek.
My brothers told me that while eating their
luncheon in the milk house near our dwelling
on Bear Creek, they were alarmed by the
excited barking of their dog. They ran out
to see what was the matter, and, looking
across on the present site of Colorado
Springs, saw a group of horsemen whom they
immediately knew to be Indians, pursuing
another horseman, whom they at once
conjectured was Charley Everhart. A moment
later the band seemed to be grouped around
some object, which doubtless was the time
when the Indians were scalping young
Everhart.
The boys witnessed the savages race. down
over the flat in their pursuit of Baldwin,
and while this was in progress, they counted
the horsemen and found that there were
thirty-five in the band. The boys then ran
up the hill to the east of the house, heard
the shot, and witnessed what I have already
described concerning the shooting of
Baldwin. They then saw the band divide, one
party going out on the plains and the other
down the creek. Becoming alarmed for their
own safety, they had started to run to some
of the neighbors on Cheyenne Creek, when I
met them. As soon as I had heard their
story, which assured me that the Indians had
gone off to the east and that there was no
immediate danger to the boys, I rode back to
the harvest field where we had abandoned the
reaper, hitched to the wagon, and drove to
town. Later in the afternoon, the Robbins
family, whose two boys had been killed, as I
have related, came by our Bear Creek ranch
on their way to Colorado City, and took my
brothers to town with them. By the time we
reached Colorado City, the bodies of
Everhart and the two Robbins boys had been
brought in. The party that went after
Baldwin found him alive, but supposed him to
be mortally wounded. It was thought that he
could not possibly live more than a day or
two at most, but, to the surprise of
everybody, in a short time he began to
recover and in a month or so was apparently
well again.
Of course, the excitement in Colorado City
and throughout the county was intense. We
knew that the Territorial authorities were
unable to give us any help whatsoever, and
that the general Government had turned a
deaf ear to our appeals for protection.
Consequently, we realized that we must
again, as in 1864, rely solely upon
our-selves. In this emergency we repaired
the old fort around the log hotel, and
organized our forces to the best possible
advantage, in order to be prepared for any
further attacks that the Indians might make.
Only a few hours after the raid, a messenger
came in from Bijou Basin, asking that men be
sent to the relief of the Simpson party,
which was surrounded by Indians near that
point, as I have already told. After
consideration of the matter, it was decided
that our force was strong enough to spare a
few men for that purpose. Accordingly, that
night ten of us volunteered to go to the
assistance of the besieged. For this
expedition a Mr. Hall, who lived on what has
since been known as the Pope ranch, loaned
me an excellent horse and a Colt's rifle, a
kind of gun I had never seen before nor have
I seen one like it since. It was a gun built
exactly on the principle of a Colt's
revolver, the only trouble with it being
that one never knew just how many shots
would go off at once.
Early the following morning we started out,
following up Monument Creek to the mouth of
Cottonwood; thence up that creek over the
ground where Teachout's herd of horses had
been captured. We stopped a few minute at
the Neff ranch, which we found deserted, and
then went east along the route taken by the
Indians when running off the Teachout herd.
An hour later, while we were riding along in
a leisurely manner, and had reached within
about half a mile of the pinery, we saw to
our right a band of about twenty-five
mounted Indians, half a mile away on the
south bank of Cottonwood Creek. We had been
so wrought up by the murders of the previous
day, that without a moment's hesitation we
wheeled about and made for the Indians as
fast as our horses could go. We had no
sooner started than I realized that we might
be running into an ambuscade, and I warned
our people not to cross the ravine at the
place where we had first seen the savages,
but to go on one side or the other; however,
our men were in such a state of frenzy, that
they would not listen, so we rushed headlong
to the bank of the ravine through which the
creek ran. The bank was so steep that we had
to dismount and lead our horses. Fortunately
for us, there were no Indians at that moment
at the point where we were crossing the
ravine, but we had not gone a quarter of a
mile before a mounted Indian appeared on the
bank, almost at that identical puce, and
probably there were others hidden near the
same point.
As soon as the Indians on the south bank saw
us coming, they started on the run in a
southeasterly direction, and, when some
distance away, gradually turned to the
eastward. By this time our party began to
think a little of the desirability of
keeping a way of retreat open, in case of
defeat in the expected engagement. For that
reason, we veered a little to the right, and
kept on until we were directly between them
and Colorado City. By this time, the Indians
had dismounted on a large open flat, about
three-quarters of a mile to the eastward of
us, and, forming a circle with their ponies,
seemed to be awaiting our attack. We could
see their guns flashing in the sunshine, and
while we were surprised at this movement, so
contrary to the usual custom of the Indians,
we did not hesitate a moment, but started
toward them as fast as our ponies could take
us. Evidently changing their minds upon
seeing this, the Indians remounted and
started in the direction of the pinery as
rapidly as they could go. Their horses were
better and fleeter than ours, so we were
unable to head them off, and when they
entered the edge of the timber we knew it
would only be inviting disaster to follow
farther. We then resumed our march in the
direction of Bijou Basin. An hour or two
later, we went by the extreme eastern edge
of the pinery, at the point where the old
government road crossed Squirrel Creek.
Here, judging by the great number of fresh
pony tracks, a large number of Indians must
have passed only a short time previously.
After a short rest at this point, we rode
steadily on and reached Bijou Basin that
evening just before dark. On our arrival, we
found that the besieged party had come in
the day before, and that all the men, except
the wounded, had returned to their homes.
The wounded were being cared for at Mr. D.
M. Holden's ranch. There being nothing
further for us to do, we started for home
early the following morning. Upon our way,
we found many Indian pony tracks at various
places along the eastern and southern edge
of the pinery, showing that the Indians were
still around in considerable numbers, but we
saw none during the day. After leaving the
pinery, we followed the wagon road that came
down through what is now known as the Garden
Ranch. As we came down the hill, two or
three miles to the northeast of the ranch
houses, we noticed a number of horsemen
congregated near that point. From their
actions we knew that they were very much
excited, and evidently mistook us for a band
of Indians. They gathered around some tall
rocks a little way to the eastward of the
gateway, and seemed to be preparing for
defense. We tried by signaling and otherwise
to make ourselves known to them, but were
unsuccessful until we were almost within
gun-shot distance. They were greatly
relieved when they ascertained who we were.
We then joined them and reached Colorado
City without further incident.
