Merrick County, Nebraska - Chapter 6: Interesting Events of Early Settlement, 1898

Chapter 6: Interesting Events of Early Settlement

POSSIBLY in the foregoing chapters we have touched too lightly upon the trials to which the pioneers of our county were subject. It is, therefore, the purpose of this chapter to relate some of the experiences of those early days in the words of one who shared in them and realized what they meant The story of the abuse and indignities heaped upon the pioneers by the red man, who sought by that means to prevent the encroachment of the white man upon his old-time hunt¬ ing grounds, is told by Mrs. J. G. Brewer, being a continuation of her account as found in Chapter II, and is as follows:

About a month after the last mentioned escapade of Hartley,* there were about 1300 Indians passed our house in one day. They were Sioux, Arapahoes and Cheyennes. - It took them six hours to get out of sight. They did not molest any of the ranches going down, but returning they committed about every depredation possible. They were incensed against the white settlers because, as they reasoned, the whites had helped the Pawnees give them a splendid threshing. The govern¬ ment had given the Pawnees a small cannon, and the Sioux and their friends very naturally concluded that this meant the white man was in sympathy with the Pawnees. The nearest assault on this occasion was that ou Mr. Hudson, about two miles below the stage station. They killed his turkeys, chickens and pigs, and surrounded the little house. Mr. and Mrs. Hudson were an aged couple who had lost all they had in the east, and being too proud to depend upon the charity of relatives and friends, had come west and were happy even if they were poor. They had been afraid of the small parties of Pawnees that had often stopped to beg, but had become somewhat used to them. But this tremendous outpour of Indians was too much for them.

who were of course helpless in the presence of so many of the enemy. They filled the house so full that they frightened Mrs. Cummings greatly. Then they took down the garments from the wall (that was a fashionable wardrobe in Nebraska in those days), appropriating everything they wished. One of the most horrible looking Arapahoes donned little Jenny Cumming's hat. Then they went to the barn and contented themselves with cutting the straps from stage coaches and harness. They next visited Mr. Hill's, but as there was a large encampment of Pilgrims near they did not do much damage, except the shooting of a few chickens.

Then came our turn. We were gone from home, leaving Hartley there. The first ones who came up turned onto the Island. Hartley, not seeing or knowing of the main body, took his gun and pursued the Island party (recognizing them as Sioux), for the purpose of killing at least one of them. He would never explain the cause of his long absence, or tell whether he killed any Indians or not while there.

The large party was at our place in ten minutes. Finding no resistance, they destroyed everything we had except the stove. The furniture to the stove was all gone, one window broken, dining table in a dozen pieces, and chickens all killed, with the exception of an old black hen. She came in from the prairie with fifteen chickens and as she was the mother of thirty-five we concluded she must have had a fight. The canary bird, hanging down from the highest peak of the roof, was undisturbed. Just imagine our coming home! Nothing to cook, nothing to eat, no place to sleep! We slept on the ground that night. Mr. Brewer had his over¬ coat, I had my shawl, and Hartley slept in a hay stack. We were too worn out not to accept of some rest, although it was pervaded with fitful dreams with the scalping knife as a subject. We had only gotten i;:to condition to rest by reasoning that there was no danger that night, when a loud rap upon the door brought us to our feet. I said ''It is the Indians." My husband said, "You foolish girl, don't you know that is a white man's knock? We'll open the door and see what he wants." He did not wait, but came in without being bid. He said he was tired out from being pursued by two horsemen and had been accused of stealing a horse, and could not take another step even if they take him. We related the day's adventure and told him there was no bed. He made no reply but lay down under a broken bedstead There was no more sleep for us, for that man snored in such a manner as to sound like the roaring of a cyclone. He did not awaken until daylight; then such hurrying to get away - "Great heavens! I shall be caught! What's my bill?" "Nothing," we told him. He threw down four dollars. "Don't tell I staid here." He lost three more as he crawled out from under the broken bedstead. His pursuers arrivsd about noon, but not a word did they get from us. -

Well 1 told Mr. Brewer if he wanted to spend his days in such an ungodly place as this he might, but I should journey afoot and alone if necessary, to the home of my youth. I made him promise to give me the seven dollars. By that time we were getting really hungry. As Mr. Hill knew how we were situated, and lived only half a mile away, we concluded to walk to the stage station - Mr. Cummings, a most estimable man, kept the station - but Mr. Hill called us in and bade us eat, drink and be merry, "for tomorrow you will die" - be scalped, he meant. After partaking of a hearty dinner we went to work in earnest. The neighbors loaned us some goods for a time, and I went to baking bread for the traveling and footsore Pilgrims. Mrs. Hill come to visit me. She said "Don't feel so bad; we may be served the same way." I told her I would like to have hen stay to tea if it were possible. What was my chagrin when she said she would. ' I found an old dry goods box, and set the table on that. The meal consisted of bread and a prairie chicken I had trapped in a "figure four" (I often found a chicken in my trap). We had knots of wood for chairs, and one knife and fork. We quarreled over who would have them. Mrs. Hill declared the chicken just splendid - no epicure could deny that. There was more actual merriment in that meal, according to the number, than at the grandest table in the world. But where is the compensation for such a loss? We had worked so hard to get our belongings together. Even the wedding garments my father gave me were utilized by the savages. How grand a squaw must have appeared in a rose-colored silk dress.

Mr. Hartley had left us shortly after the time w'hen he chased the Indians on to the Island. He felt very badly for he realized that he was principally to blame for the loss of our goods; but he was poor and could make no amends. The last we ever heard of him he was a captain in the army. He was a faithful and brave young man.

Some six months or so later there was another scare, which made it seem at the time as if there were no more safety. Mr. Wood, who lived about eighty miles above us, had brought his wife as far as the station to send her east. He was compelled to go to Denver, leaving two men with her for protection, but he had been on the road but a day when he met a large party of Sioux. Becoming alarmed for the safety of his wife, he turned back and was nearly home when a small regiment of regulars overtook him. He told them to stop at his place to see what was going on. The Indians were there and had Mrs. Wood lashed to a pony about to leave. She was frightened almost beyond recovery, but the Colonel and his men came upon them so suddenly that they were taken by surprise and took her from the pony on the double quick, and then were off as fast as possible, the regiment after them. Their fresh horses were too fleet for the cavalry, which was going east to the last call and was tired out. The cavalry then went on to the front, joining Brigadier General Mitchell's other regiment. Gen. Mitchell and staff were at one place. He was a splendid specimen of a soldier and very brave. He simply ordered bread and milk, asking for nothing more than the common soldier. The regulars as a general thing were cowards and did not try to subdue the red men; at all events they conducted themselves far worse after their absence.

Many women left when the government protectors were gone. Mrs. Wood's adventure frightened a great many. They had only gotten a few miles below us when a party of Indians crossed the river at Warm Slough, coming directly to Mr. Morley's house. Mrs. Morley was milking the cow. They came up to her, pulled the rings from her ears through the flesh, killed the cow, chickens and pigs, and broke thejr furniture to pieces, throwing away things they could not carry into the slough. The Indians told them they would kill them if they did not leave immediately. They permitted them to yoke a pair of cattle and take a few bed¬ clothes and garments with them. Thus the poor aged couple left in the middle of the night, Mrs Morley suffering beyond description from fear and her bleeding ears. This, together with Mrs. Wood's adventure, caused a general stampede of nearly all the women of the vicinity. It was supposed at that time that Mr. and Mrs. Morley were killed and secreted, as they were absent and blood was seen in every direction, Mr. Morley came back in a short time and related the experience of that horrible night to those who were left in the neighborhood. He said he knew there were white desperadoes with the Indians, as he had seen one when they were crossing the river to the south side. Som.1 of the women went away on the stage coach, but we were too poor to enjoy that luxury. Mr. Parker had taken his wife to Iowa previous to this, as she was too delicate to undergo the constant tumult - Indians, horse thieves, soldiers, white people stealing and marauding in general. Mr. Parker had a beautiful span of bays taken from his stable, and then he concluded to take the remainder of his live stock to a place of safety. The stock consisted of another span of horses nearly worn out, four cows and four nice fat hogs. I went as far as Council Bluffs with him. His youngest son, Frank, remained on the ranch, as his father intended to return as soon as was prudent.

We were absent three months, and returning we hardly arrived at Warm Slough before the hogs began to show signs of weariness. As it was very warm he drove them into the slough. "We will eat a lunch," he said, "I think we can drive the pigs all right." I prepared the lunch and then his son went to get the hogs, but shouted back that one was dead and the other three would not budge an inch. Accordingly the others had to be loaded into the covered wagon. We were ten days on the road and I thought the smell of those hogs would kill me. The boy walked most of the time. Uncle Jason would get in and ride a few minutes at a time, and so their perfume did not reach his nostrils. The fourth day I told them I could not stand it to be wedged in among the creatures any longer. "Oh," he said, "you make too much fuss. I don't smell anything to speak of." I told him to get into the wagon where I was obliged to sit and remain one hour. He took the lines and I walked. He was in there but three quarters of an hour before he jumped out and said, "Good Heavens, Mrs. Brewer, I don't see how you stood it." When it was time to stop at night the pigs were unloaded, the pen cleaned, and everything aired. It took five days more to perform the journey, but I walked the most of the way. We arrived at the Bluffs the eleventh day, completely worn out. He would not let me stop on the road as I was tempted to do. He said, "I told Mr. Brewer I would take care of you and 1 have haven't I now?" I told him, "Certainly you have, so far as food and peifumery are concerned." Then with a hearty peal of laughter he said, "I would rather be scalped than to take that jour¬ ney again. If ever I get back I'll never stir an inch for them - don't you say so?"

When an Indian scare was announced, as there often was, Uncle Jason would generally say "I don't believe it! That come from 'blabbers'." I regret to say such w'as the case in many instances, the purpose being to get the settlers to leave their places that they might occupy the same without expense. At one time a stage driver came down the road shouting that there were one thousand hostiles not far away. It frightened a number beside myself but it was a false alarm I lost a churning of cream by it. There was certainly enough reality to make the blood of the timid run cold.

One day newTs came that a couple of men had been killed up the river a little ways.* One of them had been our hired man a short time before. Mr. Brewer went out with a body of men to search for the bodies of the murdered men and I was left alone. That was to me the most nelancnoly day ever spent. The still¬ ness of death pervaded the atmosphere. Not a person near - nothing but a very intelligent Newfoundland dog I had in the house. I was lying on the couch when suddenly he gave a sharp, quick growl. I sprung to my feet to see two windows darkened with the worst looking Indians I ever saw. Curley (the dog) came to me and I whispered, "Take them, Curley!" Quick as lightning he was through a pane of glass after them. His movements were so rapid and earnest - snapping, biting their ankles, growling like a tiger - that he soon had them running on the double quick. When he came back he was bleeding, but I could not decide whether it was from the broken glass or arrows from the Indians, or both. He came and licked my hands, lying down immediately from exhaustion. He was far ahead of some of the men, for while they were studying what was best to do the dog would have it done. I knew him to bleed one Indian a quart, which cost me three loaves of bread, a large piece of beef, about a pound of coffee, and the saying of my prayers. After staunching the blood thi victim made me get on my knees, he pointing heavenward with the most hideous gestures. I imitated him as well as I could for awhile, but concluding I had done penance enough I refused the rest of the performance. He said he would kill my dog if I refused to imitate him. As I was alone I had been afraid, but this made me mad, and I said, "Curley, bite him!" Again he flew. I had to follow to get the dog away. At another time Mr. Brewer, being absent, left a very good hearted gentleman to protect me. It was nearly morning and I was sleeping behind some heavy curtains, when I heard the voice of the man saying, "Arise, Mrs. Brewer, the house is surrounded by Indians. Good bye, you have been good to me " By the time I was ready to go out to aee what was going on the windows were black with the red men. They shook my man was running with the fleetness of a deer. At another time this great protector of mine mistook a large number of soldiers for Indians. He ran to the house with the hurried exclamation, "My God, the red men are upon us now in earnest." I ran out and climbed on top of the house for a better view. Then I said, "Those are the troops, I believe - volunteers." "Volunteers? Not much; you can't fool me. I can't do you any good; try and take care of yourself," and he ran for the bottom. I said, "If you don't come back and stay with me, if it is Indians I will send them to kill you. No danger of their hurting you; you look too much like a monkey. We shall both be safe; they will be wondering what kind of an animal you are. If you will come back I will put you in a cage or make a jumping jack of you. Don't you see plainly they are soldiers?" And so they were.

The Indian Scare Of 1864

As the reader has already concluded from the foregoing narrative, early comers to Merrick County found the noble red man yet unsubdued, and frequently inclined to go on the war path. From Mr. Brewer we gain the following description of the conditions which pre¬ prevailed just prior to the great "Indian scare of '64;"

Rumors of a threatened Indian war began to be more frequent than ever as the summer of 1864 drew near to its close. The occasion of these rumors was not that any overt act of hostility had been committed, but that the conduct of several tribes was, in a general way, suspicious. The great increase of overland travel, caused by the discovery of gold at Pike's Peak, had always been a source of great dissatisfaction to the Indian tribes of the plains. The erection of a telegraph line and the establishment of a line of stages to Denver and the pony express to San P'rancisco they had looked upon with a jealous eye from the very first. And now, as it became known to them, that the construction of a railroad across their hunting grounds was in contemplation, they were fully aroused and resolved to rid their country of white men.

This spirit of dissatisfaction among the Indians was observed with various degrees of fear by the pioneers. But before long attacks on immigrant trains and on traders from Ft Kearney left no doubt as to the hostile intentions of the red men. The realization of this caused a veritable panic, and, in the case of Merrick County, an almooi total depopulation. Old settlers inform us that during the continuance of this stampede a steady stream of eastward - moving settlers flowed by every day, visible as far as the eye could reach both up and down the river. Pigs and chickens and many implements were left to their fate - which was to be taken up again by the settlers as they returned from their eastward flight. The winter of 1864 found hardly a soul in the county aside from Messrs. Brewer and Eugene Hilton. One of the most interesting episodes of this great scare was the flight of the county clerk, W. H. Mitchell, who thought his life worth more than his office, and took his departure for the east, never returning to fill his unexpired term, to do which Wells Brewer was subsequently chosen.

But Fort Kearney marked about the eastern limit of the Indian depredations, and these gradually becoming less, the majority of the fugitives gradually returned and resumed their interrupted labor upon their new homes.

The terror of the Indian scare was undoubtedly augmented by the fact that the majority of the masculine population of Nebraska was at the time in the east and south, fighting for the preservation of the union and the freedom of the slave. In fact, it was openly charged at the time that agents of the south were inciting the Indians to their depredations, in the hope that the members of the army from the west would be drawn from the field of battle and sent to the defense of their homes. But whatever the cause of the uprising, it was at the time « most threatening factor in the life of our early settlers, and bade fair for a time to postpone for years the development of our county. Happily, however, the danger was short, and the work of settlement and civilization soon resumed.

Before passing to another subject we have thought it best to intro¬ duce at this point a letter written to the Omaha Bee in the early part of the present year by Wm. McEndree, regarding an historic medal which came into his possession while a resident of this place. The date of the events mentioned therein is later than that of our next chapter, but it seems appropriate here as a pleasant contrast to the scenes of savagery which are recorded against the red man of 1864. The letter reads as follows:.

I frequently have inquiries if I still have in my possession the fatuous Jackson Indian medal shown at the expositions of our country in the 1*6? fifteen years

The only way I have of answering these inquiries and keeping it fresh in the memory of interested ones is to reply through the Bee. Yes, this valuable relic is still in my possession. I have just had it returned from Tiffany Brothers, New York. It was sent there as an attraction for a window show for three months. The medal was first brought into public notice at Chicago in 1874, at the exposition held at that time, at Philadelphia in 1875, at New Orleans Cotton exposition in 1885, and at Denver Mineral exposition in 1883. Many of your readers may be interested to know a part of the history of this medal and how it came into my possession. The winter of 1871-72 was very severe, depriving the Indians of the opportunity to hunt. In February, 1872, the chief, Young Spanna Horse, came to me, while a resident of Lone Tree, Nebr., and deposited the medal with me as security for supplies for his family, promising to redeem it as soon as the weather would permit the Indians to hunt. By his negligence I was permitted to hold this medal one year before he made an effort to redeem his pledge. I showed him a disposition to buy the medal and by a few' coaxing presents, he gave me full possession of it on condition that I should keep it and that he might see it when¬ ever he called for that purpose. This was complied with so long as he lived

The history of the medal was written by Sergeant Cody of old Fort Kearney. It contains all that could be ascertained by white men, and it read thus: "In the early '2o's of this century there roamed over the plains of what now is known as Nebraska and the western hills of Iowa a tribe of Indians known as the Pawnees. Among their chiefs was one named Spanna Horse, a noted and famous warrior, and during the first administration of Andrew Jackson as president of the United States there was a peace council held at or near where the city of Council Bluffs, Iowa, is now situated, and from such councils it has taken its name. This medal was presented to this chief on one of these occasions in 1829. Shortly after this date Spanna Horse became a scout and guide for our government and acted in this capacity up to his death, which occurred at Elm Creek, Nebr., in 1862. Young Spanna Horse falling heir ttThis tribal effects, among them this medal, handed it down to the present owner." Sergeant Cody tells us that Chief Spanna Horse was always friendly to the whites, and in one instance of his recollection he reduced a chief named Ter-ri-me-coux for killing a white man in disobedience to the treaty. He often enlisted his warriors in the United States service to aid in keeping the Sioux Indians in subjection. This great chief carried the token of love and respect about his neck strung on a thong made from the sinews of a deer until the 14th day of August, 1862, being then 33 years of age, at which time he was killed in battle with the'Sioux. There are still a few of the old settlers of Nebraska who remember this chief and have seen the medal on his neck, and no doubt would recognize it at this date. In the fall of 1874 the Pawnee Indians, having ceded their lands or reservation, now known as Nance County, Nebraska, to the govern¬ ment, were removed to lands allotted them in Indian Territory. On the march down overland Young Spanna Horse died, and on his deathbed requested a white man's burial, a thing very rare among the Indians at that date. The greatest value attached to the medal is that it is the only one in existence of that date from President Jackson's administration to any Indians on our frontier. Its preservation and its age makes it still more valuable. Wileiam McEndree.