The Dickinson’s of the Alamo

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Painting of Almaron Dickinson by Mark Barnette

Almeron Dickinson didn’t fall in love until he was 29-years of age.  A Pennsylvanian by birth in the year 1800, he served in the United States Army and was trained in the art and science of artillery.  He eventually found his way to Bolivar, Tennessee, located in the southwest corner of the state.  In Tennessee, he met and fell in love with Miss Susanna Wilkerson, who was then just fifteen years of age.  We don’t know why the couple eloped —it may have had to do with her young age—but that’s what they did on 24 May 1829.

Two years later, the Dickerson’s joined a group of 54 Texas-bound settlers, traveling by ship from New Orleans to the coast of Texas.  Upon arrival in Texas, they proceeded overland to the location of the Green DeWitt colony, which was formed around the emerging town of Gonzalez.  Almeron received a league of land (4,428 acres) along the San Marcos River near present-day Lockhart, Texas.  Over the next few years, the Dickerson’s acquired ten lots around Gonzalez, which in those days was an affordable investment.  Almeron served the community as a blacksmith and formed a partnership with a local hat-maker.  As a member of the community, Almeron joined with others in forming a militia to defend against hostile Indians.  Their daughter Angelina was born in 1834.

As it happens, the DeWitt Colony was a prime target for raids by hostile Indians (Karankawa, Tonkawa, and Comanche) and, in fact, in July 1826, these hostiles utterly destroyed Gonzalez.  The town was rebuilt in the following year, even though Comanche continued to attack the settlement with some regularity.  DeWitt demanded the protection of the Mexican army, but available forces were insufficient for this purpose.  DeWitt then negotiated with the local Mexican military commander for the loan of a cannon so that local militia could at least defend themselves.  It was a six-pounder, good for little more than scaring horses.

Since 1830, the newly formed Mexican government wavered between federalist and centralist policies.  As the political pendulum swung sharply toward centralism in 1835, several Mexican states revolted.  In June, several Texian settlers used this unrest as an excuse to rebel against government-imposed customs duties.  Mexico’s federal government responded by sending more soldiers to Texas.  With no shortage of opinion among the Texians, the public was sharply divided on the issue of Mexico’s move toward a centralist regime.  Some communities supported the rebellion, others —including the residents of Gonzalez— declared loyalty to Mexican president Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.  Anxiety over the political future of Mexican Texas caused some communities to send delegates to a “consultation,” while others scrambled to form armed militias.

On 10 September, a Mexican soldier severely clubbed a resident of Gonzalez, which led to widespread outrage and protest.  It was then that Mexican authorities concluded that it would be unwise to leave these settlers in possession of a six-pound cannon. Colonel Domingo de Ugartechea, who then commanded all Mexican forces in Texas, sent a detail of six soldiers to retrieve the cannon.  By this time, the citizens of Gonzalez believed  Ugartechea was looking for an excuse to attack the settlement and eliminate their local militia.  They were quite naturally loath to return the cannon.  A town-meeting was held to decide what to do about Colonel Ugartechea’s demands.   Three of the town’s citizens voted to return it; everyone else agreed with the the mayor (alcalde), who wanted to retain possession of it.  Mayor Andrew Ponton believed that the issue of the cannon had become a point of honor.  Gonzalez residents decided to stand their ground.

Mayor Ponton correctly anticipated that Colonel Ugartechea would send additional troops to demand return of the cannon.  As soon as the first Mexican detachment was escorted from town, Ponton sent word to the nearby settlement of Mina requesting reinforcements.  A rumor surfaced, claiming that 300 Mexican soldiers were en route to Gonzalez.  Empresario Stephen F. Austin didn’t help matters by cautioning all Texians to remain watchful and on a firm defensive posture.  He warned the Texians that any unjustified acts of aggression on their part could hinder later support from the United States, if needed.

Although instructed to avoid violence if possible, Francisco de Castañeda departed San Antonio on 27 September with one-hundred dragoons.  His mission was to reclaim the cannon.  As these troops approached Gonzalez two-days later, they discovered that the citizens had removed all boats from the Guadalupe River, including the ferry. Eighteen armed Texians waited on the opposite side of the river.  Their captain, Albert Martin, informed Castañeda that he must remain on the western bank until Mayor Ponton returned to town.

Castañeda‘s arrival caused a flurry of activity inside the town.  One detail of residents buried the cannon as messengers traveled to nearby communities for their assistance.  More than 80-men responded to the call for reinforcement.  These new men demanded their right to choose their own leader (a typical practice of the day).  The chosen leaders were John Henry Moore (Fayette), Joseph Washington Elliot Wallace, (Columbus), and Edward Burleson (Columbus) to serve as captain, first and second lieutenant.

With no way to cross the river, Castañeda made camp on a high ground along the river bank.  On 30 September, he repeated his demand for return of the cannon; he was again rebuffed.  The Texians insisted on discussing the matter directly with Colonel Ugartechea. Castañeda promptly made his report to Ugartechea, adding that he felt the Texians were stalling.

In San Antonio, Colonel Ugartechea approached Dr. Launcelot Smither, a resident of Gonzalez who was visiting on business.  Smither was asked to help Castañeda in convincing the Texians to obey the instructions of lawful authority.  Smither returned to Gonzalez on 1 October and met with Captain Caldwell.  Smither assured Caldwell that the soldiers intended no harm if the settlers would peacefully relinquish the cannon.  Caldwell instructed Smither to bring Castañeda into town the following morning to discuss the issue further.  Meanwhile, Caldwell called a war council, which quickly voted to initiate a fight.  The Texians dug up the cannon, mounted it on cart wheels and, in the absence of ammunition, they gathered scraps of metal to use in place of cannon balls.  James Neill, with artillery experience during the War of 1812, was placed in charge of the cannon.  He gathered several men to assist him as cannoneers, including Almeron Dickinson. A local minister asked for God’s blessings.  While the Texians were planning their attack, Castañeda learned from an Indian scout that 140 men had gathered in Gonzalez and more men were expected to join the fray. This news prompted Castañeda to began looking for a suitable place to ford the river.

The Texians themselves began to cross the river to confront the Mexican force at around 7 pm.  As only half of the men were mounted on horseback, their progress was slow.  Once assembled on the west bank, the Texians tracked the Mexican soldiers to their encampment.  A thick fog rolled in around midnight, which caused further delay to these efforts.  The Texians finally arrived at the Mexican camp around 3 am. A barking dog alerted the soldiers, who began to fire.  The noise generated by rifle fire spooked the horses, which disrupted the Texian advance.  Moore ordered his men to conceal themselves in the thick underbrush until dawn.

Due to the darkness and fog, Castañeda had no clear idea how many men he was facing.  Proceeding with caution, he moved his men 300 yards further back to a nearby bluff.  Texians emerged from the trees at 6 am and began to fire on the Mexican soldiers.  Lieutenant Gregorio Pérez mounted a counter-attack with 40 dragoons.  The Texians fell back to their previous position in the trees and fired a volley of rifle shot, injuring one soldier.  Pérez returned to the bluff.

As the fog lifted around mid-day, Castañeda sent Smither to the Texians requesting a meeting.  Smither, who was now suspected of colluding with the enemy, was promptly arrested.  Eventually, Moore agreed to meet with Castañeda.  Moore explained that the Texians no longer recognized the centralist government of General Santa Anna. The Texians, Moore assured him, remained loyal to the Mexican Constitution of 1824.  Castañeda confided to Moore that he shared their support for federalism, but that he was honor bound to follow his orders.

comeandtakeitAfter Moore returned to his camp, the Texians raised a homemade white banner with an image of a cannon painted in black, centered, over the words “Come and take it.[1]”  The Texians then fired their misappropriated cannon at the Mexicans, injuring two more men. Realizing that he was outnumbered and outgunned, Castañeda led his troops back to San Antonio.  In fact, the dragoons were gone before the Texians had finished loading their cannon.

History might recall the Battle of Gonzalez as a minor skirmish were it not for its consequences.  A large number of Texians had taken up arms against the government of Mexico and had no intention of returning to their previously neutral stance. Two days later, Austin communicated to the Texas Committee on Public Safety, “War is declared.”  This suited General Santa Anna because he had already determined to crush the Texians, as they were now in a state of rebellion. Gonzalez became the rallying point of all Texian opposition to the centralist government.

As with the others in the DeWitt Colony, Almeron Dickinson was swept up in the euphoria of victory (over a Mexican company that chose not to draw blood), and Dickinson decided to join the march to San Antonio de Béxar.  He marched alongside 300 Texians who imagined themselves an army.  They served under the command of Stephen F. Austin … a man with no previous military experience. In San Antonio, General Martin Perfecto de Cos [2] and 650 regular army troops awaited the arrival of these Texians.  Cos fortified the town plaza west of the San Antonio River and established his headquarters in a run down former mission everyone called the Alamo [3].

By the time the Texians arrived along Salado Creek, east of San Antonio in mid-October 1835, their numbers had increased to around 400 men, including famed Jim Bowie, Juan Seguin, and James W. Fannin.  General Cos was reinforced by an additional 100 men.  In late October, the Texians began to disagree with one another about the stated intentions of General Sam Houston.  Houston wanted to delay any conflict with Mexico in order that his army could be properly trained, equipped, and reinforced.  Texians serving under Austin, however, weren’t having any of this “delay” business.  They continued their efforts to capture San Antonio.

On 27 October, Bowie and Fannin advanced with 90 or so men to Mission Nuestra Senora de la Purisima Concepcion de Acuna.  General Cos ordered Colonel Ugartechea to attack the Texians with 275 men.  The Texians successfully drove off this attack, inflicting more than 50 casualties and capturing one Mexican cannon.  Austin arrived shortly thereafter and urged a continuation of the assault into San Antonio, but he found little support for this plan by his officers.  Texian encampments along the San Antonio River, both north and south of the town, prompted General Cos to adopt a defensive posture within the crumbling Alamo.

The Texians were reinforced by a company of men from East Texas led by Thomas Rusk; their numbers now approached 600 men.  Yet, in spite of this increased strength, there was scant support for an assault on the town from among the Texian officers.  The men, frustrated by sitting around doing nothing, began to return to their homes in early November.

The larger conflict evolved into one of a series of minor skirmishes between Mexican patrols and Texian scouts.  The Texians were focused on capturing supplies and denying General Cos any additional reinforcements.  It was becoming a stalemate.  William Travis led a small force in the capture of 300 horses and mules found grazing along the Medina River on 8 November.  Colonel Ugartechea departed San Antonio with a squadron of cavalry to accompany reinforcements back to the Alamo.  Austin sent mounted troops to intercept him, but he was unsuccessful.  Unseasonably cold weather and diminishing supplies had a negative effect on men on both sides.

In mid-November, three companies of men (around 100 in total) arrived from the United States to reinforce the Texians.  Austin again planned an assault on San Antonio; his officers questioned the wisdom of such an undertaking.  Austin, in realizing his inadequacies as a military leader, accepted a diplomatic post in the United States and soon departed San Antonio.  The Texians elected Edward Burleson to replace Austin as their military commander.

Texian scout Erastus (Deaf) Smith [4] reported the approach of Mexican cavalry on 26 November.  Burleson ordered mounted troops to cut them off, which resulted in a series of attacks/counter-attacks.  Mexican troops finally withdrew from the field back to San Antonio. History records this as the “grass fight” because the Texians were able to capture Mexican supply animals which were laden with fodder for horses (rather than rumored gold).

It was the beginning of an unseasonably cold winter and Burleson was considering a withdrawal to Goliad when a Mexican officer surrendered to the Texians, telling them that the Mexican soldiers were demoralized.  Ben Milam and William Cooke saw this an an opportunity and, gathering 300 volunteers, obtained Burleson’s permission to attack the town of San Antonio.  Through aggressive scouting, Burleson’s force kept General Cos and his 570 men in a defensive posture.  Half of Cos’ force were stationed inside the town, and the other half inside the Alamo.

Distracting the Mexicans with artillery fire directed at the Alamo on 5 December, Milam and Francis (Frank) Johnson led a two-pronged attack into the town.  The Mexicans returned fire, forcing a halt to the Texian advance.  One Texian cannon was destroyed later in the day.  The next day, the Texians began digging trenches between houses as cover from well-aimed Mexican rifle fire.  When a sharpshooter’s bullet killed Milam, Johnson took charge, directing a renewed assault on 7 December. On the next day, Colonel Ugartechea returned with over 600 men, but only about 170 of these men were experienced field soldiers.  Burleson sent 100 men to reinforce Johnson.  Texians and Mexican were soon engaged in bloody hand-to-hand fighting.

General Cos ordered his dragoons to threaten the outlying Texian camps but found them too well defended.  That night, Cooke seized the home of a priest situated on the main plaza.  The bad news was that Cooke soon found himself cut off from the Texian force.  General Cos then decided to consolidate his force at the Alamo and ordered a withdrawal from the town.  It was at this time that four companies of Mexicans deserted.  This sudden loss of men prompted General Cos to request terms of surrender on the morning of 9 December.  Burleson accepted the general’s surrender, granting the Mexican force parole, while relieving them of most of their field equipment and weapons.  At the conclusion of this siege, 35 Texians had given up their lives.  The Mexicans had sustained losses of 150 dead and as many wounded.  It would appear that the Texians had more accurate rifles.  After the battle, most of the Texian volunteers returned to their homes; a few remained in town.  General Cos’ withdrawal left San Antonio in the hands of the Texians.

While Almeron was participating in the Siege of Béxar, Susanna remained in Gonzalez with Angelina, but after a newly formed troop of Texians looted her home in search of warm clothing and other supplies, she fled to join her husband.  She arrived in San Antonio in late December.

Texian war planners decided that the Alamo (while crumbling and far too large to defend with so few men) offered a strategic value that could not be ignored.  San Antonio de Béxar was situated at an important Texas crossroad, with two approaches from the Mexican Interior.  The first of these Atascosito Road extended from Matamoros through San Patricio, Goliad, Victoria, and into the Austin colony; the second was the Old San Antonio Road that crossed the Rio Grande at Paso de Francia, wound northeastward through San Antonio, Bastrop, Nacogdoches, San Augustine, and across the Sabine River into Louisiana.  Two fortifications blocked these routes: Presidio La Bahia at Goliad, and the Alamo in San Antonio.


Lieutenant Colonel Neill confers with Major Green in the Alamo. Drawing by Gary Zaboly

Placed in charge of the Alamo garrison was James Neill; James Fannin assumed command at Goliad.  Most Texian volunteers returned to their homes after General Cos withdrew his forces.  The Texians were being regularly augmented by newly arriving American volunteers.  These were the men who constituted a majority of troops at Goliad and Béxar.  Neill and Fannin agreed with supposition that Mexican forces might be stopped at either of these crossroads and they dedicated themselves to that purpose.  Yet, neither of these men harbored any illusions about their likely success.  Without quick reinforcement, neither the Alamo or La Bahia could long withstand a siege.

There were twenty-one pieces of artillery (of various caliber) at the Alamo.  It was Neill’s artillery background that made him the ideal choice for this assignment. He began a series of working parties tasked to repair the crumbling mission.  Major Green Jameson served under Neill as chief engineer and it was he that installed most of the cannons on the breastworks of the Alamo.  Green may have been a bit too optimistic, however, when he told Sam Houston that his artillery could “…whip 10 to 1.”

Béxar was located quite some distance from bulk of Texian settlements; resupply was always going to be a problem.  As early as 14 January, Neill advised Houston that his garrison was in a “torpid, defenseless condition.”  He sent another message to the provisional government informing them that, “Unless we are reinforced and victualled, we must become an easy prey to the enemy, in case of an attack.”  Soon after, Houston began to question the wisdom of maintaining a garrison at the Alamo.  Despite this foreboding, Houston informed Governor Henry Smith on 17 January that James Bowie and a company of volunteers had departed for San Antonio.  He added, “I have ordered the fortification in the town of Béxar to be demolished, and, if you should think well of it, I will remove all the cannon and other munitions of war to Gonzalez and Copano, blow up the Alamo, and abandon the place, as it will be impossible to keep up the station with volunteers, the sooner I can be authorized, the better it will be for the country.”  Governor Smith did not think well of it.

Bowie and his volunteers arrived at the Alamo on 19 January. He was impressed with all the work accomplished by Neill to fortify the aging mission.  Neill convinced Bowie that the Alamo was the only viable post between the centralists and Texian settlements.  Apparently, Neill motivated Bowie to the task of defending the Alamo.  Bowie wrote to Smith, telling him, “No other man in the army could have keep these men at this post under the neglect they have experienced.”  A few days later, Bowie wrote again to Governor Smith, saying that both he and Neill had resolved to “die in these ditches” before surrendering the Alamo. Smith resolved to send additional troops and provisions to Béxar.

Committed to bolstering the mission garrison, Smith ordered Lieutenant Colonel William B. Travis to take his cavalry unit and report to Colonel Neill.  Only 30 horsemen responded to Smith’s summons; Travis pleaded with him, “I am unwilling to risk my reputation (which is ever dear to a soldier) by going off into the enemy’ s country with such little means, and with them so badly equipped.”  When Smith ignored Travis’ theater, Travis threatened to resign.  Eventually, however, Travis obeyed his orders and made his way to Béxar with thirty horsemen.

Reinforcements began to trickle into the Alamo.  Travis arrived on 3 February and, like Bowie, committed himself to Colonel Neill and the fortification.  On 8 February, David Crockett arrived with a group of Tennessee volunteers.  On 14 February, Neill learned that members of his family were gravely ill and that he was desperately needed back in Bastrop.  Placing Travis in charge as acting post commander, Neill departed for home on that same day.  Travis’ appointment was no slight to Bowie, since he was a colonel of volunteers, while Travis held a regular commission.  It was Bowie’s men who objected to Travis most; they felt that the 26-year old lacked maturity and any proven ability in command.  And, perhaps, Travis was a bit too full of himself.  In any case, after animosity, Bowie and Travis agreed to co-command the Alamo garrison until Neill returned to duty: Bowie would command the volunteers, Travis the regulars.

Meanwhile, General Santa Anna’s centralist army had reached the Rio Grande.  Travis did not believe the Mexicans could reach Béxar until mid-March; he must have been red-faced when Santa Anna’s force arrived on 23 February.  Travis sent a dispatch to Governor Smith: “The enemy in large force is in sight.  We want men and provisions.  Send them to us.  We have 150 men and are determined to defend the garrison to the last.”

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Painting of Susanna Dickinson by Mark Barnette

After joining him in late December 1835, Almeron Dickinson found shelter for his wife and child inside the town of San Antonio de Béxar.  When General Santa Anna arrived at the head of his two-thousand-man army, Almeron, who was then holed up inside the Alamo, raced his horse into town, swept Susanna and Angelina on to the back of the horse, and galloped back to the protection of the mission.  Susanna and Angelina joined with other women and children already inside the Alamo.

The following day, General Santa Anna demanded surrender of the garrison.  Travis replied with a shot from a cannon and the siege of the Alamo began almost immediately.  Travis took full command of the garrison that same day when Bowie, suffering what was then termed “typhoid pneumonia,” could no longer exercise his command.  In any case, both Travis and Bowie realized that their goose was cooked.

On 1 March, Lieutenant George C. Kimbell’s ranging company from Gonzalez made its way through the enemy cordon and into the Alamo. Garrison strength now consisted of between 185 to 260 combatants.  Travis was grateful for the reinforcements but realized that it was not likely the garrison could survive a 2,000-man army.  Knowledge of certain death is one thing, stress and depression are another matter.  Travis became increasingly frustrated with the lack of support from fellow Texians.  He condemned Fannin for not coming to aid him: “If my countrymen do not rally to my relief, I am determined to perish in the defense of this place, and my bones shall reproach my country for her neglect.”

On 5 March, the twelfth day of the siege, General Santa Anna announced his plan for an assault on the following day.  Mexican officers were stunned: the walls of the Alamo were crumbling, the rebels had sent no column to confront them, and it was only a matter of time before the garrison’s food stores would run out.  At that time, these officers believed, the garrison would surrender without further bloodshed.  These were reasonable objections to a costly assault, but Santa Anna ignored them.


Observing the two thousand Mexican soldiers streaming into Bexar, Crockett reportedly observed, “We’re going to need a few more men.”

Almeron Dickinson now served as captain of artillery. Susanna recounted that her husband hid her and Angelina in the anteroom of the chapel building.  Santa Anna’s assault began at 5 am on Sunday, 13 March 1836.  Eighteen-hundred soldiers attacked from four different directions.  Dickinson’s gunners stood by their cannon.  As soon as the Mexicans had advanced within range, concentrated cannon and well-aimed rifle fire decimated the leading ranks.  After a short halt in progress, the Mexicans surged forward past the outer defenses.  Travis, standing on the north bastion (at about the same position as the present-day post office), was among the first to die.

Susanna Dickinson later testified that as resistance failed, Almeron rushed to his wife and said to her, “Great God, Sue!  The Mexicans are inside our walls!  All is lost!  If they spare you, love our child.”  He then returned to his duties and was never seen again.

The Mexican army overwhelmed the Texian defenders, forcing them to withdraw into the courtyard and into the dark rooms of the long barracks.  It was within these confines that some of the bloodiest hand-to-hand combat took place.  Jim Bowie, too ravaged by fever to rise from his bed, found no sympathy from the attacking Mexicans.

Ruthless combat lasted no more than 90-minutes (some estimate less than that); the chapel was the last to fall.  It is believed that no more than seven defenders survived the assault, and those were soon executed out-of-hand.  David Crockett is believed to have been in this final group of heroes. In any case, by 8 am every Texian was dead.  The official list of dead includes 189 men, but on-going research may increase the final tally to 260.  Of the Mexican dead, about six-hundred.

After the battle, Colonel Juan Almonte led the noncombatant women, children, and slaves out of the Alamo to the home of Ramón Músquiz.  The next day, the women were brought before General Santa Ana, who treated them with gallantry.  He pledged them safe passage through the lines and provided each with a blanket and two-dollars in silver coin.  Turning to Susanna Dickinson, he offered to take Angelina to Mexico City to be properly educated, but Susanna refused his offer.  Santa Anna then presented her with a letter that she was to deliver to Sam Houston demanding his immediate surrender.  Then, to assure her safe passage, Santa Anna assigned one of his officers to accompany her back to the Texian settlement.  William Travis’ slave Joe, who had also been spared, accompanied her back to Gonzalez.

Upon her arrival back in Gonzalez, Susanna shared the news of the fall of the Alamo. Anticipating the approach of the Mexican Army, Sam Houston ordered Texian families to immediately evacuate their settlements and head toward safety in Louisiana.  Susanna and Angelina joined the long struggle eastward in the rain, mud, and extreme cold in what became known as the Runaway Scrape.

Although illiterate, Susanna shared with others her life’s experiences.  With regard to what actually happened at the Alamo, she offered the following testimony:

  1. Before the final assault, there were very few battle casualties among the Texians.
  2. She confirmed the “line in the sand” incident where Travis gave defenders the choice of leaving the Alamo or defending it to the death.  Susanna claimed that this event actually occurred on 12 March (not earlier, as previously recounted).
  3. She did not see the body of her husband after the fall of the Alamo.
  4. Susanna did not see the actual battle. She said that in the final moments, one defender ran into the Chapel for safety, but was killed by Mexican soldiers.
  5. At the time of her discovery (and that of the other women and children), a Mexican officer intervened to protect these ladies from harm or depredation.
  6. She reported that one survivor of the battle was found hiding and identified him as a man named Warner.  Warner apparently begged for his life but was executed.  Note: There is no one named Warner on the list of Texian casualties, but Travis’ slave Joe verified this incident.
  7. At the request of Mexican officers, Susanna identified the bodies of the Alamo’s leaders.
  8. Susanna saw and identified the bodies of David Crockett and Jim Bowie.  Crockett’s body was lying between the Chapel and the long barrack.  Bowie’s body was found beside two dead Mexican soldiers.
  9. From the Músquiz home, Susanna could observe (and smell) the pyres of the dead being destroyed.
  10. When Santa Anna released her, Susanna and Angelina received an officer escort and a servant partway back to Gonzalez.
  11. Following the battle, she wept for several days.
  12. After traveling half-way to Gonzalez, Susanna and her escort encountered Deaf Smith, who took her the rest of the way to Gonzalez.

Other survivors of the battle included Enrique Esparza (the son of an Alamo defender named Gregorio Esparza).  Both Enrique and Travis’ slave “Joe” validated the portions of Susanna’s testimony for which they had first-hand knowledge.

After the battle, Susanna —a widow— had no further means of support, she petitioned the Texas Congress for financial assistance, but without an economy to sustain the new republic, her petition (along with other surviving family members) was denied. By the end of 1837 she married a man named John Williams.  Due to his physical abuse, she divorced him within a year, the first divorce granted in what eventually became Harris County.

In 1838, the Republic of Texas awarded her a land bounty of 640 acres, given similarly to all surviving family members of the Texas Revolution.  The land grant gave Susanna the ability to support herself as a laundress and the keeper of a boarding house.  In later years she and Angelina were awarded another 1,920 acres as descendants of a member of the Texas Republican Army.

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Susanna Dickinson c.1865 from public domain Credit to Texas State Library

In December 1838, Susanna married Francis P. Herring. Herring drank himself to death in 1843. Her fourth husband was Peter Bellows, whom she married in 1847.  Bellows divorced Susanna shortly afterward, accusing her with abandonment and prostitution. Susanna did not appear in court to defend his claim because she had already moved to Lockhart, Texas where she operated a successful boarding house.

During these years, Susanna was well-known by Baptist minister Rufus C. Burleson.  In his memoirs, Burleson praised Susanna for helping to nurse victims of a cholera epidemic in Houston.  He said of her, “She was nominally Episcopalian, a bundle of untamed passions, devoted in her love, and bitter in her hate.”

Susanna met her fifth and final husband after moving to Lockhart.  Joseph W. Hannig was an immigrant from Germany, a blacksmith, and a skilled carpenter. Susanna sold her land in the old DeWitt colony and used the proceeds to help Hannig establish various business interests in Austin.  Hannig was a prodigious businessman; he operated a furniture-making factory, an undertaking parlor, and a mill.  He expanded these interests to San Antonio.

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Believed to be Angelina c.1859 Taken from public domain

Angelina Dickinson, aged 17 and with the blessing of her mother married John Maynard Griffith, a farmer from Montgomery County. Although they had three children together, the marriage ended in divorce.  Leaving two of her children with her mother and another with an uncle, Angelina drifted to New Orleans and became a courtesan.  Before the Civil War, she became a frequent associate with Jim Britton, from Galveston.  Britton was a railroad man from Tennessee who served in the Confederacy as a military officer.  Historians believe that Angelina eventually married Oscar Holmes in 1864, with whom she had a fourth child, but when she died in Galveston in 1869 from uterine hemorrhaging, she was known as Em Britton.

Susanna died in 1883 and was buried in Austin, Texas.


  1. Barr, A. Texans in Revolt: The Battle for San Antonio, 1835.  Austin, University of Texas Press, 1990.
  2. Handbook of Texas Online, The Siege of Béxar, 2010.
  3. Tinkle, L.13 Days to Glory: The Siege of the Alamo.  College Station, Texas A&M University Press (1985)
  4. Hardin, S. L. Texian Iliad. Austin, University of Texas Press, 1994.


[1] This slogan was first used in 480 BC during the Battle of Thermopylae by King Leonidas signifying his last stand in defiance of the Persian Army.  It was used in 1778 at Fort Morris, Province of Georgia, during the American Revolution.

[2] Brother in law to General Santa Anna.

[3] San Antonio de Valero Mission was established in 1716, named in honor of Saint Anthony de Padua and the Duke of Valero, a Spanish Viceroy.  Not long after construction, a hurricane destroyed most of the existing buildings and the mission moved to its present site in 1724. The cornerstone of the chapel was laid on 8 May 1744.  By 1835, the mission was in a state of disrepair.

[4] Born in New York in 1787, Smith suffered a childhood disease that left him deaf.  He moved to Texas in 1822, settling near San Antonio, where he married a Mexican widow.  Smith served as a messenger for Travis and Houston and it was Smith who accompanied Susanna and Angelina Dickinson from the Alamo after the battle.

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A Western Dragoon

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James Henry Carleton (Image from public domain)

Owing to his participation in the civilization of the American West, I have mentioned James Henry Carleton on several occasions —usually as a backdrop to conflicts with American Indians— as a senior in the chain of command.  I thought for this week it would be interesting to take a closer look at this distinguished military officer.

Carleton was born in Lubec, Maine on 27 December 1814, the son of John and Abigail (Phelps) Carleton.  John was a sea captain, which suggests that Carleton was raised in a home where his father was frequently absent.  He was apparently well-educated, as he obtained a commission as a lieutenant of militia for the state of Maine at the age of 24-years.  As a lieutenant, he participated in the boundary dispute with Canada, known to history as the Aristook War (often referred to as the Pork & Beans War) of 1838.  It was a year-long American-British confrontation involving both military and civilian personnel over the international boundary between New Brunswick, Canada and the state of Maine.  Several British were captured, but no one was killed.  Black bears did injure two Canadians, however, a tidbit of information that begs the answer to “huh?”  In any case, the issue was resolved by the Ashburton-Webster Treaty of 1842, which gave most of the disputed area to Maine, giving a militarily vital area between lower Canada and the Atlantic colonies to Britain.  A “right of way” was also designed to allow British commercial interests a transit route through Maine.  It is still in use today.

Subsequently, Carleton received an appointment to second lieutenant in the First Dragoons on 18 October 1839 and attended military training at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania [1].  In the next year, Carleton married Henrietta Tracy Loring of Boston, Massachusetts.  Henrietta accompanied her husband to his duty assignment at Fort Gibson [2] in the Indian Territory (now Oklahoma). She passed away at Fort Gibson in October 1841.

Carleton later served as assistant commissary of subsistence at Fort Leavenworth, accompanied Major Clifton Wharton’s expedition to the Pawnee Villages in Nebraska, and served as an officer on Col. Stephen Watts Kearny’s 1845 expedition to South Pass, and saw action in 1847 in the battle of Buena Vista during the Mexican-American War. During this later engagement, the US Army employed well-aimed artillery fires to repulse a much larger Mexican Army outside of Buena Vista, a small village in the state of Coahuila, seven miles south of Saltillo, Mexico.

Carleton remarried in 1848 to Sophia Garland Wolfe, a niece of General John Garland.  Carleton served under Garland in the New Mexico territory in the 1850s. In 1858, Carleton commanded Fort Tejon, California and the First Dragoons (later designed the US First Cavalry Regiment). In 1859, he was ordered to investigate the massacre at Mountain Meadows, an incident during which Mormons, disguised as Indians, murdered 120 western-bound emigrants from Arkansas.

At the outbreak of Civil War, California governor John L. Downey commissioned Carleton to Colonel and appointed to command the First Infantry, California Volunteers.  He was later commissioned to Brigadier General of the California Volunteers and commanded the state’s column [3] on its march to the Rio Grande.  He commanded the Southern District of California from January to April 1861.

In September 1862, Carleton was advanced to brevet Major General and ordered to relieve General Edward R. S. Canby as the officer commanding the Department of New Mexico.  One of his first acts in this assignment was to reissue Canby’s order establishing martial law in the Arizona territory.  Carleton never acted to set himself up as a military governor, but the policy of martial law was necessary in order to carry out policies leading to peace and prosperity throughout that territory —although it is said that many of his policies in this regard did antagonize the people living in Arizona and New Mexico.  Still, the United States was at war and it was Carleton’s duty to secure the territory against Confederate intrigue.

The objective of the California Column was to drive Confederate troops out of the federal territory of New Mexico.  A relatively small Confederate force (the Selby Brigade, from Texas) had initially pushed out Union forces and then organized civilians to assist the Confederacy against the interests of the United States.  The column consisted of both infantry and cavalry units.  En route, the California Column confronted the Apache leader Cochise at the Battle of Apache Pass.

After eliminating the Confederate threat in New Mexico, Carleton created a system of spies throughout New Mexico and along the border of Texas to keep him advised of any rebel scheming that might place his command in jeopardy.  Beyond this, Carleton was faced with subduing hostile Indians.  It was in this regard that he sent Colonel Christopher (Kit) Carson [4] against the Mescalero Apache with orders to “kill all Indian men” wherever found.  Relocation of these Apaches to the Bosque Redondo [5] was affected by February 1863.

General Carleton then began a campaign against the Navajo, ordering Carson (and others) to destroy all of these Indian’s crops in order to starve them into submission.  It was a strategy that brought immediate results. Eight-thousand Navajo surrendered and made the “long walk” to the reservation at Bosque Redondo.

Carleton envisioned turning these Indians into civilized Christian farmers while interned on the reservation, but the experiment ended up in failure.  Mescalero quietly escaped the reservation, even though facing death by saber or starvation.  Beyond this, the reservation at Bosque Redondo was an expense the US government didn’t need.  This consideration persuaded the government to release the Navajo back to their homelands.

In 1864, General Carleton sent Colonel Carson to chastise Kiowa, Comanche, and Kiowa-Apache (Plains Apache) Indians who were raiding wagon trains on the Great Plains. The major battle occurred at Adobe Walls on 25 November, and although the conflict resulted in only a few casualties, it was one of the largest engagements to occur on America’s Great Plains.

As might be expected, General Carleton’s tenure as a military governor became ensnared in territorial politics (casual reference here to the machinations in southeastern Arizona during the Cowboy War).  Carleton’s superiors had confidence in his ability, believing him to be an efficient and capable officer, but hostile criticism from among the political whiners of the time led to his reassignment in 1867.

After a long-overdue furlough from duty, he assumed command of the US Fourth Cavalry in Texas and served in this capacity until the summer of 1872.  Illness involving severe eczema led to his medical leave until December of that year.  While traveling aboard ship from New Orleans to the Texas coast, Carleton contracted bronchitis from which he never fully recovered.  After arriving in Texas, he further encountered pneumonia and, while hospitalized in San Antonio, passed away on 7 January 1873.  He was survived by his wife Sophia and three of his five children. General Carleton published several accounts of his military experiences.  His son Henry Guy Carleton was a noted journalist, playwright, and inventor.

Additional reading:

  1. Hunt, A. Major General James H. Carlton, 1814-1873: Western Frontier Dragoon. Glendale: Clark, 1958.
  2. Hutton, P. A., ed. Soldiers West: Biographies from the Military Frontier. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1987.
  3. Keleher, W. A. Turmoil in New Mexico. Santa Fe: Rydal Press, 1952.
  4. Thompson, G. The Army and the Navajo. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1976.
  5. McDowell, D. The Beat of the Drum. Santa Ana: Graphic Publishers, 1993.


[1] Carlisle was the location of traditional Indian trails bordering Letort Creek in the mid-1700s and the point of departure for traders and settlers heading westward over the Allegheny Mountains.  In 1756, a brief military encampment preceded a more permanent settlement a year later during the so-called French and Indian Wars (Seven Years’ War).  After the American Revolution, Carlisle became the frontier gateway in Pennsylvania.  In 1794, Carlisle Barracks became the center of intense military activity with the outbreak of the Whiskey Rebellion.  The Barracks continues to serve as the US Army Training and Doctrine Command and the US Army War College.  It is the nation’s second oldest active military base.

[2] Fort Gibson was initially created on 21 April 1824 as an army cantonment.  It was part of a series of fortifications established to protect its western border after the Louisiana Purchase.  Fort Gibson assumed a primary role in the Indian Removal activities after 1830.  The fort is located near the present-day city, Fort Gibson, Oklahoma.

[3] The California Column was a force of Union volunteers sent to Arizona and New Mexico during the Civil War.  The command marched 900 miles from California, through Arizona and New Mexico territory, to the Rio Grande, and then east to El Paso, Texas.  The march took place between April and August 1862.

[4] An Indian fighter of some reputation, Carleton was first commissioned in the US Army in 1839.  He took part in the Mexican-American War, served in the US Dragoons in the American West, and participated in the 1844 expedition to the Pawnee and Oto.  In 1861, Carleton raised and was appointed Commanding Officer of the 1stCalifornia Infantry.  Later that year, he replaced Brigadier General George Wright as Commander, Military District of Southern California and the Department of New Mexico.  In April 1862, Carleton was promoted to Brigadier General and placed in command of the California Column.  Carleton’s resume included either leading or participating in the Apache Wars, Navaho Wars, and the Texas-Indian Wars.

[5] Known among the Indians (Apache, Navajo) as the long walk, the forced relocation involved approximately 400 miles.  The distance may have had a dire effect on the elderly and infirm, but it was not a particularly punishing distance for a healthy person.  Depending upon whose report one reads, between 200 and 300 Indians died along this trail which occurred over several segments.  Not every Indian broke the promises made to Carleton, but several bands did go back on their word and as a result, the entire tribe suffered consequences.

Posted in History | 6 Comments

Billy Dixon

and the Buffalo Wallow Fight

The Great Plains region of the United States and Canada is a broad expanse of flat and undulating land that includes such features as prairie, steppes, and grasslands. It begins just west of the Mississippi River tallgrass prairie region and ends just east of the Rocky Mountains.  Most of this region encompasses present-day Kansas, Nebraska, North Dakota, and South Dakota and parts of Colorado, Iowa, Minnesota, Montana, Wyoming, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Texas.

In the American southwest, the Great Plains includes what is known as the Llano Estacado (Staked Plains) in eastern New Mexico and northwest Texas.  It is one of the largest mesas on the North American continent, with an elevation from 3,000 to 5,000 feet above sea level … a slope of about ten feet per mile.  The Llano Estacado was once referred to as the Great American Desert; its northern boundary is the Canadian River, and on its southern side blends into the Edwards Plateau near Big Springs, Texas.  In total, the area of the Llano Estacado is 37,500 square miles … which is larger than thirteen of America’s states.

In 1541, Spanish explorer Francisco Coronado described the Llano Estacado in this way: “I reached some plains so vast, that I did not find their limit anywhere I went, although I traveled over them for more than 300 leagues with no more land marks than if we had been swallowed up by the sea.  There was not a stone, not a bit of rising ground, nor a tree, nor a shrub, nor anything to go by.”

Another fact concerning the Llano Estacado was of particular concern to migrating European-Americans: it was Indian country.  The Comanche expanded their territory to include the staked plains during the eighteenth century, displacing another native American tribe who were called Apache [1].  Llano Estacado was firmly within what became known as the Comancheria, an Indian stronghold until they were finally defeated by white Americans in the late 1800s.

The Great Plains region was also home to the American Bison, or buffalo, that inhabited this area in massive herds since around 9,000 BC.  The buffalo population living in the Great Plains region in the mid-18thCentury has been estimated as high as 60-millions; they also existed in areas as far north as New York, and as far south as Georgia.

Within the Great Plains were natural topographical depressions that held rainwater.  These would serve as temporary watering holes for wildlife, including the buffalo, known to have used these basins for drinking, bathing, and wallowing.  Gradually, the watering basins were transformed into wallowing holes and these were enlarged as the animals floundered, covering themselves in mud and dirt, and transporting these elements always with them.  Western pioneers simply called them Buffalo Wallows.

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This is a Kiowa drawing of the Buffalo Wallow Fight. The reproduction image is in the public domain.

The Buffalo Wallow fight was one of the more unusual engagements in the Red River War.  On 10 September 1874, a force of soldiers under Colonel Nelson A. Miles [2] were running low on rations.  Miles sent out two scouts and four enlisted men with dispatches from his encampment at McClellan Creek to notify others of his column that Captain Wyllys Lyman’s supply train was under siege by Indians on the upper Washita River.  The scouting party consisted of Scouts Billy Dixon and Amos Chapman, Army Sergeant Z. T. Woodhall, and Privates Peter Rath, John Harrington, and George W. Smith.  On the morning of 12 September, the detachment had reached the divide between Gageby Creek and the Washita River (in present-day Hemphill County, Texas) when they suddenly found themselves surrounded by as many as 125 Comanche and Kiowa warriors, some of whom had come from the siege of the Lyman Supply Train.

Billy Dixon, as previously reported, made a spectacular rifle shot while under siege at Adobe Walls in late June 1874.  Who, exactly, was Billy Dixon?  He was born in western Virginia on 25 September 1850.  Orphaned at age 12 years, he spent one year with an uncle in Missouri before setting out on his own at the tender age of 13.  At first, he worked as a woodcutter, but then transitioned to driving oxen and mules for a government contractor in Leavenworth, Kansas.

Because of his skill as a marksman, Dixon was hired as a scout for the railroads and scientific excursionists.  In 1869, he began hunting and trapping along the Saline River.  By the time of his Adobe Walls experience, he had scouted Texas as far south as the Salt Fork [3] of the Red River.  This was about the time the buffalo hunters moved into the Texas Panhandle.  Billy Dixon was familiar with the lands and tributaries along the Canadian River.

In any case, returning to the plight of the Woodhall Detachment, the Indians had burned off the prairie grass days before; there was no place to hide or take shelter.  Dixon suggested they dismount and form a perimeter.  Smith took charge of the horses but fell a moment later with a bullet through his lungs.  The shot spooked the horses and they ran off, carrying with them the detachment’s haversacks, canteens, coats, and blankets.  It was a celebratory moment for the mounted Indians, who encircled their intended victims and then engaged in a cat and mouse game, charging the Woodhall Detachment, firing at them, and then riding off again.

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Billy Dixon brings in Amos Chapman. Painting by Severino Baraldi, copyright Look & Learn dot com.

Harrington and Woodhall were soon hit, Chapman suffered a shattered knee from a bullet. As the Indians backed off to deliberate, Dixon (suffering a minor wound in the calf), spotted a buffalo wallow a few yards distant.  Encouraging the men to take cover in the depression, which extended about ten feet in diameter, the wounded Dixon helped the other wounded men to reach this shelter —all but Smith and Chapman, who lay bleeding on the ground.  Using their hands and knives, the soldiers began to improve the wallow by throwing up sandy loam along the perimeter.  Now, by intermittently returning fire, the men were able to keep the Indians away from Smith and Chapman.  On several occasions, Dixon attempted to reach Chapman but was forced back by well-aimed rifles and arrows.

Amos Chapman was well known to some of these Indians, as he had previously lived among them as a squaw man [4].  They taunted him by calling out, “We’ve got you now, Amos!”  Dixon finally reached Chapman in the afternoon and carried him back the safety of the wallow.  The fight carried on even as the soldiers suffered from their wounds and from thirst. Despite these troubles, the men kept the Indians a bay with accurate rifle fire.  What the Indians wanted most was Smith’s rifle, which lay next to him on the plain.  It was only the accurate rifle fire of Dixon and the soldiers that prevented the Indians from obtaining it.

The late afternoon brought forth a thunderstorm.  On the one hand, it was a relief to the parched men and served to break off the Indian encirclement, but it was what men back then called a blue-norther.  It brought a dramatic drop in temperature and, as the men were without their blankets, they now shivered in chilly conditions.  As the Indians backed off, Private Rath went to recover Smith’s rifle and found that he was still alive.  Dixon and Rath carried the trooper back to the wallow, where he died later in the night.

The Indians had completely withdrawn by nightfall and using crushed tumbleweeds, Dixon and Rath fashioned crude bedding for themselves and wounded companions.  Under cover of night, Rath went for help, but he was unable to locate the trail and eventually returned to the wallow.

On the following morning, the dawn was clear and there were no Indians in sight.  Dixon volunteered to get help and went off to find the trail, which was about a mile distant from the wallow.  It was not long after that that he sighted a column of cavalry and used his weapon to attract their attention.  It was a body of four companies of the 8th US Cavalry under the command of Major William R. Price, whose approach caused the Indians to withdraw from the Lyman Train and the buffalo wallow.

Major Price accompanied Dixon back to the wallow, but he was without an ambulance wagon to transport the wounded.  As Dixon and Price approached the wallow, the harried troopers mistook them for Indians and shot the horse out from under an assistant surgeon.  The angered doctor gave the men a cursory examination and announced that there was little he could do for them.  Major Price was low on rations and ammunition and could (or would) not detail a squadron to protect the men, but  Price’s troopers did share their hardtack and dried beef before Price moved on.  He promised to notify Colonel Miles of their predicament and send aid as soon as possible. Relief for the Woodhall Detachment did not arrive until after midnight on 13 September.

The remains of Private George Smith were wrapped in a blanket and buried in the wallow. Disabled survivors were taken to Camp Supply for treatment.  Amos Chapman’s leg was eventually amputated above the knee.  Sergeant Woodhall and Private Harrington recovered from their wounds and continued serving in the U. S. Army.  Subsequently, owing to their courage under fire and their dedication to one another, Colonel Miles recommended all six men for the Medal of Honor. Dixon received his award from Colonel Miles while encamped along Carson Creek near Adobe Walls; Smith’s family was presented his Medal of Honor posthumously.

Major Price was severely reprimanded by Colonel Miles for his failure to render proper aid to the Woodhall Detachment.

In the after-action report filed by Sergeant Woodhall, which included the written testimony of Dixon and Chapman, the six men had killed as many as two dozen Indians.  Chapman later recanted his story, claiming that they had killed no Indians at all.  Some years later, owing to the fact that Dixon and Chapman had served as civilian scouts, Congress revoked their medals of honor.  Dixon, however, refused to surrender his medal believing that he’d earned it.  Dixon’s medal of honor can be viewed today at the Panhandle-Plains Historical Museum.

dixon billy 001

Young Billy Dixon. A picture​ in the public domain.

Billy Dixon returned to a normal civilian life in 1883.  He built a home near the Adobe Walls site and served as a postmaster there for twenty years.  He also served as the first sheriff of the newly formed Hutchinson County, served as a state land commissioner, and as a justice of the peace.

In 1894, Billy Dixon married Olive King, a school teacher.  They lived at Dixon’s Adobe Walls homestead on the Turkey Creek Ranch.  For several years afterward, Olive King Dixon was the only woman living within Hutchinson County.  In 1902, the Dixons, with four children, moved to Plemons, Texas.  They moved again to Cimarron County, Oklahoma in 1906, where they had three more children.  Suffering from pneumonia, Billy Dixon passed away on 9 March 1913.  Over several years before his death, Olive had carefully recorded his recollections as a young man hunting buffalo and serving as a US Army scout.  After his death, she visited with then retired Lieutenant General Miles, who attested to all of Dixon’s accounts of the Red River War.  Olive King Dixon erected a granite marker at the Buffalo Wallow site in 1925 (22-miles southeast of the Canadian River).  Under the names of the six men who fought there, the memorial states simply, “who cleared the way for other men.”

In 1929, Dixon’s body was reinterred at Adobe Walls near where he stood when he first saw the Indians riding up the valley.  Dixon Creek in southern Hutchinson County was named in his honor.  Beyond this, the Historical Breechloading Small Arms Association of Lancashire, England, holds a shooting competition to commemorate Dixon’s incredible shot at Adobe Walls.  The competition is known as the Vintage Rifle Open Long-Range Championship, which is shot at a distance of 1,000 yards, using black powder cartridge rifles of that era.  It is a strongly contested event involving shooters from all across the United Kingdom.  Billy Dixon never attributed his shot to anything other than pure luck.

Olive King Dixon passed away in 1956.


[1] These Indians were first encountered by Spanish explorers; the name Apache has Spanish origins, from Apachu de Nabajo (Navajo), and the name has remained since the early 1600s; today, it is how Apaches refer to themselves.  There are several Apache bands, however, including Chiricahua, Jicarilla, Lipan, and Mescalero.

[2] Nelson Appleton Miles (1839-1925) served in the American Civil War, the Indian Wars, and the Spanish-American War.  He was the last Commanding General of the United States Army before that office was abolished and replaced by US Army Chief of Staff in 1903.

[3] A sandy-braided stream that runs 193 miles from the Llano Estacado southeastward across the Texas Panhandle into western Oklahoma.

[4] A disparaging term applied to white men by Indians.  It denoted a white man who was married to an Indian woman within an Indian camp.

Posted in History | 11 Comments

The Red River War

Kiowa 001

American Plains Indian (Image in public domain)

Long before the arrival of Anglo-American settlers, the people of the Great Plains had evolved into a nomadic form of existence.  Their pace of movement generally mirrored that of their primary food source, and because humans cannot exist without water, they never placed themselves too far from sources of water.  Beginning in the early 1800s, white settlers began to establish settlements in areas that were previously the exclusive domain of indigenous peoples.  They transformed the land into fields suitable for agriculture, hunted for meat, and set down roads connecting the various settlements.  These circumstances set into motion a series of attacks and counter-attacks between human beings who looked upon one another in the same way: they were the enemy, they were dangerous, and they were untrustworthy.  There could be no greater demonstration of a clash of cultures than interactions between westward-bound European-Americans and the American Indian.

Prior to the American Civil War, the United States Army was only sporadically involved in keeping the peace between these natural enemies.  Due to the size of the Army at that time, it could only man outlying fortifications in small numbers.  Many of these forward-deployed soldiers were infantry.  No matter how proficient these men were, they stood no chance at all in a major battle against the mounted Indian warrior.  Western military expeditions were few in their frequency and small in their size.  This meant that in terms of defense from Indian attack, for the most part, white settlements were on their own.  During the Civil War, the regular army almost completely withdrew from western territories and settlers formed volunteer militias to confront hostile Indians.

It wasn’t until after the Civil War that the U. S. Army began to reassert its control along the frontier.  In 1867, the US government brokered an agreement with Indian leaders to establish two reservations in the so-called Indian territories (Oklahoma): one reservation for the Comanche and Kiowa, another for the Southern Cheyenne and Arapaho. The agreement, the Medicine Lodge Treaty (signed near Medicine Lodge, Kansas), provided that the US government would offer Indians housing, agricultural training, food, and other supplies.  In return, the Indians agreed to stop raiding white settlements.  Dozens of chiefs endorsed the treaty and a number of tribes moved onto the reservations.  There were two problems with the treaty, however.  First, several bands of Indians headed by influential war chiefs refused to attend the meeting at Medicine Lodge.  Second, the treaty was never ratified by the US Senate.

In 1870, a new technique for tanning buffalo hides increased the interest of hunters to engage in buffalo hunting commercially.  This was the first time whites targeted the buffalo for its hide.  It was also at this time that American politicians and army officers realized that by killing off the buffalo, they could also destroy the American Indian.  In 1870, the American Bison numbered in the tens of millions; in eight years, herds were nearly extinct.  The destruction of the buffalo was a disaster for the Plains Indians, both on and off the reservations.  Without the Buffalo, there was no longer any point in maintaining a nomadic existence —other than as a tradition, but tradition doesn’t feed hungry women and children.  It was in this way that the American Indian, with no means of self-support, became dependent upon the US government; they overwhelmingly remain so today.  In any case, by 1874, the Plains Indians were facing a serious crisis: fewer buffalo to feed their families, increasing numbers of white settlers, and a more capable, more aggressive army.

It was at this time when a spiritual leader named Isa-tai (White Eagle) emerged from among the Comanche. Claiming to have the power to render himself and others indestructible, he was able to rally a large number of Indians to participate in large raids.  Concurrently, a Kiowa war chief arose to a position of prominence within that tribe. His name was Gui-Pah-Gho (also known as Lone Wolf, the elder). Both Lone Wolf and Isa-tai were disposed to warfare. War is never a good thing; even the Indians realized that, but it was better than sitting around, doing nothing, watching their loved ones starve to death.

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The area known as Adobe Walls (public domain)

On 27 June 1874, Isa-tai and Comanche war chief Quanah Parker[1] led 250-300 warriors in an attack on a small outpost of buffalo hunters at a place called Adobe Walls, the site of another battle in 1864 when Adobe Walls was little more than the ruins of an old trading post.  When constructed in 1845, Adobe Walls served as a small military fort with a convenient whiskey hole.  Following a number of Indian attacks in the late 1840s, traders destroyed these structures and moved on.  In 1864, Adobe Walls became the site of one of the largest battles to take place on the Great Plains.  Even then, Adobe Walls consisted of only a few ruins.

In 1874, a group of businessmen (including one James Hanrahan) set up two stores near the old ruins in an attempt to rekindle the town of Adobe Walls.  The complex quickly grew to include a general store, saloon, blacksmith shop, a trading store where buffalo hides could be bartered for hardware goods, and a corral.  At various times, as many as 300 buffalo hunters visited Adobe Walls.  In late June 1874, Indians killed two hunters twenty or so miles down the Canadian River.  Two more were killed on the Salt Fork of Red River near present-day Clarendon, Texas.  It was a signal to anyone with two brain cells that the Indian were on the warpath.

From the perspective of the Comanche, Kiowa, and Southern Cheyenne, the post at Adobe Walls posed a major threat to their very existence.  That spring, the Indians held a sun dance; to encourage the path to war, Isa-tai promised victory and immunity from bullets.  Modern historians believe that as many as 300 warriors gathered to strike the white hunter, but some argue that the number of Indians could have exceeded 700 hostiles.

At the time of the Indian attack, Adobe Walls was only occupied by 28 men and a single woman. Among the men were the saloon owner, James Hanrahan, the twenty-year-old Bat Masterson, and marksman William Dixon.  The woman was Mrs. William Olds, wife of the camp cook.

At 0200 on 27 June, the ridgepole holding up the sod-covered roof of the saloon suddenly made a loud crackling sound.  Two men opined that it sounded like a rifle shot.  Hanrahan awakened the camp by firing his pistols into the air.  Once the men were awake, he set them to work inspecting and repairing the ridgepole.  It was then that the Indians launched their assault.

When it came, the Indian attack was sudden and swift; a combined force of Comanche, Cheyenne, and Kiowa swarmed across the plains.  They fully intended to erase the entire population of Adobe Walls.  Leading the raid were Isa-tai and Quanah Parker.  The initial attack nearly succeeded because the Indians were close enough to smash the windows and bang the doors with their war clubs and the butts of their rifles.  The fighting was intense, and the close-quarters battle rendered the hunter’s long guns useless.  Four of the white hunters were killed in the first assault; the whites had to rely upon their pistols and Henry or Winchester lever action rifles. Eventually, the initial attack was repulsed and from that point on, the hunters were able to keep the Indians at bay with their long-range Sharps rifles.

Nine men were stationed in Hanrahan’s Saloon (including Bat Masterson and William Dixon); eleven men were placed in the general store, and seven in the trading post.  The men set up barricades.  By noon, the hunters at Adobe Walls knew they were in a siege. Around 2 p.m., the Indians withdrew to surrounding hills.  Two hours later the hunters ventured out to bury their dead.  They discovered fifteen Indian bodies and buried those, as well.

On the second day, hunters again ventured outside to bury or drag away the corpses of dead horses, lest the smell of decomposition should have a poor effect on the living.  Hunters who were not dealing with dead animals used their long-distance rifles to keep the Indians beyond their range, which was more than a mile.

Early on the third day, fifteen warriors rode to a bluff overlooking Adobe Walls to assess their situation.  These Indians were about one mile away.  William Dixon leveled his Sharps .50-90[2] he had borrowed from Hanrahan and shot a warrior from atop his horse [3].  The death of that Indian had a demoralizing effect on the rest of the Indians, but so too did the wounding of Quanah Parker.  The Indians decamped that night and returned to their usual campground.  Later in the day, additional hunters began to straggle into Adobe Walls.

On the fifth day of the siege, Mr. William Olds (the cook) accidentally shot himself in the head when his rifle discharged as he was descending a ladder. By the sixth day, there were more than 100 hunters, any of whom would welcome another Indian attack.

Sometime in July, a white settler was killed while looking for wild plums along the bank of the Canadian River.  President Grant, realizing that his peace policy with the American Indian was a complete failure, authorized the Army to subdue the southern plains Indians with whatever force was necessary.  What would become necessary was a force that could effectively deal with 4,000 hostiles.

By the first part of August, a troop of cavalry arrived at Adobe Walls.  Masterson and Dixon [4] signed on as army scouts.  The cavalry departed the next day to join up with forces operating under Colonel Nelson Miles and the buffalo hunters drifted off to kill more animals. The Indians returned to Adobe Walls after the whites had abandoned it, but only to burn the buildings to the ground.  They thought of their battle a victory, but its primary effect was to reinforce the U. S. Army’s earlier conclusions that the Plains Indians had to be crushed.

That same month a second engagement was initiated by Kiowa near Lost Valley.  Led by Lone Wolf, Kiowa attacked a patrol of Texas Rangers.  Both sides experienced light casualties, but the incident did raise tensions along the frontier; Colonel Miles determined to put an end to Indians raids.

General Phillip Sheridan ordered five columns of troops to converge on the area of the Texas Panhandle, and more specifically, upon the upper tributaries of the Red River.  Sheridan intended to deny sanctuary to every Indian and attack him aggressively until either they agreed to surrender to reservation life, or all Indians were dead.

Colonel Ranald S. McKenzie commanded three of these columns.  He ordered the Tenth Cavalry, under Lieutenant Colonel John W. Davidson, to proceed west from Fort Sill.  Lieutenant Colonel George P. Buell, commanding the 11thInfantry Regiment, marched north from Fort Griffin.  McKenzie personally commanded the Fourth Cavalry, riding northward from Fort Concho.  The fourth column involved the Sixth Cavalry and Fifth US Infantry under Colonel Nelson A. Miles, converging southward from Fort Dodge.  The fifth column was the Eighth Cavalry, commanded by Major William R. Price, consisting of 225 officers and men, six Indian scouts, and two frontier guides from Fort Union, New Mexico.

In total, there were more than twenty engagements across the Texas Panhandle.  While the US Army searched for and intended to engage all hostiles, the Indians, who were traveling with women and children, attempted to avoid contact with the bluecoats. Logistically, the Army had a distinct advantage; they had plenty of supplies to sustain their forces.  The Indians were starving.  General Sheridan had no sympathy for the Indians; in his mind, all they had to do to end their suffering was surrender.  As the Red River War continued throughout the fall of 1874, increasing numbers of Indians were forced to give up their freedom and head for Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

As Indian scouts were advancing ahead of the Fourth Cavalry in early September, they were ambushed by a Comanche war party near the Staked Plains.  The scouts sent a runner back to inform McKenzie of the presence of these Comanche.

Palo Duro Canyon 001

Palo Duro Canyon today (public domain)

On 28 September, McKenzie’s scouts located a large village of Comanche, Kiowa, and Cheyenne in the upper Palo Duro Canyon.  At dawn, McKenzie’s troops launched an attack down a steep canyon wall.  The Indians were caught by surprise and did not have time to gather their horses or supplies before retreating.  There were only four Indians killed, but the loss of their lodges, horses, and food stores was devastating.  More than 450 lodges were destroyed.  McKenzie ordered most of the 1,400 horses –a symbol of wealth to the Comanche– shot in order to keep them out of the hands of the Indians.

The Battle of Palo Duro Canyon was typical of the Red River War.  Most encounters produced only a few casualties, but the Indians could not afford the loss of food or their ponies.  Without food or mobility, the Indians had little choice but to surrender.  The Red River War came to an end in June 1875 when Quanah Parker led his band to Fort Sill and surrendered to the white eyes. These were the last band of southwestern Plains Indians.  With the extermination of the buffalo and surrender of the Indians, the Texas Panhandle was open to settlement by farmers and ranchers.  The Red River War was the final defeat of the once powerful Comanche, Kiowa, and Southern Cheyenne tribes.  The Texas Indian Wars were finally concluded.


[1] Quanah Parker (1845-1911) was the son of Comanche war chief Peta Nocona and the kidnapped child, Cynthia Ann Parker. Quanah Parker emerged as a dominant figure during the Red River War.

[2] In those days, the rifle was referred to as a Sharps 2 ½ inch.

[3] US Army surveyors measured the distance of Dixon’s shot at 1,538 yards, nine-tenths of a mile.  Dixon never attributed his shot at anything other than “pure luck”.

[4] Billy Dixon was later awarded the Medal of Honor for his part in the Battle of Buffalo Wallow, which took place three months after the Second Battle of Adobe Walls.

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Adobe Walls – the first battle

Hutchinson County TX 001

Hutchinson County, Texas

Francisco Vázquez de Coronado y Luján [1] was looking for the Seven Cities of Gold in 1541; his travels took him through what is today Hutchinson County, Texas.  Juan de Onate y Salazar [2] passed through the same area in 1601 as part of his Kansas Expedition.  For the next 269 years, this region was mostly populated by vast herds of American Bison.  The first Anglo-American to explore the panhandle of present-day Texas was Stephen H. Long [3], who mistakenly thought that the Canadian River was the Red River in 1820.  Later individuals included Josiah Gregg in March 1840, and Lieutenant Edward Beale in December 1858 (credited with constructing the first federally funded military road from Fort Smith, Arkansas to Los Angeles, California).

Migrating from Kansas, Thomas S. Bugbee established the Quarter Circle T Ranch in November 1876.  William Anderson’s Scissors Ranch took shape in 1878 near a place everyone called Adobe Walls.  Scotland-born entrepreneur James Coburn formed the Hansford Land and Cattle Company in 1881.  By 1883, Coburn had absorbed the Quarter Circle T Ranch, Scissors Ranch, and Turkey Track Ranch.

Prairie Schooner

The Conestoga Wagon

Twenty years earlier, however, there were other things going on in what would become Hutchinson County. White settlers were streaming into the western territories.  From the Native-American point of view, it was a dangerous flood of outsiders … dangerous because the arrivals of these settlers threatened to change forever the culture of indigent populations, people who had lived in this region for a thousand years.  It should be no surprise to anyone, then, that Indians of every persuasion developed hostile attitudes toward the whites.  The wagon trains were a frequent target for Indian assault because the whites were trespassers and because these whites killed for their own consumption the Buffalo that Indians needed to feed their families.

Wagon trains were caravans of wagons organized by settlers intending to immigrate to the western territories during the late 18th and most of the 19th centuries. These trains often included as many as 100 Conestoga wagons (also called prairie schooners) and they became the main method of long-distance overland transportation for people and their belongings [4].  Main routes included the Santa Fe Trail, Oregon Trail, Smoky Hill Trail, and the Southern Overland Mail route.  Typically, migrant groups would rendezvous at a town near the Missouri River. There, they would form companies, elect officers, employ guides, and collect essential supplies.  Key to their departure dates was weather; most wagon trains began their journey in May.  The caravans were protected by a few experienced frontiersmen on horseback, but more often than not, wagon trains stood little chance against the overwhelming force of the Plains Indians.  Indian attacks became more frequent after the start of the Civil War, but U. S. Army Brigadier General James Henry Carleton [5] was quite sure he could fix that problem.

General Carleton intended to put an end to hostile raids against white settlers; if not that, then at least remind those hostiles that Civil War would not prevent the US Army from protecting the westward movement of the American people.  General Carleton designated Colonel Christopher Carson [6] to lead an expeditionary force to deal with harsh attacks.  Carson, commanding the 1st Regiment of New Mexico Volunteer Cavalry, proceeded against Comanche and Kiowa Indians quartered in their winter encampments, believed to be located in the Palo Duro Canyons of the southern panhandle, south of the Canadian River.  Colonel Carson’s expedition was the second of its kind within the Comancheria following the Antelope Hills expedition.

Kit Carson 1864

Colonel Kit Carson, U. S. Army

The first battle of Adobe Walls occurred on 25 November 1864 in the vicinity of the ruins of William Bent’s abandoned trading post and saloon.  Adobe Walls was located on the north side of the Canadian River, 17 miles northeast of present-day Stinnett, Texas.  Colonel Carson clearly understood his orders: punish the Comanche and Kiowa for their attacks against wagon trains on the Santa Fe Trail.

On 10 November 1864, Colonel Carson departed Fort Bascom in the territory of New Mexico with 260 cavalry, 75 infantry, and 72 Ute and Jicarilla Apache scouts.  Two days later, Carson’s force, which also included two mountain howitzers, 27 wagons, an ambulance, and supplies for 45 days, headed south along the Canadian River into the Texas Panhandle.  Carson decided to march first to Adobe Walls because he was familiar with the terrain and, in fact, had worked for William Bent twenty years earlier.  Carson’s Indian scouts covered his flanks and performed scouting patrols ahead of the column. Progress was hampered by inclement weather.

On 24 November, the 1stCavalry reached Mule Springs, located about 30 miles west of Adobe Walls. Late in the day, Indian scouts reported sign pointing to a large Indian village.  Though darkness was upon him, Carson decided to conduct a night march of mounted troops and artillery, leaving the infantry behind to guard the supply train.  Carson rode with his Indian scouts, leaving a subordinate to command the cavalry unit. On the next morning, Carson ordered the artillery forward to join him in the vanguard element.

Comanche Lodge

Comanche Lodge c.1864

Arriving at the steep banks of the Canadian River, Carson deployed one squadron of cavalry on the north side of the river, while he continued with the remainder of his troops on the south side. Two hours after daybreak, the cavalry located and attacked a Kiowa village consisting of around 176 lodges. Several Indians were sent to alarm a nearby allied Comanche village, while Kiowa braves formed a protective screen around their women.  Meanwhile, Carson and his group arrived at Adobe Walls and established a perimeter defense around ruins that was once a hospital.  It was then that Carson realized that there were several nearby Indian villages —one of which was quite large.  Suddenly, a sizeable force of Comanche began pouring forward to engage the Americans; it was a much larger force than Carson expected [7].

Carson quickly dismounted his cavalry and set them into positions flanking the artillery pieces while the Indian scouts engaged around two-hundred Comanche and Kiowa warriors who were mounted and painted.  The first frontal assault came from the Kiowa, but the fighting turned into a fierce melee as Apache and Comanche joined forces and repeatedly attacked Carson’s position.  The Indians confused the Army’s bugle calls with a bugle of their own.  Carson’s force succeeded in repelling the attacks through the clever use of supporting fire from the howitzers.  The first salvo caused the Indians to withdraw from the battlefield, but they soon reappeared, and in greater numbers.

By mid-afternoon, Captain Pettis estimated that Carson’s expedition faced as many as 3,000 [8] really angry Indians.  After six to eight hours of continuous fighting, Carson was running low of ammunition and artillery shells.  Carson ordered a withdrawal to the Kiowa village in his rear.  The hostiles tried to block his retreat by setting fire to the grass and brush along the river, but Carson had the same idea and set backfires and affected his retreat to higher ground.  The two howitzers continued to hold off the Indians. With the arrival of twilight, Carson ordered the village burned.  After the soldiers helped themselves to finely finished buffalo robes, they withdrew from the village and returned to their supply train, which fortunately had not been molested by the Indians.  Carson’s scouts, meanwhile, killed four Kiowa who had been wounded in the initial assault —not out of hatefulness, but rather, to end their suffering.

Colonel Carson and his command rested in camp on 26 November, their enemy visible on a hilltop about two miles away.  The scouts continued to skirmish with Comanche and Kiowa, but no serious attack was mounted against the soldiers.  On 27 November, Carson ordered his men to mount up for a return march to New Mexico.  Several of his officers begged him to reconsider.  They wanted to renew the assault, but after consulting with his Indian scouts, Carson reaffirmed his order.

The Comanche and Kiowa were well aware of Kit Carson.  They respected him, but they didn’t fear him.  From the Kiowa perspective, they had defeated Carson.  Battle casualties were 6 US soldiers killed, 25 wounded; on the Indian side, there were an estimated 60 killed and wounded.  The Army declared themselves the victor at Adobe Walls, but the fact is that the Comanche and Kiowa remained firmly in possession of the Texas panhandle.  Indian attacks against wagon trains continued.

Carson’s decision to retreat was prudent.  He did prepare an exceptionally lethal defensive position, particularly given the number of Indians he faced on 25 November 1864, but it was probably the backfires and the decision to withdraw his men that saved his bacon.

The first battle at Adobe Walls would be the last time Comanche and Kiowa braves forced American troops to withdraw from a battlefield.  It also marked the beginning of the end for the Plains Indians.  The battle of Adobe Walls might have ended, but the war did not. There would be a second battle at Adobe Walls, and it would be the prelude to a much larger confrontation.


  1. Texas State Historical Society, The Handbook of Texas
  2. Carter, H. L.  “Dear Old Kit”: The Historical Christopher Carson, University of Oklahoma Press, Norman, 1968
  3. Guild, T. S., and Carter, H. L.  Kit Carson, Univesity of Nebraska Press, 1984
  4. Sabin, E. L. Kit Carson days (1809–1868) (Chicago: A. C. McClurg & Co.), 1914


[1] A Spanish conquistador and explorer who led a rather large expedition from Mexico to present-day Kansas through parts of what is now the southwestern United States between 1540 and 1542.  He was searching for the Cities of Cibola (the term Seven Cities of Gold wasn’t used until the American gold-rush days in the mid-1800s).  His expedition marked the first time a European had seen the Grand Canyon and Colorado river.  He died in Mexico City in 1554, aged 43 or 44 years.

[2] Salazar was a conquistador and colonial governor of the province of Santa Fe de Nuevo Mexico, serving the Viceroyalty of New Spain.  His expedition included the Great Plains and lower Colorado River, where he encountered numerous native tribes.  Onate founded settlements throughout the southwest region of the present-day United States.  Following a dispute with native Americans, thirteen Spaniards died at the hands of the Acoma Indians, including his nephew, Juan de Zaldivar.  In retribution, Onate organized an attack against the Acoma Pueblo, during which the entire community was destroyed.  An estimated 800 to 1,000 Acoma Indians were killed.

[3] Stephen Harriman Long (1784-1864) was a U. S. Army explorer, topographical engineer, and railway engineer.  He is noted for his developments in the design of steam locomotives and for the fact that he was one of the most prolific explorers in the early 1800s. He covered over 26,000 miles in five expeditions, including his scientific campaign to the Great Plains, which he described as a great desert.

[4] The Conestoga wagon is a particular type of wagon and not a generic term for “covered wagon.” All covered wagons could be referred to as “prairie schooners,” but the Conestoga was far too heavy for use on the prairie.  Most wagons used for western movement were ordinary farm wagons fitted with a canvas covering and much lighter.

[5] An Indian fighter of some reputation, Carleton was first commissioned in the US Army in 1839.  He took part in the Mexican-American War, served in the US Dragoons in the American West, and participated in the 1844 expedition to the Pawnee and Oto.  In 1861, Carleton raised and was appointed Commanding Officer of the 1stCalifornia Infantry.  Later that year, he replaced Brigadier General George Wright as Commander, Military District of Southern California and the Department of New Mexico.  In April 1862, Carleton was promoted to Brigadier General and placed in command of the California Column.  Carleton’s resume included either leading or participating in the Apache Wars, Navaho Wars, and the Texas-Indian Wars.

[6] Christopher Houston Carson (1809-1868) (also known as Kit Carson) was a frontiersman, mountain man, wilderness guide, Indian agent, and an officer in the U. S. Army.  While many stories about Kit Carson were exaggerated, there is little doubt that the man was fearless in the face of danger, possessed superior combat skills, or that he had a profound impact on the westward expansion of the United States.

[7] Capt. Pettis (in charge of the howitzers) authored an after-action report within which he officially estimated the number of Indians between 1,200 and 1,400.  Carson’s forward element consisted of 330 men.

[8] Clearly an exaggeration.  There were probably not 3,000 Comanche and Kiowa anywhere near the battle site. Considering the number of lodges in the Kiowa and Comanche camps, the number of Indians Carson faced most likely did not exceed 1,500.  Still, given the size of Carson’s force, that is still a lot of Indians.

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Manifest Destiny and the American Indian

Historic revisionists may argue that arrogance is the exclusive domain of the American people, but it is not. A belief in superiority is illustrated by Imperialism [1], practiced by all of the colonizing powers of Europe: Great Britain, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Germany, Denmark, and Sweden.  There is very little difference in the arrogance of these countries and that demonstrated by the United States’ Manifest Destiny.

John L O'Sullivan

John L. O’Sullivan

The idea of Manifest Destiny existed long before anyone called it that.  The first individual to use this term was John L. O’Sullivan.  He was the son of John Thomas O’Sullivan, who was an American diplomat and sea captain.  Descended from a long line of Irish expatriates and soldiers of fortune, John L. O’Sullivan had a strong sense of personal identity and self-worth. His father, the third baronet of the O’Sullivan name, became a naturalized American who served as a US Consul to the Barbary States.  After college, John L. O’Sullivan became a lawyer.  In 1837, he founded The United States Magazine and Democratic Review, which was based in Washington, D. C.  The magazine espoused the more radical forms of Jacksonian Democracy [2] and published essays by the most prominent writers in America at that time.  He was also an aggressive reformer in the New York legislature, where he led movements to abolish capital punishment.

In 1845, O’Sullivan published an essay entitled “Annexation,” which called upon the United States to admit the Republic of Texas into the Union.  In Washington, D. C., the conversation about Texas had been going on for a number of years; the US Senate was concerned about the expansion of slave states and the possibility of war with Mexico.  Nevertheless, Congress voted for annexation in early 1845, and everyone waited to see if Texas would accept the offer of statehood. Opponents of annexation were hoping to block it and it was at this time that O’Sullivan’s essay appeared in the July-August edition of his magazine.  O’Sullivan wrote, “It is now time for the opposition to the Annexation of Texas to cease.”  It was, he argued, a matter of the United States having a divine mandate to expand throughout North America.  He wrote, “… our manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions.”  O’Sullivan used the same phraseology to address the United States’ ongoing boundary dispute with Great Britain in the Oregon territory.

Actually, the individual responsible for kick-starting America’s westward movement was none other than Thomas Jefferson.  It was a movement that began with the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, became inspired by the expedition of Lewis and Clark (1805-1807), and one fueled by an explosive birth rate in the emerging United States —that, and sharp increases in immigration.

In 1800, the population of the United States was around five million people; it grew to 23-million by 1850.  Added to the explosion were two economic depressions: one in 1819 and another in 1839. Both of these had the effect of driving literally tens of thousands of Americans into the western territories.  Economically depressed citizens sought new opportunities to purchase cheap land and farm or ranch that land.  They did find opportunity in the west, of course, but they also discovered that along with these opportunities came great risk to themselves and their loved ones.

Even our earliest politicians intended to conquer the entire North American continent. The United States was a land of opportunity.  It was a land of vast resources.  All that needed to happen was for people to move west, to occupy and then defend these new territories.  In addition to sending Lewis and Clark on their mission to the Pacific, Jefferson also set his sights on Florida, then Spanish territory.  President Monroe settled this question in 1819, but left unsettled was a question of Texas, which, in 1824, became part of Mexico. Anglo-Americans who traveled to Texas found themselves involved in a war with Mexico in 1836.  They also found themselves confronted by tens of thousands of hostile Indians.

Texas became a Republic in 1836 and was admitted to the United States in 1845.  Manifest Destiny became the official philosophy of the United States and the refrain that fueled nineteenth-century territorial expansion.  The United States was destined by God to expand its dominion, spread democracy, and institute capitalism across the whole of the continent.

In 1846, the United States went to war with Mexico.  Several issues demanded settlement: admission of Texas and California as states, acquisition of additional lands in present-day Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, Nevada, Utah, and Wyoming, and the placement of the United States’ southern border.  The United States won that war in 1848 but yet, to this day, people of Mexican heritage continue to believe that these lands were stolen from Mexico [3].

Manifest Destiny was also at the core of defining the United States’ northern border.  An 1842 treaty between Great Britain and the United States partially resolved this question but left open a decision about the Oregon territory, which included the area from the Pacific Coast to the Rocky Mountains, an area that now includes Oregon, Idaho, Washington State, and most of British Columbia.  War with Great Britain was avoided when both parties agreed to split the Oregon territory at the 49th parallel in 1846.

Along with acquired territory came questions about the people who lived in these lands, in some cases, for thousands of years.  What about them?  If the history of westward movement tells us anything at all, it is that (1) the American Indians were not willing to give up their lands without a fight, and (2) white settlers were not going to turn around and go home.  These new lands were the only home the settlers had.

Manifest Destiny caused the American people many problems, as well.  As western expansion continued, the American people found themselves increasingly more fractious over the question of slavery.  America’s splintered society led to an awful civil war.

If there is a frequent consequence to Manifest Destiny, it is conflict.  It led the United States to Central America (Cuba, Honduras, Nicaragua, Panama, and Haiti) and across the Pacific Ocean (Hawaii, Philippines, and China).  Of course, in war, people die —sometimes in the most horrible fashion— which leads us back to western expansion and the plight of the American Indian.

Stated plainly, the American Indian was in America’s way.  The Indians wouldn’t give up their land without a fight, and the people who pushed against native tribes had nowhere else to go.  Westward migration was no longer a mere trickle after 1850 —it was a waterfall.  The Indians were being steadily overwhelmed by massive numbers of whites and their technologies, and yet, the Indians refused to relent.  They too had nowhere else to go.

To dislodge the Indians, politicians, army officers, Indian agents, and traders committed the worst possible iniquities imaginable.  The Indians were offered blankets infected with smallpox. Thousands died from the white man’s diseases.  Destruction of the American Bison became official policy.  “Kill every buffalo you can —every dead buffalo is an Indian gone” was a common refrain.  Standing ready to help speed along the demise of the American Indian was General Phil Sheridan who carefully studied the Civil War strategies of General William T. Sherman.  No one knew more about a scorched earth strategy than Sherman.

Let us now momentarily return to the post-Civil War period.  After General Lee’s surrender at Appomattox and General Joseph E. Johnston’s surrender in North Carolina, the only significant Confederate force remaining was in Texas, under General Edmund K. Smith.  General Ulysses S. Grant, then serving as Commander-in-Chief of the Union Army, appointed Phillip Sheridan Commander of the Military District of the Southwest on 17 May 1865.  The Grant’s orders to Sheridan were to defeat Smith without delay and restore Texas and Louisiana to Union control.  General Smith surrendered his forces before Sheridan arrived in New Orleans.

Sheridan 001

General Phillip Sheridan, U. S. Army

General Grant was also concerned about the situation in neighboring Mexico, where 40,000 French soldiers propped up the regime of Austrian Archduke Maximilian.  Grant authorized Sheridan to gather a large occupation force and occupy Texas.  Sheridan mustered 50,000 men in three army corps, rapidly occupied Texas coastal cities, and began to patrol the US-Mexico border.  In time, France abandoned its claims against Mexico.

On 30 July 1866, while Sheridan was still in Texas, a white mob broke up the state constitutional convention in New Orleans.  In the melee, 34 blacks were killed.  The incident did not provide Sheridan with a good impression of Texas. In 1867, Sheridan was appointed the military governor of the Fifth Military District, which included Texas and Louisiana. Sheridan limited voter registration among former Confederates and then ruled that only registered voters (including freed blacks) were eligible to serve on juries.  Sheridan’s heavy-handed reconstruction policy led to the removal from office high officials in both Louisiana and Texas, including governors James M. Wells (Louisiana) and James W. Throckmorton (Texas).

General Sheridan and US President Andrew Johnson did not see eye-to-eye.  Johnson, convinced that Sheridan was an unprincipled tyrant, removed him as military governor.  In this post-Civil War period, the protection of the Great Plains fell under the Department of Missouri, an administrative area encompassing one-million square miles: all the land between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains.  In 1866, Major General Winfield Scott Hancock was assigned to command this department, General Grant believed that Hancock had mishandled his campaign to pacify the Plains Indians.  Numerous Sioux and Cheyenne raids attacked mail coaches, burned stage stations, killed the employees, killed and kidnapped a large number of frontier settlers. Under pressure from territorial governors, Grant turned to Sheridan.  In September 1866, Sheridan began a campaign near Fredericksburg, Texas to subdue Indians in the Texas Hill Country.

In August 1867, Grant appointed Sheridan to head the Department of Missouri.  He was ordered to pacify the Plains Indians. His troops, even after being supplemented by state militia, were too few to have any real effect.  To achieve his mission, Sheridan devised a strategy of attacking Comanche, Cheyenne and Kiowa winter camps.  He confiscated their supplies and livestock and killed anyone who resisted.  Without livestock, the Indians would starve; they could avoid starvation by agreeing to live on an Indian reservation.

When, in 1869, Ulysses Grant became the 18th President of the United States, he appointed General William T. Sherman General of the Army.  Sherman appointed General Sheridan to command the Military Division of Missouri —which included all of the Great Plains.  Encouraged by Sheridan, civilian hunters, trespassing on Indian lands, killed more than four million American Bison by the end of 1874. Sheridan said, “Let them kill, skin, and sell until the buffalo is exterminated.”  The Texas Legislature considering outlawing the hunting of the buffalo on tribal lands, but General Sheridan personally appeared before the legislature and testified against such a policy.  He counter-argued, telling the Texans that they ought to give every buffalo hunter a medal, engraved with a dead buffalo on one side, and the image of a discouraged-looking Indian on the other.

Sheridan’s division conducted the Red River War, the Ute War, and the Great Sioux War of 1876-1877, which resulted in the death of Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer.  In 1869, the Comanche War Chief Tosawi reportedly told Sheridan, “Tosawi good Indian.” Sheridan replied, “The only good Indians I ever saw were dead [4].”


  1. Pratt, J. W. “The Origins of ‘Manifest Destiny’,”The American Historical Review, July 1927
  2. Wilentz, S. The Rise of American Democracy: Jefferson to Lincoln, New York: Norton (2005)
  3. Golay, M. The Tide of Empire: America’s March to the Pacific: Era of US Continental Expansion, United States House of Representatives.


[1] Imperialism is the policy of extending the rule of an empire or nation over foreign countries, or of acquiring and holding colonies and dependencies.  Imperialism advocates sovereign interests over those of dependent states.

[2] Jacksonian Democracy was a movement for more democracy in the United States government in the 1830s.  Led by President Andrew Jackson, the movement championed greater rights for the common man and opposed aristocracy.  The movement was aided by the strong spirit of equality among the people of newer settlements in the South and West.  It was also aided by the extension of the vote in eastern states to men without property.

[3] Mexicans conveniently ignore the fact that Mexico stole these same lands from Spain.

[4] In the book titled, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, author Dee Brown attributed this quote to Sheridan.  The author’s source was Lieutenant Colonel Charles Nordstrom, U. S. Army, who was present when the conversation with Tosawi took place and passed the words on until they were remembered as “The only good Indian is a dead Indian.”  General Sheridan denied that he had ever said such a thing.


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Potsu-nakwah-ipu, Comanche War Chief

Buffalo Hump

Chief Buffalo Hump

In the absence of written records, there’s not much we can say about Buffalo Hump’s early life.  Historians believe that he was likely born in the 1790s.  In 1838, he and two other Comanches visited with Sam Houston to sign a treaty.  We ought to recall that Sam Houston spent many years among the Cherokee and given his Indian policies in the early days of the Texas Republic, many Texians suspected him of being more red than white, particularly when it came to Houston’s reigning in the efforts of Texas Rangers to suppress Indian depredations.

As stated, not much was known about Buffalo Hump (Indian name: Potsu-nakwah-ipu) until the Council House Fight of 1840.  To reiterate previous essays about the Comanche, they were not a unified nation in the same way as eastern tribal confederations. Comanche alliances were situational conveniences.  In the case of the Great Raid, the marauders were mostly of his own band and any whom he might have recruited from other tribes, including Kiowa.  Buffalo Hump didn’t object to the killing of the Indians at the Council House Fight as much as he objected to the betrayal of the concept of a council.  This is but one example where we can clearly see how differences in culture and misunderstanding can result in hostility.  The power behind the Texian negotiators in San Antonio was Sidney Johnson, who as far as I can tell, didn’t value anyone who wasn’t white.

The so-called Great Raid, led by Buffalo Hump, was a substantial foray into the land of the yellow hair.  It ranged from the West Texas plain into settlements as far east as Victoria and Linnville.  Established in 1831, Linnville was located at Lavaca Bay and by 1840, was the second largest port city in Texas.  Comanche raiders completely destroyed Linnville; it was never rebuilt.  The settlers that survived did so by getting into boats and rowing out into the bay. After the raid, Linnville residents established Port Lavaca, some three miles from what was once Linnville.

After the Indian assault on Texian settlements, Buffalo Hump and his band headed back to West Texas. En route, they were attacked by Texas Rangers and militia from Gonzalez and Bastrop.  This confrontation would become known as the Battle of Plum Creek, near Lockhart, Texas.  It wasn’t so much a fixed battle site as it was a running fight that went on for fifteen miles.  Texas Rangers had the advantage of being armed with the new Colt revolver.  Up to 80 warriors were killed in this dustup, likely an accurate figure even though only twelve bodies were recovered: Comanche routinely did not leave their dead on the field of battle.  The Indians that managed to get away did so with about 2,000 stolen horses and mules and a large assortment of plunder taken from the homes they destroyed.

Most of these Comanche may have initially escaped the Texas Rangers, but if one is looking almost exclusively at vengeance, white settlers had the last word.  In 1840, there were approximately 35,000 Comanche living in West Texas. Today, the Comanche number around 1,500; most living in and around the reservation at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

Buffalo Hump again met with Sam Houston in 1844 demanding that all whites remain east of the Edwards Plateau.  Houston tacitly agreed to these demands and to demonstrate his goodwill, which was an Indian tradition, Houston gave Buffalo Hump valuable gifts.  Looking back in time, Houston was either dishonest or naïve.  By this time, the flow of settlers to Texas could not be stopped.

When it became obvious that Houston could not or would not keep his agreement, the Comanche resumed their attacks upon white settlements.  Believing that the only solution to Indian depredations was the eradication of all Indians, the Texas Rangers exacted terrible revenge upon the Penateka rancherias. Within two years, Buffalo Hump sued for peace with the United States government at Council Springs.

In 1849, Buffalo Hump agreed to guide an expedition formed by John S. Ford and Robert S. Neighbors to explore and map the region between San Antonio and El Paso.  The expedition mapped the route and produced a valuable report of their findings.  The route they followed later became known as the Ford-Neighbors Trail.

Buffalo Hump continued his hostility toward whites until around 1856 when he led his people to the Brazos River Reservation.  None of these Comanche were happy at the reservation, however.  They were constantly threatened by horse thieves [1] and squatters.  They didn’t like the restrictions placed on their movements, and their lack of food forced Buffalo Hump to move his band away from the reservation in 1858.  While encamped in the Wichita Mountains, the Penateka were assaulted by US Troops under the command of Major Earl Van Dorn [2].  Dorn, unaware that Buffalo Hump had signed a peace treaty at Fort Arbuckle, killed around 80 Comanches during the attack.

In 1859, Buffalo Hump settled his remaining followers on the Kiowa-Comanche reservation near Fort Cobb in the Indian Territory (present-day Oklahoma).  Despite the stressful nature of his forced existence, Buffalo Hump requested a house and land so that he could learn to farm and serve as a good example to his people.  Potsu-nakwah-ipu passed away in 1870.


[1] It is likely that the horse thieves Buffalo Hump complained about were other Comanche.  No one was more adept at stealing horseflesh than the Comanche.

[2] Earl Van Dorn was a great-nephew of Andrew Jackson, an officer of the U. S. Army who served with distinction during the Mexican-American War, a skilled Indian fighter, and a general officer of the Confederate Army during the War of Yankee Aggression.  Van Dorn was killed in 1863, but rather from a union bullet, as one might expect, it was a bullet from the husband of the woman with whom he was having an affair.

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The Plainsman

In the manner of many old west personalities, Benjamin Crawford Dragoo was bundled up by his parents and carted off to Texas in 1838.  The Texas Revolution was won, Texas needed hardy folks to tame its wilderness, and the promise of cheap land acted as a magnet to adventuresome Americans.  John Ephraim Dragoo and his wife Mary Hughes Dragoo were two of these bold settlers.  They packed up their belongings in Washington, Illinois and headed off to Texas.  They had a brood of children before their departure, including Francis, Sarah, Edgar, William, Mary, Rachel, Temperance, Richard, Andrew, Hester, Theresa, Thomas, Drusilla, Lucinda, Joseph, Rhoda, John, Malinda, James, Melissa, Martha, and Ephraim.  My guess is that John Dragoo drove more than a single wagon.

Ben Dragoo 001

Young Ben Dragoo

At first, the family settled at Blossom Prairie, in Red River County, but within the next year they relocated to Titus County, four miles or so from Mount Pleasant.

As a young man, Ben served as a scout for Captain Lawrence Sullivan (known as Sul) Ross of the Texas Rangers and, as previously reported, participated in the Battle of Pease River.  There is no history like first-hand accounts.  From his own hand, he told us what it was like living in Texas in the olden days, and about his own experiences as a scout for the Texas Rangers.

“In 1855 [aged 20 years] I joined John R. Baylor’s [1] company of Texas Rangers.  While stationed at Cottonwood Creek, our scouts brought in word that they had discovered a large body of Indians passing up the country with a herd of horses.  About 40 of us under Captains Baylor, Dalrymple [2], and Ross were soon in the saddle and we were not long finding the Indians’ trail.  The Indians must have known that the rangers were in the country for they traveled for dear life.  We followed them day and night until we overtook them in some very brushy country and when we charged every red skin scoundrel took to the brush and got away. We captured about all the horses, some 60 head, which we took back to Belknap and delivered to their lawful owners.

“After my enlistment period expired, I returned to my home, which was six miles east of Waco village, as it was called in those days.  In a short time, Captain Sul Ross came to see me.  He was organizing a company to chastise the Comanches, who had been committing murders and depredations along the frontier, and he told me that he needed me and that I must join his company.  I told him that I was ready to start any day and that my younger brother, Jim Dragoo would also join his company.  The company went from Waco to a point where Fort Griffin was afterwards built.  Mr. F. M. Cassidy, who now lives at Llano, was in our company.  While in camp at the point mentioned, word was brought that the Indians had made a raid in Parker County and were on their way out.  They were driving out about 75 head of horses and had killed several people.  They had taken captive two girls and a boy.  The girls were about grown, and the boy was 8 or 9 years old.

“After being kept all night and being fiendishly outraged by these inhuman monsters, one of the girls was murdered; the other girl was subjected to the same brutality, only she was not killed.  As if the savages wanted the settlers to know of the atrocities they were capable of inflicting, they stripped every vestige of clothing from this girl and turned her loose.  She made her way back to the settlements, reaching a frontier cabin almost famished.  She concealed herself in bushes near the spring and saw a man pass near once or twice, but her modesty overcame her extreme suffering and forbade her calling to him. At length a woman came to the spring for water and the girl called to her.  This lady removed part of her underwear and clad in this, the girl was led to the house.  Of the boy, whom the Indians had captured, we never heard more.

“When the news of this raid reached our camp, most of us were out on duty. Seven others, under Lieutenant Callahan [3], the gallant ranger for whom Callahan County was named, and I had been out on a nine-days chase and for seven days of this period we had been without practically any food.  Orders soon came for us to take the trail and without taking time to change horses or to get a bite of grub, we lit out after those savages with a man by the name of Gray and I in the lead as trailers [scouts].  We soon struck the trail at the hay camp and pushed on until evening, when one of the boys killed a deer which we cut up into chunks and each man rode forward with one or more of these chunks tied on behind his saddle.  When night came, we continued the pursuit until a late hour, when we halted in order to give our horses a brief rest and a chance to graze.  We were not allowed to build a fire, as the Indians would see the light.  We had to eat our meat raw.

“After a few hours rest we hastened forward and kept up the chase for six days. The second evening out we halted on the banks of a creek where there were five or six large cottonwood trees. Here the Indians had camped, and the sign showed that there was a large body of Indians.  They had killed and barbecued a horse and the fires were yet smoldering.  The buffalo had eaten off the grass in that vicinity and we had to cut branches from the Cottonwood trees for our worn-out horses.  The place had evidently been a battleground, as we found a number of skulls and other human bones, which bore the appearance of having lain on the ground a long time.  Old fragments of leather from saddles were picked up and I found the bit of what had once been a part of a fine Mexican bridle.  The skulls were those of Indians or Mexicans, at least that was our conclusion.

“Six days and nights, I might say, we followed this trail.  The third day out we killed a buffalo and this we ate raw. On the sixth day, far up in the Pease River country, we saw a mot of small trees far ahead of us.  This mot was on a high elevation, and I saw a bunch of men ride into the mot, we halted until the command came up and we reported our observations to Callahan.”

Comanche 1860“With the utmost caution we continued our advance, bearing off to the left where Gray and I ascended an eminence from the summit of which we looked over into a valley and beheld a large body of Indians, well mounted and apparently lying in wait for us.  All at once the Indians began pouring over the ridge west of us.  There were at least 200 Indians.

“They gave some fiendish yells as they dashed toward us on freshly mounted horses, while only nine of us had horses that were not exhausted.  Our chase was now at an end and instead of us being the pursuers, we were pursued for six days.  In fact, it was the next thing to a running fight all the way back to Belknap. Lieutenant Callahan, one of the bravest of the brave, told us to keep close together and to never fire without orders.  The Indians would charge us more or less each day but would never come to close quarters. They would seek to ambush us and to block our way where the country was favorable but would always scatter or give back when we crowded them.  At night we had very little rest and no food and the last two days of our journey, our suffering from hunger and thirst became almost unbearable.  Our horses were weak, and our progress was very slow. The Indians knew all of this and if they had made a bold attack could have killed every one of us, but they were too cowardly.  In this condition we reached Fort Belknap, the place from whence we had started twelve days before, making in all twenty-one days in the saddle, and had, during this time, nothing to eat but raw venison and buffalo meat.”

The sorrowful tale of the Comanche kidnapping of Cynthia Ann Parker was previously told (in three installments).  I am always interested in events where there are two story-tellers.  Cynthia’s story has been offered by historians and official reports by Sul Ross (who eventually served as the governor of Texas).  To the extent to which Sul Ross may have embellished his account (for political purposes), we cannot know.  Nor can we decide which, among several modern historians, offers the most objective analysis of those events.  What we can do is turn to another participant: the man who served as chief scout under Captain Ross at the Battle of the Pease River.

Marvin J. Hunter tells us that Ben Dragoo had something to say about Pease River, as well.

“The Indians were more troublesome in the fall of ’59 than ever before; their raids were more numerous and covered a broader extent along the frontier.  Each of these invasions left its trail of blood along the border and the mutilated remains of its victims in its path.  In many instances it was reported that white men often led these raids and their cruelties were, if possible, exceeded by those of the savages.  It was claimed that these white men had been outlawed by their countrymen for crimes committed and had sought refuge among the Comanches, and having all the instincts of a savage and the shrewdness of the white man, they soon found favor and turned it to account by leading raids against the settlements, always careful not to expose themselves to danger, and driving off herds which commanded a good price in Kansas and New Mexico.

“Early in December the Comanches had raided Parker county again and had committed several murders. The authorities had every reason to believe that the murders had been the work of a band of Comanches whose headquarters were somewhere far up on the Pease River.  Ross’ company of rangers and Cureton’s company [militia] were started on the trail with the order [from Gov. Houston] to find the enemy’s village and break up the nest. The fighting strength of the Indians was estimated all the way from 500 to 1,000 warriors, and it behooved us to assemble a force amply sufficient to defeat them.  At Fort Belknap we were joined by a troop of U. S. dragoons, twenty in all and number one good fighters in close quarters.

“When we left Belknap, we took our time. The trail left by the Indians had grown cold; they had long since reached their headquarters and doubtless felt secure in their remote village.  To locate this village was our object; to preserve the strength and good condition of our horses was of the highest importance.  We knew we would tree our game, somewhere, and then, above all other times, we would need the strength and mettle of good horses.  Hence, we took our time while on the march.

“Peter Robertson, of Cureton’s company, Gray and myself were the advanced scouts and trailers.

“Unless on a hot trail ranger scouts seldom rode together. As in this case we rode far apart in the open country and still within signaling distance.  It being late in the season, it was bitter cold at times, and there were few buffalo on the plains. But deer were plentiful, and we couldn’t complain at the fare.

“On the 27th of December —I think that was the date, I am not quite sure, it has been so long ago— we found sign that indicated that we were not many days’ travel from the Indian village.  The sign was old, but to the eye of the frontiersmen, it was easily read and interpreted.  We reported this to Captain Ross and he ordered his men to keep closer together in readiness at any moment for a scrap. He instructed us to keep far in advance, three or four miles, and to save the wind of our horses.

“Late in the afternoon of the 28th we came in full view of the broad valley of the Pease river, and on a hill on which grew a mot of small trees, we discovered plenty of fresh signs.  In the loose sand there were innumerable tracks of Indians, women and children, who but a few hours before, had been gathering hackberries.  Nearby was the hide of a polecat, which had been killed and skinned, and the blood was scarcely cold, although it was miserably cold that evening.  Two of us remained at this mot as watchmen, or rather listeners, for by this time it was dark, while the other two hastened back to the command to report our find.

“When they found Ross, he had gone into camp but on hearing our report he ordered the men to saddle up and march in perfect silence, which they could easily do, as the country was of loose sandy soil and the horses’ feet produced little sound.  At the foot of the hill on which stood the mot where we had found the sign, the men were halted and ordered to dismount and move forward.  Not a saddle nor a pack was removed from the backs of those faithful animals that night, and after seeing that their guns were in trim, those who slept lay on the ground with bridle rein in hand.  As I said, it was bitter cold and as no packs were unslung, the boys would collect in groups of three, four and five and huddle together on the ground, forming the center of a circle, around which their horses stood. By this means they could preserve a small share of the animal warmth and get a little sleep.

“In the meantime, Gray, Pete Robertson and I were well to the front watching and listening. We proceeded about two miles when we came to a high hill and we felt assured, from the general contour of the country over which we had come, and the trend of the hills that this elevation was near the river and doubtless overlooked the long-sought Comanche village.  We could see no lights in the village, but this was no surprise.  We knew that at no time, winter or summer is a light ever seen in a Comanche village after nightfall.  Above the voice of the night winds that came hurtling down from the north, we heard, once or twice, what we took to be the neighing of a horse, but no other sounds indicating the near proximity of a human habitation was heard.

“It seemed a long night, but the early dawn revealed to us the Comanche village with its tepees and wigwams in full view and almost at our feet.  We moved back over the brow of the hill and signaled. Ross and his men moved up cautiously to the foot of the hill and halted.   Ross and Lieutenant Callahan ascended the hill with a field glass, then hastily descended and ordered the column forward. All rode in a slow trot until we turned the point of the hill next to the village and in full view and then the order to charge was given.

“The Indians had evidently discovered our presence before we turned the point of the hill.  They may have seen Ross and Callahan while they were on the hill; at any rate, they were in the utmost confusion when we charged into their wigwam village.  Some were trying to rally their braves, others were mounted, some on foot, women and children were screaming and above all this pandemonium rang the defiant war whoop, the yells of the rangers and the crack of the six-shooter.

“A portion of the Indian encampment was along the bank of the narrow, shallow river next to us when the charge began. The Indians in this quarter made a break for the opposite side. Just below I saw several mounted Indians make it across where the bed of the stream was dry and hard.  I rushed in among these, shooting right and left, and when I had reached some distance, say forty or fifty yards on the other side, I dashed alongside an Indian woman (as I supposed) mounted and carrying a babe in her arms.  I was just in the act of shooting her when, with one arm, she held up her baby and said “Americano!”  I then told her to dismount and go back but seeing she did not understand me, I motioned her to the rear and left her.  All this time there was all kinds of fighting going on around me.  Hand to hand and running fights, there was plenty to put a man on his metal.  A large Indian on foot seized my bridle reins near the bits, with one hand and was trying to lance me with the other.  At the same instant a mounted warrior was bearing down on me with poised lance.  It was all the work of an instant.  He was so close I believe I could have touched the point of the lance with the muzzle of my pistol.  I shot him and digging my spurs into the sides of my horse with great force, he sprang forward, jerking the Indian off his balance and as he reeled to one side, I made a good Indian of him.

“By this time the engagement had narrowed down to a running fight or rather a chase.  Every red skin that could procure a mount was flying in the face of that north wind with a ranger or a dragoon behind him trying to catch up, and this chase continued several miles.

“There have been many luminous stories told and written about Capt. Ross’ capture of Cynthia Ann Parker and his duel with her husband, the big Indian chief.  My purpose is to give facts in these matters and render honor to whom honor is due. I shall not dispute any man’s statement but will tell it as I saw it.

“Ross had a fight at close quarters with a chief, and it happened right in the village.  Ross had a Mexican body servant, a sprightly, good looking young Mexican and he was not afraid.  I think he had once been a captive among the Indians and could speak their lingo.  During the scrap with the chief, Ross was wounded and told the Mexican to shoot him.  The Mexican blazed away with an old Yagger[4]he carried and shot the Indian through the hips. This brought the chief to a sitting posture and while making the most horrid faces and defying his conquerors by grimace, and every other taunting gesture known to savages, one of our men, I have forgotten his name —ran up and knocked him on the head with his gun.  With a knife, and while the old savage was yet kicking, he made a quick incision around his head from ear to ear, and when he jerked off his scalp it popped like a rifle.  And as to that death song tale, if that chief sang a death song that day it was after we left him —dead.

“Some of the survivors of that battle have stated that Quanah Parker was not there at the time of the fight.  This is a mistake.  Quanah was then eleven years old and showed his pluck in that scrap.  He was present and shot away all his arrows and wounded two or three of our men.  When the fight was about over and the boy had nothing left in his quiver, Frank Cassidy, who now lives in Llano, rode up to where Quanah was crouching, patted his horse on the hip, and motioned the lad to mount up behind him, which the boy did without any hesitation, and from that day to this Quanah Parker has been the white man’s friend.

“After the battle when we had all collected around the captive Indian woman, I was watching her face and her movements.  I was satisfied that she was a white woman and there was something about her face that led me to believe that I had seen her somewhere in the past.  I studied and studied and finally I said to Ross: “Captain, I believe that woman is Cynthia Ann Parker.”  On hearing that name the woman seemed suddenly aroused.  That stoicism, peculiar to the Indian, and which she had acquired through long association, gave way, the scowl on her face was supplanted by a look of pleasing anticipation, and smiting herself on her breast she said in a strong clear voice: “Me Cynthia Ann!”

“In this fight we recaptured forty-eight U. S. mules and some forty or fifty horses.  And among others, we captured the gray mule the one that ran over me the night the Indians got away with Captain Buck Barry’s horses.

“Cynthia Ann told us, through an interpreter, that Buffalo Hump was six miles up the valley with a large force, but we went to his village and he and his entire outfit had hit the breeze.

Dragoo OLD

Old Ben Dragoo from WikiTrees and Kathi Stoughton-Trahan

“Cynthia Ann also told us of the captive boy, whose sister was so cruelly murdered, while another sister was deprived of all her clothing and turned loose.  She said the boy was stubborn, that he refused to eat, and would fight every Indian that crossed him, and for this, he was killed the day before we made the attack.

“On our return we left Cynthia Ann at Camp Cooper, where the ladies gave her clothing and the tenderest care.  Captain Ross took Quanah Parker to Waco.

“In conclusion, I want to say that no one particular individual is entitled to more honor in the capture of Cynthia Ann Parker than any other who was engaged in the battle of Pease River and my old comrades yet living, will bear me out in this assertion.”

Ben Dragoo passed away in the town of London, Kimble County, Texas on 17 February 1929.  He was 93-years of age.


  1. Marvin Hunter, Frontier Times Magazine (1923)
  2. Marvin Hunter, Frontier Times Magazine (1928)


[1] John Baylor was the nephew of R. E. B. Baylor, for whom Baylor University is named.  John served as a soldier, Texas Ranger, Indian fighter, officer in the Confederate States Army, the Confederate States governor of Arizona, farmer, sometime gunfighter, and Texas politician.

[2] William C. Dalrymple was a Texas Ranger and did command a company of rangers on the Texas frontier between 1859-1862.  There is no record that he participated with Sul Ross in the Pease River engagement. It is possible that Dragoo served with Dalrymple, but not during the Battle of Pease River.

[3] Mr. Dragoo appears to be somewhat confused at this point, referring to James Hughes Callahan (1812-1856), for whom Callahan County was named.  Callahan was already dead before the Ross Expedition chastised the Comanche in 1860.  He may have served with Callahan earlier, however.  Jim Callahan did serve as a lieutenant in the Somervell Expedition, and later led the Callahan Expedition into Mexico in 1855.  Callahan was killed in 1856 as a result of a feud with Woodson Blessingame.

[4] Model 1841 rifled musket produced by the Harpers Ferry Armory, which was owned and operated by Eli Whitney.  It was produced between 1841 to 1861.  It cost $16.00 new.  The weapon was variously referred to as the Mississippi Rifle, or Yagger.  The word Yagger referred to the rifle’s small size and similarity to German Jager rifles.

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The Searchers

Texas RangersA news article on 29 April 1846 described a visit by Colonel Leonard G. Williams’ trading party with a band of Tenewa Comanche near the Canadian River.  Williams reported that he had seen a young white woman about twenty years of age.  He reported that she appeared to be a married woman; he thought that it was possible that she was Cynthia Ann Parker.

A young white woman was observed again a year later by two federal officials, who were meeting with Yamparika Comanches near the Washita River.  In 1848, Robert S. Neighbors, a federal Indian agent for Northern Texas, was told that Cynthia Ann Parker had married a warrior from the Tenewa band. He was told that she had a family of her own and that she would never leave her husband, a chief by the name of Peta Nocona.  Nocona was famed for his daring raids on white settlements. Together, they had a son whom they named Quanah (translated variously as fragrant, stinky, or smelly).

The Texas Frontier was famous as a rumor mill.  For twenty-four years, the name Cynthia Ann Parker produced keen interest, if not outright excitement.  James Parker never rested in his quest to find her.

In the late 1850s, anticipating conflict between the Northern and Southern states, the US Army began to withdraw military assets from Texas. One of these was the 2ndCavalry Regiment, which left settlers on the Texas plain subject to hostile raids by Comanche and Kiowa Indians.  Texan settlers were not happy about this.  Governor Hardin Runnels, who had campaigned for office on a platform promise to end hostile raids, was stunned by the withdrawal of federal troops.

In 1860, a double murder attributed to the Comanche stirred the government of Texas to action, although at this time, Sam Houston was serving as governor; he was a known Indian-lover and in matters of hostile Indians, was slow to act.

One may recall that the Comanche were fierce warriors.  Whenever we speak of the Comanche Wars, we mean a long series of armed conflicts targeting Spanish, Mexican, Texian, and American settlers.  The wars began around 1705 and continued for another 150 years.  The Comanche were the dominant Indian group living on the Great Plains, even though they shared the Comancheria with Kiowa, Wichita, Apache, Cheyenne, and Arapaho Indians.

The ferocity of the Comanche was one of the reasons Mexico opened settlement of Texas to American immigrants.  There was nothing the Mexicans could do about the Comanche; maybe the American immigrants could deal with them.

Nocona - PARKER

War Chief Peta Nocona

Under Mexico’s immigration scheme, large tracks of land were allocated to empresarios, who recruited settlers from the United States, Europe, and the Mexican interior. Thousands of Americans realized the value of the opportunity for cheap land, but it brought them into conflict with the Comanche.  For their part, the Comanche resisted every attempt to settle within the Comancheria. If white settlers wanted to settle these lands, they would have to deal with the most lethal group of warriors in North America.  Whether fair or just, this is raw history.  The Comanche controlled the land, and the white settlers wanted to settle it.  Conflict was inevitable.

Early in 1860, Peta Nocona led several Comanche raids through Parker County, which had been named in honor of Cynthia Ann’s family.  After each raid, he returned with his war party to the sandstone bluffs of the Pease River near Mule Creek.  It was a favored site of the Comanche because it provided both cover from the severe winter winds and ample forage for their ponies; nearby buffalo herds provided food for the village.

In late October/early November 1860, Nocona led numerous additional raids in Palo Pinto County, west of Parker County.  Forty-six-year-old John Brown was tending his cattle near Keechi Creek when he was set upon by a Comanche war party.  Brown was knocked off his horse and murdered in a most distasteful fashion.  The raiding party drove Brown’s horse together with twenty other head previously stolen and headed north in Palo Pinto County.  The Indians moved quietly along the creek until they encountered the Sherman farm.  One warrior stayed with the horses while the others surrounded the farm house.

Nocona opened the door to the farmhouse and, leading his men inside, found the Sherman family of four having their noon meal at the table.  The Indians threw the family onto the floor and sat down to eat the prepared food.  Ignored, the Sherman’s slipped out the door and began running down the wagon rutted pathway.  As soon as the Indians finished eating, they began ransacking the house.

It wasn’t long before the Indians went in search of the Sherman family. They caught up with them on the road. Nocona grabbed Mrs. Sherman by her hair and pulled her up and over his horse and rode back to the farmhouse. Mr. Sherman sought to hide the children in the tall weeds in the field.  Sherman could hear his wife’s screams for a long while.  Realizing there was nothing he could do for his wife, Sherman took his children and ran to the nearest neighbor for help.  It took several hours for Sherman to reach his neighbor’s property.  Leaving his children in their care, he borrowed a horse and raced to town.

Hittson 1865

Sheriff “Cattle Jack” Hittson

After hearing Sherman’s report, County Sheriff John Nathan Hittson [1] and deputy James Hamilton Baker recruited a posse and rode north toward the Sherman family farm.  Hittson found the building in a shamble.  After taking a quick look around, Hittson’s posse tracked the war party northward.  Hittson was not certain how many Indians there were; he estimated between seven and ten.  A mile along the trail, Hittson found Mrs. Sherman’s body lying in a field.  She had been raped, scalped, stabbed, and she had two arrows protruding from her breasts.  In spite of her several injuries, all of which were serious, the pregnant woman was still breathing.

A portion of the posse treated her as best they could and removed her back to town. Hittson and the rest of his men continued tracking the Indians.  The next day, with their horses near to exhaustion, Hittson and his men returned to town.

Mrs. Sherman died four days later; her horrendous death served to galvanize the entire northwest frontier.  Hittson sent out messages of warning to Fort Worth, Dallas, and Austin.  It wasn’t long before well-armed men began showing up in Palo Pinto.  They wanted revenge and they wanted it now.

Sheriff Hittson sent an appeal to Governor Sam Houston for armed assistance and protection.  He wanted a Texas Ranger company assigned to Palo Pinto.  While awaiting the governor’s reply, Jack Cureton [2] formed a local militia cavalry unit.  Within a few days, 100 volunteers were encamped just out of town, all waiting for the governor’s reply.  Meanwhile, Hittson and his deputy sent word out to the outlying farms suggesting that the citizens come into town for protection.  With his civic duty done, Hittson subordinated himself to Cureton’s cavalry.  Townsfolk relinquished their best horses and offered weapons to those who needed them.

Sul Ross Civil War

Sul Ross Civil War Photo

Within a week, word arrived that Houston was sending a Texas Ranger force to Palo Pinto County under the command of Captain Lawrence “Sul” Ross.  When Ross appeared in Palo Pinto, having briefed the town folk on his mission, he asked the local militia to join his force, which they agreed to do.  Ross send out the scout Ben Dragoo and three others to scout north of the Trinity River. Ross needed to find the Indian trail, and if anyone could cut that trail, it was Ben Dragoo.

The work in preparation for such an undertaking was difficult; it took three weeks for the expedition to form, orient, train, and provision.  The reinforced Ranger company was finally formed by the second week in December. By then, the weather had turned bitterly cold.

Three columns of Texas Rangers and militia departed Palo Pinto on 14 December 1860.  Captain Ross’ company now consisted of 27 rangers, 18 mounted soldiers from the US 2ndDragoons —provided by Lieutenant Colonel Robert E. Lee at Camp Cooper, commanded by First Sergeant John W. Spangler.  Cureton’s militia now consisted of over 100 men.  Within two days, the ranger force had reached the West Branch of the Trinity River.  Forage in the winter was scarce, the horses needed a break —and so too did some of the older volunteers, the frigid weather taking its toll.  Ross ordered the expedition to encamp.  Meanwhile, Ben Dragoo and his scouts had left markings on trees which communicated to Ross the direction of their search.

By 18 December, the Ross expedition were 70 miles northwest of Palo Pinto. Ross’ scouts reported to him the presence of a fairly large hunting party and camp on the banks of the Pease River. Deteriorating weather suggested that it would be possible for Ross to approach the camp undetected.  As the Texas Rangers and dragoons broke camp that morning, Cureton elected to hold his men in camp.  The horses were beginning to die from the cold and exhaustion; several of his men were now on foot.

By 9:00 o’clock, Ross and his men were separated from the militia by a dozen or so miles.  Ross approached a series of cedar-covered hills, halted his men and had a council of war with his men.  Ultimately, he decided to send twenty men to position themselves behind a chain of sand hills to deny retreat from the northwest.  Ross cautiously approached the hills, again halting his men and directed the sharpest eyes among them to begin scanning the surrounding land, particularly the river bottom that ran in the distance below.

The Rangers soon spied several groups of people moving near the river about a mile distant.  Ross assumed that the formation was part of a Comanche war party engaged in the process of packing up their teepees.  Ross moved his Texas Rangers forward on the line and stationed the dragoons in a second rank.  The men unholstered their side arms.  When the men were ready, Ross charged down the hill.

As the rangers and dragoons approached the group, they began firing their weapons.  His attack was so sudden that the Indians were taken by surprise and a number of Indians were killed before they could organize a defense.  Women and children on foot scattered in all directions, with some young boys mounting ponies and galloping off on various tracks—with some of these riding directly into the line of waiting rangers; those who were not killed scattered off in new directions.

As rangers began to pursue the Indians, their line became fragmented and it didn’t take long before the attacking force had lost sight of one another. First Sergeant Spangler held his men in check while sending a few of his men to capture the Indian mounts —which numbered around 350 head.  Ranger private Charles Goodnight [3] gathered with a few of his friends near the corralled horses, jokingly wondering where the ranger officers had gone off to.

Captain Ross and two of his lieutenants were in the pursuit of two well-mounted Comanche warriors.  Ross fired his weapon at a well-dressed chief, who fell from his horse.  As Ross attended to the dispatch of the Indian, Lieutenant Kelleher continued his pursuit of another Indian.  Ross quickly remounted and followed.  After a long chase, Ross finally closed with what appeared to him as a bulky Indian and got off a shot.  To his surprise, a body fell from the horse, but left another mounted Indian.  Ross realized that he had shot a woman who was riding behind a warrior.

Ross continued the chase, firing several more times.  When the Indian’s horse began to stagger, the warrior leapt from his mount and began losing arrows at Captain Ross.  One of these struck Ross’ horse, which stung, began bucking. It was all Sul Ross could do to hold on. The warrior then attacked by running toward Ross’ horse and, grabbing its reigns, made an attempt to stab Ross with an arrow.  Ross desperately fired at the Indian several times, finally (and luckily) hitting him in the chest.  Stunned, the warrior dropped his arrow and began walking away.  He started to sing his death song.  Ross dismounted and began to tend to his horse.  When the animal had quieted, Ross approached the Indian, who was still singing, and asked him to surrender.  The Indian turned and spit at Ross … whereupon Ross killed him.

Returning to point of their initial attack, Ross noticed there were several captives, including a young, scared, and bewildered lad.  Ross, fearing for the safety of the boy, took him into custody and carried him back to where Goodnight and the others were gathered. Lieutenant Kelleher soon joined them with a captive Indian woman who had a baby strapped to her back.  Ross gave little thought to the woman at that time; he had more to worry about.  Since the incident had occurred on the Pease River near Mule Creek, Sul Ross named the boy Pease.  There were no casualties among the Texas Rangers or the dragoons.

Cureton’s volunteers finally caught up with Ross in the late afternoon.  Ross reported the presence of fifteen Indian, twelve of whom were killed, and three captives.  Pease, the Indian woman, and her infant child.  Ross ordered the men to make camp, and after the camp fires were started, Deputy Sheriff James Baker (Hittson’s deputy) took a closer look at the Comanche woman.  He noted that the woman was of white parentage; looked like an Indian but had blue eyes.  Questioned, she only responded, “Me Mericana.”  One of the men wondered, “Could this be Cynthia Ann Parker?”


Cynthia Ann Parker, c. 1862

The next day, Ross led his expedition, the prisoners, and the captured ponies, to Camp Cooper.  Rancher George Evans’ wife was asked to care for the woman and her infant.  Ross sent a message to Austin asking that Isaac Parker be notified that his long-lost niece may have been recovered.  She eventually made her way back to her family, but the truth is that Cynthia Ann Parker had not only been adopted by the Comanche, but she had adopted them, as well.  The Parker family had to watch her carefully to prevent her running back to the Comanche territory.

The Ross expedition resulted in an increase in Comanche Raids, and one of these in particular, placed the entire town of Palo Pinto under an all-night siege.  The winter of 1860/1861 proved to be one of the deadliest in the history of Comanche violence.

There evolved two distinct and contradictory stories of Peta Nocona’s death. In the first, he died while trying to escape the attack at Pease River with his wife and infant daughter.  This was the official report tendered by Sul Ross. Ross’ story was supported by Antonio Martinez, the expedition’s Comanche language interpreter.  The other story is that Nocona died three years later from a sickness; this was the story told by Quanah Parker, the eldest child of Cynthia Ann and Peta Nocona.

The State of Texas granted Cynthia Ann a pension of $100/year and 4,000 acres of land.  She accepted the money but could not afford to have the land properly surveyed.  She spent the rest of her life mourning the loss of her husband and two sons; she refused to “go back” to her family, and she never re-learned the English language.

During the Civil War years, disease and sickness was rampant on the Texas frontier. On 15 December 1863, Cynthia Ann’s daughter Topusana died, aged 5 years, from complications of pneumonia. The broken spirited Cynthia Ann Parker passed away on 19 March 1871 from the influenza.  She was 46 years of age.


[1] John Nathan Hittson, also known as Cattle Jack Hittson, would become one of the wealthiest cattlemen in the Old West.

[2] Jack Cureton (1826-1881) was one of the first settlers in Palo Pinto County.  He went to Texas to fight in the Mexican-American War with a regiment of Arkansas Volunteers.

[3] Charlie Goodnight was a frontier scout, member of local militia, a Texas Ranger, and later became one of the best-known cattle ranchers in the State of Texas.  He is often regarded as the “father of the Texas Panhandle.” Historian J. Frank Dobie has remarked that in his opinion, Charlie Goodnight “approached greatness more nearly than any other cowman in the history of the old west.”  The book and film Lonesome Dove were modeled on the life of Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving.

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Of Conflict and Sorrow

The hostile raid at Fort Parker included Comanche, Caddo, Waco, Kichai, Penetekas, and Wichita Indians.  During the raid, Cynthia Ann was witness to the murder of her baby sister, Orlena Parker.  The child was four months old.  When the baby would not stop its crying, a warrior seized the child and smashed her head against a tree.

Over the next six years, most of the captives had been ransomed, but not Cynthia Ann.  Cynthia was sold to a Comanche family who lived on the Panhandle region of Texas, in the vast reaches of the Llano Estacado.  At first, she was beaten and treated as a slave, but she was eventually accepted into the family.  They renamed her Nadauh.  She thus became part of the Tenewa Comanche band.

A few years later, in 1840, a Comanchero trader was conducting business with a Tenewa band when noticed the presence of a properly dressed squaw who appeared to have a white complexion.  He had heard about the kidnapping of Cynthia Ann Parker; he knew that a reward had been posted for information on her whereabouts.  The Comanchero attempted to converse with the young woman, but she spurned him.  Returning to New Mexico, the trader soon spread the word about his discovery. This information eventually made its way to Texas authorities.

Unrelated to this encounter, in January of the same year, a delegation of Comanches made their way to San Antonio.  They wanted to discuss terms for peace.  Years of war and smallpox epidemics had taken their toll upon the plains Indians.  The Comanche spokesman was a chief named Muk-wah-ruh (meaning: spirit talker).  He wanted Texas’ recognition of the Comancheria as the rightful homeland of the Comanche, and they wanted the Texians to keep settlers out of their home territory.  As a demonstration of their good faith, the Indians returned a white captive, a boy.

Karnes HW 001

Colonel Karnes

The delegation was received by Colonel Henry Wax Karnes, a distinguished veteran of the Texas Revolution.  Karnes listened to the chief’s story, and he agreed to a negotiation, but he warned Muk-wah-ruh that a lasting peace could only be possible when the Comanche gave up their white captives.  Karnes believed that the number of captives held were around 13, but there was no way he could be certain about this.

A further meeting was arranged for mid-March 1840.

Texians did not realize at the time that the Comanche were not a unified nation.  There were 12 formal divisions and 35 independent roaming bands, which were also called rancherias or villages.  While the Comanche were bound together in various ways, this did not include the authority of one group over any other.  This meant that Muk-wah-ruh could not speak or negotiate for any other Comanche group.  The Texians also did not realize that many captives were often assimilated into the tribes; they were adopted by tribal families and themselves became part of the Comanche culture —and were not, thereafter, considered white captives.

Meanwhile, Texas Secretary of War Albert Sidney Johnston instructed Karnes to take the Comanche delegation prisoner if they failed to deliver all captives.

Despite being warned by the war chief Buffalo Hump that the whites could not be trusted, Muk-wah-ruh led 65 Comanches, including women and children, to San Antonio on the agreed date for peace talks. The Indians were dressed in their finery, their faces painted, and they proudly strutted to the Council House. They brought with them one white captive, a female, and several Mexican children.

The white female was 16-year old Matilda Lockhart [1]; she had been held for 18 months.  She was placed in the care of Mary Maverick.  The Texians questioned Lockhart, who testified that she had seen 15 or so other captives at the Comanche’s principal camp several days before.  She told the Texians that the Comanche wanted to see how high a price they could get for her before deciding whether to bring in the other captives, one at a time. This was a point of contention among the Texians because they believed that it violated their agreement with Muk-wah-ruh.  The Comanche had a different view, since Muk-wah-ruh did not have authority to speak for other tribes.  The Texians took the Indian delegation to the Council House, which adjoined the local jail.

Council House Fight 001

The Council House Fight

At the Council House, the Texians demanded to know where the other captives were.  Muk-wah-ruh responded by saying the other prisoner were held by various bands of Comanche.  He assured the Texians that he felt sure that the other captives could be ransomed, but that it would cost the Texians a great deal of supplies, including ammunition, blankets, and cooking utensils.  He finished his talk by saying, “Now, how do you like these words? [2]

Pursuant to General Johnston’s instructions, Colonel Karnes ordered the Indians taken prisoner.  Immediately upon learning that they were to be held as hostages, the Indians drew weapons to fight their way out of the Council House.  Texians opened fire.  Comanche women waiting in the courtyard began losing arrows; one Texian spectator was killed. Texians fired on escaping Indians, shooting Indians without regard to whether they were Comanche or not, and without regard to age or sex.  Thirty-five Comanche were killed, including three women and two children. Twenty-nine were taken prisoner.  Seven Texians died, including a judge, a sheriff, and an army lieutenant; ten more received wounds.  The next day, the Texians released a single Comanche woman and instructed her to return to her camp and report that the remaining Comanche prisoners would be released if the Comanche released the 15 white captives and Mexicans who were known to be held captive.  The Comanche were given twelve days to return the captives.

Chief Buffalo Hump 001

Comanche War Chief

As soon as news of the Council House fight reached the war chief Buffalo Hump, he ordered 13 of the captives tortured to death.  The captives included Matilda Lockhart’s six-year-old sister, who was roasted to death over a spit.  Only three captives were spared, those being whites that had been adopted into the tribe. It was in response to the Council House fight that Buffalo Hump initiated the so-called Great Raid of 1840, leading hundreds of Comanche warriors on raids against Texian villages. Twenty-five Texians were killed by rampaging Comanche.  Texian militia responded to the raid, leading to the Battle of Plum Creek [3] in August 1840, which ultimately stopped the murderous raids.


[1] The Lockhart story has a confused history. Maverick later described her as woman horribly disfigured by her Comanche captors, but there are no known documents of the time that make this claim.  Matilda died in 1843, aged 18 years.

[2] It is unlikely that Muk-wah-ruh intended his words to sound arrogant, but that is how they were received by Texian officials and they are what initiated the violence at the Council House.

[3] Near Lockhart, Texas —no connection to Matilda Lockhart.

Continued Next Week …

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