THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL by COLONEL HENRY INMAN (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

Kissed him, Then Stood Back For Another Instant, Gave Him

          A Second Squeeze, Offered his Hand To Me, Which I,

          Of Course, Shook Heartily, Then He Gazed at The Man He Had

          Known As A Boy So Many Years Ago, With A Countenance

          Beaming With Delight.  I Never Saw Any One, Even Among

          The White Race, Manifest So Much Joy As The Old Chief Did

          Over The Visit Of The Colonel To His Camp.

 

 

 

          He Immediately Ordered some Of His Young Men To Go Out And

          Herd Our Mules Through The Night, Which They Brought Back

          To Us At Daylight.  He Then Had The Coach Hauled to The

          Front Of His Lodge, Where We Could See All That Was Going On

          To The Best Advantage.  We Had Six Travellers With Us On

          This Journey, And It Was A Great Sight For The Tenderfeet.

 

 

 

          It Was About Ten O'Clock At Night When We Arrived at

          Satanta'S Lodge, And We Saw Thousands Of Squaws And Bucks

          Dancing and Mourning For Their Dead Warriors.  At Midnight

          The Old Chief Said We Must Eat Something at Once.  So He

          Ordered a Fire Built, Cooked buffalo And Venison, Setting

          Before Us The Very Best That He Had, We Furnishing Canned

          Fruit, Coffee, And Sugar From Our Coach Mess.  There We Sat,

          And Talked and Ate Until Morning; Then When We Were Ready

          To Start Off, Satanta And The Other Chiefs Of The Various

          Tribes Escorted us About Eight Miles On The Trail, Where

          We Halted for Breakfast, They Remaining and Eating With Us.

 

 

 

Colonel Leavenworth Was On His Way To Assume Command Of One Of The

Military Posts In new Mexico; The Indians Begged him To Come Back

And Take His Quarters At Either Fort Larned or Fort Dodge.  They Told

Him They Were Afraid Their Agent Was Stealing Their Goods And Selling

Them Back To Them; While If The Indians Took Anything From The Whites,

A War Was Started.

 

 

 

Colonel A. G. Boone Had Made A Treaty With These Same Indians In 1860,

And It Was Agreed that He Should Be Their Agent.  It Was Done, And

The Entire Savage Nations Were Restful And Kindly Disposed toward

The Whites During His Administration; Any One Could Then Cross The

Plains Without Fear Of Molestation.  In 1861, However, Judge Wright,

Of Indiana, Who Was A Member Of Congress At The Time, Charged colonel

Boone With Disloyalty.[29]  He Succeeded in having Him Removed.

 

 

 

Majors Russel And Waddell, The Great Government Freight Contractors

Across The Plains, Gave Colonel Boone Fourteen Hundred acres Of Land,

Well Improved, With Some Fine Buildings On It, About Fifteen Miles

East Of Pueblo, Colorado.  It Was Christened booneville, And The

Colonel Moved there.  In the Fall Of 1862, Fifty Influential Indians

Of The Various Tribes Visited colonel Boone At His New Home, And

Begged that He Would Come Back To Them And Be Their Agent.  He Told

The Chiefs That The President Of The United states Would Not Let Him.

Then They Offered to Sell Their Horses To Raise Money For Him To Go

To Washington To Tell The Great Father What Their Agent Was Doing;

And To Have Him Removed, Or There Was Going To Be Trouble.

The Indians Told Colonel Boone That Many Of Their Warriors Would Be

On The Plains That Fall, And They Were Declaring They Had As Much

Right To Take Something To Eat From The Trains As Their Agent Had

To Steal Goods From Them.

 

 

 

Early In the Winter Of The Next Year, A Small Caravan Of Eight Or Ten

Wagons Travelling To The Missouri River Was Overhauled at Nine Mile

Ridge, About Fifty Miles West Of Fort Dodge, By A Band Of Indians,

Who Asked for Something To Eat.  The Teamsters, Thinking Them To Be

Hostile, Believed it Would Be A Good Thing To Kill One Of Them Anyhow;

So They Shot An Inoffensive Warrior, After Which The Train Moved on

To Its Camp And The Trouble Began.  Every Man In the Whole Outfit,

With The Exception Of One Teamster, Who Luckily Got To The Arkansas

River And Hid, Was Murdered, The Animals All Carried away, And The

Wagons And Contents Destroyed by Fire.

 

 

 

This Foolish Act By The Master Of The Caravan Was The Cause Of A

Long War, Causing Hundreds Of Atrocious Murders And The Destruction

Of A Great Deal Of Property Along The Whole Western Frontier.

 

 

 

That Fall, 1863, Mr. Ryus Was The Messenger Or Conductor In charge

Of The Coach Running From Kansas City To Santa Fe.  He Said:

          It Then Required a Month To Make The Round Trip, About

          Eighteen Hundred miles.  On Account Of The Indian War

          We Had To Have An Escort Of Soldiers To Go Through The Most

          Dangerous Portions Of The Trail; And The Caravans All

          Joined forces For Mutual Safety, Besides Having an Escort.

 

 

 

          My Coach Was Attacked several Times During That Season, And

          We Had Many Close Calls For Our Scalps.  Sometimes The

          Indians Would Follow Us For Miles, And We Had To Halt And

          Fight Them; But As For Myself, I Had No Desire To Kill One

          Of The Miserable, Outraged creatures, Who Had Been Swindled

          Out Of Their Just Rights.

 

 

 

          I Know Of But One Occasion When We Were Engaged in a Fight

          With Them When Our Escort Killed any Of The Attacking

          Savages; It Was About Two Miles From Little Coon Creek

          Station, Where They Surrounded the Coach And Commenced

          Hostilities.  In the Fight One Officer And One Enlisted man

          Were Wounded.  The Escort Chased the Band For Several Miles,

          Killed nine Of Them, And Got Their Horses.

Chapter X (Charles Bent)

Almost Immediately After The Ratification Of The Purchase Of

New Mexico By The United states Under The Stipulations Of The

"Guadalupe-Hidalgo Treaty," The Utes, One Of The Most Powerful Tribes

Of Mountain Indians, Inaugurated a Bloody And Relentless War Against

The Civilized inhabitants Of The Territory.  It Was Accompanied by

All The Horrible Atrocities Which Mark The Tactics Of Savage Hatred

Toward The White Race.  It Continued for Several Years With More

Or Less Severity; Its Record A Chapter Of History Whose Pages Are

Deluged with Blood, Until Finally The Indians Were Subdued by The

Power Of The Military.

 

 

 

Along The Line Of The Santa Fe Trail, They Were Frequently In

Conjunction With The Apaches, And Their Depredations And Atrocities

Were Very Numerous; They Attacked fearlessly Freight Caravans,

Private Expeditions, And Overland Stage-Coaches, Robbing and Murdering

Indiscriminately.

 

 

 

In January, 1847, The Mail And Passenger Stage Left Independence,

Missouri, For Santa Fe On One Of Its Regular Trips Across The Plains.

It Had Its Full Complement Of Passengers, Among Whom Were A Mr. White

And Family, Consisting Of His Wife, One Child, And A Coloured nurse.

 

 

 

Day After Day The Lumbering Concord Coach Rolled on, With Nothing To

Disturb The Monotony Of The Vast Prairies, Until It Had Left Them

Far Behind And Crossed the Range Into New Mexico.  Just About Dawn,

As The Unsuspecting Travellers Were Entering The "Canyon Of The

Canadian,"[30] And Probably Waking Up From Their Long Night'S Sleep,

A Band Of Indians, With Blood-Curdling Yells And Their Terrific

War-Whoop, Rode Down Upon Them.

 

 

 

In That Lonely And Rock-Sheltered gorge A Party Of The Hostile Savages,

Led by "White Wolf," A Chief Of The Apaches, Had Been Awaiting The

Arrival Of The Coach From The East; The Very Hour It Was Due Was

Well Known To Them, And They Had Secreted themselves There The

Night Before So As To Be On Hand Should It Reach Their Chosen Ambush

A Little Before The Schedule Time.

 

 

 

Out Dashed the Savages, Gorgeous In their Feathered war-Bonnets,

But Looking Like Fiends With Their Paint-Bedaubed faces.  Stopping The

Frightened mules, They Pulled open The Doors Of The Coach And,

Mercilessly Dragging Its Helpless And Surprised inmates To The Ground,

Immediately Began Their Butchery.  They Scalped and Mutilated the

Dead Bodies Of Their Victims In their Usual Sickening Manner, Not A

Single Individual Escaping, Apparently, To Tell Of Their Fiendish Acts.

 

 

 

If The Indians Had Been Possessed of Sufficient Cunning To Cover Up

The Tracks Of Their Horrible Atrocities, As Probably White Robbers

Would Have Done, By Dragging The Coach From The Road And Destroying It

By Fire Or Other Means, The Story Of The Murders Committed in the

Deep Canyon Might Never Have Been Known; But They Left The Tell-Tale

Remains Of The Dismantled vehicle Just Where They Had Attacked it,

And The Naked corpses Of Its Passengers Where They Had Been Ruthlessly

Killed.

 

 

 

At The Next Stage Station The Employees Were Anxiously Waiting For

The Arrival Of The Coach, And Wondering What Could Have Caused

The Delay; For It Was Due There At Noon On The Day Of The Massacre.

Hour After Hour Passed, And At Last They Began To Suspect That

Something Serious Had Occurred; They Sat Up All Through The Night

Listening For The Familiar Rumbling Of Wheels, But Still No Stage.

At Daylight Next Morning, Determined to Wait No Longer, As They Felt

Satisfied that Something Out Of The Usual Course Had Happened,

A Party Hurriedly Mounted their Horses And Rode Down The Broad Trail

Leading To The Canyon.

 

 

 

Upon Entering Its Gloomy Mouth After A Quick Lope Of An Hour,

They Discovered the Ghastly Remains Of Twelve Mutilated bodies.

These Were Gathered up And Buried in one Grave, On The Top Of The

Bluff Overlooking The Narrow Gorge.

 

 

 

They Could Not Be Sure Of The Number Of Passengers The Coach Had

Brought Until The Arrival Of The Next, As It Would Have A List Of

Those Carried by Its Predecessor; But It Would Not Be Due For

Several Days.  They Naturally Supposed, However, That The Twelve Dead

Lying On The Ground Were Its Full Complement.

 

 

 

Not Waiting For The Arrival Of The Next Stage, They Despatched a

Messenger To The Last Station East That The One Whose Occupants

Had Been Murdered had Passed, And There Learned the Exact Number

Of Passengers It Had Contained.  Now They Knew That Mrs. White,

Her Child, And The Coloured nurse Had Been Carried off Into A

Captivity Worse Than Death; For No Remains Of A Woman Were Found

With The Others Lying In the Canyon.

 

 

 

The Terrible News Of The Massacre Was Conveyed to Taos, Where Were

Stationed several Companies Of The Second United states Dragoons,

Commanded by Major William Greer; But As The Weather Had Grown

Intensely Cold And Stormy Since The Date Of The Massacre, It Took

Nearly A Fortnight For The Terrible Story To Reach There.  The Major

Acted promptly When Appealed to To Go After And Punish The Savages

Concerned in the Outrage, But Several Days More Were Lost In getting

An Expedition Ready For The Field.  It Was Still Stormy While The

Command Was Preparing For Its Work; But At Last, One Bright Morning,

In A Piercing Cold Wind, Five Troops Of The Dragoons, Commanded by

Major Greer In person, Left Their Comfortable Quarters To Attempt

The Rescue Of Mrs. White, Her Child, And Nurse.

 

 

 

Kit Carson, "Uncle Dick" Wooten, Joaquin Leroux, And Tom Tobin Were

The Principal Scouts And Guides Accompanying The Expedition, Having

Volunteered their Services To Major Greer, Which He Had Gladly Accepted.

 

 

 

The Massacre Having Occurred three Weeks Before The Command Had

Arrived at The Canyon Of The Canadian, And Snow Having Fallen Almost

Continuously Ever Since, The Ground Was Deeply Covered, Making It

Almost Impossible To Find The Trail Of The Savages Leading Out Of

The Gorge.  No One Knew Where They Had Established their Winter Camp

--Probably Hundreds Of Miles Distant On Some Tributary Of The Canadian

Far To The South.

 

 

 

Carson, Wooton, And Leroux, After Scanning The Ground Carefully At

Every Point, Though The Snow Was Ten Inches Deep, In a Way Of Which

Only Men Versed in savage Lore Are Capable, Were Rewarded by

Discovering Certain Signs, Unintelligible To The Ordinary Individual[31]

--That The Murderers Had Gone South Out Of The Canyon Immediately

After Completing Their Bloody Work, And That Their Camp Was Somewhere

On The River, But How Far Off None Could Tell.

 

 

 

The Command Followed up The Trail Discovered