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Brigham’s Destroying Angel

CHAPTER III.

FROM 1850 TO 1854

FIRST YEAR IN UTAH—FIRST INDIAN WAR—LIEUT. J. W. GUNNISON—A SERIOUS DEFEAT—BETTER COUNSELS—A VICTORY—A BRAVE MILITIA OFFICER(?)—A BATTLE ON THE ICE—MASSACRE OF INDIANS—TAKING THE HEAD OF BIG ELK—HICKMAN GOES TO CALIFORNIA—CHOSEN CAPTAIN OF THE TRAIN—INDIAN MASSACRE AND MORE FIGHTING—A MURDER AND LYNCH LAW EXECUTION—TROUBLE IN UTAH AND RETURN OF HICKMAN-MURDER OF IKE HATCH—KILLING THE HORSE THIEF—KILLING OF IKE VAUGHN—FIGHT BETWEEN THE MORMONS AND GREEN RIVER FERRYMEN—HICKMAN KILLS ANOTHER HORSE-THIEF—CRUELTY OF ORSON HYDE—DASTARDLY MURDER OF HARTLEY—COMMENTS.

      After arriving in Salt Lake, I stopped a few days with one of my friends, then located the place ten miles south of the city, where I lived until five years ago. I went to work, and worked hard until in the winter.

      At this time there was only two settlements in the valley south; the first was on American Fork, a stream some two or three rods wide, emptying into Utah Lake. The next was a settlement on Provo River, fifteen miles further south, some three miles from Utah Lake. This river was claimed by a strong band of Indians. These Utah Indians went by different names, such as Timpa-Utes, Pi-Utes, Yampa-Utes and Gosh-Utes, each having its Chief, fishing and hunting grounds, &c., which they claimed as their own; but in reality they were all the same tribe, spoke the same language, and would hunt and fish on each other’s lands, as a general thing, unmolested. Sometimes these different bands would have difficulty; but in war with the whites they were all united.

      This Provo band was considered very brave, having held that river for a long time. The Mormons got permission of them to settle there, and made them presents, and they were glad to have them come and raise grain. They petted and humored the Indians too much, and this winter they began to do as they pleased. They first commenced stealing their horses and cattle, and seeing they were not chastised for it, would take cattle or anything they wanted, and deliberately drive it off at any time, saying to the people, “You are all petticoats, and won't fight.” This continued until in February, when they commenced shooting at the people if they tried to hinder them from taking anything they wanted. The people called for help from Salt Lake, and one hundred and fifty men were soon raised under charge of George Grant, to go and give them a clearing out. Among this company was Capt. W. H. Kimball, Adjutant Gen. Ferguson and the lamented Captain Gunnison, who was wintering in Salt Lake, with a Government party of topographical engineers under Colonel Stansbury. This military clever gentleman volunteered his services, and went with us. So did the Surgeon of that United States party, and a few others. The Captain was never behind, always showing skill and bravery. I became very much attached to him, and he was well liked by all as far as I knew. About 9 p.m. we got to the settlement at Provo, which was two or three miles west of where the city of Provo now is. I was sent ahead in charge of the advance guard.

      All was quiet, and we got through their half fortified place without the Indians knowing of us, and made the necessary arrangements for quarters, forage and supper. I was sent for, and found a council of war was called, the object of which was to fix the modus operandi of an attack on the Indians the next morning, which were about three miles above us on the river, in thick brush and heavy cottonwood timber. Officers were appointed, and companies formed, all satisfactory, and then a display of talent from the new and high-minded officers ensued.

      The canteen passed around frequently, which inspired their minds, and made assurance of an early victory next morning. I was silent till Colonel Grant turned to me and said, “Well, Captain Bill, what have you got to say I have not heard a word from you.”

      I told him I did not like any of their plans. I reasoned on the Indian mode of fighting, that they would resort to all sorts of stratagem and advantage, and in that light we should look at them, and against such movements lay our plans, which I had not heard proposed by any of his staff. I made a few more suggestions and stopped. The canteen passed again, and when it came my turn the Colonel said: “Bill, take a good one; you must be down at the heel.” I drank a success for the morrow, after which the Colonel arose, gave orders that the cannon which we had taken with us, should be placed above on the south side of the river, that two small companies should be placed on the north side above and one below, and I should make a selection of twenty horsemen, with good horses, sabres and pistols; that those companies north, east and west, should charge on the camp (now this camp was supposed to contain one hundred warriors), and drive them out into fair ground, where I could, with my company, charge upon and chop them up.

      I went to my quarters, studying whether it was the want of brains or too much canteen that had caused such plans. But, thought I to myself, if it suits you I am satisfied.

      All set and off in the morning as per order. One of my men asked me as we were going to the field of battle, what I thought of their running the Indians out of the brush for us to kill. I told him I would agree to eat all the Indians we got a chance to kill that day. All reached their posts about nine o’clock. The sound of musketry was heard, and the roar of cannon, which was kept up all day. Occasionally we would see them packing off a dead or wounded man, but no Indians for us. The sun was about an hour and a half high, when I made a rush with my company of cavalry within a hundred yards of the Indian camp without orders, fired into them, wheeled and left for our place. Several balls whistled amongst us, but nobody was hurt.

      Soon after this the bugle sounded a retreat, and the Indians set up such a yell of victory that one would think ten thousand devils had been turned loose. We went back to our quarters. Officers and men looked sad. Some of our men were killed, and some wounded. Supper being over, I was sent for again. I went in and looked around, but did not see a big feeling man amongst them. I felt rather tickled to see the contrast between that and the night before.

      After talking over all that had transpired that day, I was the first one asked to say what should be done the next day. I told them that my plan of strategy and surprise would not work now, as the Indians knew we meant fight in earnest; that I saw no other way than to select the best Captains, and let them pick their companies, and take the brush, crawl up within gun shot, and play upon them, while the Colonel would be where he could see what was going on, and at any time in the afternoon that he thought fit, sound a charge on which a general rush was to be made to wind up the fight.

      My plan was adopted without any opposition, and I was chosen for one of those brush Captains, and placed on the north, where the hottest fire had come from the day before. I got my men within eighty yards of their camp without being seen, and poured a volley of shots in amongst them, which made a great scattering and hiding. We got under cover of brush and banks, and whenever an Indian showed himself we would turn loose on him. In this position we lay all day, in snow fifteen inches deep, but I never heard a man complain of being cold. The companies played upon them above and below. Capt. Kimball from in front, or rather from the south, made a rush to take a log house within gun shot of them, in which he had his horse shot dead under him. Kimball was both brave and venturesome.

"I took the head, gun, bow and arrows, mounted my horse-took a pretty squaw behind
me, and a sick papoose in front, and was off for my quarters." Page 68.

      Captain Conover, who had charge of the Company above me in the afternoon, laughingly asked me if my men were all there; I told him I thought so. He said I must be mistaken, and asked me if I had had any killed. I told him no; upon which he said: “One of your men is dead, the one that wore that tall hat.” I looked around, and that one was gone. The Captain laughed again, saving: “He is dead. When I saw you bringing your men into position, I saw him stop about one hundred yards behind in a bunch of brush. The Indians saw him, and commenced shooting at him, when he left and ran close to me. I called to him to stop, but could not get him to halt, and saw him jump through the fork of a tree twelve feet high, and know he broke. his neck before he stopped.” Poor fellow; he luckily escaped, and was as brave a man as I had at the supper table.

      This brave soldier is now one of the Colonels of the Utah militia, and expects to whip the United States when Brigham gives the word. Such men should be greatly feared, lest they get scared, and sure enough break their necks.

      There was no charge sounded, but we knew we had done good execution that day. The Indians made a lamentable yell until the bugle sounded a retreat, then all was still. No shouts of victory or Indian yells were heard that evening. All went to quarters. Two days of fighting, and that breakfast spell of Indians not wiped out yet.

      The next day was Sunday, and fighting was suspended. In the afternoon the Colonel took some fifty men, me with them, to ride around the Indian camp, and see how things looked. After some time I was satisfied there were no Indians there. I told the Colonel so, and urged him to make a charge on the camp, as there was plenty of us to use them up anyhow. He was not in favor of it. I fell behind, and when a good opportunity offered, made a dash through their camp; saw some children and some wounded; rode around quickly and out again, and called to the Colonel. He said they might be in ambush. Then James Hirons, as brave a man as I ever was with, came to me, and we dashed in again, and around, and then called to the company, who rushed in and found the Indians were gone.

      The dead and wounded lay thick, only half-a-dozen sick children were left. Everything was burned, and we took with us the children, who were well taken care of. The next day we found the remainder had gone to the mountains, the snow being very deep there. We placed a guard at the mouth of the cañon, and went in search of other portions of the tribe in the south end of the valley. I was sent with a party of six to spy out the situation of the Indians on Spanish Fork, twelve miles south. We found the Indians encamped in the brush on the creek, and fifty or sixty head of horses feeding on fair ground close by. On our arrival in sight some of the Indians rushed out and drove their horses into the brush. On our return conversation was about the number of Indians we had seen. Some said thirty, some forty, and some sixty. I was riding with Captain Carus, a fine, clever old Dutchman. “ell,” said he, “Villiain, how many do you say we saw.” I told him twelve, for I had counted them; I mention this to show you how things multiply to persons when fear and excitement have possession of the inexperienced, such as these.

      On the next day we marched for them, but on search, found a trail where they had left for the Utah Lake, some twelve or fifteen miles west. While searching I accidently spied an Indian in the brush, in all probability left as a rear guard. I rushed towards him; he shot two or three arrows at me, and wheeled to run. I shot at him, which made him bound through the brush, tearing off his quiver of arrows, but did not hit him.

      Here I must stop and tell a story of my outfitting before leaving Salt Lake. One of the old fathers, sixty-five or seventy years of age, came and brought me his old-fashioned broad sword, asking me if I would accept it on this trip. I told him I would, and thank him, too; upon which the old man said: “May God bless and preserve you, and may I have the pleasure of cleaning it on your return.” The Indian was scared by my pursuit, and going through the brush had about one hundred yards of a clear place to pass. I crowded my horse at his full strength through the brush, just keeping in sight of the Indian; but I thought of the request of the old man to clean his sword on my return, so I drew it, and before he got through the open space overtook him and made a heavy back-handed cut on his head. He fell, and I jumped off my horse and ran the sword through him, putting it up without wiping.

      We then struck on the Indian trail, found them at dark encamped on the lake near the head. General Daniel H. Wells had just come to us on the Indian trail. He was Commander-in-Chief. He stationed guards around the Indian camp in order to prevent their escape during the night. This was a bitter cold night on the Lake shore-snow on the ground, and the wind blowing a gale. We had had no dinner, had no supper, no blankets, and nothing but sage-brush to make fires, and even that was scarce and small. The body of the men camped or rather stopped below, and took turns pulling this brush, which kept them from freezing.

      I was placed above on the Lake shore with Lot Smith and John Little, Jr., who would take turns going to the fire, leaving one with me all the time. My orders were to stay until relieved. I walked my post and kept from freezing with much ado.

      As soon as it got light I got orders at the sound of the bugle to charge their camp, and strange to say, I was alone when the charge was sounded. I ran up on the beach in order to give me a fair view of what was or would be going on. Firing commenced, and I saw an Indian coming towards me unnoticed by the company. I got behind a bush and waited until he was within eight feet of me, when I shot him dead, ran for the battle, and saw an Indian start on the ice. I ran him some three or four hundred yards, got within fifty steps of him and downed him, returned, and the battle was ended. Fourteen Indians lay almost in a pile. Some twenty odd were killed in all. General Wells started a party of fourteen of our men up the Lake bench to see if there was any more Indians near by. We had not gone more than two miles when we saw five Indians coming down the Lake shore on horseback, on the edge of the ice, which was about two feet thick, with a little snow on it. They turned back, and we after them. Here was a nice chase, but as usual, only three or four of us had horses fast enough to catch the Indians. I shot the first, Lot Smith the next, and I the next, who came near falling off his horse, but recovered. The savages were shooting back at us with rifles and arrows whenever we got close to them.

      Lot was a brave man; whenever he emptied his gun he would get another and pitch in again. These guns were willingly handed him by those cautious fellows behind, and he emptied some half-dozen of them. I had a slide rifle; six shots in a slide, and three slides, making eighteen shots on hand. Lot shot at an Indian whose horse had fell on the ice and broke his gun, but he kept trying to shoot. We halted and gave him six or eight shots before he fell. One Indian alone was on his horse wounded, and I saw Lieut. R. T. Burton make a dash for him. He had a good horse, and I thought it no use to go any further, as Burton would be sure to get him. I watched him and saw him shoot off his pistols at the Indian when two or three hundred yards from him, and turn back. I mounted my horse, a good one, too, and crowded him for the Indian, who by this time was a mile ahead. He left the Lake and started across the bench for the mountains. I dismounted, took good aim at him, and fired; he fell, then rose and climbed over some rocks. I shot at him again, when he left his horse, went up the mountain about a hundred yards and fell dead.

      I went to camp, and we had provisions sent to us, which were very acceptable, as we had had nothing to eat since breakfast the day before. I’ve scouted the country a few days and went to Provo to go up the cañon and wind up the war. Two companies were sent up the cañon, one under Captain Lameraux, and one under Captain Little. I was sent ahead as a spy with Mr. Hirons, of whom I have already spoken. We proceeded up the cañon some two or three miles, occasionally going up the side of the mountain so we could get a fair view of things ahead. We did not see anything for some time, when all at once we looked below and saw the Indians in a ravine not a hundred yards off. We had reached this place under cover, saw the Indian spies looking down the cañon, and knew from all appearances we had not been seen. “What shall we do?” said Hirons. I answered, “We will give them a shot apiece, and if they don't run, we will.” “Pick your man so we won’t both shoot at the same Indian,” said he. We lay snug behind the rocks; the word was given by him, and we both fired, fetching our men. The Indians broke, and we fired again, but I do not think we hit any, as they were running. We threw ourselves in sight, and waived our handkerchiefs for the companies to come on. As far as we could see the Indians were running up the cañon.

      We went down to see the Indians we had shot. Hirons told me I had killed the chief, Big Elk. I took off his head, for I had heard the old mountaineer, Jim Bridger, say he would give a hundred dollars for it. I tied it in his blanket and laid it on a flat rock; hid his gun and bow and arrows, forty-two number one good arrows, and awaited the arrival of the company. The reason I hid the above named articles was because I had tried to get some arrows or some relic to take home with me, from several of those cautious fellows who were great warriors, but not one could I get; they had all been taken by them to take home to show what victories they had achieved.

      The companies soon came up, when we attacked and killed nearly all the Indians. We took about fifty women and children prisoners. When I came to where I had killed the chief, I had to laugh. Those rear fellows who had been in the habit of picking up everything, had untied the blanket that was around the chief’s head, but on seeing what it contained left it untied with the head sitting in the middle of it, entirely untouched. I took the head, gun, bow and arrows, mounted my horse, took a pretty squaw behind me and a sick papoose in front, and was off for our quarters.

      This wound up the Indian war of ’49, so called, although it was in the spring of ’50. We took the prisoners to the city, and distributed them among the people. The warriors were all killed but seven or eight, and the next spring all the prisoners that wanted to went to adjoining tribes.

"I hit him over the head, killing him instantly." Page 75.

      All was peace and no Indian troubles for three years after this. I went to work on my farm, fencing and building, but had poor luck. Did not get the water out of the river so as to irrigate it in time. The California immigration began to come in. I had that spring purchased a few Indian ponies, and had them fat, just what the emigrants wanted. I spent the summer trading and herding stock. I herded the stock belonging to the Church and Brigham Young. I delivered them all to Brigham in the fall, having lost none, and charged him nothing. The bill should have been over one hundred dollars, but I made a good summer’s trade and built more houses. In the fall I got my leg broke by a horse falling on it, and was lame for eight or ten months.

      In the winter, Brigham Young saw me with a fine bay horse I had traded for that summer, and wanted him. I gave the horse to him.

      I got the gold fever, and went to California in the fall of ’51. Left Salt Lake in August, and went to Bear River north, on the California Road, where there were some emigrants organizing, and awaiting to get a good company, as the Indians had been very bad that year, killing sometimes an entire train. A few Mormon boys went, five I think. This was the last train that went through that year. It was composed of people from Missouri and Illinois, and Mormons, with two South Carolinians, making in all 42 men, six of them having their families along. Some had horses, some mules, and some ox teams, with a few head of loose cattle, and a dozen loose horses, but not one good riding horse. We all got together to organize for a start. When the meeting was called I was astonished to hear myself nominated for captain, as I was not acquainted with ten men in the company. I got up and objected, but this was of no use; they said that they had heard of me, those who did not know me, and had made up their minds to have me for their Captain; that we had to go through a country full of bad Indians, and they knew from what they had heard that I knew more about them than any other person in the company, and I had to accept.

      I found I had a first rate set of fellows, several of whom had served in the Mexican war, and served in several battles, and one of Kit Carson’s old Indian fighters, some old farmers from the States with their families, and, taken all together, a company that would be an honor to any man. The twentieth of August we started. The next company ahead of us had been gone two weeks, had horse and mule teams, and sixty-four men in the company.

      All moved off nicely, until we got about four hundred miles on our road, and were traveling down the Humboldt River. There we began to see where wagons had been burned, and also skeletons of men, women and children, their long and beautiful hair hanging on the brush; and sometimes a head with as beautiful locks of hair as I ever saw, and sometimes those of little children, with two or three inches of flaky hair, either lying by or near them, the wolves having eaten the flesh off their bones. But all the bodies of the men, women and children that were found had a portion of the skin taken off the tops of their heads. They had all been scalped, and the savages, in all probability, as we talked of it, were then in the mountains having war-dances with the whoops and yells of demons, over these scalps of honesty and innocence.

      Some of the boys began to get terribly riled up, and wanted to stop and hunt the Indians. Our train traveled snugly together and camped on clear ground, tying our horses at night, and corralling our cattle, always keeping out a strong guard. About this time we met the train coming back that had started ahead of us, having fought the Indians several days, lost nearly half of their stock, and twelve or thirteen of their men. They advised us to turn back, assuring us there was no show to get through. We thought differently, and some of the boys laughed at them. Finding out we were determined they turned to go with us, but told us they had traveled and fought Indians all day only three days before. As we journeyed, with the new company in our rear, all at once there was a dash, a hoot and a yell from the brush about three hundred yards off. The train was halted; twenty-five of my men in less than a minute had their guns, about half of us mounted our horses, the balance on foot, and instead of waiting for them to circle and fight we went for them, telling at the same time the other company to remain still and take care of the teams.

      The Indians had made no arrangements for a retreat, but ran into the willow brush on the river, which was fordable anywhere, and after them we went. They took a fright like a gang of wild antelopes, and ran in all directions. We popped them right and left until all were out of sight. I flew around on my horse to see the boys, fearing I had lost some of them, but all were safe. Two were slightly wounded. All swore they would scalp the Indians, and have a war-dance over their scalps. I told them to do as they pleased. They got thirty-two scalps off of the Indians killed on the ground, and what gave my men increased anger, one of the Indians was found with the scalps of two women, cured and dried, and another had the scalp of a child, I should think not more than three or four years of age. I need not tell you—you may guess the feeling that existed.

      We all had a great war-dance that night. Our friends from the company behind us came over and declared positively they had never seen such men before; said it was a wonder we were not all killed, and declared they saw one hundred and fifty Indians. The boys seemed easy for a day or two, but on finding another quantity of bodies became anxious for another fight.

      We traveled quietly for probably one hundred miles, when four Indians were seen crawling through the sage brush towards our stock; we went for and got them; killed and scalped them. We were now getting toward the sink of the Humboldt, and began to see a great many fresh Indian tracks. The next day they seemed to be gathering in from all directions to about the place we intended camping. The sun was about two hours high when we discovered them on the bench, and in the willow brush on the opposite side of the river. I kept the train moving until we got into a low place out of their sight, when we halted, and the men got their guns and mounted in short notice. We had twenty-six men ready. I wanted the company behind to take hand in the fight, but the boys would not agree to it.

      We got within gun shot of the Indians before they saw us. The boys made a rush on them, shooting, hooting, and yelling in such a manner that they all took fright before firing a gun or shooting an arrow. The boys dashed into the brush, keeping up a constant firing, and the Indians rose around us as thick almost as a gang of sheep. I never saw the like. They took down the river into large and thick brush. I saw up the hill, about a mile off, one of my men after an Indian. He shot at him, wheeled his horse, and started back. I had just emptied one slide of my gun, six loads, and had no other slide with me. One of my men had a good rifle, which I took and started at full speed over the sage brush, met the man and asked him what was the matter. He said he had shot off his gun and both pistols, and had no more ammunition with him. In about two miles I overtook the Indian. He had got close to the mountain, and had two arrows left, which he turned loose at me. One of them cut my coat collar. I saw he had no more, rode within a rod of him, and bursted a cap at him. I then made a drive for him on my horse. He was the largest Indian I ever saw, and ran like a scared wolf. I caught my gun by the breech, ran on him and struck him over the head with such a force I broke the gun off at the breech. The barrel fell some ten feet off, and the Indian in front of me, and my horse fell over him. I lit on my feet, jumped and caught up the gun-barrel, and wheeled for the Indian. He was getting up when I hit him again over the head, killing him instantly, the blow bending the heavy barrel four inches. I jerked off his scalp and went back as fast as my horse could carry me.

      On the bluff of the river sat Doc. Ripley on his horse, over an Indian he said he had killed. Said he to me: “Captain, take off his scalp for me, as your hands are bloody. I am not speedy about such things. I have cut up many a dead person in the dissecting rooms.” I dismounted, caught him by the top of his head, and as soon as I began to cut, he jumped straight on his feet. I stabbed him with my knife a few times, which soon ended him.

      On examination we found he was only shot through the flesh of the arm. We counted forty-six killed. Two of our men got shot in the legs, and one in the thumb. All got well by the time we got to California. After this we traveled unmolested.

      When we got on Carson River, a lamentable circumstance took place. The Kit Carson man got killed. He was the best man I had. His name was John Watson. He was killed by the worst man I had, a man who was said to be running away from Missouri for murdering a man there. They had a quarrel, and this man undertook to shoot Watson, but would have got killed if I had not interfered. Watson came to me and told me he knew the man intended killing him, and thought it hard I would not let him shoot him. I then went and talked to the man, and he promised faithfully he would not touch Watson. I told Watson there was no danger. He thought different, but said he would be quiet, and not another word passed between them. That evening Watson was lying on his blankets, sleeping, when this man, Hensley, went and put his pistol to his head and blew out his brains.

      I was then out after the horses. When I came to camp he was walking around with four pistols on his belt, swearing there was not men enough in camp to take him, and if they undertook it he could kill half a dozen. I thought of taking my gun and shooting him down, but thought of my position, sat down at my camp-fire and said nothing, but thought there was time enough to have him attended to, knowing there was no show for him to get away.

      The next morning we made a coffin of a wagon-box, and buried Watson in a military style, firing thirty shots over his grave. Now I will here say this man Hensley in an Indian fight was not brave, but always behind in dangerous places; although from report he had killed several men before this. I told the boys we would attend to him that evening. We wanted to move on about ten miles to get good feed for our animals. The camp, which had been almost universally lively and full of fun, moved off with a dismal look, not a cheerful countenance to be seen. It seemed as if all had lost a brother, and indeed it was almost so. Watson’s piercing eye had passed nothing unnoticed in our travels. He was always ahead when a fight was on hand, and when in camp would amuse the boys by telling his adventures with Kit Carson, his hunting and Indian stories, narrow escapes and big victories, which was done in such a hearty, plain, and sociable manner that everybody liked him.

Continued on the next page.