University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XXVI.

Some few weeks after the events just related, I received
a note from a stranger, requesting me to call
on her at the dwelling of a hunter, where she was
stopping. Her name was Elizabeth Blackwell, and
emigrated with her parents from England, who became
proselytes of the ruling prophet of Salt Lake City,
where they remained until Elizabeth's father took another
wife. This created trouble; words ensued, soon
followed by blows, and Elizabeth, in endeavoring to
protect her mother, was struck by her brute of a father
with a knife, and one of her eyes destroyed.

Being discouraged and broken-hearted, the wretched
mother and daughters (for Elizabeth had two sisters)
resolved to escape. They wandered away among the
mountains, and, having no place of shelter, all perished
with the cold, except Elizabeth, who was found by the

Indians, nearly frozen to death. They lifted her up
and carried her to camp, where they gave her every
attention requisite for restoration.

She remained with the Indians until she was able
to go east, where she underwent the severe operation
of having both legs amputated above the knee.

The treatment received from the Indians so attached
her to them that she prefers to live a forest life, and
when she gave me her narrative, she was on her way
from the States to her Indian home.

Her father soon wearied of his Mormon wife, and
escaped to the Rocky Mountains, where he became a
noted higwayman. Hearing of Elizabeth's residence
among the Indians, he visited her, and gave her a
large sum of money. The fate of his family had great
effect on him, and remorse drove him to desperation.

The husband of Elizabeth took his second wife and
Elizabeth's child from Salt Lake to Cincinnati, where
they now live.

She was twenty-six years old when I saw and conversed
with her, a lady of intelligence, and once possessed
more than ordinary beauty.

She had just received the news of her father's death.
He was killed near Fort Dodge, Kansas.

Elizabeth related to me many acts of cruelty she had
witnessed among the savages, one of which was to the
following effect:

A woman was brought into the camp on horseback,

who had been captured from a train, and an Indian
who was attempting to lift her from the horse, was
shot in the act, by her own hand. This so enraged
the savages that they cut her body in gashes, filled
them with powder, and then set fire to it.

The sight of the woman's sufferings was too much
for Elizabeth to endure, and she begged the savages
to put an end to the victim at once, which accordingly
was done.

But although Elizabeth saw many heartless acts—
many terrible scenes—still she had a kindly feeling
toward the Indians, for they saved her from a horrible
death by starvation and exposure, and had been very
tender with her. She was somewhat embittered toward
the white people, on account of her sufferings, and
treatment.

A short time after, General Sully invited me to Fort
Harker, to see two white captive children, a girl of
fourteen and a boy of six. They had beep captured
two years before, and the account of their treatment
given me by the girl, was any thing but favorable.
The boy was as wild as a deer.

A Sioux woman at Fort Harker had taken these
children into her own family and cared for them as a
mother. She was the daughter of a white man, was
born at Fort Laramie, and had married an interpreter
by the name of Bradley. She was quite intelligent
having been educated by her husband.

In January, 1868, two other children were captured
in the State of Texas by the Kiowa Indians. They
were girls, aged five and three years. Their parents
and all the known relatives had been murdered, and
the children had been recently recovered from the Indians,
and were in the care of J. H. Leavenworth,
United States Indian Agent. Having no knowledge
of their parentage, they were named Helen and Heloise
Lincoln.

Another interesting family was taken from Texas
by the Indians, their beautiful home destroyed, and all
killed with the exception of the mother and three
daughters.

Their name was Boxx. The ages of the children
were respectively eighteen, fourteen, and ten, and they
were allowed to be together for a time, but afterward
were separated.

They experienced great cruelties. The youngest
was compelled to stand on a bed of live coals, in order
to torture the mother and sisters.

Lieutenant Hesselberger, the noble and brave officer,
whose name will live forever in the hearts of the captives
he rescued, heard of this family, and, with a party
of his brave men, went immediately to the Indian village,
and offered a reward for the captives, which at
first was declined, but he at length succeeded in purchasing
the mother and one girl; he afterward procured
the release of the others.

Lieutenant Hesselberger braved death in so doing,
and his only reward is the undying gratitude of those
who owe their lives to his self-sacrificing, humane
devotion and courage.

In the fall of 1868, the Indians commenced depredations
on the frontier of Kansas, and after many
serious outbreaks, destroying homes and murdering
settlers, the Governor issued a call for volunteers to
assist General Sheridan in protecting the settlers and
punishing the Indians. Among those who volunteered
was my youngest brother, and many of my old
schoolmates and friends from Geneva, who related to
me the following incidents, which are fully substantiated
by General Sheridan and others.

Mrs. Morgan, an accomplished and beautiful bride,
and Miss White, an educated young lady, were both
taken from their homes by the Indians. They were
living on the Eepublican River.

During their captivity they suffered much from the
inclemency of the weather, and it was March before
they were released by General Sheridan.

The troops, the Kansas boys, were all winter among
the mountains, endeavoring to protect the frontier.

They suffered great privation, being obliged sometimes
to live on the meat of mules, and often needing
food. All honor to these self-sacrificing men, who
braved the cold and hunger of the mountains to protect
the settlers on the frontier.

A Mrs. Blynn, whose maiden name was Harrington,
of Franklin County, Kansas, who was married at the
age of nineteen, and started with her young husband
for the Pacific coast, was taken prisoner by the Indians
and suffered terrible brutality.

About that time the savages had become troublesome
on the plains, attacking every wagon-train, killing
men and capturing women. But the train in
which Mr. Blynn and his wife traveled was supposed
to be very strong, and able to repel any attack made
upon them, should there be any such trouble.

Mrs. Blynn had a presentiment of evil—of the fate
of their unfortunate company, and her own dark impending
destiny, in a dream, the realization of which
proved too true.

When she related her dream to her husband, he
tried to laugh away her superstitious fears, and prevent
its impression on her mind.

It was not many days after that a large number of
warriors of the Sioux tribe were seen in the distance,
and the people of the train arranged themselves in a
shape for attack.

The Indians, seeing this preparation, and, fearing a
powerful resistance, fired a few shots, and, with yells
of rage and disappointment, went off.

Within the succeeding days the travelers saw Indians,
but they did not come near enough to make
trouble.

Confident of no disturbance or hinderance to their
journey, the happy emigrants journeyed on fearless
(comparatively) of the red skins, and boasting of their
power.

But the evil hour at last approached. When the
column had reached Sand Creek, and was in the act of
crossing, suddenly the wild yells of Indians fell upon
their ears, and soon a band of Cheyennes charged down
upon them.

Two wagons had already got into the stream, and,
instead of hastening the others across, and thus putting
the creek between themselves and their pursuers,
the whites drove the two back out of the water, and,
entangled in the others, threw every thing in confusion.
This confusion is just what the Indians like,
and they began whooping, shouting, and firing furiously,
in order to cause a stampede of the live-stock.

In five minutes all was accomplished; all the animals,
except those well fastened to the wagons, were
dashing over the prairie. The Indians then circled
around and fired a volley of bullets and arrows. Mr.
Blynn was killed at the second fire, while standing
before the wagon in which were his wife and child.

"God help them!" was all he said, as, firing his
rifle at the Indians for the last time, he sank down
dead.

The men returned the fire for awhile, then fled,
leaving their wounded, all their wagons, and the

women and children in the hands of the relentless
victors.

Santana, who led the band, sprang in first, followed
by his braves, whom he ordered to let the cowardly
pale faces run away without pursuit.

The dead and wounded were scalped, and the women
and children taken captive. All were treated with
brutal conduct; and, having secured all the plunder
they could, the savages set fire to every wagon, and,
with the horses they had taken from the train, set out
in the direction of their villages.

Mrs. Blynn's child, Willie, two years old, cried very
much, which so enraged Santana that he seized him by
the heels, and was ready to dash out his brains, but the
poor mother, in her agony, sprang forward, caught the
child, and fought so bravely with the infuriated murderer,
that he laughed, and told her to keep it; for he
feared she would fret if he killed it.

Mounted on a pony, her child in her arms, she endeavored
to please her savage captor by appearing
satisfied, dwelling on the hope that some event would
occur, whereby she might be rescued and restored to
her friends. It was for her darling child that she
endeavored to keep up her heart and resolve to live.

When they arrived at Santana's village, Mrs. Blynn
was left alone of all the seven who were taken. Group
after group dropped away from the main body, taking
with them the women whom they had prisoners.

Her hardships soon commenced. For a day or two
she was fed sufficiently; but afterward all that she had
to eat she got from the squaws in the same lodge with
her; and, as they were jealous of her, they often refused
to give her any thing, either for herself or Willie.

An Indian girl, in revenge for an injury done her
by Santana, the murder of her best friend, became a
spy for General Sheridan, and endeavored by every
means in her power to rescue Mrs. Blynn from the
grasp of these savages; but her efforts were unsuccessful.
She was a true friend to the unfortunate lady,
giving her food, and endeavoring to cheer her with
the promise of rescue and safe deliverance.

The squaws abused her shamefully in the absence
of Santana, burning her with sharp sticks and splinters
of resinous wood, and inflicting the most excruciating
tortures upon her. Her face, breasts, and limbs
were one mass of wounds. Her precious little one was
taken by the hair of the head and punished with a
stick before her helpless gaze.

Mrs. Blynn, the captive, previous to this torture,
had written a letter to the general commanding the
department, whoever he might be, and sent it by the
Indian girl.

We insert a copy of this letter, which is sufficient to
draw tears from the eye of any one who may read it.

Mrs. Blynn passed her time in drudgery, hoping
against hope up to the morning of the battle, when
General Sheridan's gallant soldiers, under the command
of General Ouster, came charging with loud
huzzahs upon the village.

Black Kettle's camp was the first attacked, though
all the village was, of course, aroused.

The heart of Mrs. Blynn must have beat wildly,
mingling with hope and dread, when she heard the
noise and firing, and saw the United States soldiers
charging upon her captors.

Springing forward, she exclaimed: "Willie, Willie,
saved at last!" but the words were scarce on her lips,
ere the tomahawk of the revengeful Santana was buried
in her brain; and in another instant little Willie was
in the grasp of the monster, and his head dashed
against a tree; then, lifeless, he was thrown upon the
dying mother's breast, whose arms instinctively closed

around the dead baby boy, as though she would protect
him to the last moment of her life.

General Sheridan and his staff, in searching for the
bodies of Major Elliott and his comrades, found these
among the white soldiers, and they were tenderly carried
to Fort Cobb, where, in a grave outside the stockade,
mother and child lie sleeping peacefully, their
once bruised spirits having joined the loved husband
and father in the land where captivity is unknown.

Surely, if heaven is gained by the sorrows of earth,
this little family will enjoy the brightest scenes of the
celestial world.