Recollections of Early Texas (8 page)

Burleson at once sent out runners for more men, and in a short time a few recruits came in. The trail was very easily found and followed. The men rode at half-speed sometimes and in a lope all the time except over bad hollows.

On the waters of Yegua Creek, about an hour and a half by sun, they came in sight of the Indians, who stopped in a steep hollow, tied a horse they were leading, and pretended to make ready for a fight. A shot or two were exchanged. Our men were ordered to dismount and get into the hollow just above them. They struck down the hollow, expecting every minute a volley of shots. Upon coming to the spot where the savages were first hid, they found nothing—all were gone. They mounted immediately intending to pursue them, but could find no sign of a trail anywhere, only here
and there a moccasin track, showing where one had been running, and no sign of their ever coming together again could be found. Mrs. Spaulding, formerly Mrs. Crawford, who was at the time a prisoner with this band, afterward told us that nearly all of these warriors died upon coming into camps. They had killed and eaten some fat hogs on that trip and that, together with their terrible run, had killed them.

The next Indian raid was a very bold one. A band of Comanches came in daytime and rounded up about fifteen horses belonging to our citizens. As many as could secure horses mounted and started after them. Following them about eight miles, they came upon the thieves just in the act of changing horses, i.e., riding the stolen horses and resting their own. Immediately a running fight commenced, and the Indians were at last forced to run off and leave their own horses, which we secured. Nobody was hurt on our side, although Dick Vaughn's* horse was killed beneath him. It is strange that men could be so careless and could neglect matters of such vital importance. It might almost be called criminal carelessness, for knowing the dangers to which the families and property were exposed, they never held themselves in readiness. In this particular instance men were charging upon Indians with rusty guns that would snap and flash and fail entirely. Out of a company of ten or fifteen men only two could fire! Hugh Childress ran right on an Indian who was riding a fat pony and his gun snapped, and he had to see horse and thief go together. Why, sometimes, when a call for men came, they would find themselves compelled to
mold
bullets before they could move!

In 1838, William Clopton went hunting in the pine hills near Bastrop, and found unmistakable and recent signs of Indians—saw where they had killed and cleaned a deer. Coming back to town immediately, he tried to raise men to see about it, but could get no help, some claiming to be too
busy, while others were too indifferent even to render an excuse. That night Indians
came into town
and shot two men, Messrs. Hart and Weaver.
Then
men roused Clopton and were loud in their talk of following the murderers when it was too late, as he very justly reminded them. No effort was made to catch the wretches, and the unfortunate men being buried, the citizens pursued the even tenor of their way, ignoring the fact that such deeds of violence if unnoticed would pave the way for others of greater daring.

Very soon after this Samuel Robertson and a man named Dollar were out making boards on the Old San Antonio Road, about three miles from Bastrop. They had stopped to rest a while, when suddenly about fifteen Indians charged upon them, killing Robertson, who fell over on top of Dollar, giving him a terrible shock or jar. The Indians then chased him to a steep hollow near the river, where they hemmed him in. Jumping from his horse and swimming the river, he made his escape. The poor man was
fortunate
only to be
unfortunate,
it seemed, for he was doubtless killed by Indians, or by someone soon afterward. Determined to leave this country and go back to his old home in Tennessee, he bought a horse and disappeared, and was never more heard of, but through letters from Tennessee, we learned that he never reached home.

Robertson was buried, and still men took no pains to find and punish the murderers.

CHAPTER IV

Brushy Creek and Plum Creek

In the spring of 1839 old Mr. Gideon White,* with two or three neighbors, went out on the head of Wilbarger's Creek to kill buffalo. Finding many fresh Indian signs they came into town and reported it. A squad of fourteen men met at the Wilbarger place, and just as they were starting, received news of the murder of Mrs. Coleman. The particulars were substantially as follows: She and her little boy five years old were in the garden, while the rest of the family, consisting of three children, were in the house. A force of one hundred and eight Indians came up and dividing, one band went to Dr. Robertson's house nearby, while the other division came on to Mrs. Coleman's house. The first thing she knew, the savages were right at her. She started to run, but upon seeing her child and stopping to help him along, she received an arrow in the throat, which killed her.

She lived, however, to reach the house, help her son bar the door, and then sit down on a chair and die, without a word. The Indians captured the five-year-old boy who was with her in the garden, but still there were three children in the house, the oldest of whom, Albert Coleman, a lad of fourteen, deserves to have his name enrolled among the heroes of those bloody times. With two helpless little sisters, he stood above the dead body of his mother, and succeeded in
keeping the savages out of the house. They must have supposed there were armed men in the house, which was natural judging from the number and effect of Albert's shots. He had a breech-loading “yorger” and as they came up, shot, then said, “I killed one!” Reloading, he wounded another. They shot into the house at him, striking first the breech of his gun, shattering it and scattering the lead all over the faces of the little girls, who stood around him, and at last killed the young hero; whereupon his little sisters ran under the bed. The Indians went around the house and poked their lances through the cracks, trying to kill them. A loud yelling from the other division called them away, and the little girls left the house and took to the river bottom and escaped. The loud yelling was at the running of a Negro, who got away from them.
¹

Our men went right on and took their trail. Captain [John J.] Grumbles was commander of the small company. After following the trail four or five miles, he overtook them. The Indians halted and prepared for fight. Although the force was entirely too strong, consisting of over one hundred warriors, some of the little force of fourteen wanted to attack them. Grumbles very wisely ordered a retreat, and coming
back, runners were sent in every direction for men. Soon forty or fifty men under command of Jacob Burleson, brother of Edward, were on the trail of the savages, which they had no trouble following.
²
The Indians were evidently not afraid, and had made no effort to conceal their whereabouts, doubtless feeling confident in their own strength.

Burleson's force overtook them at Brushy Creek. Dismounting, he attacked them immediately. The Indians then charged and Burleson ordered a retreat. Coming right on, the savages were very near overrunning some of our men before they could reach their horses. Jonathan Burleson,
³
another brother of Edward Burleson, was killed, but no one
else was hurt. On their return march, when they buried Burleson, they found that the savages had cut out his heart. Thus another of our bravest men was sacrificed.

About four miles back on the retreat they met General Edward Burleson with reinforcements, and at once turned for a fresh charge. In the meantime the Indians had secured a fine position in a hollow, and could not be drawn from cover. Some of them were well armed and fine sharpshooters. The fight continued until dark, and might be termed a drawn battle, but during the night the Indians retreated. Ed Blakey, John Walters,* and Parson [James] Gilleland,* three more of our best citizens, were killed here, leaving dependent and defenseless families.
⁴

In the meantime, William Hancock had charge of a small squad of recruits, to which I belonged.
⁵
We were just behind Burleson's force, and were making all possible speed to overtake them. About sundown, as we were riding along in couples, considerably scattered, we saw to our left a band of men moving about, and thinking they were Burleson's force we turned aside to join them, not dreaming of danger until they charged upon us and we saw that we had approached a band of Indians.

We retreated to a mot of timber where we awaited an attack for some time, but for some reason they gave up the charge and we waited in vain. In the meantime, we were
much perplexed as to the whereabouts of Burleson's force. Finally, after a short deliberation, deciding it to be dangerous for so small a party to be riding about in the face of such odds, we returned to the settlements.

The Indians kept the little boy of Mrs. Coleman until he was almost grown, when our men bought him from them. He had, however, been so imbued with their ideas and habits that he went back to them, never feeling satisfied among the whites.

In Burleson's battle with the large force one man was wounded, besides the four killed. He received a slight wound in the mouth from a rock, which some thought was shot, while I believe, with others, that a bullet knocked the rock up. That night men were stationed in and around Bastrop as guards. Late in the night, having neither seen nor heard sign of danger, they had just gone in, when old Mr. [Stephen V. R.] Eggleston,* hearing an unusual noise, went out to see about it, whereupon he was shot through the bowels with an arrow, inflicting a wound from which he died the next day.

Thus ended the Battle of Brushy Creek. Next came the largest, most horrible raid ever made by Indians upon Texas, which resulted in the famous battle of Plum Creek. A large band of Comanches under the notorious chief, “Buffalo Hump,”
⁶
took possession of Victoria, then came on down
Peach Creek, through a sparsely settled country, burning houses and killing until they came to Lynnville. They were supposed to have been guided by Mexicans.

On their way they came upon Mr. [Tucker] Foley* and Parson [Dr. Joel] Ponton,* who were going across the country to Gonzales. Foley was riding a very fine race horse, while Mr. Ponton's animal was old and slow. They saw the Indians about a quarter of a mile off and whirled to run. The race horse soon bore Foley far in advance of Ponton, who was fast losing ground. The first Indian swept past him without even turning his head. Foley on the race horse was evidently the prize upon which he was bending every energy.
The second Indian came on, and in passing, struck him on the head with a spear—he, too, intent upon overtaking Foley. A third drew his bow as he came and shot, the arrow striking Ponton's leather belt with such force as to knock him from his horse. He lay as if dead, and pondered whether or not he should shoot, his double-barreled shotgun being still at his side. He wisely concluded to be still, and the rest of the Indians passed him without a pause, doubtless thinking him dead.

As soon as the last one had gone by, he sprang up and crawled into a thicket and there lay hidden until they came on back with Foley, who had made a brave run but was caught at last. They had chased him to a little creek, where they had hemmed him in and as a last resort, he had dismounted and tried to hide in a water hole. From the signs they had roped and dragged him out, and brought him on to the spot where they had left Ponton, whom they had thought dead. Finding him gone, they made Foley call him, but of course no answer came. The cruel wretches then shot and scalped Foley and, when he was found, the bottoms of his feet had been cut off and he must have been made to walk some distance on the raw stumps! The cruelty of those Comanche warriors knew no bounds. The Rev. Ponton himself gave me an account of this race, and its attendant particulars, and I think I can vouch for its truth.

At Lynnville the Indians burned a few houses, killed a few more citizens, and then went on unmolested. They took two captives, Mrs. Crosby and Mrs. Watts, whose husbands were killed in the fight, and started back on their incoming trail. It is strange, but true, that all this was over before we had heard any of the circumstances. Captain John Tumlinson immediately raised a squad of forty or fifty men, and taking their plain trail came upon them on their way
out—a large force of between four and five hundred Indians. Our captain was nothing daunted, however, and ordered our men to fire a charge at them. He was brave, cool, and deliberate, and I have always believed would have whipped them, if a misunderstanding among the men had not forced him to draw off, with the loss of one man. The Indians charged upon the rear of our force, which was composed of Mexicans, who came near stampeding, and thus brought great confusion into our ranks. Tumlinson then followed along at a distance, receiving recruits constantly.

By this time, the news having been well ventilated here around Bastrop, General Burleson had raised all the men he possibly could and started out, anxious to intercept them at Plum Creek. Every now and then we met runners, who were sent to bid Burleson to come on. We rode until midnight, then halted to rest our horses. Very early the next morning we were again on the warpath, still meeting runners at regular intervals beseeching us to hurry.

We fell in with the Guadalupe men in the edge of Big Prairie, near Plum Creek, about two miles from where Lockhart now stands. We were now ordered to dismount, lay aside every weight, examine our arms, and make ready for battle. [Gen. Felix] Huston's men had gotten in ahead of the Indians, and were lying in a little mot of timber, when they heard the Indians coming, they being seemingly ignorant of our close proximity to them, for they were singing, whistling, yelling, and indeed making every conceivable noise. Here, while awaiting the Indians, we of Burleson's force joined them. A double-filed line of march was formed, Burleson's forces from the Colorado marching about one hundred yards to the right of Huston's men from the Guadalupe, and in sight of the Indians.