The Indian War of 1864 - Chapters 7-8



CHAPTER VII.
RETROSPECT.--THE WIND STORM.--RECONNOITERING.--THE LAST BUFFALO.--AN 
INDIAN SPY.--PILGRIM WHISKY.--SALES TO INDIANS.--THE LOCAL POPULATION.-- 
THE IRON-GRAY HORSE.--CANTONMENT MCKEAN.--FORT MCPHERSON.--THE CANNON 
TARGET.--DESCRIPTION OF CANNON.--ARRIVAL AT FORT OF A NEW COMPANY.--THE 
SUPPLIES.--PRICES OF ARTICLES.--THE GOVERNMENT RATION.

   GOING back in a retrospective way over our proceedings at Cottonwood 
Springs (concerning matters which I did not wish to break the thread of my 
relation to give), I will recur to a wind-storm that came on October 17th. 
The air was dry and arid, and a sudden wind came up in the forenoon from 
the north, unaccompanied by dampness or snow. The wind just blew, and kept 
increasing in force and momentum. All of our tents were blown down during 
the afternoon, and during the gale it was impossible to raise them. Our 
stuff was blown off from the flat ground and rolled and tumbled over until 
it struck the depression of the arroyo of Cottonwood Canyon. It was a 
straight, even wind. We soon found out what it was necessary for us to 
build in order to resist the climate. The pilgrim quarters at MacDonald's 
ranch was soon stored with what we were obliged to save. Incredible as it 
may seem, the wind blew down the stovepipe into the stove, so that it 
turned one of the covers over to get exit. This heavy iron cover was about 
seven inches in diameter. When we put it back the stove rattled until 
again the cover turned over. Jimmy O'Brien said it was an "Irish
tornado," -- that the wind blew "straight up and down." Along in the 
afternoon, our horses that were tied up with picket-rope became frantic, 
and began breaking away. A two-inch rope was torn from its moorings and 
the horses started up Cottonwood Canyon. There were less than a dozen 
horses that were left securely tied. These were immediately saddled, and 
soldiers detailed to corral the stampeded horses, and to keep them 
together in the canyon. By using iron picket-pins and lariat-ropes, some 
few of the tents were got up again, toward night, and held in place. The 
wind blew a gale all night, and got somewhat chilly. Boxes of clothing and 
hard-bread were rolling over the prairie, bound for the arroyo. We all of 
us slept where we best could, but most upon the lee bank of the canyon-
bed. The wind immediately subsided as the sun rose in the morning, and we 
had no more trouble with it except to gather up the things. The difficulty 
with the wind was that it carried the sand and gravel in the air, and made 
it painful and almost dangerous at times to be where the full effect of 
the current came, which was mixed with the sand and gravel. The latter 
seemed to come in streaks. A herder of the ranch told a funny story about 
a window which was exposed to one of these sand-and-gravel storms, and he 
said that it had been changed into the appearance of ground glass, and had 
been rendered almost opaque. But he made light of the storm, saying that 
he had seen much worse ones. Afterwards we did experience one equally as 
bad, if not worse, while going from Lodgepole northwest to Court House 
Rock. Sand and gravel banked up against the pilgrim quarters in places 
about two feet high above the level, as the consequence of this storm. We 
kept the horses herded up in the canyon until the storm was over, and did 
not lose any.

   About two weeks after that we were told that some prowling Indians bad 
been seen in south of Gilmans' ranch, headed towards our place, and 
Captain O'Brien thought I bad better reconnoiter a little up the canyon, 
so as to forestall any surprise. Instead of taking a party of men with me, 
I thought I would prefer to go alone, as I had a most excellent horse, 
which I will hereinafter describe. I rode up on the east rim of the 
canyon, and looked over the country with my field-glass pretty fully. By 
keeping up on the rim, I could see the canyon inside and out. I went 
around about ten miles, and saw a lot of fresh pony-tracks. I also saw a 
large lone buffalo down in the canyon. I rode past it to see whether or 
not there was any Indian looking for him, and making up my mind there was 
not, I went down into the canyon to get the buffalo. I only had two Colt's 
calibre .44 revolvers in my holster. I carried neither saber nor carbine. 
The time that I had with that buffalo in the canyon I shall not soon 
forget. He chased me a great deal more than I chased him. The matted hair 
upon his forehead was filled with mud, and he faced me at all times. My 
revolver bullets glanced off from his forehead apparently as if it were a 
piece of granite, and they only seemed to irritate him. It was fully two 
hours before I laid him out, and I had fired thirty-one shots.

   About a week after that, Captain O'Brien desired to make a further 
reconnaissance, in view of reports which came in. I got well acquainted 
with the ins and outs on the east side, and the shortest and best routes 
from one crossing to another, which were deeply worn by buffalo trails. 
And here I got my first idea of the extent to which game and wild animals 
make the shortest and best roads through a country, and the most 
accessible roads, which in after time are followed by the white man, and 
become the highways from place to place. On this occasion I carried my 
target rifle (a Smith & Wesson, calibre .44) and a field-glass. When about 
eight miles from the camp, I saw in the distance a bareheaded Indian going 
over a ridge on foot with great speed. I hastened to catch up with him, 
but when I got to the ridge where he disappeared, I considered that it 
would be safer for me to be careful lest I should fall into some kind of 
ambuscade. So I rode around on the high ground, and examined the gullies 
for about a mile, but the Indian had successfully eluded me, and I was in 
no condition to go down and hunt through the canyon. He was probably some 
lone Indian who was acting as a spy, or reconnoitering. An Indian on a 
pony could be easily tracked, but an Indian on foot could slip around and 
secrete himself, and be quite safe. There were always down in the valley 
along the road some halfbreed Indian traders who also acted as spies, and 
would communicate all necessary information to the Indians and sell them 
what was called "Pilgrim whisky"; hence the Indians, as we were informed, 
reconnoitered on foot, and it was one of these I had probably seen.

   The pilgrim whisky of that day was a bad compound. Owing to the 
distance which it had to be carried, alcohol was substituted for whisky, 
and when a person out in that country got a barrel of alcohol, he would 
take a quart of it and mix it with a quart of water, and stir in molasses 
and a touch of red pepper, and it made a compound that would bring out all 
the bad qualities of the consumer. This was the kind of whisky that the 
Indians would get from traders. They dealt surreptitiously, because it was 
a penitentiary offense to sell whisky to the Indians. The ranchmen fought 
the contraband fiercely, and there were stories of herders and ranchmen 
taking some half-breed and lynching him when they had found that he had 
sold that kind of stuff to the Indians.

   By the first of December we had got pretty well acquainted with our 
surroundings. Captain O'Brien with four men went out to reconnoiter the 
canyon fully, and he took the west bank. He went nearly to the end of the 
canyon, and explored it fully, and then going west came down back through 
another large cedar-filled canyon. I afterwards, in about a week, also 
made the reconnaissance of the canyon from the west bank about ten miles 
of distance, and at a certain place where there was a wall of indurated 
clay I carved name, date, Company, and Regiment. It was necessary for us 
as officers of the company to know the country, and to familiarize 
ourselves with Indian matters. Ten miles west of our post was Jack 
Morrow's ranch, of which I will speak hereafter. Between it and our post 
there were several ranches that had been deserted, on account of the 
Indian scare, but which were reoccupied after our arrival. In fact, as 
soon as we camped at Cottonwood Springs, the safety of the place being 
assured, many people seemed inclined to take up land, or to accept 
employment in the neighborhood. On the first of December, on the 
suggestion of Captain O'Brien, I tabulated all the civilians fit for 
military duty within twenty-five miles between Gilmans' ranch and Jack 
Morrow's, and found that there were nearly one hundred and fifty men. They 
were frontiersmen as a rule, all well armed, and more or less engaged in 
the "pilgrim trade," some in cattle, and some in hunting and trapping. The 
largest number was probably at Gilmans' ranch. The Gilmans had two hundred 
cows, but never milked one. The ranch had a number of herders. There were 
herds along the river at various other ranches, attached to which were 
herders of various kinds; some full-blood French of the Canadian variety, 
and some adventurous spirits from the East who, in addition to their work 
at the ranches, made considerable by hunting and trapping. All of the 
ranches sold steel traps of various sizes, from muskrat up to bear. The 
population had increased principally during our occupation. There were 
down at Gilmans' ranch, besides the Gilmans themselves, several who were 
very wise in Indian lore, and with whom we often desired to talk. From 
time to time we felt obliged to know things, and to go to Gilmans' ranch 
for the purpose of having consultation. The fifteen miles down to the 
ranch was over a country as level as a floor, beaten down hard and swept 
by the wind. It took an hour and a half to go there; so we could leave at 
two o'clock and get back at seven, and have two hours' consultation. From 
them we obtained information, and drew rough maps and diagrams of the 
country both north and south. They told us where the bunches of timber 
were, both north and south, and where the water was among the valleys in 
the hills, and the routes which the Indians used.

   All of this time, however, the work at the post was going on rapidly, 
either the Captain or myself acting as boss. Our first Lieutenant looked 
more particularly after the supplies. I had two horses, one a good, 
average cavalry horse, but I managed to become the owner of a large, raw-
boned irongray horse, of which I will speak more hereafter. I got him 
before coming to Nebraska, and paid $135 for him. The horse formerly 
belonged to Colonel Baker, of the Second Iowa Infantry, who was killed in 
the battle of Pittsburg Landing. The horse was not afraid of firearms nor 
musketry. He had a mouth that was as tough as the forks of a cottonwood 
log, and I had to use a large curb bit on him with an iron bar under the 
jaw, made by our company blacksmith. Without this terrible curb, I could 
do nothing with him. He was afraid of nothing but a buffalo, and as a wild 
buffalo is more dangerous than a bear, I was always afraid that sometime 
he would act bad and get me hurt. He was also very much frightened at even 
the smell of a buffalo-robe. This large iron-gray horse would start out on 
a dead run for Gilmans' ranch, and keep it up for fifteen miles without 
halting. I never saw a horse with more endurance, or more of a desire to 
go, and he kept himself lean by his efforts and energy. I knew that when I 
was on his back no Indian pony nor band of Indians could overtake me, and 
hence I scouted the country without apprehension. The buffalo which I 
killed as last alluded to, was the last buffalo we saw around Cottonwood 
Canyon. Our fort was called "Cantonment McKean," but the War Department 
afterwards named it "Fort McPherson," after General McPherson, who was 
killed while with Sherman near Atlanta, Georgia; but the fort was 
popularly known as "Fort Cottonwood." Among our men was a fine carpenter 
who had worked at cabinetmaking, and from the boards which we whip-sawed 
out, he made lots of chairs, a company desk, tables and furniture as 
needed. It is strange how simply furniture can be made, and yet equal to 
the best in comfort and convenience. Our furniture was all made out of 
beautiful red cedar.

   Along on the side of the hill west of our post, and about five hundred 
yards from it, we put up a palisade of logs sunk in the ground, and 
forming an eight-foot square target. I practiced with our howitzers upon 
this target until I got the exact range and capacity of the two guns. They 
varied but little; we had to know how far the guns would shoot, and the 
number of seconds on which to cut our shell fuses. We had a large number 
of shrapnel shell fitted with Bohrman fuses. Our powder was separate, in 
red flannel bag cartridges, so made as to fit the rear chamber of the gun, 
which was smaller than the calibre. Attached to the shrapnel shell was a 
wooden block made accurately to fit the bore of the piece. The powder was 
first rammed down, and then the shell rammed down on the wooden block, 
which was called a "sabot." The "sabot" was merely a wad. The fuse of the 
shell was towards the muzzle of the gun. The explosion of the powder went 
around the shell, and ignited the fuse in front of it. The gun was fired 
with what were called "friction primers," which, being inserted in the 
touchhole and connected with the lanyard, were pulled off, and threw the 
fire down into the cartridge. But, before the friction primer was put in, 
a "priming-wire" was thrust down to punch a hole through the flannel bag 
of the cartridge. The process of loading was somewhat complicated for so 
simple a gun. One man brought the powder cartridge and inserted it and it 
was rammed home by another man with a wooden rammer. Then another brought 
the shell with sabot attachment, and that was immediately rammed down, 
sabot first. Another man used the priming-wire, and inserted the friction 
primer. The chief of the piece then sighted the gun, and gave the signal 
to the man who held the lanyard. The shrapnel was made as an iron shell 
about five-eighths of an inch thick, with an orifice of about an inch and 
a half, on which die thread of a screw was cut. Then the shell was filled 
with round leaden balls, and in the interstices melted sulphur was poured. 
Then a hole was bored down an inch and a half in diameter through the 
bullets behind the open part, and this was filled with powder, leaving the 
sulphur and lead arranged around the powder; then the fuse was screwed in. 
The utmost angle of safety in firing the howitzer was fifteen degrees. 
Anything more than that was liable to spring or break the axle on the 
recoil. At an angle of fifteen degrees, unless the trail was fixed 
properly, the piece was liable to turn a summerset. After a great deal of 
experiment of the two pieces, I prepared a little schedule of distances 
and seconds, which I furnished to my sergeants. All of the sergeants were 
instructed in sighting the piece and in cutting the fuse. The fuse was a 
tin disc, and was cut with a three-cornered little hand-chisel. My 
experiments differed somewhat in result from the artillery manual, but was 
accurate in regard to the two particular pieces, and was as follows:

Yards of Range    Elevation        Fuse 
     450        2-1/2 degrees    2 inches
     500            3 degrees    2-1/4 inches
     700            4 degrees    2-3/4 inches
     800        4-1/2 degrees    3 inches

   Upon a smooth floor of the valley we could shoot one of these 
shrapnels, and after the first graze at fifteen degrees, the hall would go 
bouncing along for quite a distance. And by cutting the fuse at about the 
end we could get the utmost range out of the piece. An elevation of 8 
degrees was considered safe, but more than that was liable to strain the 
piece, because the charge was so heavy and the gun so light.

   After we had got well established in our quarters, a new company was 
sent to our post to assist us, there having arisen rumors that we might be 
attacked. Company "G" of our regiment arrived, and immediately proceeded 
to do as we did in the building of company quarters, and with them came 
Ben Gallagher as Post Sutler. He hired men to build him a sutler-house, 
and he also hired some men to get out some cedar telegraph poles to repair 
the telegraph lines. Company "G" worked rapidly, and we sheltered them and 
their horses during the worst days, and they had a comparatively easy time 
of it. They soon got into good quarters, and in good condition.

   During the time, an empty train coming down from Denver by order of the 
quartermaster's department brought us ten thousand pounds of pine lumber. 
This was hauled at the rate of one dollar per hundred pounds per hundred 
miles, and the amount in feet of the pine lumber was four thousand. It 
cost the Government to haul down this four thousand feet of lumber, 
$292.96. That is, over $70 per thousand.

The arrival of Company "G" made our place a two-company post, and George 
M. O'Brien, Major of the regiment, was appointed Post Commander. I was 
made Post Adjutant, and we built a post headquarters. Preliminarily we 
were obliged to take all of the wing of the MacDonald ranch, and one half-
room in the building of "Hook-sah," whose real name was Isador P. Boyer. 
In order to hurry up the work for post headquarters, Washington Hinman, 
William A. Anderson and John W. Lewis were employed as professional 
carpenters. We also had to have a corral for beef cattle, and this we 
constructed.

   Ranchmen on the line of the road who had at certain grassy spots along 
the river cut considerable hay, offered us this coarse hay, cut while it 
was green, for $15 a ton, and a lot of it which was cut dry and withered, 
after we came, they offered for $10 a ton. For a short while, during the 
illness of our First Lieutenant, I was made Post Quartermaster and 
Commissary, and I found that we had at that time seven army wagons 
complete, with six mules each. That we had on hand unused 413 hewed cedar 
logs, 347 round logs, and 322 large cedar poles, piled up awaiting further 
construction of buildings. Our veterinary department had been reinforced 
by a lot of horse medicine, tar oil, spirits of niter, etc. We had anvils, 
vises, sledges, rasps, monkey wrenches, a portable forge, 10 augers, 21 
chisels, 10 planes, 6 broadaxes, together with a line of blacksmith tools 
and carpenter tools, 56 felling axes, 18 shovels, scales and weights, 
complete grindstone, 500 pounds of nails, 100 pounds of horseshoe nails, 
500 pounds of horseshoes, 130 pounds of rope, 20 sides of leather, 80 ax-
handles, parts of wagons to make repairs, several hundred pounds of 
various kinds of iron for making horseshoes and for making spikes and 
nails, a lot of charcoal, a large number of trace-chains, a dozen 
tarpaulins, and shortly after that we received a consignment of white lead 
linseed oil, and putty. The current prices at the ranches during the 
winter of sales to the pilgrims as they went by for horse feed was two and 
one-half cents a pound for hay, and four cents a pound for shelled corn. 
From time to time we sent trains down to Fort Kearney, and on their return 
they bought feed, and vouchers were given. Of the ranchmen along the line 
whose places we usually stopped at, the following is a complete list: 
Thomas French, Thomas Mullally, Daniel Freeman, B. S. Blondeau, Daniel L. 
Smith, Peniston and Miller, J. K. Gilman & Co. (Jud Gilman). The prices of 
articles of clothing furnished to soldiers as sold by the quartermaster 
for cash, to the officers, were as follows: Coat, $7.00; cavalry trousers, 
$3.55; flannel drawers, $0.90; peg boots, $2.92; blankets, $3.25. The 
blankets were shoddy blankets, and the boots were very rough and coarse. 
One day two citizens came in and wanted to buy some of the empty 
cornsacks, and the post commander ordered the sale. They were bought by S. 
F. Burtch and I. C. Beatty, who paid the price of twenty cents apiece for 
them, $57. This money was then, by order of the post commander, expended 
for shelled corn from a passing train at the rate of $2.07-1/2 a bushel. 
On the first of January, 1864, we had on hand at the Post Commissary about 
twenty thousand pounds of flour, five thousand pounds of bacon, ten beef 
cattle, twenty-seven hundred pounds of beans, sixteen hundred pounds of 
coffee, four thousand pounds of sugar, together with a good supply of the 
other articles belonging to the Government ration. The sales to officers 
permitted by the regulation prices fixed by the Government were as 
follows: Ham in barrels, nine and one-half cents a pound; hard-bread, four 
cents; white sugar, sixteen and one-half cents per pound; sperm candles, 
thirty-seven and one-half cents; molasses, sixty-one cents per gallon; 
dried apples, eight cents a pound; hominy and grits, two and one-half 
cents a pound; soap, seven cents. Other stuff could be bought from other 
sources cheaper than the Government price. The regular Government ration 
of that period was as follows:

12 oz. pork or bacon, or in lieu thereof 20 oz. fresh or salt beef.
22 oz. soft bread or flour, or 20 oz. corn-meal, or 16 oz. "hard-tack."
15 lbs. beans or peas (dried) .............................to 100 rations.
10 lbs. rice or hominy ...................................."   "   "
10 lbs. green or 8 lbs. roasted coffee ...................."   "   "
In lieu of coffee, 24 oz. of tea .........................."   "   "
15 lbs. of sugar .........................................."   "   "
1 gallon of vinegar ......................................."   "   "
20 oz. star candles ......................................."   "   "
4 lbs. soap ..............................................."   "   "
60 oz. of salt ............................................"   "   "
4 oz, pepper .............................................."   "   "
1 quart of molasses ......................................."   "   "
30 pounds of potatoes (when practicable) .................."   "   "

   I wish to state here, as this is a retrospective chapter, that our work 
at Cottonwood Springs was fully appreciated by our superiors. That is 
about all the glory that a person gets out of the subordinate phases of 
military life. We were inspected on November 11th, 1863, by an officer 
sent out especially to see what we were doing. He reported as follows:

   "Nov. 11, 1863. Inspected Cos. 'F' and 'G,' Seventh Iowa Cavalry, at 
Cottonwood Springs; Major O'Brien Commanding.

   "Military bearing and appearance soldierly. Discipline and system of 
military instruction good. Officers efficient and well instructed. Orders 
duly received and promptly published and enforced. Police of quarters and 
camp good."

   Thereupon the Commanding General of the Department sent the report to 
the General Commanding our district at Omaha as follows:

"HEADQUARTERS, DEPARTMENT OF THE MISSOURI
ST. LOUIS, MO., December 1, 1863.

   "Respectfully referred to Brig.-General Thomas McKean, Com-
    manding the District of Nebraska, for his information.
   "The Major-General Commanding the Department of Missouri is highly 
pleased at the assurances contained in the report relative to the 
efficiency of Major O'Brien's command at Cottonwood Springs, as shown by 
the care taken of the command, the soldierly bearing and appearance of the 
officers and men, their discipline and instruction, for all of which the 
Major-General Commanding highly commends and sincerely thanks every 
officer and soldier of the command.
 
By order of
JOHN M. SCHOFIELD, Major-General Commanding
I. H. MELCHER, Lt. Col., Insptr. Genl."  

   The originals are among the private papers of the estate of Major 
(afterwards Brigadier- General) George M. O'Brien. 

    The General Schofield was afterwards Lieutenant-General and at the 
head of the armies of the United States.

   Company "F" had some wild-western defects, but for the purpose for 
which they were organized and brought together they had no superiors. 
Before we get through we will say the same of the First Nebraska Veteran 
Volunteer Cavalry, with whom we were afterwards associated.



CHAPTER VIII.
THE STAGE SERVICE.--THE CONCORD COACH.--THE POST COMMANDER.--JACK MORROW'S 
DINNER.--HEWEY MORGAN.--BURKE AND THE CORDWOOD.--THE MORMONS.--THE WRECKED 
MULE TRAIN.--GARDNER AND THE CHEYENNE.--GILMAN'S ADVICE.--THE LETTER IN 
THE BLOUSE.--THE CLOSING LETTER.--CORRESPONDENCE OF THE SOLDIERS.

   DURING all this time the stage service was kept up. The stages did not 
seem to have any regular service, except this, that as fast as they got a 
coach-load they went through. People in the coaches were all armed. 
Sometimes two or three coaches went through at a time. The service was not 
irregular as being neglected, but was irregular because it was 
overcrowded, and the condition of the country unsafe. The dangerous part 
of the line was considered at that time to be between Fort Kearney and our 
fort, "Fort Cottonwood," as it was generally called. The stage stations 
were about ten miles apart, sometimes a little more and sometimes a little 
less, according to the location of the ranches. Stores of shelled corn, 
for the use of the stage horses, were kept at principal stations along the 
line of the route. Intermediate stations between these principal stations 
were called "swing stations," where the horses were changed. For instance, 
the horses of a stage going up were taken off at a swing station, and fed; 
they might be there an hour or six hours; they might be put upon another 
stage in the same direction, or upon a stage returning. It was the policy 
of the stage company to make the business as profitable as possible, so it 
did not run its coaches until each coach had a good load, and they were 
most generally crowded with persons both on the inside and on top. 
Sometimes a stage would be almost loaded with women. From time to time 
stage company wagons went by loaded with shelled corn for distribution as 
needed at the swing stations. All of the coaches carried Government mail 
in greater or less quantities. Occasionally when the mail accumulated, a 
covered wagon loaded with mail went along with the coaches. These coaches 
were billed to go a hundred miles a day going west; sometimes they went 
faster. Coming east the down-grade of a few feet per mile enabled them to 
make better time. They went night and day, and a jollier lot of people 
could scarcely be found anywhere than the parties in these coaches.

   The coaches were all built alike, upon a standard pattern called the 
"Concord Coach," with heavy leather springs, and they drove from four to 
six horses according to their load. The drivers sat up in the box, proud 
as brigadier-generals, and they were as tough, hardy and brave a lot of 
people as could be found anywhere. As a rule they were courteous to the 
passengers, and careful of their horses. They made runs of about a hundred 
miles and back. I got acquainted with many of them, and a more fearless 
and companionable lot of men I never met. There seemed to be an idea among 
them that while on the box they should not drink liquor, but when they got 
off they had stories to tell, and generally indulged freely. They gathered 
up mail from the ranches, and trains, and travelers along the road, and 
saw that it reached its destination. They had but very few perquisites, 
but among others was the getting furs, principally beaver-skins, and 
selling them to passengers. Most of them had beaver-skin overcoats with 
large turned-up collars. We soon understood the benefits of these collars, 
and the officers of our post put large beaver collars on their overcoats, 
and the men of the company fitted themselves out with tanned wolfskin 
collars, which were equally as good. Wolves were so numerous that there 
was quite an industry in shooting or poisoning them, and tanning their 
skins for the pilgrim trade.

   The commanding officer of our post was, as stated, Major George M. 
O'Brien, of the Seventh Iowa Cavalry. For a while I acted as Adjutant, 
Quartermaster, Commissary, and Ordnance officer combined. Major O'Brien 
was a fine-looking, high-strung Irishman, educated in the University of 
Dublin. He was the oldest brother of Captain O'Brien of my company. Major 
O'Brien took an active interest in the establishment of the post, and 
getting it ready for the outbreak which was to come in the summer. A squad 
from one or the other of our companies was sent down with teams nearly 
every week to Fort Kearney for supplies. The teams would go down one week, 
and come back the next. The distance was called one hundred miles.

   On December 23rd the officers of our posts were invited up to Jack 
Morrow's ranch to dinner. Myself and Captain O'Brien went up, leaving the 
company in charge of our First Lieutenant. A couple of the officers of the 
other company, the First Sergeant and the Post Sutler (Ben Gallagher), 
were in the party. Jack Morrow's ranch was out on the prairie, nearly 
south of the junction of the two Platte rivers. North Platte had much more 
water in it than the South Platte. Between our post and Jack Morrow's the 
high hills of the tableland ran far north in a bold promontory, broken at 
the point into a sort of peak, which could be seen a long distance both up 
and down the river, towards which it projected. We had to go past this to 
get to Morrow's ranch. This point was called the "Sioux Lookout." Going 
up, we detected with a field-glass an Indian's head peering over the top 
of the ridge at us, but he afterwards scudded away and disappeared. We 
were told at Morrow's that the Indians were keeping constant lookout from 
that point, although the weather was exceedingly cold. There was a canyon 
came in near there called "Moran Canyon," also filled with large cedars. 
Jack Morrow was said to have cut out five thousand cedar logs from the 
canyon for his own use, and for sale to other persons; and to have got out 
two thousand fine cedar telegraph poles. It was also said that he would 
not allow anybody else to cut any timber in that canyon. Morrow had as 
large an outfit, nearly, as the Gilmans. He claimed to have cattle and 
goods and improvements worth $100,000, but he overstated it. He was a 
tall, raw-boned, dangerous-looking man, wearing a mustache, and a goatee 
on his under lip. He was said to be a killer, to have shot a man or two, 
and to have passed his life on the plains. He was said to have daily 
altercations with pilgrims, and to have gone on drunks that were so 
stupendous in their waste of money and strange eccentricities that he was 
known from Denver to Fort Kearney and very largely in Omaha. He was said 
to have had an Indian wife, although I never knew whether that was true or 
not. He had a very large stock of goods, and a row of "pilgrim quarters." 
His ranch-house was built of cedar logs, and was two and a half stories 
high and sixty feet long. The third story was divided into rooms, and the 
cross-logs were not sawed out to admit doors, so that in going from one 
room to another it was necessary to crawl over six feet of cedar-log wall 
to get into these rooms. Yet he had people sleeping in those rooms a great 
deal of the time. He stored away great quantities of furs, robes, dried 
buffalo-meat and beef, and other stuffs, for shipment, in a sort of annual 
caravan, which he made down to Omaha. He had a very capable and 
accomplished First Lieutenant who acted as foreman, salesman, and cashier. 
His name was Hewey Morgan. When Morrow went on a spree Hewey Morgan's 
authority began, and he must have exercised it very capably, because 
Morrow trusted him implicitly.

   About five o'clock in the afternoon -- it was after sundown, when we 
arrived there -- Morrow was either two-thirds full or pretended to be. My 
opinion of it was that it was merely pretense. In a little while he 
brought out a basket of champagne, and after we had paid our attention to 
it our dinner began. It was broiled antelope heart, baked buffalo hump, 
fried beaver tails; a regular pioneer banquet, and Hewey Morgan poured out 
the champagne in tin cups all around. There were two or three residents at 
the table, neighboring ranchmen from down near the post. Among others a 
young man named Sam Fitchie, who could recite poetry, and was a regular 
declaimer, and impersonator, and withal a fine-looking and well-educated 
young gentleman. He was out there trying to work into the stock business, 
and had not been there very long. Many years afterwards I met him as a 
prominent minister in Ohio. His Indian name was Wa-pah-see-cha (bad 
matches).

   When the banquet was over, Morrow got out his paraphernalia, and 
offered to deal faro bark. We agreed to battle away at his bank for thirty 
minutes while the horses were being saddled and brought around, which we 
did without any material loss to anybody. Captain O'Brien whispered to me 
that he thought the whole business looked as if Jack Morrow was after a 
Government contract with our post. I sort of received the same impression. 
Just before the leave-taking began, Hewey Morgan wanted to ask me a 
question privately, and I went out with him. And the question was, whether 
he couldn't get a contract to furnish the Government with one hundred 
thousand pounds of shelled corn at five cents a pound, and if I would not 
use my efforts with the post commander. I told him that I certainly would 
not; that the corn could be put down much cheaper than that and that I 
couldn't recommend it. He took it good-naturedly, and on the way back to 
the post, when we got to comparing notes on the point, Hewey Morgan or 
Jack Morrow had each spoken to every member of the party. This whole 
proceeding was so raw that none of us ever made any visit again to Jack 
Morrow. Captain O'Brien was an honest man, and was very indignant.

   A few days after that a little short, stubby Irishman named Burke came 
into camp, and said that he and the people with him wanted a job of work. 
I sent him to the post commander, Major O'Brien, and Major O'Brien sent 
for me. This man Burke had left Denver with some empty wagons, and had 
agreed to haul about fifty men through to Omaha at a rapidity not less 
than twenty-five miles a day, and was to furnish transportation for men, 
trunks and baggage, and feed them en route; he made a through rate. It was 
a train pulled by horses and mules. He said that he had to halt his train; 
that his animals needed shoeing; that their feet were badly worn; and 
while he was there he wanted to get something for the men to do. Major 
O'Brien suggested that he put in a bid for cedar cordwood; that he should 
go up in the canyon, take the tops, limbs and refuse of our cutting, make 
it up, and cord and stack it near the post. He went up, and came back and 
said he would do it for $4 a cord. Major O'Brien sent for me, and asked me 
what I thought about it; we concluded to offer a voucher for $3 a cord 
piled up near the barracks, at a point which I should designate. Burke and 
his men debated the thing the whole day, and finally came back, took the 
contract and piled up the four hundred cords of wood. Burke said 
afterwards that there was about $20 profit in the contract; that he "would 
liked to have made ten cents a cord on it," but hadn't done it -- had made 
only five.

   During the months of January and February at least twenty coaches of 
Mormon officers and missionaries went past our post, going and coming. 
They traveled all by themselves; asked no protection nor odds of anybody. 
They always said that they did not fear the Indians, and that the Indians 
never harmed a Mormon. So, they passed by us, went up the North Platte and 
through the South Pass without an escort of any kind. Along in January a 
large mule train came up, loaded with shell corn and flour from Denver. As 
they neared our post a most terrific blizzard set in. It was, indeed, a 
fearful one. It caught this train three or four miles east of our post, 
down by the river. The train parted, its wagons got scattered, some of its 
horses and mules were literally blown away. They got started before the 
wind, and they could not be overtaken nor caught. The result was that the 
train was wrecked. They came to the post and asked us to take their corn 
and flour. Having no authority to buy, I told them that I would take it, 
receipt for it, and store it, and that they could return to the river, and 
if I received word from the Quartermaster-General there, I would take the 
stuff up on my accounts. This was satisfactory. The train immediately 
fastened the empty wagons together with what animals they saved and had 
recaptured, and pulled back to Leavenworth, from which place I got an 
order to take the property up on my returns, it having been bought by the 
Government.

   Along about the latter part of February the weather became very severe. 
Storms came down from the northwest, one chasing after the other in close 
succession, that kept us very closely hived up in the barracks. 
Considerable snow fell upon the level ground, which blew over into the 
canyon, and in places there it was quite deep, so that our cordwood was a 
very great benefit to us. We took the horses out whenever we could, and 
rode them around and exercised them, but they were getting soft and 
unfitted for hard campaigning. We had always taken good care of our 
horses; in fact, when we left Omaha we adopted a frontier custom of 
placing a gunny-sack under the horse-blanket. I never saw that practiced 
anywhere else, except on the plains: Every soldier smoothed out a gunny-
sack when he saddled his horse; it prevented the woolen horse-blanket from 
scalding the horse's back. The wind and alkali and sand had made it 
necessary to take care of the backs of our horses, and we arrived at 
Cottonwood Springs with our horses in good condition, but the keeping of 
them penned up was reducing their effective capacity very much. We did not 
dare to turn them out loose, to play, for fear some unexpected Indian 
might turn up and stampede them.

   When the bad weather set in, it was our principal duty and object to 
keep our horses up, and we rode them around as best we could, occasionally 
trying to go through the forms of a drill. Owing to the fact that we were 
among the Indians, we adopted the bugle-drill almost entirely, and all 
movements were executed not by word of mouth, but from the note of the 
bugle. And in order to keep the men and subordinate officers efficient in 
that we practiced considerably at nights in the barracks, to keep the 
men's ears alert to distinguish the calls. Most of the men were inclined 
to forget.

   While this rough and inclement weather was in progress a man named 
Gardner came to our post, and went to headquarters. He represented that he 
was the Government agent among the Cheyennes, at a considerable distance 
southwest of us. Gilman had said that there were twenty thousand Indian 
warriors within three days' ride (one hundred fifty miles) north of us, 
and an equal number south of us, but nobody knew exactly where they were. 
This man Gardner was not particularly specific, nor do I remember where he 
said the headquarters of the tribe were which he represented. The first 
thing that I heard of the matter was the end of a heated conversation with 
Major O'Brien, in which he demanded of Major O'Brien that the Major send 
out a company of cavalry with a brass howitzer, and arrest the head chief 
of the Cheyenne band; this the Major refused to do, but said he would 
consider. Gardner went out in a very lofty way, went across to Mr. 
Boyer's, where liquor was to be had, and I didn't see him until the next 
day. Major O'Brien said that this man Gardner had reported that he had 
been to the tribe to see about certain annuities and the carrying out of 
certain treaty obligations, and that the head chief had insulted him and 
slapped his face and told him that he was a coward and that the Government 
of the United States couldn't do anything with the Cheyenne tribes, and 
that they didn't care whether there was peace or war, and so on, and so 
on. The Major was of the opinion that as Gardner was a Government officer 
and had a right to call upon troops, something ought to be done, because, 
if the matter were left to go, there was no telling where the end might be 
in our dealings with those Indians. And he told me to think it over, and 
get ready and plan what I would do, because if that trouble arose he would 
want to send me out on the expedition. As I came out of headquarters to go 
and tell Captain O'Brien about it, I met J. K. Gilman near our company 
line, who was going to make a call upon Captain O'Brien, and I asked him 
to come in so that we could talk it over. Gilman's idea came quickly to 
the front. He said: "That man Gardner is a worthless, drunken fellow, who 
has been put in through political influence, and don't know how to handle 
himself, the Cheyennes, or anybody else. If you go out and demand the 
surrender of the Chief or any of the head-men they will refuse to do it, 
and all you will have to do is turn around and come back. If you go to 
showing fight your posse will last about thirty minutes." He said: "My 
advice for you is to go out there and take this man Gardner with you, and 
a good interpreter, and not to go nearer than five miles of their village. 
Send in for a delegation of their head-men and have a little preliminary 
council, and listen to the complaint those Indians have got to make, and 
then come back." The next day at the post Gardner was roariously drunk, 
and not much business was done. In two or three days, however, he had got 
Major O'Brien up to the idea of sending me out, and Major O'Brien told me 
to get ready and start within seven days. Thereupon I outlined the policy 
which Mr. Gilman had suggested, and Major O'Brien considered it wise, and 
sensible; so he sent for Gardner and outlined it. Gardner refused to go 
with me; said that it wasn't his business; that it was his business to 
call for Government troops to do what he ordered them to do, and he 
accused Major O'Brien of trying to shirk his responsibility. This made the 
Major very indignant, and he rose up in his wrath, and being a great big, 
strong man himself, he ordered Gardner out of headquarters, and told him 
not to come back until he was sober. Gardner went out, got onto a stage 
and went down to Fort Kearney. In a little while instructions both by wire 
and letter came, saying under no circumstances to send out a force against 
the Cheyennes; that the General commanding the District had the matter 
under consideration, and would give the necessary order when the time 
arrived, and for the post commander to take no orders from any civilian 
whomsoever. The rumor of our sending out a hundred men to the Cheyenne 
village with a brass howitzer went around with great rapidity, and it was 
not long before different ranchmen came in and said that it would simply 
precipitate the Cheyenne war, which would come anyhow as soon as the 
Indian ponies could live on the grass; that it was folly to send less than 
one thousand armed men, and that no cavalry company could get within ten 
miles of the Indian village before it would be annihilated; that it would 
bring a raid on the Platte valley, for which nobody was quite ready. Major 
O'Brien took the consensus of opinion and forwarded it with his own 
recommendations down to headquarters, and I felt somewhat relieved when I 
knew definitely that I was not to go out on such a forlorn expedition.

   Turning from the subject of Indians to another far more interesting, I 
will relate an occurrence that happened early in March; but I must go back 
into the past. I had been with the first army of General Curtis that 
marched down through Arkansas from Pea Ridge to Helena in 1862. We arrived 
at Helena, on the Mississippi River, shortly after the river was opened up 
by the gunboats at Memphis, the bombardment of which we heard over in 
Arkansas. As the Rebel gunboats were chased down the river the transports 
came from the North, and, as we were quite ragged, clothing was issued to 
us, and I drew a Government blouse. In the pocket of this blouse, August, 
1862, at Helena, Arkansas, I found a letter substantially in these words: 
"I would like to know where this blouse is going to. If the brave soldier 
who gets it will let me know I will be very much obliged to him." It was 
signed Louisa J. B------. The letter was from a town that was one of the 
suburbs of New York City, in New Jersey. I immediately answered it, 
although the blouse had been some time coming, and a correspondence grew 
up which had run considerably more than a year. The correspondence 
consisted of my detailing matters concerning the campaigns that I was in, 
and the military duties which I was performing. The answers from New 
Jersey consisted in telling briefly what the newspapers said about the 
progress of the war, and the actions of the President. About the first of 
March, 1864, I received a very nice letter, in which the writer said that 
she was the mother of the young lady who had written me. The letter was a 
very fine and delicately written letter, so sensible that it was 
impressive. She said:

   "I think you may be able to comprehend how devoted an interest a mother 
must take in her daughter's welfare, and her correspondence. My husband 
had large contracts for the army, and while my daughter was home from 
school visiting her father, who was making a large shipment of clothing, 
she wrote the note that you found in the blouse. It was the romantic idea 
of a school-girl. Your letters have been so interesting that it is not 
unreasonable for you to imagine that she has become interested in 
receiving them. The correspondence has gone on for some time. She has read 
me your letters, and they have been in every respect interesting and 
proper; but I fear that this matter may go too far. I wish, if you will 
permit the request, that you write no more to her, at least for the 
present. If at some future time you should be able to satisfactorily 
establish your character and standing, and shall visit the East, we shall 
be pleased to receive you. But you must know that her parents feel 
considerable interest in the matter, as you are such a total stranger, and 
we have no knowledge of your family or your social standing."

   It was one of the nicest letters ever written; it produced a very great 
impression on me. I had a sister of my own whom I thought a great deal of, 
and I couldn't help thinking that I would feel the same way if she were 
writing to someone under the same circumstances. After cogitating over the 
letter, I returned it to her, telling her that all correspondence so far 
had been destroyed, which was the fact; that I had only the last letter, 
which I returned herewith; that I appreciated her feelings exactly, 
because I had relatives of my own; and that I would assure her that the 
correspondence was ended. About a month or more after that I received all 
my letters back from the young lady, and they were fragrant with roses, 
and had pencil-marks, underscored sentences, and query-marks on the edges, 
and all that sort of thing. After reading them consecutively through from 
one end to the other, I placed them gently upon the cedar coals while the 
aroma floated out upon the thirsty air. And that was the last of the 
episode, for I have never heard of any of the persons since; and as nearly 
fifty years have now elapsed I probably never will. I never interested 
myself further in the matter. There was another girl.

   I tell this story to illustrate what happened constantly in the army. 
There were probably in my own company forty cases of correspondence not 
much unlike the one which I have depicted. Of course I supposed I was 
writing to the girl who made the blouse, for the girls who made the 
blouses and coats and clothing put such notes in, so that there was hardly 
any soldier who did not draw some kind of address like this during the 
Civil War, and many of them got more than one. In fact, it was not 
unusual, when there appeared in the newspapers notice of some movement of 
troops, naming some certain officer, that he would get half a dozen 
letters from persons he never heard of before, and perhaps never heard of 
again. And this was not wholly on our side. We had often captured the mail 
of Confederate regiments, and there was hardly any soldier in our army who 
did not carry around at some time some letter which some Southern girl had 
written to some Southern soldier. We had thousands of them, and I suppose 
the Confederates had similar experience.

   The girls both North and South kept the soldiers feeling that their 
services were appreciated, and the boys in the ranks were bound that the 
girls should not be disappointed; and so, the war was long and severe. And 
the girls helped fight it. And neither side wanted to give up.