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Old Paint knew what he was talking about. My guess would be that since there was no single leader to this giant raid each component of it was following their own raid chief. Remove him and that band believes his "medicine" has failed and the fight is over.

At least that is what I read into what we know about the formantion of Comanche raiding parties.

Birdie... British infantry were trained to be able to load and fire 3 shots per minute from their muskets in the Napoleonic era, and that was the infantry standard of the day up until the implementation of breechloaders. I expect that irregulars such as this Texan force would not have been quite so efficient, especially if they were using rifled arms.

If you look at battlefield casualties records as far back as they've been kept, wounded numbers were/are generally 2-3 times the number of KIA. As such, I would expect total Comanche casualties would have been 80-120 estimated. Aside from KIA, in the absence of modern surgical and medicinal treatment, wounded who would die from their wounds could run as high as 50% of the wounded, bringing total dead from the battle into the 80-100 range.

The psychological effect of having wounded men dying back in the camps, where the women and children could see the effects of the Texans' rifle balls, would have been devastating to the collective consciousness of the bands/tribes involved.

True, but one has to figure in in this case the number of presumed dead who weren't, as in clearly hit but retreated out of sight, and cases where two guys shot at the same Comanche at about the same time.

Robert Hall, who was there for the aftermath sums up the way the casualties were tallied...

From the best information I could gather I think the boys killed about forty of the Comanches.

IOW, nobody was in charge of keeping count at the time, the total seemingly tallied by consensus. Again I'm going to refer to aerial combat in WWII, similar in that combat was mobile against an elusive foe, and kills were hard to confirm. And once again the example of Custer at the Washita. There's certainly a whole host of other examples, the gist being that absent an actual after-action body count, the overwhelming tendency is to over-estimate hits.

Maybe Smithwick summed it up best, referring to a Comanche he had shot in 1836, and hit hard enough to put the guy down right there...

http://www.lsjunction.com/olbooks/smithwic/otd8.htm

That was the only Indian I ever knew that I shot down, and, after a long experience with them and their success at getting away wounded, I am not at all sure that that fellow would not have survived my shot, so I can't say positively that I ever did kill a man, not even an Indian.

With regards to rate of fire, common practice for the Eastern Tribes on the Plains was for at least for part of the party to always reserve fire such that some people were always loaded at any moment in time. This being the origin of the classic Plains Indian ploy observed on a couple of occasions, and paralleled in the opening combat scene in "Dances With Wolves"; a single daring warrior riding across the front of their foes in order to get them to all empty their rifles.

IIRC the Cheyenne Chief Roman Nose died attempting that exact same stunt in tbe 1870's. Relative to Plum Creek, seems a safe bet the "reserve fire so someone's always loaded" thing was common practice for all folks in that muzzleloading era, including Texans.

Indeed, the power of a rifle on the Plains was so well respected that a gesture of friendship in that era upon the approach of unfamiliar folks was to fire one's gun into the air beforehand, so demonstrating that it was empty. Sorta like tbhe universal open-handed wave, stretched out over a few hundred yards.


Among the rifles of that era, I believe "swamped" barrels were common, the bore actually wider near the muzzle to facilitate loading. How much they could keep up a SUSTAINED rate of fire with those rifles of course depends on the fit of the load (prob'ly looser back then) and the speed that fouling accumulated. One might assume too they'd be pretty quick with a cleaning jag and damp patch when fouling became a problem.

With regards to rate of fire, this first standoff was a long action (estimates run from 20-40 minutes), and must have seemed an eternity to thouse who were in it. I would guess we can be reasonably sure that the total number of shots fired were in the thousands, and even if we go with high estimates of hits, anywhere from one in ten to one in twenty or more shots actually drew blood (actually a pretty good ratio for firefights in the modern era).

One might expect a flurry of opening fire at first, settling down to more carefully aimed fire later on. These guys were likely skilled riflemen for the most part who had been shooting their whole lives, tbhe sort who would carefully observe the outcome of each shot rather than shooting blindly for twenty minutes. At least thats my guess, after all this was a holding action on the part of the Comanches, they didn't assault the lines direct.

Individual assaults on the lines are recorded, and likely drew flurries of shots, like the bold Comanche in the tall hat (apparently there was more than one of these).

But, as you state, the flow of wounded and dead Comanches away from the line would prob'ly kill the party atmosphere pretty quick, even among folks who expected to eventually die in battle anyway.

Birdwatcher

I find no fault in your reasoning at all Birdy. We do read often of people in that day and age who survived unimaginable wounds. Sul Ross for just one example.

"But, as you state, the flow of wounded and dead Comanches away from the line would prob'ly kill the party atmosphere pretty quick, even among folks who expected to eventually die in battle anyway."

As I read on the Comanchie I believe the warrior gloried in brave death in battle. They sure as hell didn't want to get old. At least from what I read about them. Talking about the free ranging Comanchie of course not the simi tame ones on the rez.

Remove him and that band believes his "medicine" has failed and the fight is over.

Well, Feherenbach ("Comanches: The Destruction of a People") sure puts heavy store in the failed medicine argument. We know that Comanches sought power of a supernatural sort to help them out and better assure success. A process still commonly followed among Mexican narcotrafficantes for one up to the present, "Santa (Santo??) Muerte" immediately coming to mind.

And then there's the "bulletproof" thing disproved at Adobe Walls. But them same Indians at Adobe Walls didn't just turn around and go home immediately but rather lingered until it became obvious that getting them handful of buffalo hunters would cost much more than it was worth, these very same Indians then fanning out to wreak other havoc elsewhere.

Perhaps "medicine" was viewed in the same context that we might view a bulletproof vest; reassuring to have and disappointing to tragic when it failed, but not necessarily a game-breaker.

Another factor to consider in those "failed medicine" situations is that very often, the members of a war party had been lifelong friends or at least acquaintances, having been classmates since Comanche elementary school or whatever, heck, many of the older guys had been their teachers.

Lose someone like THAT and it must have been like losing a family member, right in front of you. Might be hard to call the raid in question where such personal losses happened a success no matter how many scalps and horses were collected. I suspect the reality often was grief now, revenge later. Indeed, very real personal sorrow might account for those "mournful howls" commonly reported in Comanche warfare.

A personal sense of profound loss too would account for the great lengths and risks Comanches took to retrieve the bodies of their fallen companions.

All this of course JMHO,

Birdwatcher

The Indians at Adobe Walls beat the shixt out of that Medicine Man who had shined them on about being bullet proof.

Ya know Boggy, I come into contact with modern Comanche-equivalents every day, we call them "teenage gang members". Most of those guys glorify going out in a blaze of glory too, and a few are so genuinely brave that its a real pity that they are serving Evil.

My take on it is is that a great many of the other sort of Comanches, the "hang-around-the-forts", were actually motivated by a concern for the welfare of their relatives and their people in general. Those, and the addicts needing a fix, of alchohol in those days.

Anyhoo, back to the fight. After a prolonged standoff in which at least several Comanches but hardly any Texans were hit, the Texans finally mounted up and charged. Actually some Texans had lost their horses to enemy fire so presumably at least a couple were left behind, likely a few too had lame or played-out horses.

The ensuing action was brief, only a few close combats recorded, a handful of Texans too were hit by gunfire (one might presume the Texas charge would precipitate a volley from those Indians who had guns). Robert Hall was among those hit (so was Nelson Lee, if he really existed, Moore assumes he did). From Hall's account....

It looked as if we were taking desperate chances, for I am sure that we only had 202 men, but every man was a veteran. Gen. Huston deserves great credit for the courage he displayed in this battle. He rode right with the line, and never flinched under the most galling fire.

At the first volley the Indians became demoralized, and it was easy to see that we had them beat just as we rode against them I received a bullet in the thigh. It made a terrible wound, and the blood ran until it sloshed out of my boots. I was compelled to dismount, or rather I fell off of my horse. After a moment I felt better and made an effort to rejoin the line of battle. I met an Indian, and was just in the act of shooting him when he threw up his hands and shouted "Tonkaway!"

While on the skirmish fine, an Indian dashed at Mr. Smitzer with a lance. I fired right in the Indian's face and knocked him off his horse, but I did not kill him. However, I got the fine hat he had stolen.

In hidsight it seems easy for us to guess why the Comanches broke as quickly as they did: They had already stalled the Texans for perhaps longer than they had hoped, had already sustained significant losses, and then were being charged by fully half their number of proven Texas marksmen, all armed with one or more firearms.

Obvious as that seems now, it is still hard to second guess Robert Hall who at the time was already a veteran Ranger, and who would later survive a long career as a cattleman in the notoriously dangerous Nueces Strip. IOW, this guy knew whereof he spoke. Of the Comanche retreat he states, in his memoirs years later...

It has always been a mystery to me why the Indians became so terribly demoralized in this battle. It was fought on the open prairie, and they could easily see that they greatly outnumbered us. It is rather strange that they did not make a stand.

It was one of the prettiest sights I ever saw in my life. The warriors flourished their white shields, and the young chiefs galloped about the field with the long tails streaming from their hats and hundreds of vari-colored ribbons floating in the air, exhibiting great bravado.

Some of them dashed courageously very close to us, and two or three of them lost their lives in this foolhardy display of valor. Our boys charged with a yell and did not fire until they got close to the enemy. The Indians were panic stricken, and fled at once. The Texans followed them over the prairies for fifteen or twenty miles.

Another description of the charge, from Reverend Morril (same website as above)...

Immediately they began howling like wolves, and there was a general stampede and vigorous pursuit. The weather was very dry, and the dust so thick that the parties could see each other but a short distance.

At this point, it is appropriate to step back and look at what really happened, first off the Texans had been bluffed for at least twenty minutes, probably less than half of them actually drawing blood in that time. Also the majority of the horses of the Texans were jaded from their prior exertions just to getting to Plum Creek.

During the charge no one could see but a small portion of the field, but the stalled mule train in back of the Comanche diversion was discovered pretty quick. And there were a lot of valuables loaded on those many stuck-in-the-mud mules.

Wiki has the unkindest take on the fight I've found, but one likely with a strong element of truth....

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Plum_Creek

Texas history says the Texans won this battle, although the Indians got away with most of their plunder and a great many of the stolen horses and mules. "Several hundred head of horses and mules were recaptured, as were also immense quantities of dry goods." The Texans reported killing 80 Comanches (unusually heavy casualties for the Indians) in the fight, yet recovered only 12 Indian bodies.

Apparently greed largely determined the battle's outcome. The Comanches would have never been caught had they not been herding such an enormous number of captured and heavily laden mules and horses. Similarly, the Texans discovered stolen bullion on some recaptured mules and subsequently most of them went home -- without an organized pursuit of the Comanches


Moore ("Savage Frontier") agrees that the great majority of the Texas force never left the vicinity of the initial charge/recovery of the mule train. It is probable too, given the confusion and limited visibility that many of the Texan force weren't aware at ANY sort of prolonged pursuit was happening. Possible too that those few running off in a long chase weren't aware of the existence of the recovered mule train.

Colonel Burleson's brother, John Burleson, was among the approximately twenty-five pursuers of the fleeing Indians. he shot and killed one Comanche who was riding a horse noted by several from Bastrop to be the fine race horse of the late Matthew Duty. Known as the "Duty roan", this horse had been taken when Duty was killed by Indians near Bastrop in 1836.

So, just twenty-five (for the intitial running pursuit Moore elsewhere estimated thirty, men apparently dropping out of the chase as individual circumstance dictated) Texans in pursuit of at least FIVE HUNDRED Indians.

The fact that they could do this at all denotes the extreme rapidity at which the majority of the Indians were departing the area. Huston states that about two hundred horses were recovered during the fight, if we add the "five hundred" elsewhere attributed to the Tonkawas, the fleeing Comanches must have gotten away with about 1,300 head, and even tbhe high estimates of Comanche dead could still leave about 80% of the Comanches getting away clean.

All that the pursuers, brave and intrepid as they doubtless were, succeeded in bringing to bay were a few scattered handfuls of Comanches, as well as an aggregate total of about thirty women and children.

One wonders if numbered among these captured women and children were relatives of the dead, captured while waiting/looking for their menfolk.

Another factor not commonly considered in this fight is that, as Moore records, those handfuls of men involved in the long running pursuit did not get back to the scene of the opening engagement on the Clear Fork until the evening.

IOW, the pursuit was a drawn-out affair, which must have involved long periods wherein the Texans were merely attempting to come up with the Comanches rather than being actively engaged.

What were most of the Texas forces doing all that day? Sleeping I imagine, in the shade, as well as wondering about the division of the spoils.

Birdwatcher

And yet, as Gwynne records in "Empire of the Summer Moon" that same guy later became a noted political leader and electoral opponent of Quanah Parker during the reservation period after the wars were over.

I'm sure there's a profound statement about the nature of politics and politicians in there somewhere....

BTW, there is a big, new Texas Ranger museum going in at Fredericksburg, Tx; at the site of old Fort Martin Scott. Son just finished the archarological survey at the site.

BN

The Duty Cemetery is right in Webberville (Webber's Prairie) on FM 969. Matter of fact the other big cemetery is the Manor Cemetery where the Manor bros had a store just east maybe 3 miles from Webberville. Many San Jacinto vets buried there. In the spot where Smithwick talks about his cabin overlooking Webber's Prairie.

As for the Burleson's, oldest son's Eagle Scout project was restoration of the Mary Christian Burleson's cemetery just north of Elgin. Mike all these places are literally in my backyard here in Utley. (Utley was the maiden name of,I believe, Josiah Wilbarger's wife). I live on remnants of the old Roger's land tract.

According to Wilbarger, one of the Roger's boys was ambushed on the banks of Wilbarger's creek (where they killed that big alligator last March) by "Comanches" as he cut firewood. I can show you where I think that boy is buried!

Bob N.

Wow.

Bwtn my place and the old Manor (Pronounced here as "May-ner") Hill Cemetery, is also the site of the Coleman family massacre.

I cannot remember which account (either Wilbarger, Jenkins, or Smithwick) but the oldest Coleman boy had what the chronicler called a "Jager" rifle.

All of us tradionalist know what we refer to as a Jager rifle today. But apparently the key here was it was some form of early flintlock breechloader. It is possible that it may have been a Hall, but I can't help but suspect it was one of the several types of Germanic European sporters that one occassionaly sees from this time period. While rare, they did exist and were available. And personally I think they may have been a bit more acquirable that any of the early American made rifles. But this is only my speculation. I doubt it was one of the "romantic" types that have been made popular the novelists.

I remember someone here asking about weapons on the frontier. I know of the King Rifle that was used at San Jacinto by one of the Kings. It was a plain rifle by Henry Deringer of Philidelphia. Flint. Not a real fancy rifle.

It was found in a barn on the King Ranch back in the 50's. It was owned by the old time gun collector Victor Frederichs of Austin Texas for years. Victor was in his 80's while I was in High School and knew him. That was the early 70's. He also had a Fluck Dragoon that came out of East Austin as well as a Whitneyville Walker that someone had cut the barrel off on.

The rifle was restored by Dennis McDaniels, a good friend who now resides in Hutto Tx. In a personal conversation about this rifle with Dennis, he stated that after he had wormed all the termite poop out of the stock,all he basically had left to work with was a varnished shell.

Another firearm from the Frederichs collection was a Republic of Texas marked M1816 Musket by Tryon of Philidelphia. It was found in a wall of the carriage house of the Pease Mansion in Austin, when the mansion was undergoing a renovation. It had been converted to percussion. Victor had it restored to flint. The lockplate was marked with a Texas star and the letters TEXAS btwn each star point.

More later......




BN

Did Wikipedia the "Jager". Sounds like a generic term for a German sniper rifle. Nice history on those local firearms finds.

Without a doubt Indians put a lot of stock in what their "medicine" told them and often times this meant departing quickly if things started to turn in a battle. I was reading recently about a large number of Cheyennes going up against a group of soldiers. The Cheyenne medicine told them to advance on foot against the mounted soldiers (crazy I know) and they would win a big victory. As the on foot Cheyennes approached the soldiers, the soldiers were ordered to draw sabers and get ready to charge. When the soldiers drew their sabers it completely took the Cheyennes by surprise(their medicine had said nothing about sabers, only guns they would be facing) and something that instantly rattled their faith in their medicine for the day and being successful in the upcoming battle. Within seconds the entire line of Cheyennes instantly broke and retreated as fast as they could. The charging soldiers managed to kill several, but most likely not even a fraction of what would have died had they continued their advance on foot against the soldiers.

I agree with you Birdwatcher about Indians calling off the fight when they knew that someone would have to answer to the slain warriors family and friends back at camp. In Robert Utley's book about Sitting Bull, he tells of Sitting Bull having a huge advantage in a battle against some soldiers, but calling off the fight when a relative was wounded. Sitting Bull knew as a leader that winning the battle was not worth risking any loss of life to any close friends or relatives as this could make things back at camp very tense and it was simply easier to pull out before anyone else got wounded or killed. This was probably the reason that many times unless backed into a corner, Indians simply left the field.

Hell they're going to run Obammy again ain't they?

Here is some more on the Battle of Brushy Creek. This is from the Handbook of Texas, and mentions the killing of the Coleman's and the subsequent kidnapping of some of the children.

BRUSHY CREEK, BATTLE OF. The battle of Brushy Creek, between Texas Ranger and militia units and Comanche marauders, occurred in late February 1839 a few miles from the site of present Taylor in Williamson County. It was a running affair along Battleground (present Cottonwood) and Boggy creeks and culminated north of Brushy Creek. In January 1839 Chief Cuelgas de Castro, traveling with a friendly Lipan party, reported to the settlers on the Colorado River that a Comanche band, their enemies, had entered the settlements and were encamped on the San Gabriel River north of Austin. Col. John H. Moore called out two companies of thirty men each. Joined by the Lipans, they rode to the campsite and found that the Indians had moved upstream. A snowstorm delayed pursuit. Moore tracked the intruders west to the mouth of the San Saba River and skirmished with the Indians, who, under the pretense of surrendering, made off with all his men's horses. About February 18 the Comanches returned east and swept through Travis County into Bastrop County. At Webber Prairie, twelve miles above Bastrop, they killed Mrs. Elizabeth Coleman and her son Albert. They captured her five-year-old son Tommy and seven of Dr. James W. Robertson's slaves.

About February 24 Jacob Burleson, elected a captain of a group of twenty-five mounted men, began scouting the area. Capt. James Rogers, his brother-in-law, joined him with an additional twenty-seven men. A day later, at ten o'clock in the morning, they came upon a Comanche camp near Post Oak Island, some three miles north of Brushy Creek. As most of the Indians fled on foot, Burleson ordered an attack to prevent them from reaching a nearby thicket. Historian J. W. Wilbarger wrote that the Texans flinched, Burleson was killed, and the command fell back that evening to Brushy Creek. Edward and Aaron B. Burleson and all their brothers�Jacob, John, and Jonathan�were in the Brushy Creek fight. Jacob Burleson ordered his men, twelve in number, to dismount and charge. Winslow Turner and Samuel Highsmith did so, but the others, seeing they were outnumbered, took cover. Jacob Burleson was shot in the back of the head while trying to help a young friend untie his horse. Within hours of the debacle, Gen. Edward Burleson and ranger captain Jesse Billingsley reached Brushy Creek with thirty-two men. Burleson began an immediate pursuit of the Comanches and overtook them shortly after noon. They found the Indians in a strong defensive position. Although his men were outnumbered, Burleson ordered an attack that became a running fight along Battleground Creek. After dark the Comanches departed. They left a wounded black slave who said the Indians lost at least thirty dead and wounded. Besides Jacob Burleson, the Texans lost Edward Blakey and John Walters. Rev. James Gilleland died ten days later.

In 1925 the schoolchildren of Taylor raised money for a red granite marker to mark the battle site. It was dedicated on November 5, with Walter P. Webb as featured speaker. The marker is on private property 1.4 miles south of Taylor on the west side of Highway 95.

BIBLIOGRAPHY: John Holland Jenkins, Recollections of Early Texas, ed. John H. Jenkins III (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1958; rpt. 1973). Kenneth Kesselus, History of Bastrop County, Texas, Before Statehood (Austin: Jenkins, 1986). David Nevin, The Old West: The Texans (New York: Time-Life Books, 1975). Noah Smithwick, The Evolution of a State, or Recollections of Old Texas Days (Austin: Gammel, 1900; rpt., Austin: University of Texas Press, 1983). J. W. Wilbarger, Indian Depredations in Texas (Austin: Hutchings, 1889; rpt., Austin: State House, 1985).

Karen R. Thompson What
See related articles by:
Peoples Indians (American) General Military Campaigns, Battles, Raids, and Massacres

Mike Cox (Tex. Historian) put the number of Comanche at the Bastrop raid and kidnapping at about 300 warriors. I don't know about the battle.

James Wilson Nichols gives an excellent account of the Plum Creek fight from one man's perspective, ain't creative just to quote some guy I know but hard to improve on this original...

http://www.tamu.edu/faculty/ccbn/dewitt/plumcreeknichols.htm#plumcreek

First off, Nichols verifies that the Comanches had already crossed Plum Creek before the Texans moved out...

Henry McCulloch, who with two or three men had been watching the manuvers of the enemy, came in and reported that the Indians was crossing Plum Creek at that very minute. Caldwell called the men togeather and mad a short speech saying, "If the Indians was not attacted before they reached the mountains, that a thousand men could do nothing with them, that they must be attacted and whiped before they reach the mountains and if they was let alone until twelve oclock that day thare would be no use in following them any farther." And says he, "We have a few over a hundred men and if we cant whipum. we can try."

Nichols received a bullet to his right hand, disabling it, but writes this believable account of how the final charge at PLum Creek began...

The three officers was yet standing togeather when French Smith seeing so many gitting wounded and takeing in the situation says, "Boys, lets charge them," and started of in a run, and the whole company, suposeing the charge had been ordered by an officer, charged after Smith.

One of Burlesons men, Hutcheson Reede, had come across to see what was causing the delay as Burlesons command had become impatient, and Caldwell seeing his men in motion, started of in the charge, and Burleson broak back and ordered his men to charge round the point of timber. Houston simply hollowed, "Charge," and filed in amongst the croud.

...and of the slaying of captives, all the work of one woman according to Nichols, believable, as all were apparently tied close togethers...

After fireing my rifle I was unable to reload it, and I consigned it to the holder at the born of my saddle and, having a brace of old Inglish brass mounted holsters, I drew one of them with my left hand and was of amongst the foremost in the charge.

Just before I arived at the place whare the Indians had first halted I saw an old Indian squaw standing by the side of her horse and the prisnrs dismounted and standing near by, and when the rought commenced this old mother of the forest, seeing the Texians in full chace after the Indians and them flying, sent an arrow through the negro girl killing her instantly, then turned to Mrs. Crosby shot her dead, then turned to Mrs. Watts shot her with an arrow but in such a hurry she failed to kill her but inflicted a dangerous wound in her breast and then ran for her horse, but received the contents of my holster before she could mount.

No tinge of self-glorification pertaining to his actions...

After dischargeing one of my holsters at the squaw that shot the prisnrs I returned it to the holster, drew the other one and, as I was rideing a good horse, I was soon up with the hindmost potion of the flying enemy, and as the Texians and Indians ware conciderable mixtup and a great many of the Indians dressed in citizens cloths, it was hard to distingush them apart.

I discovered one Indian som distance in the rear of the main force of the enemy and I urged my horse on and was soon up with the Indian. I raised my pistol and fired and the Indian fell from the horse, rolled over displaying a pair of larg flabby breasts that accounted for her being in the rear of som of the Texians as they had discovered her to be a squaw and passed on.

It is difficult to distinguish the sexes of a flying enemy when both sexes dressed the same for she carried a bow and quiver but did not attemt to use it. I put my empty pistol back in the holster, drew my belt pistol, a larg Deringer, and went on after the flying enemy.

I arived on the bank of a boggy creek litterly bridged with packs, dead and bogged down horses and mules, and saw two Indians climeing the bank on the otherside, and fired at one and they both fell, but am not certain that I hit either of them for just to my right thare was six or eight guns fired at the same time that I fired.

Interesting the description of Comanches dressed in Euro clothing, looted from Linnville perhaps. Possibility too I guess that there were Eastern tribesmen in the mix.

My arms was now all emty and I was unable to reload so I sit watching the flying enemy and their persuers...

Moore ("Savage Frontier" identifies Ben and Henry McCulloch and a number of the Burlesons as those most persistent in pursuit, the McCullochs espcially noted as being on famously good horses. Exemplary aggressiveness on the part of these pursuers, taking off in day-long pursuit of a far superior number of dangerous enemy, after days of arduous travel on their part.

Meanwhile, back at the Clear Fork, Moore identifies the repeating rifle in this next clash witnessed by Nichols as a Colt Paterson. Clearly it was not, both from the description of the brass cylinder and the size of said cylinder "about the size of a breakfast plate.". Sounds like too the cylinder was revolved by hand. The whistle in this case was likely an eagle bone whistle, made from the bone of the wing.

Nichols account captures well the mad scrabble of hand to hand combat...

The chief saw that he would be overtaken and blew his whistle loud and the wariors all turned back, deturmend I supose, to die with their chief if nessesary, and when Miller and the other boys and the wariors had nearly met the other boys all fired with good effect each killing his man but Millers gun missed fire, but the other boys seeing thare was but one Indian left, thought Miller would take care of him haveing a repeateing rifle, hurried on to over take the chief.

The warior, seeing Millers gun had missed fire, rushed on to him and Miller haveing one of those old fashioned seven shooting rifles with a brass cylinder, about the size of a breakfast plate, sitting on the bretch of his gun, after fireing would have to revolve it with his hand, and this time being in a hurry, he failed to turn the cylinder fare enough to catch.

Miller and the Indian met and when their horses heads passed each other the two mens legs almost touched and the Indian commenced to pull his bowstring, for he had already adjusted an arrow. Miller said he could see his bow begin to bend when he raised his gun and with a side swing hit the Indian on the side of the head staggering him back and knocking his bow clear out of his hands.

Now they ware both as good as unarmed but as quick as thought the savage snatched a handfull of arrows from his quiver and job[ed] them against Millers breast trying to stab him with them. By this time Miller had discovered the defect and remided it and shot the Indian dead.

...and then an episode where the sentiments of the observers show just how stable our values as Americans have remained over the last 172 years. Nichols migt be excoriated by some here as a simpering Liberal, had he not just convincingly demonstrated his capacity for righteous violence...

All this occured in about five minuts and I was still sitting on my horse whare I had been watching Millers fight with the Indian when I heared a noise behind me and turned my head and saw a horse fall and an Indian tumble of. When the horse fell I suposed the Indian was dead, but in a few moments she, for it was a squaw, gained a sitting posture, but I had nothing to shoot with if it had been a man armed, but I discovered it was a woman and also observed she had no bow and arrows.

I discovered she had been shot through both thighs and both thigh bones broaken and I stood and looked at her as th[e] dying horse had scrambled near her and died, and I was just going to ride of when I saw two men under full speede comeing towards me.

Now I am going to relate a circumstance that makes shiver now and I am going to show that the American race is not wholy exemp from acts of cruelty and barberism, for these two comeing full spedde was old Ezkel Smith and French Smith, his son, they came near and discovered the wounded squaw and they halted.

The old man got down, handed French his panting horse to hold, saying at the same time, "Look thare, French," pointing to the old wounded squaw with her long flabby breasts hanging down as she had recovered a sitting posture. He drew his long hack knife as he strode towards her, taken her by the long hair, pulled her head back and she gave him one imploreing look and jabbered somthing in her own language and raised both hands as though she would consign her soul to the great sperit, and received the knife to her throat which cut from ear to ear, and she fell back and expired.

He then plunged the knife to the hilt in her breast and twisted it round and round like he was grinding coffee, then drew it from the reathing boddy and returned the dripping instrement to its scabard without saying a word. French says, "Well, Father, I would not have done that for a hundred dollars."....

He mounted his horse and they both galloped of after the croud, but I still sit thare on my horse a few seconds longer wondering if thare was another man in America that claimed to be civilized that would act so cruel.

Smith claimed to be a Christian and had belonged to the Methodist church for 27 years and led in prayr meetings and exorted in public and was a noted class leadre, but the old fellow has long sence gone to reap his reward whare the woodbine twinethe and the wangdoodle mourneth for her first born.

"whare the woodbine twinethe and the wangdoodle mourneth for her first born." I'll have to remember that line.

And then the aftermath, when the adrenaline fades and heartbeats return to a semblance of normal..

I suposed I had been thare since I first arived near ten minuts when I discovered that my wound had commenced to bleede rapidly, and I turned and started back and saw a bolt of yellow silk streatched out on the grass and bushes about 40 yards long and about 12 inches wide.

I alited from my horse, taken one end, raped the whole bolt around my wounded hand and started to mount my horse again, and for the first time discovered that the foretree of my saddle had been pearced with a large escopet ball cutting both forks intirely in two leaveing nothing to hold the saddle togeather but the raw hide cover....

Late in the evening when most of the men had returned from th[e] chace, the officers picked out a suitable place to on the south side of the creek close to watter an[d a pr]arie, serounded on all sides but one with st[ands of] timber and dog wood brush, opiset or a little below the main battle ground, and ordered all the goods thare, and they chose another similar place to correl the horses and mules in.

The next morning they appointed a commity to divide the goods according to quantity and quality and put them in just two hundred and three piles, just the nomber of men inguaged in the battle.

I was lying in the shad and saw Brother John comeing in with a load of saddle trees, some ten or fifteen on his horse, and I called to him to come by and he came up and I told him that my saddle tree had been shot in two and ruined, and I wanted him to pick out a good one from his lot and put the rigging of of my old saddle on it for me which he did the saddle trees had been taken at Linville by the savages and was of Childresses make.

I have rode that saddle tree ever since and now when I ride a horseback I ride that same saddle tree. I have had it rigged several times and it is still the same tree but looks little the worse for ware as it has been in almost constant use forty seven years.

Thare was squads of men ariveing in camp all evening and all night so that by the next morning I guess thare was five or six hundred men on the ground. The comity appointed to divide the goods, after all the packs had been opened and divided, taken a bunch of knitting nedles and stuck them in the ground by the side of each pile of goods with a slip of paper in each bunch of nedles and they then proceded to stake for them.

They placed a man out side of the ring with his back to the good[s to] call the role and thare was one man appointed to go bollow out, "Whose is this pile," and point to the nedles, and [the other man] would call som name and so on [until the last name] was called and the last pile of go[ods was gone.

We used the same] way in divideing the horses and mul[es. An animal was chosen and when a] name was called the man or his represen[tative then came] and roped his animal, and I drew the best sad[dle horse] that I ever rode. It was a natural pacer and Brother John roped it for me and said he wanted me to have an easy ride home as I was wounded.

Reading between the lines, the appropriation of the spoils this way was a sore point, as John Linn (same URL) put it....

Several hundred head of horses and mules were recaptured, as were also immense quantities of dry goods. 'To the victors belong the spoils, and the Colorado men appropriated everything to themselves. Ewing recognized many of his goods in the captured property, but identification did him no good. Captain J. O. Wheeler, though 150 of the recaptured horses bore his brand, obtained with the greatest difficulty a horse to ride home.

...and even Robert Hall felt constrained to write, years after the fact...

There were five hundred of these pack mules. The government had just received a supply of stores at Linnville, and the Indians had captured these. We hardly knew what to do with all this stuff, and we finally concluded to divide it among ourselves.

Some days after I reached home the boys sent me a pack mule and a pack. In the pack there was a pillow and a bolster of home-made cloth and considerable dry goods. There were also coverlets, sheets, quilts, and clothing. If I had known who the stuff belonged to I would have, of course, returned it.


There was apparently celebration of sorts that first night, with the hundreds of men gathered together and a victory to celebrate, the men dispersing over the next few days.

Birdwatcher

Before moving on from Plum Creek, an incident of closure of a sort for some at the fight.

Its been thirty-five years since I first read Fehrenbach's book, while sleeping in a park waiting for the college dorms at Geneseo to open the next day, me having hitch-hiked the 300 miles to get there that same day (young people did stuff like that back then). Never would have occurred to me at the time that I'd end up spending most of my adult life down in far-off Texas.

At first reading the sadism of the Comanches skinning a man's feet and having him walk stood out in memory, Moore's book gives him a name; Tucker Foley.

And here from the TAMU website, the closure of that sad episode...

http://www.tamu.edu/faculty/ccbn/dewitt/badam2.htm

Ellen McKinney Arnold, daughter of John McKinney, related the incident told to her by her father in 1905:

"Tucker Foley was killed in about two miles of where Moulton now stands, and was buried under a big live oak tree. Father dug his grave with a butcher knife and wrapped him in a saddle blanket made out of cotton.

When father found him, he was naked, had been scalped, and was hanging to a tree, tied up by his hamstrings. Nearly all the people in Lavaca County pursued the Indians, over took them and had a big fight. There were about thirty-seven men from Gonzales; my father was among the number who were joined by other volunteers.

Mason Foley brought back his brother's horse and rifle; he said he killed the Indian that had them, and that he believed he was the one that killed his brother. I saw the horse and rifle several years afterward; the horse was a bay, and the rifle was a flint-rock rifle. Mase told me after the fight was over he killed all the squaws and tried to find his brother's scalp, but it was lost."

A whole lot of story there in that one passage.

Birdwatcher

From where I sit at the computer, I can look over on the bookshelf and see Fehrenbach's Lone Star. Is that the book of which you speak?