Young County, TX - Biography  - Dobbs and Skidmore Family

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Dobbs and Skidmore Family
Young County, Texas


This information reflects the family history of

Brit Ferguson
100 Bluebonnet Street, #213
Stephenville, Texas 76401-6082
brit@our-town.com


This information consists of quotes from Chesley S. Dobbs. NOTES SHORT ARTICLES,
and BRIEF SKETCHES PERTAINING TO the LIVES OF CHESLEY SCOTT DOBBS and HIS WIFE,
MELANIE (MARY ELIZABETH) SKIDMORE DOBBS DURING the EARLY DAYS ON the TEXAS
FRONTIER: 1840-1872


This is a short family history, apparently written by Empriss Jowell ball, the
daughter of cattleman George Radcliff Jowell and Leannah Tennessee Dobbs.
Empriss is high on my list of personal heroes, for putting this together and
seeing to it that copies were distributed to family members! By the way, G.R.
Jowell's restored ranch house from Palo Pinto County is on display at the
Ranching Heritage Center at Texas Tech University in Lubock, Texas. The "cousin
Tom Ivey" who is mentioned a couple of times was one of the children of John
Sadler Ivey and Sarah Dobbs. He had Melanie Skidmore'e memory verse album in his
possession at one time. When he died it went to a cousin, and upon the cousin's
death it disappeared. I've done some research as to its location, but so far had
no cussess in locating it.

(The two articles which follow were copied verbatim from the Memory Verse Album
which belonged to Sarah Dobbs Ivey, mother of "Cousin Tom Ivey" at his ranch the
"Running M" in Yoakum County, Texas, July 27, 1918, by Empriss Jowell Ball)

"Chesley S. Dobbs was Bornd Oct. 26th. A. D. 1817 in Claiborne Co. East
Tennessee went to the State of Indiana in 34 in 37 to the State Of Missouri was
Married to Melanie Skidmore March the 14th. 1844 in Benton Co. Arkansas Removed
to Texas 1847 in l868 he buried his wife at his home in Palo-pinto Co. Texas.

Married Mary Ann Bell April the 26th. A. D. 1869.

My daughter dear you now feel near And when this you see Remember me

"C. S. D."

"Biography of Mary E. Skidmore, Melanie Skidmore was Born September the 8th. A.
D. 1825. Buncombe Co. North Carolina was Educated at St. Rosas Chappel
Washington Co. Kentucky. was Married to Chesley S. Dobbs March the 14th. A. D.
1844 She Bore to him Eleven Children Three Sons and Eight Daughters of which Two
is no more She Schoold & Bought (sic) up to observe the Catholic Religion in
A.D. 1852 She Joind the Babtist church, at her death She was a full member of
the Methodist church.

Melanie Dobbs Departed this life January the 25th A.D. 1868 age 43 years 4
months & seventeen days.

Ritten by Chesley S. Dobbs May 1869."

(A short history of the life of Chesley Scott Dobbs and his wife Melanie (Mary
Elizabeth) Skidmore Dobbs)

Great Grandfather ELIJAH SKIDMORE (father of Grandmother Melanie Skidmore Dobbs)
was of French descent and came originally from Virginia. He came to Texas from
Denton County, Arkansas in the latter part of the 1840,s - probably in 1847 -
and settled in Grayson County, moving from there to Falls County, finally
locating near old Fort Belknap in Young County.1 He was killed by the Indians
close by this fort in 1855, and was the second man to be killed by them after
they broke out on the war path at that particular time.2

Great Grandmother SKIDMORE was of Irish descent. She was a widow with three
children (all girls) when she married Great Grandfather Elijah Skidmore. Three
children were born to this union, Melanie (Mary Elizabeth), Martha Ann, and
Elijah Jr. What he (her) maiden name was or where she lived as a girl or what
was her first husband,s name is not a matter of record.

MELANIE SKIDMORE DOBBS was born September 8th,1825, in Buncombe County, North
Carolina. She was educated at St. Rosa's Chapel, Washington County, Kentucky,
moving to Arkansas with her parents when she reached young womanhood. There she
met Chesley Scott Dobbs, and was married to him on March 14th., 1844, and
continued to make Benton County, Arkansas her home until they moved to Texas
with her parents in 1847, locating first in Grayson County, then moving to Falls
County, thence to Young County, and finally settling permanently in Palo Pinto
County near the Brazos River, in what is now known as Dobbs Valley.

In her youth Grandmother Dobbs was of the Catholic faith but, after she came to
Texas, became dissatisfied with her religion. She joined the Baptist Church in
1852 but this did not seem to fully satisfy her either and, at her death, she
was a member of the Methodist Church.

She was a remarkably well educated woman for her day. Artistic, talented and
refined by nature, she had a fairly good knowledge of music, was a fine
mathematician and was an artist with her needle. She spun and wove the cloth to
make dresses for the children, also the household linens, and even made her
husband's clothes when necessity demanded it! She also was a pastmaster in the
art of cooking, and was fully versed in other household arts necessary to the
pioneer woman.

Aunt Columbia Dobbs Holcombe says that Grandmother Dobbs taught Grandfather
Dobbs to read and write after they were married. It seems past belief that a
woman reared in a convent - at least a great part of her youth was spent there
in school - could have had the strength and hardihood to surmount the obstacles
of daily life in the wilderness on the Texas frontier. Her home was only three
crude rooms, two of them made of pickets, the cracks chinked with clay, the
other one made of logs, with a puncheon floor. Here she bore and reared her
eleven children, and lived her short life full of hardships, At forty years of
age her health became so poor that her son-in-law John Ivey (Cousin Tom's
father) took her in an ox wagon on the long overland trip to Shreveport
Louisiana, for an operation. The operation was unsuccessful in that it failed to
restore her to health, and after three years of invalidism she died of pneumonia
at her home on the Brazos River, on January 25, 1868, when she was only
forty-three years old. She was buried on the old farm, where a few years later
her husband was also buried (Note: Both bodies have since been removed to the
Dobbs, Valley Cemetery, by their daughter Mrs. Columbia Dobbs Holcombe, who
lives at 1129 Travis Avenue, Fort Worth Texas. Said removal took place in
December 1936.

CHESLEY SCOTT DOBBS was born in Claiborne County, East Tennessee, October 26,
1817. He was of Scotch-Irish descent. His father was a Kentuckian and fought in
War of 1812. His mother came originally from Alabama, and her maiden name was
Barnes. She had some Cherokee Indian blood in her ancestry.

The Dobbs family moved to Indiana in 1834, thence to Missouri in 1837. Later
they moved to Benton County, Arkansas, where the son Chesley Scott Dobbs,
courted and eventually married Melanie Skidmore on March 14th., 1844, and the
young couple moved to Texas with her parents in 1847. They settled first in
Grayson County then moved to Falls County. Sometime was spent there, then both
families moved to Young County, near old Fort Belknap. The Indians molested them
so often, stealing their stock, etc., that finally Grandfather Dobbs (Chesley S.
Dobbs) traded his herd of 600 head of cattle to Bob Coutts of Weatherford, for a
farm on the Brazos River about twenty miles from the present town of
Weatherford, Parker County, Texas. This farm lies in what in now known as
"Dobbs, Valley" and is not far from the little town of Brazos.

Grandfather Chesley Scott Dobbs had five brothers: Jim, Arch, Lee, Will and
George; also two sisters, Sarah and Nancy. Nancy died in her youth, and Sarah
married a Mr. Harbert who died while fighting in the Civil War. One of her
daughters married Lou Roberts.

Eleven children were born to the union of Chesley Scott Dobbs and Melanie (Mary
Elizabeth) Skidmore. A brief genealogy concerning them in presented an follows:

PARENTS:
Chesley Scott Dobbs Born Oct, 26, 1817, Claiborne Co. Tenn.
Died June 16, 1872, Palo Pinto Co., Texas
Melanie Skidmore Dobbs, Born Sept. 8, 1825, Buncombe Co., N.C.
Died Jan 25, 1868, Palo Pinto Co., Texas.

CHILDREN:
Sarah Elizabeth Dobbs Ivey, Born Dec. 22, 1844, Benton Co., Ark.
Died June 190 1893, Albany, Shackelford Co., Texas,
with inflammation of the stomach.

Leannah Tennessee Dobbs Jowell, Born Nov. 26, 1846, Benton Co. Arkansas.
Died May 15, 1898, on Jowell
Ranch, Deaf Smith Co., Tex. of Appendecitis (sic) - Peritonitis.

Amanda Fitzallen Dobbs Conner, Born No. (Nov.?) 7, 1848, Falls Co. Tex.
Died March 28, 1928, Oklahoma City,
Oklahoma, with Intestinal Flu.

Clinton Bradshaw Dobbs, Born Oct. 19, 1851, Falls County, Texas
Died - - - - - - - - Pampas Texas.
(with Cholera morbus)

Twins - boy and girl - lived only three weeks.

Martha Ann (Mat) Dobbs Shields, Born July 4, 1855, Ft. Belknap, Texas. Now
living in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

Oliver Celing (Dick) Dobbs Born Feb 11, 1857, Ft. Belknap, Tex.
Died Sept. 4, 1877, Near Albany,
Shackelford Co., Texas, Accidental death caused from collapse of dirt top house
after big rain.

Valina Dobbs Palm, Born June 16 1859, Ft. Belknap, Texas. Now living at Albany,
Shackelford County, Texas.

Sabrina (Mollie) Dobbs Jackson, Born June 16,1861, Ft. Belknap, Texas. Now
living on the farm near Amarillo, Potter Co., Texas

Columbia Dobbs Holcombe, Born Aug. 20, 1863, Palo Pinto Co., Tex. Now living at
1129 Travis Avenue, Ft. Worth, Tarrant Co., Texas.

Chesley Scott Dobbs, wife Melanie, died in 1868, and on April 26, 1869, he
married Mary Ann Bell. No children were born of this union. He continued to live
at the farm home on the Brazos River until his death June 16, 1872, at the hands
of the Indians.3

He was a Texas Ranger and quite frequently acted as arbitrator and peacemaker
between the Indians on the Reservation - chiefly the Comanches, Kowas (Kiowas?),
Wacos and the Kickapoos. He was also County Commissioner and Justice of the
Peace in Palo Pinto County.4

He went to Palo Pinto the day of his death to collect some money which was due
him on the sale of a horse, also to buy some necessities for the family (Aunt
Columbia Holcombe says that one of the items was for calico to make her a dress,
as he promised her he would get it). He was riding a big bay horse and on his
way back home was attacked by Indians (report said that there were some white
men - horse thieves - in the attacking party) who fired on him from the rear.
The first shot hit him in the back just above the hips, cutting his pistol belt
in two and letting his pistols fall to the ground thus making him unable to
fight. The frightened horse wheeled and ran back over the hazardous trail on
Hitson Mountain, and ran about a mile before he was caught. The trackers said it
was easy to follow his trail by reason of the items from his saddle bags which
were scattered along the trail. The Indians murdered Grandfather Dobbs, scalped
him, and stole his horse and saddle. The attack took place on Hitson Mountain,
but the body was found some distance away in Pleasant Valley.5 He was buried on
the old home place near the Brazos River by the side of his first wife Melanie.
(Later, the second wife, Mary Ann, was also buried there. Sixty odd years later,
all three were moved to the Dobbs Valley Cemetery which was named for him).



A person letter/memoir written by Ellon Dobbs Killion. Note that it starts with
the date of 14 October 1920 and ends with the date of 18 October 1921. Also,
Ellon begins by saying she is 65 years old "today" and ends by saying she is 66
years and 4 days old. So, she apparently wrote this over a span of a year's
time, and it was more of a memoir written for her children than an actual
letter. Ellon Dobbs Killion's mother is Rebecca Johnson Dobbs who is buried in
Peveler Cemetery outside Eliasville on County Line Road near Peveler Creek. Her
sister, Elizabeth Johnson Dobb is buried in the Peveler Cemetery also. (A
personal letter written by Mrs. Ellon Dobbs Killion of Magdalena, New Mexico, to
her children and copied verbatim with pen-and ink by her cousin, Mrs. Mollie
Dobbs Jackson of Amarillo, Texas, when she was seventy-nine years old, said copy
being sent to Mrs. Columbia Dobbs Holcombe, Fort Worth, Texas, a sister of Mrs.
Jackson, Mrs. Ellon Dobbs Killion is the daughter of Johnathan Lee Dobbs, a
brother of Chesley Scott Dobbs who was the father of Mrs. Jackson and Mrs.
Holcombe. Said copy of this letter was rearranged and typed by Empriss Jowell
Ball, a niece of both Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Holcombe, at Fort Worth, Texas,
January, 1941)


Magdalena, Now Mexico
October 14th., 1920.

To my dear children:

I am writing you this morning as I am sixty-five years old today. This letter
dates back to the year 1785. Will say on October the 14th. and on this date and
year begins the history of all your ancestors on your mothers side of the house,
as well as I can remember them.

In the year of 1785, my father,s great, great grandfather and his wife and baby
and a cousin of his, came to an unsettled country (I don,t know the name) and
located a claim on which they could do better. The country was inhabited mostly
by wild animals, with just a few settlers scattered about on the claims of their
choice. It was a heavy wooded country with plenty of running water, an ideal
country in that day as my four times great grandfather, Joe Dobbs, must have
thought to bring his family to live there.

The grandfather and his cousin cleared the ground and prepared to plant a crop
the coming spring. One day while the men were out in the woods cutting poles to
fence their land, the grandmother (then a young mother) and the cousin,s wife
were at the cabin, spinning and weaving for their two babies and doing the
chores about the place. The grandmother went out in the yard to get some wood
and while picking up the wood she heard the cousin scream, and turning quickly
around she saw a large panther bound in at the door. The cousin slammed the door
shut on the panther as he got half way in, and with strength lent from fear
managed to hold him prisoner till the grandmother Dobbs got the ax, cut it down
the back and then split its head open. When the men came in and saw the panther,
and learned how it was killed. They all formed a compact or agreement to tell
this story to their children as they grew up, and pledged each child to tell it
to their children from generation to generation, so that if in after years they
met any one named Dobbs that could tell this story, they would know that they
were of the same generation. This story has been handed down, as I have been
told, from generation to generation up to the present day. The old family name
of boys being Joe, John, George, James and William.

Following along with this tale my three times great grandfather, John Dobbs,
started his home in Georgia, I believe, and his generation spread out from there
to Tennessee and there my own great grandfather came to manhood. His name being
Joe, and having sons named George, William, and Johnathan, Johnathan becoming my
grandfather.

My grandmother's maiden name was Nancy Barnard. Johnathan Dobbs and Nancy
Barnard were married in the early days of 1800, and to this union were born six
boys, Chesley, James, John, George, Johnathan Lee, and William; and two girls,
Sarah Ann and Nancy. The third son when just a young man, died. Nancy, the
youngest girl, died at fifteen, then grandfather died a year later. My
grandmother Dobbs then moved to Missouri, and lived there several years, and
there Uncle Chesley married Miss Malena Skidmore. To this union was born seven
girls, Sarah, Leannah, Amanda, Martha Ann, Valina, Sabrina, and Columbia; and
two boys, Clinton B. and Richard Oliver. The oldest girl, Sarah, married John
Ivey; Lennah (sic) married George Jowell, Amanda married Sam Conner, Martha Ann
married George Shields, Valina married Henry Palm, Sabrina married Will Jackson
and Columbia married Pete Holcombe. Clinton B. married twice; by his first
marriage there was born four children, Chesley and Ishmael (nicknamed Pat), and
two younger children died in childhood.

The oldest daughter of grandmother Dobbs, Sarah Ann, married Span or Joe
Harbert, and to this union was born one girl, Malena, and four boys, John,
Perry, Charley and Lee. Malena married Louis Roberts, and several children came
to them, but I do not know their names, only the two oldest, Richard and Emmia.
I do not know who the boys, John, Perry, Charley, and Lee Married. I have heard
that John became a Baptist preacher. Aunt Sarah, their mother, was burned alive
in John,s house at Roswell, New Mexico, while John and his wife were at church.
I have lost track of them any further.

My father, Johnathan Lee Dobbs, and his brother George, left Missouri and came
to Fort Smith, Arkansas, and lived there a few years and then decided to go on
the California during the first gold strike. They started on their way but only
got to Van Buren when they both were stricken down with measles and came near
dying. But through the kindness of some good people there who nursed them back
to health again - that is, temporary health, for neither of them were very
strong men afterward, they were sufficiently recovered to travel, and decided to
come to Falls County, Texas and located there a few years, then on west to old
Fort Belknap, Texas. Twenty two years later grandmother Dobbs and all the rest
of her children came out west to Fort Belknap.6

Uncle James Dobbs married in Falls County, and to this marriage was born four
children, the oldest, Jane, married Jim Glass; the next oldest, a son, Luther,
died when a young man. The next, a girl, Arminda., married but don't know the
name of her husband. The fourth, a girl, Mary Ellon, married Rubin Bradford, and
was living in Palo Pinto County when I last heard of them.

Uncle George Dobbs married Laura Price, and only one child came to them. A girl,
Anna, and she married Jim Clark, and a girl and boy came to them, Anna and
Willie, and they, too, are living in Parker County near Weatherford, Texas. And
now, dear children, I will rest awhile on my father's people and go back to my
mother,s people.

Sometime early in 1800, my mother,s grandfather, Moses Johnson, settled in or
near Hernando, Misissippi, when a young man, and owned a number of negro slaves,
and a large farm on which he lived alone except for these negroes. Some years
later on he married a Miss Patsy Miller, I think her name was, and to this
marriage was born only one child, a son named Allen. He grew to manhood on that
farm and he later was my grandfather. He was a pet of Britt, the Negro man that
grandfather Mose Johnson owned. In course of time a man named Parker, came in to
that neighborhood and settled near Mose Johnsen's farm. He, Parker, also had a
large number of negroes and lots of land, also a family. His oldest child, a
son, Samuel and two daughters, Martha Jane and Lucy.

These families Johnsons and Parkers, lived friends and neighbors till later on
they were bound by a stronger tie than that of neighbors and friends. Allen
Johnson (my grandfather) married Martha Jane Parker, and to this marriage was
born five boys and two girls, the oldest girl, Rebakah, was my mother; the
oldest boy, Parker, the next, a girl, Elizabeth, and next Lige, and then twins,
Mose and Rubin and another son named Allen, after his father.

Lucy Parker married Rubin Box , and to this marriage was born four boys and two
girls. The boys, Sam, Allen, Wiat and Wiley, the girls were Francis (sic) and
Sarah.

The Johnson, Parker, and Box families lives (sic) in Mississippi many years, and
in that time a cousin to the Parkers names Jessie Beasley, came in their
neighborhood on his way to the gold fields of California. Through his influence,
the Johnsons and Parkers, also the Box family, all decided to go with him, but
after meditating awhile, Uncle Samuel Parker decided to stay in Hernando, and I
think, died there,

The Box, Beasleys and Johnson families started on their way and got as far as
Corsicana, Texas, when Allen Johnson,s wife, my grandmother, was taken very ill
and lived only a few days, leaving a small baby which died at seven months of
age. My grandmother,s death seemed to cast a dark shadow on them all, so much so
that they all lived there in Corsicana for two years. Then Uncle Rubin Box began
to get the gold fever again, and went on his way to California, leaving
grandfather Johnson and cousin Jessie Beasley and their families in Corsicana.
Grandfather then married Nancy Bragg, sister of Mart and Wiat Bragg, and to this
marriage was born six girls, Sarah, Martha, Nancy, Mace, Lou, and Millie, and
two boys, Bud and Robert.

Bob Johnson, as he was called, married Martha Roach; and Sarah. the oldest girl,
married Coven Long, and Martha married Bill Freeman, and the other girls married
but I don't know their names, only Nan, as she was called, married Jack Bellows.
These children were all half sisters and brothers to my mother. My grandfather
got the gold fever after his second marriage and started on his way west, land
in Fort Belknap. He got no further as the Indians were then almost taking the
country.

A little later my great grandfather Moses Johnson, came also(7) bringing his
negroes, to settle in Fort Belknap. He was then almost a helpless cripple with
rheumatism, and walked on crutches or rather hobbled about. But now let me go
back a little way in my grandfather's life. While he was living in Mississippi
he ran a ferry boat on the Mississippi River, and did well ferrying emigrants
over this side on their way to the west. On one of these ferry trips, my

Uncle Lige then a very small boy, was down at the ferry with some of great
grandfather Johnson,s negro slave children, watching the emigrants load their
belongings on the boat. The man who was going across on the ferry, stepped up to
the negro children and asked them who they belonged to. They said they shore
belonged to Massa Mose Johnson, and then the man turned to Uncle Lige and asked
who do you belong to? Uncle Lige answered "I'se a white boy, aint you got no
sense? That's my Pa on the ferry boat. "

My mother, Rebekah Johnson, was fifteen years old when her father moved to Fort
Belknap.8 They lived there nearly two years before she became acquainted with my
father Johnathan Lee Dobbs (always called Lee), and of course, as they were both
fine looking young people, they fell in love with each other and agreed to get
married. There being no county seat at Fort Belknap at that time, they had to go
to Fort Worth or rather Old Birdville, it was called then, to get the license to
marry my mother. She and her father and her stepmother together with my father
and another man, all went to Old Birdville and got the license, and old Dr. Peak
(Howard Peak's father) married them. In a few days they returned to Fort
Belknap, and while on their way back my mother lost her shawl near Rock Creek,
some twenty miles below where the town of Graham is now, and it was supposed
that Indians found it as there was very little travel by white people in that
day.

My father bought a piece of land from an agent of the Coleman heirs on the west
side of the Clear Fork of the Brazos River, about two miles from where the town
of Eliasville is not (sic) situated, and built a log cabin with a picket shed
room, the pickets or poles being set on end in a square trench dug something
near two feet deep and covered with boards rove out of pecan timber. The chimney
was built of sticks and mud at the top and outsides and a rock fire place on the
inside. And to this place he brought my mother to live.

Those days were happy ones for everybody who lived on the frontier. The ranchmen
and small farmers were friends and brothers, Their greatest trouble was the
Indians. The government sent a company of soldiers to be stationed at old Fort
Belknap as the fort was named after the soldiers were stationed there.9 It is
located on the Brazos River something like forty miles from old Fort Griffin on
the Clear Fork. These soldiers were placed on this western frontier for the
protection of the settlers from the depredations of the Indians, but many
atrocious deeds were committed and many lives were lost in those dangerous days.

Uncle William Dobbs, my father,s youngest brother, came near being killed by the
Indians once when they came up over a high bluff just over the stone house and
threw a large stone on top of the chimney, with a sling. The stone barely missed
Uncle Will's head as it bounded off the chimney, and many times before and after
did they sling rocks on the house and in the yard.

Uncle George and his mother, Grandma Dobbs, lived about a hundred yards from
Uncle William,s place. Now about this time Uncle William married my mother's
youngest sister, Elizabeth Johnson,10 and on the day of the wedding an old
Tonwaway (Tonkawa) Indian who was friendly with the white people, went out in
the woods a few yards from our house and killed a big fat deer, and packed it in
on his horse, He laid it down at Aunt Elizabeth,s feet, and said "Heep wano,
squaw. Skin,em, cook,em eat,em. You hunter heep wano, good man, mucho wano good
squaw. Go skin,em, mabeso him stink by by." But Aunt Elizabeth withdrew into the
house, and pa and the Indian skinned him, and they had venison steak for the
wedding supper. To this marriage two children were born, girls named Ann and
Eleanor.

Five years from then the Indians became so savage and were fast breaking up the
small settlements, stealing horses at such a rate the ranchmen could not dare
keep horses on the range, and only kept a few saddle horses locked in the
stables always at night. And people were so uneasy about their families when
duty called them from home, that they built small forts and several families
moved to them. And many men moved their families to a more settled country such
at Palo Pinto, Jacksboro and Weatherford. A small fort was formed at old Uncle
Archie Medlan's place on the Brazos River, and was called Fort Growl. Another
was formed on Elam (Elm?) Creek some six or seven miles from old Fort Belknap,
and was called Fort Bragg in honor of old Uncle George Bragg who later was
killed at that fort.

A few ranchmen moved their families to Camp Cooper and Fort Stockton
temporarily, something near about a year after theme forts were made the Indians
became so violent, and did so much stealing and killing and burning of houses
that it was never safe day or night for a man to venture far away from the
settlement. There was great uneasiness at Fort Bragg at this time. There were a
number of women and little children at this fort. among them, George Bragg's
family, the John Stanleys, Millie Myers', Grandma Spriggs, Susan Durgan,s,
Elijah Johnsons, Uncle Harry Williams, Thornton Hanbys and Negro Britt Johnsons.
Uncle Lige Johnson and Billie Myers had been looking up and down the creek to
locate a good hiding place near their house, in case the Indians should attack
them and cut them off from the stronghold that was built in the center of the
fort. They found a ravine on the near side of the creek but had to wade up the
creek a hundred yards and then back across to the near bank to the hiding place.

Dear children let me trespass on your patience a little here, and go back to the
time my Grandfather Johnson lived on Elm Creek before the Indians got so
rampant.

In 1857, I think it was, my father and mother went to visit my Grandfather on
Elm Creek, and while they were there an awful rain fell. The creek rose so fast
in the night, that the family had to move out of the house to higher ground. My
mother took her two small children (your mother and your Aunt Mattie, then a
baby) to a higher point as she thought, out of reach of the water, and laid us
down on a quilt, asleep, and went back to the house, wading water a foot deep,
to get us some clothes. The rest of the family were carrying food, bedding, and
other needful things to higher ground. My mother secured what she wanted and
started to go back to her babies, when she found the water had spread all over
the point where the babies were. She screamed, and Pa and old Uncle Britt ran to
her assistance and got us babies alright, but we were soaking wet and squalling
of course.

On the next day, Uncle Parker, then about sixteen years old, went across the
creek to get the horses, and was attacked by three Indians who shot him twice, -
one Indian from the right and one from the left, with arrows. Each arrow crossed
under the shoulder blade. He ran from them as fast as he could, with the arrows
sticking in his back, and just before he jumped down the creek bank he yelled to
Britt, who was in the yard, and Britt ran to the spot and fought the Indians
off, and got the horses from them. But in the meantime, one Indian followed
Uncle Parker as he jumped down the bank, and made a loop in his rope and leaned
over the bank to rope him. Uncle Parker shot right up the rope and the Indian
dropped the rope. It had blood on it, showing that Uncle had shot him in the
hand. The Indian then ran off with the other two. After Britt had whipped them
off, he then helped Uncle Parker to the house and put him in a chair, as he
could not lay down with the arrows in his back. And there he sat for sixteen
hours while Britt went through the woods after night to Camp Cooper, some forty
or more miles away, to get the post doctor who came back with Britt to cut the
arrows out. Uncle Parker was always stiff and lame in his shoulders after the
above event.

My Uncle Rubin Johnson, a lad of fifteen years then, and two other boys of
seventeen and eighteen years went out to round up some cattle in the summer
roundup, and found about ten or fifteen head and drove them to a corral near an
old abandoned cabin, and put the cattle in the pen as it was called in those
days, and went to the cabin to get their dinner. In the meantime they had
hobbled their horses out in front of the house to graze. While they were busy
cooking their dinner, one of the boys looked out to see some Indiana after their
horses. Poor thoughtless boys; they all ran out to get their horses away from
the Indians, and were all three killed and scalped. (11) The following spring,
after the above event, the Indians were depredating in large bands, there being
from five hundred to one thousand or fifteen hundred traveling over the country
every few weeks, and doing such dastardly massacres that but little liberty was
allowed the settlers.

I spoke of Fort Bragg in former pages of this writing. I will now write what
happened at that fort on the morning of the big, big raid on Elm Crook an it was
handed down by parties that were in it.(12)

I will tell as near as I can the details on this day. My Uncle Lige Johnson and
his wife and baby, Aunt Sally Williams and children, Billie Myers and family,
Grandma Spriggs and her daughter Susan Durgan with her three children, were all
sitting in front of their shacks talking about what they would do if the Indians
come upon them suddenly. While thus engaged, my Aunt Martha Johnson was combing
her heavy suit of hair. She had braided in two braids, and Uncle Lige had tied
the ends of the braids together with a buckskin thong, and as she sat down to
finish their plans of escape, should they be attacked, John Stanley and Thornt
Hamby came running on their horses, shouting "Run for your lives. The Indians
are upon Us." Uncle Lige grabbed his baby and gun, and ran to the creek with
Billie Myers and his family, Mrs. John Stanley and baby, Aunt Sallie Williams
and children following with all their might. They all had to jump down a bank
about four feet high, and when Aunt Martha Johnson jumped down her long braided
hair flew up over a limb of a plum tree and held her swinging from the ground.
She could not get loose, and dared not cry out. Sam Williams, a boy of sixteen
years, came running up from behind and lifted her up so she could take her hair
loose, and then they ran through the water to the opposite side of the creek and
waded back to the side they had just left only further up the creek, and crawled
up a ravine to the place where the rest of the party were concealed.

They lay there most of the day, not daring to move. The Indians had discovered
that these poor frightened people had outwitted them, and they crawled about
over their heads hoping to drive them out of their hiding place. Failing to do
this, the Indians then destroyed everything they had in their houses; tore up
feather beds, broke dishes and every stick of the furniture. There were about
one thousand five hundred Indians and they scattered all over. The settlers who
could, ran to the stronghold, about seven families were housed in there. Susan
Durgan fought the Indians till they split her head open with a tomahawk. They
had captured her three children and Grandma Spriggs, tied them on horses and
made them ride up to where Susan was fighting the other Indians. When an Indian
raised his tomahawk to split her head, another Indian struck Grandma Spriggs
with his spear to make her look at her daughters torture.

There was a terrible battle, about nine people were killed in the stronghold,
among that number was Dock Wilson. Old Uncle George Bragg was badly wounded and
had been laid on a bed. When in the midst of the fight he heard a digging down
besides his bed, he turned over and looked down and saw the Indian Chief trying
to got inside. Though wounded to death, Bragg shot the Chief in the head and
killed him. Instantly this confused the Indians so they caught up their Chief
and all their other wounded and dead and fled.(13) It was late in the evening
when Uncle Lige and family came out of their hiding place to find nnothing
except ruin, and nothing left to subsist upon. Old Uncle Britt Johnson's wife
and four children were captured at the same time Grandma Spriggs was. They were
all taken away to the Wichita Mountains near Fort Sill, in the Indian Territory,
as it was called then, and were dressed in Indian garb and painted, and were
closely guarded.

Uncle Harry Williams and old Uncle Britt Johnson and another neighbor had gone
to Weatherford with teams to get supplies, and were on their way back when they
heard of the Indian raid on Elm Creek, and knowing their families were there, of
course were besides themselves with fright. They left their wagons at some ranch
and mounting their horses they rode day and night till they arrived at the
terrible scene of death and destruction. One can,t imagine their feelings when
they looked upon the little fort covered with feathers and torn bed clothing,
broken dishes and broken furniture, besides the appalling sight of wounded and
dead friends. The Indians took their route out through Knox County, and camped
that night on a small stream of gyp water. The captives were so near famished
for water, that they drank so much of the water it made them so sick they were
hardly able to ride next morning, as Grandma Spriggs told me afterwards. The
little five year old boy of Susan Durgan was too sick to sit up, and the
Indians, seeing he could not ride, built a brush heap and put the little follow
on top of it and set it on fire, and then told the old Grandmother to ride up to
it and watch "papoose burn." When she screamed and did not go, two of the
Indians whipped her with their quirts and made her go, and to save herself and
her other two grandchildren she rode up to witness the awful death of her
grandbaby. This poor grandmother and her two grandchildren, a girl six years
old, and a boy eight, and Uncle Britt,s wife and four children were the only
captives taken in this raid.

The Indians traveled with these captives about a week or more till they came to
the waters of the deep Red River, in the Indian Territory, beyond the Canadian
River, where they camped and hunted for a few days. Then they went on to the
Wichita Mountains where their headquarters were located. One of the big chiefs
took the little white girl in his lodge and kept her there under his watchful
eye, meaning to keep her till she grew up to womanhood then make her his squaw.
The Indian squaws whipped the old grandmother every time she dared to speak to
the little girl, otherwise they were treated like all the other squaws, carrying
in beef paunches, water, and wood on their backs, skinning and cooking the game.
The little girl knew her mother was killed and, of course, naturally wanted to
go to her grandmother, and when she attempted to do this the Indian children
would shoot arrows at her feet to frighten her back to the chief,s tent or
tepee. These poor captives were with the Indians over six months before there
was any effort made to got them back to civilization again.(14)

Now, dear children, I will go back a little way to my childhood. My parents
lived on their little ranch a mile and a half from the Clear Fork of the Brazos
River. They had to haul water with oxen, as those were the surest and safest
teams to keep in that wild country. So one morning, after they had milked the
cows and took the milk to the house, my father got his horse from the stable and
went to hunt for the oxen, and mother was putting away the milk. I was her baby
then, so she placed me in my cradle between the two doors of the kitchen and
front room so she could work and watch her baby at the same time. Father had a
pat sow that was always browsing around the yard, and grunting nearly all the
time, so when mother heard a grunt at the front, thinking it was the old now,
did not look up as quickly as she would have done otherwise. But she did look up
at last, and behold, an old chief and two bucks were in the door. She dropped
everything and ran to her baby, but the chief beat her to it, caught her baby by
the arm and threw her out of the door, and shut and fastened the door so she
could not open it. Poor, frantic mother. She ran around to the chimney and
climbed up the side to a port hole in the wall (which had been made in range
with the stable door for a look out) and looked into the room, begging the
Indians to let her have her baby, telling them her husband would come and kill
them. They only laughed at her. The chief had stripped her baby and was tossing
it up and laughing and jabbering in high glee, while all the time, the poor
mother was crying and pleading for her child. She never looked behind her, but
instinct told her that Pa was coming. She told them her husband was coming, and
then they put the baby in her cradle, and opened the door. When mother darted
in, they went out, and father shook hands with the chief and talked with him
quite awhile. Poor old Pa, being ignorant of what they had done until they were
gone, and mother told him of it.

The Indians were friendly but could not resist their lust for devilment whenever
they got a chance.

Another occasion in later years, when I was about seven years old, there was
another scary event in my life. We had a double log house with an entry between,
and old Uncle Gabe Brogden lived with his family in part of the house. He was a
great lover of hounds and chickens, and at this time which was in the fall, he
had a hen to hatch a brook (brood?) of chickens, which afforded him great
pleasure, and every night he would go out and put up these chickens. But during
the day, an old and dear friend of my fathers, Uncle Jake Whitney, came over
from his ranch some fifteen miles away, to inquire of my father about a
Presbyterian Circuit Rider who visited in that country once or twice a year to
preach and sell Bibles, He wanted to find out when the circuit rider would be
there, as he wanted to buy a set of books or (of?) the Bible in four volumes,
like fathers. The same old volume that I have three of now, the Testament volume
being buried under my father's head. And so of course, as my father was a great
Bible reader, and so was Uncle Gabe Brogdon and Jake Whitney, they got to
talking Scripture and were so interested that Uncle Gabe forgot his chickens,
but finally remembered them.

In the meantime, my mother had washed the dishes, and had gone out of the door
to throw the dishwater out when she saw a man in the corner of the two rooms,
and thought it was Uncle Gabe after his chickens. So she did not speak of it
when she came into the room where Pa and Jake Whitney were still talking. We
little ones, being sleepy, she busied around making beds. After the children
were put to bed, my parents and Uncle Jake Whitney sat talking awhile longer.
Then my father covered over the fire with ashes, and they all retired. Uncle
Jake Whitney slept in the bed across the room, my parents in another, and your
Uncle Buck and Aunt Mattie,s and my bed was a pallet besides or rather under my
parent's bed. I had to sleep on the outside of the pallet as Mattie and Buck
were afraid. I was too, but all the same I had to lay on the outside. It must
have been after one o,clock, and I had never gone to sleep. I was staring at a
dim light from the embers in the fireplace, when I saw an object pass between me
and the light. I was so frightened that I dared not move, and presently I felt a
hand rub over my face and saw the bulk of a man beside me. I did not move or cry
out. After a little, he moved away, and I did not see him any more. Next morning
when they all arose, behold a runaway negro had been in the house and eaten a
lot of boiled beef, baked cushaws and bread, and drank about half a gallon of
buttermilk which mother had set aside to make bread for breakfast and he had
also filled a dishpan full of short or seconds and had taken it out and put it
on the ashhopper. He had also carried away a lot of dried beef. And by this they
trailed him to the river, as he had often dropped a piece of beef, and the men
would find it.

They did not trail the negro further than the river, as he had crossed to the
other side. My father said "Let him go in peace for he did no harm, and stole
only because he was so hungry." They heard of the runaway negro at Camp Cooper
sometime afterward. He had located there and was at work.

Now, dear children, I will return to where I left off concerning the captives in
the raid on Elm Creek. The country was so thinly settled that of course the
people thought it was useless to try to get the captives back. But old Negro
Britt could not be reconciled to submit and not to make an effort. Anyway, he
got two good horses and a good supply of fire arms. It being cap and ball
pistols, a shotgun and powder and bullets, and a bag of bread, and started on
the Indian,s trail all alone. He traveled at night through the woods, and killed
some game for his meat. He followed the Indians, trail till he came to Deep Red,
and there he camped for a few days to rest and graze his horses. He was a brave
headstrong negro, and his courage took him through this wild and lonely
adventure. After he had rested himself and his horses, he again set out through
the woods on his search for the Indian,s headquarters in the Wichita Mountains.
He walked part of the time and led his horses in the heavy wooded ravine, and
then creep catlike to the tops of the high point and watched for signs of smoke.
There being no white settlers in that wild country, he knew that if there was
smoke in the mountains anywhere that it was from the Indians campfires. But he
kept this way of lookout up for five days, until to within about twenty miles of
the headquarters. So on the night of the fifth day he secreted his horses, and
waited till about midnight and started on foot to a very high point of the
mountain. He gained the top just about the break of day, and stood watch there
that day, listening to every sound. About five o'clock in the morning, when
looking off to the north, he thought he saw a blue line or haze. He watched that
line till near sundown, and decided it was a blue cloud, perhaps a norther, and
then crept back to his horses,

He stayed there all next day, and then on the night of the sixth day, he again
mounted and took his route around this point on the east side and traveled
nearly all night. Circling around this point he came upon a valley that showed
some horse track, and then he made a wide circle around this valley, keeping in
the border of the timber as much as he could till he came to another high point.
There he again hid his horses and waited till dusk, then again started for the
top of that point. It was very rough and many gulches obstructed his way, but he
still kept on to the top. There were lots of scrubby cedars on this bluff, and
he was well hidden from view while he could see for miles around. Near about
noon he discovered horses in another opening or plains something like two or
three miles away. He fell on his knees and said "I thank you God, for this much
sign." He then went on catsfeet through brush and gullies till he got near
enough to see the horses, and with his piercing negro eyes discovered the herder
was not an Indian but a Mexican.

Britt decided to try to attract the herder's attention, so he whistled a loud
whistle and crawled on his hands and knees still nearer to the herder, halted
and whistled again. The Mexican whistled back again, and when Britt crawled into
sights said "Buenos dais, se–or," and came up to Britt and shook hands with him.
They talked awhile, and then Britt asked him if he was herding horses for the
Indians. He said he was, and that their village was about three miles from where
they stood talking. Britt then made a contract with the Mexican to get an
interview with the Indian Chief. The Mexican told him to keep hidden for three
days until he could get a chance to talk with the Chief, which would have to be
done very quietly as the Indian braves were suspicious of every move the Mexican
made because he could talk to the captives.

So Britt lay low in the brush, and every day he and the Mexican would have a few
words together. After the third day the Mexican told Britt that all of the
captives were there, and he had talked with the Chief, and had got a promise of
an interview for Britt provided he came to his lodge with the Mexican, and did
not bring any firearms.

Imagine, dear children, how that poor old negro felt when he was conducted into
the village of more than two thousand Indians, and the first squaw he saw proved
to be his wife. He could identify her by her lips and wooley head, but did not
dare to make it known. She know him, but the Indian braves shoved her out of
might in a hurry. Britt never saw her any more while he was there. He talked
with the chief through the interpretation of the Mexican for nearly all day. And
now I will give you the terms by which Britt got all of his family and Grandma
Spriggs and her two grandchildren away from the Indians. The chief was very
sullen, and would not listen at first to Britt,s pleadings for his family, and
said he would not give them up without a big price. This price was two hundred
bay ponies, twenty dogs, something near a hundred dollars worth of grub,
pistols, powder and lead, and a pledge from Britt to join the Indians and lead
them to depredate on the white settlers. This, of course, Britt did not think he
could do, for he had no idea where he could obtain so many bay ponies. But he
promised the chief he would come back to the white settlement and try to get the
ponies, dogs and firearms, and then come back to the village with them in three
months or in three light moons.

So the Chief sent a band of twenty braves with Britt to see that he crossed Red
River for sure, They did not believe he would go to the white settlement. But
after he crossed Red River, the Indians turned back and Britt made all haste
possible to reach the settlements to report his adventure and success.15

We were living then about seven miles below Weatherford, Texas, and there were a
number of farmers in the country who raised lots of horses. Britt, knowing this,
came down to Parker County to see if he could secure the color and number of
ponies that the Chief exacted.

My father and Uncle William Dobbs went with him to see horse raisers and to help
him make the deal, if possible. I don't know the price that was asked for the
horses but anyway they purchased a few from one farmer and a few from another,
and soon got the required amount, Britt's frontier friends helping him to pay
for them. They put the ponies in our field, and part of the dogs in the stable,
and in a day or so Britt, with a few of his white friends, gathered the horses
together and with the dogs started on the way to Red River. When they reached
Red River, the Indians together with the Mexican were camped on the other side,
waiting to see if he would come back as he promised. The white men turned back
then and Britt went an with the ponies, dogs and Indians.

The Chief had promised Britt before he left the headquarters, that his people
would not molest the white settlements while he was gone, but in the event that
Britt did not return they would kill all the captives, And by the Chief's
promise, Britt was enabled to make the trip both ways, safely. After they
reached the village with the price required, it was several days before the
chief would consent to give up the captives, and not until Britt agreed to come
back and join the Indians in their destruction of property and killing of the
palefaces.

So on the morning that he gave up the captives to Britt, he had them all painted
and garbed like Indians, and made Britt pick them out from among the Indians. It
was no trouble to pick out his own family by their wooley heads and their lips;
He also picked out the little white boy of Susan Durgan but could not find the
little girl or their grandmother. The Chief had forestalled him in that by have
(having?) a line of one hundred squaws in a row and putting Grandma Spriggs in
the line dressed like the rest of the squaws. Being squatty like them, no eye
but Britt,s could have distinguished her from the other Indians, and the Chief
had told her if she made any sign by which she could be identified, her brains
would be split. And to prove it to her that he meant it, he had two braves with
tomahawk, walk the line with Britt to watch her movements. They had gone down
the line and started back again when he had not found her. Poor old thing, she
could not bear for him to pass her the second time, so she just twitched the
side of her mouth, and he looked her in the face and put his hand on her head
and said "heap wano, white squaw." In her joy and happiness, she fell on the
ground and kissed his feet, weeping. Britt then put all the captives together
and went to the Chief to demand the little granddaughter. But he was still
obstinate and sullen about her. Britt told him of the many advantages to the
Indians that he could confer in depredations if they would give her up. He said
he wanted to keep her, and by and by make her his squaw. Britt told him "maybe
so, catch her again when she was older." He then brought her out of his lodges
and the poor little thing was so disfigured that Britt could hardly believe it
was her until she said "its Millie, Uncle Britt." The Chief had punctured a ring
in her forehead between the eyes, with black Indian paint, and it was still
bleeding and running down her face. So, together with blood and paint it was
almost beyond anyone to recognize her. Britt took her in his arms and carried
her to her grandmother. It was the first time she had touched her grandmother
since they had been with the Indians.

I saw Millie often after she was grown and you could see this ring in her
forehead at far an you could see her eyes. She was always quiet and modest,
scarcely ever laughing at anything. When she was a grown young lady, she met a
Mr. Dave Barker, and old school chum of mine, and they became attached to each
other and married, She had two children when I saw her last. She and her
Grandmother Spriggs came to see me about two months before your father and I
were married, and Grandma Spriggs told me all about the raid on Elm Creek and
their capture, and how they were treated by the Indians, and her joy and
pleasure when Britt came to their rescue. She was very old then, dear children,
much older than your mother is today.

Britt then took all the captives and brought them back to Weatherford to live.
The Chief made Britt swear that within four new moons or four months he would
come back and join them, and if he did not come back they swore they would hunt
him out and kill him. Of course, he promised anything to get his friends away
from them, never intending to join them. He had a few cattle Grandfather Moses
Johnson had given him when the negroes were freed, and kept adding to these
(cattle were very cheap then) until he had about 350 head.

After Britt got his family located at Weatherford, he decided to make him a
ranch on Paint Creek which flows into the Clear Fork above Griffin, and move his
cattle to it. He was a daring and brave man, and a little conceited as he
thought he had fooled the Indians so far that he still could outwit them. But,
alas, poor Britt. In the spring, some two years after his pledge to the Indians,
he came to Weatherford and bought a new wagon and a fine span of mules and ranch
supplies, and also a fine big black stallion, and hired three discharged negro
soldiers to take out with him to help gather and move his cattle to his new
ranch.

About the last of April, 1871, he started out and got to our house about a mile
from town and stopped to see us, and to show us his outfit. I was a little girl
then and was out in the shade of a peach tree, churning, when he drove up to the
gate. My father and mother went out to meet him, and after shaking hands, he
came to where I was and patted me on the head saying, "hurry dar, honey, Uncle
Britt wants a cup of dat good buttermilk fore he goes, Course you am de best
little girl I,ve got." Believe me, I sure made the dasher fly. He stayed about
an hour with Ma and Pa, telling them all his plans, and when he was ready to go
Mother gave him a half-gallon cup of buttermilk. After he drank, Pa says "Britt,
that may be the last buttermilk you will ever drink." he laughed a big negro
laugh and said "I,ll cut some of them off from their clabber too." He mounted on
the spring seat and removed his hat to Pa and Ma and said "Goodbye, Miss Becky,
goodbye Massy Lee," and drove from our place to Salt Creek, some ten miles from
where the town of Graham now is located. Britt camped on Salt Creek that night
with the three negro soldiers, intending to drive to Elm Greek next day as that
was the range his cattle were on. He had awakened early next morning, and got
the other negroes up and was making a fire to cook breakfast, when he heard the
warwhoop of about fifteen Indians. His first thought was to kill his fine
stallion to make breastworks for his body and also to keep the Indians from
getting the horses, which he knew they would do if they killed him first. He
felt in his heart that was the day of his death, for he remembered their warning
and his broken pledge, but too late.

There were several Mexicans camped just over a ridge about a quarter of a mile
from where Britt was camped, but neither knew of the others presence until the
yell of the Indians and the shooting began. Those Mexicans crawled to brush
thickets on top of the ridge and watched the battle. As soon as Britt,s horse
fell, he lay beside the dead body and fought with all venom in his body. He had
two Smith and Wesson pistols and a sixteen shooting rifle, and plenty of
cartridges. The Indians yelled constantly because they knew Britt, and were wild
with determination to kill him, and at last did, after they had killed the other
three negroes.16 If the three negroes had not been such cowardly dogs, and had
stayed by Britt and fought, they could have whipped the Indians off, but they
started to run to a ravine near by when they heard the first war whoop according
to the report made by the Mexicans (and they were cowards too). Britt must have
killed five or six of the Indians for when the fight was over they carried off
that many wounded or dead Indians in front of them on their horses. They cut out
two of Britt,s ribs and his heart, and scalped him, carrying the ribs and heart
to headquarters where they roasted and ate them to make them brave like Britt
was. He is buried on the ground where he was killed, together with the other
three negroes.

Now, dear children, a few lines more about my early childhood, and I will close.
Two years before the Indians broke up the country, Green Peveler, Uncle Bill
Peveler's father was taken very sick, and my father and Uncle George Dobbs,
Uncle William, Ash Harlin and Nort Bowers were sitting up with him and caring
for him the best they could.

He grew so much worse that he asked if there were two men in the house who would
volunteer to go to Palo Pinto after a doctor. Palo Pinto was over forty miles
away, but Uncle George and Ash Marlin said they would go. They rode all night
and got there in the morning sometime, and rested their horses till the middle
of the evening, then got Dr. Conger and came back in the next night. I think the
doctor stayed three or four days, but Mr. Peveler died.

My father had sat up with him so much that he was taken very sick, and the
doctor went to him and stayed about two days, and then returned to Palo Pinto.
But Pa still had high fever, and craved so much water. We had to haul water from
the Clear Fork, a mile above Eliasville, with oxen. Uncle George was staying
with us while Pa was sick, and had hunted for the oxen all day but could not
find them. That night he went down home to get his oxen to bring back so he
could haul water with them for us. We did not have but two or three gallons of
water in the houses and there was six children besides Ma and Pa to drink it.
With Pa running such high fever and craving water so much we soon used it up.
About ten o'clock Ma took the gun and two buckets and a half-gallon cup to dip
with, and called me out of bed to go with her to Bunker's Hill (named after the
famous Bunker Hill) to get water. I was barefooted, and we walked in a cowpath
through the wood and got the water. Ma stood on the bank and watched with her
gun in her hand, while I went down to a place between two large rocks and dipped
up the water with the cups putting it down in the bucket and turning it over
easy so as to make no noise. I carried the cup and gun back to the house, a mile
from Bunker's Hill, and Ma carried the two buckets of water. We gave our old
saddle horse a half gallon of this water, and made the rest do us till Uncle
George came the next day.

On the next morning we found two little puppies shot through with arrows and an
arrow sticking in the back of a calf in the milk pen, showing how near the
Indians were to us all the time while Ma and I were risking so much for a drink
of water. This all happened in the spring. Then in the falls the ranchmen all
gathered at our place to butcher beef for the Tonkaway Indians. There were near
three hundred Indians to get beef this day. I had three bridle steers, two,
three, and four years old that we had raised from two cows that Grandfather
Johnson had given me, and they had to count these steers in to make the number
that was required to supply these Indians. They were butchering all day, and
when these steers were driven into the pen for slaughter, I began crying and
begging for my steers not to be killed. The Indians shot down two of them, and
the third one - the four year old, they shot with arrows. He fell and then got
up and started to the fence, and rose to jump when two old squaws ran up and cut
his hamstrings, but he got over the fence and came to the house walking on his
hocks, and bawling. I ran to him and wanted to pull the arrows out of his body,
but the squaws pushed me aside and split his head open with their tomahawks.
That was a bitter sight to me.

Now, dear children, I will close this letter. I could tell you much more that
would be interesting to younger children, but as I have often told these events
to you in your childhood, it would be needless to repeat them in this letter.
So, hoping that life will not be filled with any worse disasters than mine, and
that you will stick to each other and lend a helping hand to those in distress,
as did your fathers, I now wind up my story of the past and will live in peace
with all mankind.

Your loving Mother,
Ellon Killion, sixty-six years and four days old, October 18, 1921. 

---------------
Endnotes:

1 Joseph Carroll McConnell, The West Texas Frontier, Vol. I, p. 159
2 Ibid., p. 283
3 Ibid., p. 292
4 Ibid., p. 292
5 Loc. cit.
6 Ibid., p. 159.
I Ibid., p. 159.
8 Ibid., p. 159.
9 Ibid. 70
10 Ibid., p. 161.
11 Ibid., p. 159.
12 Ibid., pp. 118-125
13 Joseph Carroll McConnell, The West Texas Frontier , Vol. 2, p. 121
14 Joseph Carroll McConnell, The West Texas Frontier , Vol. 2, pp. 144-147.
15 Joseph Carroll McConnell, The West Texas Frontier , Vol. 2, pp. 145.
16 Joseph Carroll McConnell, The West Texas Frontier , Vol. 2, pp. 267-268.